10-29-2018, 10:48 PM
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Keona Sibéal ó Faoláin, daughter of Kian ó faoláin, neice to Séamus and Raziel ó Faoláin had, for most of her life, been the picture perfect example of a naive, curious and open-hearted child, ableit a quiet one, sensitive for the thought of judgement against her pale eyes. An incrediably stubborn girl, even in the wake of imprisonment, there was not a lot in the world capable of deterring her spirit. Save for countless failure and the sharp pain in her chest.
Though some may believe the injuries she suffered resulted from rough treatment in the Pitt, that was not the case. She of course, never brought it up. A surprise attack on the way out of the Pitt had resulted in the breaks. The tiny faerie still remembered the metallic scent of blood in the air. A haunting memory likely to pursue her for many nights to come.
Although it quite pained her to breath, let alone walk, the striker was up on her feet for the first time since her return. The child had to be relatively quick to reach the bay, knowing her father and uncle would lose their minds if they spotted her before she reached her destination. Nonetheless, Keona made a brisk, but pained, pace towards Tofu the Turtle. There she felt the first rays of light warm her spotted fur. Sunrise. Good. Still early.
Gently, she dropped a small leaf onto her paws. The object of this journey. Okay. The kitten put all her focus -- often an extremely limited thing -- onto that leaf, willing it upwards. Willing the wind to pull it up. She thought about the salt in the air, the way the breeze carried from the ocean brushed her fur, then whistled through the jungle trees. Oh just move, please.
Nothing. Keona's brow furrowed sharply. I've done this before. Granted, only one time. In the heat of the moment. In a defensive position. I don't get it. She tried imaging the rush of winds. The taste of bitter sand in the air. Blasted heat.
Nothing.
Come on. The leaf shifted. Bounced a little. No higher than a few inches. Floated straight down to her paws like a feather. "Téigh ar aghaidh!"
Though some may believe the injuries she suffered resulted from rough treatment in the Pitt, that was not the case. She of course, never brought it up. A surprise attack on the way out of the Pitt had resulted in the breaks. The tiny faerie still remembered the metallic scent of blood in the air. A haunting memory likely to pursue her for many nights to come.
Although it quite pained her to breath, let alone walk, the striker was up on her feet for the first time since her return. The child had to be relatively quick to reach the bay, knowing her father and uncle would lose their minds if they spotted her before she reached her destination. Nonetheless, Keona made a brisk, but pained, pace towards Tofu the Turtle. There she felt the first rays of light warm her spotted fur. Sunrise. Good. Still early.
Gently, she dropped a small leaf onto her paws. The object of this journey. Okay. The kitten put all her focus -- often an extremely limited thing -- onto that leaf, willing it upwards. Willing the wind to pull it up. She thought about the salt in the air, the way the breeze carried from the ocean brushed her fur, then whistled through the jungle trees. Oh just move, please.
Nothing. Keona's brow furrowed sharply. I've done this before. Granted, only one time. In the heat of the moment. In a defensive position. I don't get it. She tried imaging the rush of winds. The taste of bitter sand in the air. Blasted heat.
Nothing.
Come on. The leaf shifted. Bounced a little. No higher than a few inches. Floated straight down to her paws like a feather. "Téigh ar aghaidh!"
tá mé i dtiúin — ✯
![[Image: lZWb1ER.png]](https://i.imgur.com/lZWb1ER.png)