(This is my first time writing a lore story, so IDK how good this is. Any constructive criticism is welcome ofc))
Ayda lay wrapped up in her old quilt on her pallet, silently listening to the soft patter of rain in her roof. The quilt was worn soft from many years of use and starting to fall apart in some places, but she did not want to replace it. Like many things that had survived her travels, it served of a reminder of what was back home. Home. She carefully pushed herself up, groaning as her ribs ached, and slumped against the cool wall. Her family had to still be around, they could not of just been turned into target practice of whatever weapon the Altalar had. The where warriors, for Estels sake. It could not be, no, was not easy to kill them.
Then there was Estel and that bloody inquisition. She had to deny her beliefs, even if it was just part of them. But she was still harassed, not to mention that she had to repent to to the Imperial Spirit, which she did not even believe in. All that just because her ears were pointed. Well, there was not really anything she would do about that, or her family. She was not stupid enough to take on the government, and the inquisition had to be doing some good. Same with her family, since from what she had heard, Hyarroc was a mess and she doubted she could get in and back to the city easily. Then again, her family could take care if it's self. If they survived the all of those wars and the Bone Horrors, they could survive this, too.
That brought up another problem, though. Ayda thought back to what that man had said, about her being weak. He was not the first, and he was probably not going to be the last. Even though she had bulked up a bit from training with Appius, she was still short. She pushed herself up with a grunt and shuffled over to where she kept a small, simple mirror. She peered down into it and a bedraggled Avanthar stared back, one with tried blue eyes and a heavily bruised nose. Her gaze flitted up to her hair, imagining what once was there. Part of her wanted to cut her hair back into a mohawk and look like a proper warrior again, but another part of her liked having the messy mop of hair currently on her head. Ayda sighed, then shuffled back to her pallet.
While she might cut her hair one day, that day was not today. She collapsed back into her palette, snuggling into her quilt. Now all she needed was to find some way to stop people from underestimating her so much, but that was a problem for another time. She drifted off into a fitful sleep, the soft patter of rain lulling her into the painless oblivion of unconsciousness.
Ayda lay wrapped up in her old quilt on her pallet, silently listening to the soft patter of rain in her roof. The quilt was worn soft from many years of use and starting to fall apart in some places, but she did not want to replace it. Like many things that had survived her travels, it served of a reminder of what was back home. Home. She carefully pushed herself up, groaning as her ribs ached, and slumped against the cool wall. Her family had to still be around, they could not of just been turned into target practice of whatever weapon the Altalar had. The where warriors, for Estels sake. It could not be, no, was not easy to kill them.
Then there was Estel and that bloody inquisition. She had to deny her beliefs, even if it was just part of them. But she was still harassed, not to mention that she had to repent to to the Imperial Spirit, which she did not even believe in. All that just because her ears were pointed. Well, there was not really anything she would do about that, or her family. She was not stupid enough to take on the government, and the inquisition had to be doing some good. Same with her family, since from what she had heard, Hyarroc was a mess and she doubted she could get in and back to the city easily. Then again, her family could take care if it's self. If they survived the all of those wars and the Bone Horrors, they could survive this, too.
That brought up another problem, though. Ayda thought back to what that man had said, about her being weak. He was not the first, and he was probably not going to be the last. Even though she had bulked up a bit from training with Appius, she was still short. She pushed herself up with a grunt and shuffled over to where she kept a small, simple mirror. She peered down into it and a bedraggled Avanthar stared back, one with tried blue eyes and a heavily bruised nose. Her gaze flitted up to her hair, imagining what once was there. Part of her wanted to cut her hair back into a mohawk and look like a proper warrior again, but another part of her liked having the messy mop of hair currently on her head. Ayda sighed, then shuffled back to her pallet.
While she might cut her hair one day, that day was not today. She collapsed back into her palette, snuggling into her quilt. Now all she needed was to find some way to stop people from underestimating her so much, but that was a problem for another time. She drifted off into a fitful sleep, the soft patter of rain lulling her into the painless oblivion of unconsciousness.
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