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*Aramis blows into his closed hands, trying to warm them* |
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"Hey, welcome back," he says with a half-hearted smile. "Cold out there, isn't it? Much better than the weather back in Kalim-D'ai, though. So... What were we talking about the last time we met? I can't remember. My brain's all fuzzy."
*Aramis blows into his hands again, rubbing them softly, a frown forming on his face*
"I hate not being able to remember things. And the funny thing is, you never remember what you want to remember. You always remember those very things you want to forget. And those things you want to hold on to, well they disappear like footprints in a snowstorm. Now. Where was I last time...? Ah, right. The death of Alaric Unum. As I said, the Unum family has always had Meenah by the throat, for as long as anyone could remember. Alaric Unum wasn't even newly dead when his two eldest sons, Keojus and Bartellus start squabbling for claim to their father's massive estate. Not only would the new head Unum get all of Alaric's land and wealth, but he also recieved uncontested command and loyalty from the Crusaders of Deus, the most well-known and respected army in the entire eastern hemisphere. That's quite a prize. The thing was, during all of this snarling over Alaric's estate, no one payed close attention to the third son--Kymeris Unum. He was fifteen years old when Alaric died, same age as me back then, and being the youngest, he wouldn't get a shot at glory and fortune until his two older brothers were either dead or excluded from the inheritance. And that didn't look like it was going to happen anytime soon. Alaric loved Keojus and Bartellus. They were tall, strong, handsome, and brilliant strategists, just like Alaric had been in his younger days. But Keojus, welll, Keojus was a bit passive, from what I hear. Not the best leader. He was actually rather soft. No one really thought Keojus would even make a significant claim to the Unum Estate. We pretty much thought he'd be content with the scraps that fell from his brothers' tables. How very wrong we were."
*Aramis rubs his hands again, muttering something under his breath about going to the Islands this year for a while*
"My father knew this would get out of hand. Once he heard Alaric was sick, he moved my mother and I to Kali-D'ai, a theocracy north of the Luudon Mountains. I was three years old at the time. Luckily for us, the village we'd moved to, Ly-h'o Nd-l'a, was a mostly clerical village where novice Priests of Mene-K'ar stayed until they were ready to devote their lives entirely to their faith. My father found work as a blacksmith and my mother spent most of her time copying books by hand in order to pass them out to church members. This left me with plenty of free time to myself. But as anyone knows, three-year-olds don't want to be left alone. We want to go out, explore, play with other children. And that's just what I did. The people of Kalim-D'ai were generally short, which was a shock to me, since both my parents were very tall and I was quite tall for my age as well. Their skin was the color of wet sand on a beach at sunset, with straight black hair that shone like obsidian. Their almond-shaped eyes were always a deep chocolate brown or pure ebony, full of life and pacifism. They were a friendly people, always willing to share a smile and a joke, welcoming newcomers to their town with opened arms. Kalim-D'ai was Meenah's polar opposite."
"I loved Ly-h'o Nd-l'a. In such a friendly and beautifully accepting environment, I thrived. I'd all but forgotten how to speak the Meenonite language, totally immersed in the language of my adopted country, my new, beloved people. In Kalim-D'ai, I was embraced because of my differences, looked upon with wonder and awe for my blonde hair and dual-colored eyes. I made friends easily and my parents were glad to be in a place where they could live in peace. As a matter of fact, I spent a lot of my free time growing up in the church's libraries, studying to become a Priest of Mene-K'ar one day. I'd fallen so deeply in love with Kalim-D'ai that I was willing to become a faithful devotee to her in heart, mind, and soul. I never wanted to set foot on Meenah again. But of course, that isn't how things turned out. When I was thirteen years old, my father had recieved word that Alaric Unum had died, and that meant a grand funeral procession for the most powerful man in the world. And in order to have a grand funeral, well, you need all of the Crusaders of Deus there to perform their final honors to the late Alaric Unum. Once I heard that we were moving back to Meenah, I'd all but lost my mind. I didn't want to leave Kalim-D'ai, all of my friends, the place where I grew up, especially not for Meenah. I tried running away. I tried throwing a fit. I tried tearing the house apart, anything I could to stay in Kaim-D'ai, but by the end of the month we had already left everything we owned in my beloved Ly-h'o Nd-l'a and set back for Teehs."
*Aramis rubs the back of his neck, his index and middle finger tracing the outline of a scar that extends from the base of his spine to just under his right eye*
"I hated Teehs. I can't say that enough. I hated Teehs, I hated Usugaar Fort, I hated anything and everything that had to do with Meenah, save for my own father. I did everything I could to show my raw disgust with the place I was born. I began staying out late, coming home with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other when I was barely thirteen. I would scream declarations of sacrelige in front of the Temples for everyone to hear. I'd throw rocks through the windows of taverns and Temples alike, cussing and stealing and carrying on with all sorts of bad behavior. I was completely out of control. And to make things worse, I'd fallen into a bad crowd of older kids, all with their own sad stories for turning out the way they did."
"First was Magus Kizzard, seventeen years old. He and his twin brother, Mage, were "half-breeds," like I was, with a Meenonite mother and a Xorian father. His father had died in an unfortunate drowning accident, or so the story goes. His mother remarried, to a Meenonite man, and he took to Magus and Mage as if they were his own children. After a while, Magus' mother had another son, little Sage, Magus' half-brother. Magus' mother and stepfather were killed in a suspicious fire when Sage was just seven years old. He and his twin were left to raise Sage on their own when Magus gave up and left his twin to raise Sage."
"Second was Chissii Voluun, a quiet young girl who'd been kicked out of her own home when her mother married a rich man who didn't want to claim Chissii as his own child. He didn't want anyone but his own children claiming his inheritance. She clung to Magus as if her life depended on it. I guess she looked up to him as someone who could protect her, although I can't ever figure out why."
"Baanji Xeiifer and Moon Liite were best friends, inseparable to the very end. They were both a bit slow, Baanji with a severe stuttering problem and Moon, well, he was hard of hearing, so we had to tell him things over and over again. They complimented each other well, though, and seemed to get more things done as a team than they ever could by themselves."
"And then, there was Deedra Vloos. Deedra was the most feared and respected person I'd ever ever seen in my young life. Her ice-blue eyes were always cold and unwelcoming, her thin lips locked in a scowl. She'd cut her hair short to resemble a man's and always wore men's clothing. I remember thinking she smelled of sweat and cigarettes. She was eighteen at the time, the eldest in the group, and that's probably why she felt the need to protect us all the time. That doesn't mean she was motherly, however. Not at all. Rather, she was rude, abrasive, and constantly called us names, but if someone outside of our little ragtag group would even look at us in a way she thought was offenseive, well, that was the end of them. We buried an awful lot of bodies back then."
*Aramis' voice trails off a bit and a small twitch can be seen in his left eye. He seems to shake it off, though, and looks back at you with an obviously false grin.*
"I think this session has carried on a little too long, don't you? Come back another time, I'll have more to tell then. Get home safe now."
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Sun Nov 14, 2004 @ 01:52am · 0 Comments |
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