17th of Spring 505 AV
Another day, another fight. Spring had barely arrived with warmer weather and an easing of the relentless snowstorms, but it seemed that the rising spirits weren't affecting the new group of yasi in a good way. Or perhaps it was because of the black eyed doll that always seemed to be in the middle of every disturbance no matter when or where it occurred. It was already becoming a common sight to see black tufts of hair in the middle of a circle of red, foreign black eyes that shimmered and challenged as they stared back at any adversary, unyielding.
Today was no difference. The chiet that passed the group of yasi outside the dining hall on their way back to work frowned as they noticed the squabble that was slowly gaining in size and audibility. No one bothered to really step in and do anything - it was just a bunch of kids, what was there to be concerned about? - and so the children was left to sort out their own problems.
In the center of everyones attention was Rista. At the ripe age of eight years, she resembled a doll with her small stature, slender limbs and dark, beady black eyes that lacked all whiteness and color. The hair and skin was dark too; barely Inartan at all with the coppery tone of her arms, face and torso, and the long dark hair that only held streaks of dark red highlights; it hung in an unkempt mass over her back, lacking any sign of having been brushed the nearest five days. She was like a smoldering bed of ash, half-dead embers seemingly ready to flare up at any time. The face could have been pretty if it hadn't been covered in bruises, could have held a look of nobility if it weren't for the wild glimpse in her eyes and the brow that was furrowed into a scowl. The small girl almost managed to look menacing as she stared at the boy in front of her, hands placed on scrawny hips and with her feet placed widely apart; a challenging pose, and it seemed to annoy the boy more than the fact that she hadn't begun to cry when he called her a dirty mongrel dog.
"Take it back, or I swear to the gods I'll make you eat dirt after bendi!" Rista's voice was sharp and angry, she completely ignored the other yasi that stood around them, whispering and giggling as they made bets on who would win. It might have given her a slight bit of satisfaction to hear that most of them bet on her... The red-haired boy frowned and gained a stubborn look on his face, almost on par with the little girls, and crossed his arms confidently over a meager chest as he looked down on her.
"You couldn't give me a nosebleed right now; why would I wait until after bendi for something that wouldn't happen? You should know your place Rista, you're just a nursery kid, born of a dek..."
It seemed to be the final drop. With a furious sound the little girl suddenly jumped her opponent, dragged him to the ground with surprising strength and began to pound at him with tiny fists, not even taking time to get herself into a favorable position before she began to extract her revenge. Using both hands and knees, kicking and clawing and punching towards the boys face and chest (and a very, very sore spot between his legs that she had become aware of just recently), it was nothing more than a brawl, ugly and menacing. She received blows too. The girl winced as a well-placed fist landed in her gut, another was taken on an already bruised chin... But despite the superior size of the boy he seemed to be overwhelmed by the girl and her furious attacks. The pain was getting to him, and after his nose received a hit strong enough to draw blood he was beginning to have enough.
Wailing for the others to help him he began to back away, crawling on his back over the floor to get away from this angry wildcat. A trickle of red slipped down his face and dripped onto the chest, and with angry, defeated and scared eyes he stared at Rista as some of the other kids grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back.
"You're petchin dangerous!" he sobbed and stumbled up on his feet. The face was twisted in a mask of pain and anger, and the look he gave the girl was oh, so cold. "Who would want to be friends with you, you'll just eat everyone up if they try to talk.. Come on, guys, lets go somewhere else until its time for dinner."
Rista grimaced and got up on her feet again as her shoulders were released, panting from the effort of fighting and from residues of anger that wisped about within her. Watching as the others turned around and left, she made no attempts to try and follow. She wasn't welcome and she knew it, and the empty feeling in her gut surely came from hunger, and not something as silly as sadness or longing. Ever since her twin brother died three years ago she had been alone more or less the entire time, so she was used to it by now. The thought of Karva still made pain stab through her mind; Rista took a deep breath that sounded more like a sob, trying to fight the wish to cry. Yeah, she was alone. It was better that way after all, no one would get hurt if they stayed away from her.
Something warm trickled down her upper lip, and she automatically raised a sore hand to wipe it away. A quick glance to the fist revealed that it was blood; she must have gotten a punch on the nose herself without realizing it. She looked up and gave the disappearing back of the boy a dark glare.
"What making friends" she muttered to herself. "You're the ones who always start it, calling me names and trying to be better. It's not like I'm trying to start fights every time..." It was pointless to say it to herself though, and with a sigh she turned around to leave for the baths; maybe she would have time to wash off before she could eat. She didn't look around to see if anyone had decided to stay behind, just turned her back on the place and began to walk with shoulders sloping in tiredness. She would probably get scolded again...
Another day, another fight. Spring had barely arrived with warmer weather and an easing of the relentless snowstorms, but it seemed that the rising spirits weren't affecting the new group of yasi in a good way. Or perhaps it was because of the black eyed doll that always seemed to be in the middle of every disturbance no matter when or where it occurred. It was already becoming a common sight to see black tufts of hair in the middle of a circle of red, foreign black eyes that shimmered and challenged as they stared back at any adversary, unyielding.
Today was no difference. The chiet that passed the group of yasi outside the dining hall on their way back to work frowned as they noticed the squabble that was slowly gaining in size and audibility. No one bothered to really step in and do anything - it was just a bunch of kids, what was there to be concerned about? - and so the children was left to sort out their own problems.
In the center of everyones attention was Rista. At the ripe age of eight years, she resembled a doll with her small stature, slender limbs and dark, beady black eyes that lacked all whiteness and color. The hair and skin was dark too; barely Inartan at all with the coppery tone of her arms, face and torso, and the long dark hair that only held streaks of dark red highlights; it hung in an unkempt mass over her back, lacking any sign of having been brushed the nearest five days. She was like a smoldering bed of ash, half-dead embers seemingly ready to flare up at any time. The face could have been pretty if it hadn't been covered in bruises, could have held a look of nobility if it weren't for the wild glimpse in her eyes and the brow that was furrowed into a scowl. The small girl almost managed to look menacing as she stared at the boy in front of her, hands placed on scrawny hips and with her feet placed widely apart; a challenging pose, and it seemed to annoy the boy more than the fact that she hadn't begun to cry when he called her a dirty mongrel dog.
"Take it back, or I swear to the gods I'll make you eat dirt after bendi!" Rista's voice was sharp and angry, she completely ignored the other yasi that stood around them, whispering and giggling as they made bets on who would win. It might have given her a slight bit of satisfaction to hear that most of them bet on her... The red-haired boy frowned and gained a stubborn look on his face, almost on par with the little girls, and crossed his arms confidently over a meager chest as he looked down on her.
"You couldn't give me a nosebleed right now; why would I wait until after bendi for something that wouldn't happen? You should know your place Rista, you're just a nursery kid, born of a dek..."
It seemed to be the final drop. With a furious sound the little girl suddenly jumped her opponent, dragged him to the ground with surprising strength and began to pound at him with tiny fists, not even taking time to get herself into a favorable position before she began to extract her revenge. Using both hands and knees, kicking and clawing and punching towards the boys face and chest (and a very, very sore spot between his legs that she had become aware of just recently), it was nothing more than a brawl, ugly and menacing. She received blows too. The girl winced as a well-placed fist landed in her gut, another was taken on an already bruised chin... But despite the superior size of the boy he seemed to be overwhelmed by the girl and her furious attacks. The pain was getting to him, and after his nose received a hit strong enough to draw blood he was beginning to have enough.
Wailing for the others to help him he began to back away, crawling on his back over the floor to get away from this angry wildcat. A trickle of red slipped down his face and dripped onto the chest, and with angry, defeated and scared eyes he stared at Rista as some of the other kids grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back.
"You're petchin dangerous!" he sobbed and stumbled up on his feet. The face was twisted in a mask of pain and anger, and the look he gave the girl was oh, so cold. "Who would want to be friends with you, you'll just eat everyone up if they try to talk.. Come on, guys, lets go somewhere else until its time for dinner."
Rista grimaced and got up on her feet again as her shoulders were released, panting from the effort of fighting and from residues of anger that wisped about within her. Watching as the others turned around and left, she made no attempts to try and follow. She wasn't welcome and she knew it, and the empty feeling in her gut surely came from hunger, and not something as silly as sadness or longing. Ever since her twin brother died three years ago she had been alone more or less the entire time, so she was used to it by now. The thought of Karva still made pain stab through her mind; Rista took a deep breath that sounded more like a sob, trying to fight the wish to cry. Yeah, she was alone. It was better that way after all, no one would get hurt if they stayed away from her.
Something warm trickled down her upper lip, and she automatically raised a sore hand to wipe it away. A quick glance to the fist revealed that it was blood; she must have gotten a punch on the nose herself without realizing it. She looked up and gave the disappearing back of the boy a dark glare.
"What making friends" she muttered to herself. "You're the ones who always start it, calling me names and trying to be better. It's not like I'm trying to start fights every time..." It was pointless to say it to herself though, and with a sigh she turned around to leave for the baths; maybe she would have time to wash off before she could eat. She didn't look around to see if anyone had decided to stay behind, just turned her back on the place and began to walk with shoulders sloping in tiredness. She would probably get scolded again...
