Speech | 21th Day of Autumn, 509 AV | Thoughts | oocWarning: bruised ego and prolonged bitterness may warp character’s perceptions of reality
The Autumn air was crisp and cool, nothing so great as to ward of the flourish of bright colours and hues as the typical exuberant dresses and clothing were still widely warn, only one or two on the less tolerant side taking to the wearing of cloaks and jackets.
The morning sun was playing on the walls through several of the narrow streets, the back and forth journey that the Svefra chose to take one that had her often blinded by an unexpected beam of Syna's light, luck having it that Naia managed to avoid all would-be collisions in such moments with a stumble and quiet request to move. It was almost two years since she'd moved the city, and from what she could thus far say, her grandparents’ words about 'growing to love it' were a load of hogwash.
The bright colours of clothes didn’t sit well with her own plain preferences, the red stone of the walls off-putting, the inability to turn a single corner without a mural to Laat in her face equally distressing, and the very nature of how the city was run sent shivers up her spine.
From what she herself had seen, the monks of the city were thuggish and brutal. She’d been wittiness to someone beaten bloody without an act or sigh, or mere comment on the matter. Gods, she’d seen them attack each other on half a dozen occasions. And why? Because they were not of the Eastern District.
What a pathetic notion that was, she thought, that a city could be considering thriving – living –when each quarter had such savage conflict with one another.
It wasn’t anything like her pod. There was single matriarch, and her word was final. They were not driven by petty, selfish motives. There was no unyielding desire for gold or gain. There was family, and there was living to see the next summer. No pride, no vanity, no nonsense about having to choose between demi-gods, or living under the watchful gaze of their followers.
Fleeting thoughts of a childhood long lost reminded her of her task at hand, before the thought of dealing with those of the Flaxen District shot her mind back to her kin. She’d already decided that her final aim was to slink into the docks, where she could she see the sea and admire the docks ships, perhaps listen to hear if she could hear her mother's tongue spoken in all its glory, if not seek out conversation with a fellow Svefra herself.
Unfortunately for Naia, at least, living in a home that was not her own meant that she was required to buy and seek the little things that they were in need of, and the ‘task at head’ which she so desperately wished to be rid of was one that she’d off put for so long, she carried with her a hefty some of coin to pay for all she was to purchase.
The rations handed to each household meant that there was little to worry about food, but furniture and clothing was still in need. She was to buy several of those eyesore bright frocks for her grandmamma, and a new coat for her grandfather, a small portion of coin set aside for the purchase of something for herself, as well as supplies so that she could carry on with herself teaching.
Moments more and the crowds thickened, lesser still and she was in one of the busier side streets, weaving through the flood of people with a dozen irritated sighs and heavy breaths, ensuring to keep eye contact to the minimum as she weighted the pros and cons of a brawl.
Quite the number of people where left cussing and cradling their shoulders in Naia’s wake, her short apologies to all those that she’d bumped doing little as she proved to do so time and time again. She put it all down to growing up rough, a sigh and an eye roll as she was adamant that it was they who simply misunderstood.
Her anger boiled over, the sight of monks leering about sending a jolt of annoyance through her, even more so in noting that one in particular was a man she knew to set ridiculously high 'taxes' or 'donations' to any who wished to pass any bridge that he guarded.
Her gaze was too firmly set in a glare towards the monk; almost running into a person or two, forced smiles and nods following each. She soon enough found herself window shopping in a bid to keep her mind off unpleasant thoughts, dawdling outside a particular store of dress and clothing before she found someone she thought to be foreign on appearance alone, unable to stop the words that left her after an awkward chime's silence, and several monks passing by. "Damn Monks, I can scarcely believe there exists a God who is pleased to be worshiped by such thugs."
The morning sun was playing on the walls through several of the narrow streets, the back and forth journey that the Svefra chose to take one that had her often blinded by an unexpected beam of Syna's light, luck having it that Naia managed to avoid all would-be collisions in such moments with a stumble and quiet request to move. It was almost two years since she'd moved the city, and from what she could thus far say, her grandparents’ words about 'growing to love it' were a load of hogwash.
The bright colours of clothes didn’t sit well with her own plain preferences, the red stone of the walls off-putting, the inability to turn a single corner without a mural to Laat in her face equally distressing, and the very nature of how the city was run sent shivers up her spine.
From what she herself had seen, the monks of the city were thuggish and brutal. She’d been wittiness to someone beaten bloody without an act or sigh, or mere comment on the matter. Gods, she’d seen them attack each other on half a dozen occasions. And why? Because they were not of the Eastern District.
What a pathetic notion that was, she thought, that a city could be considering thriving – living –when each quarter had such savage conflict with one another.
It wasn’t anything like her pod. There was single matriarch, and her word was final. They were not driven by petty, selfish motives. There was no unyielding desire for gold or gain. There was family, and there was living to see the next summer. No pride, no vanity, no nonsense about having to choose between demi-gods, or living under the watchful gaze of their followers.
Fleeting thoughts of a childhood long lost reminded her of her task at hand, before the thought of dealing with those of the Flaxen District shot her mind back to her kin. She’d already decided that her final aim was to slink into the docks, where she could she see the sea and admire the docks ships, perhaps listen to hear if she could hear her mother's tongue spoken in all its glory, if not seek out conversation with a fellow Svefra herself.
Unfortunately for Naia, at least, living in a home that was not her own meant that she was required to buy and seek the little things that they were in need of, and the ‘task at head’ which she so desperately wished to be rid of was one that she’d off put for so long, she carried with her a hefty some of coin to pay for all she was to purchase.
The rations handed to each household meant that there was little to worry about food, but furniture and clothing was still in need. She was to buy several of those eyesore bright frocks for her grandmamma, and a new coat for her grandfather, a small portion of coin set aside for the purchase of something for herself, as well as supplies so that she could carry on with herself teaching.
Moments more and the crowds thickened, lesser still and she was in one of the busier side streets, weaving through the flood of people with a dozen irritated sighs and heavy breaths, ensuring to keep eye contact to the minimum as she weighted the pros and cons of a brawl.
Quite the number of people where left cussing and cradling their shoulders in Naia’s wake, her short apologies to all those that she’d bumped doing little as she proved to do so time and time again. She put it all down to growing up rough, a sigh and an eye roll as she was adamant that it was they who simply misunderstood.
Her anger boiled over, the sight of monks leering about sending a jolt of annoyance through her, even more so in noting that one in particular was a man she knew to set ridiculously high 'taxes' or 'donations' to any who wished to pass any bridge that he guarded.
Her gaze was too firmly set in a glare towards the monk; almost running into a person or two, forced smiles and nods following each. She soon enough found herself window shopping in a bid to keep her mind off unpleasant thoughts, dawdling outside a particular store of dress and clothing before she found someone she thought to be foreign on appearance alone, unable to stop the words that left her after an awkward chime's silence, and several monks passing by. "Damn Monks, I can scarcely believe there exists a God who is pleased to be worshiped by such thugs."
