49th Day of Spring, 515 AV
Each and every morning the same cacophony battered through the walls, shuffling footsteps in the laneways, distant voices, the muted beginnings of prayer, the clang and bustle of marketeers and artisans preparing for trade. She rolled to face the wall and pulled a soft green blanket over her head. Light conspired to force this girl from slumber, dust particles dancing within warm blinding beams of sun, made stronger in the reflections born of patterned silver shells which coated the walls. Even here in her mentor's humble abode on the outskirts of the city, first light brought with it all the joyous things, sounds and visions that travelers journeyed far and wide to feast upon. Anita had had more than her fill.
At last with a deep sigh Anita kicked the covers away aggressively, sat on the edge of the bed and ran slender pale fingers through her knotted sweeping white hair. She had slept in a simple white cotton dress, the same one she wore yesterday, and what reason to not wear it… again. For a long while she just sat there, devoid of inspiration, unable to think of a reason to stand, no words in her ears to offer direction, motivation or pride. Today was her "free" day, a day to herself.
One could be forgiven for thinking this child unappreciative or just hopelessly transient. There was no question she lived in one of the most wondrous and beautiful cities in all the known lands, a home ripe with creativity, love and opportunity, but it was becoming a grind. Anita was nothing special here, just one of many, in fact she was invisible to most, just another Konti going about her daily routine. Therein lay the difference, the routine? There was none.
For two years her savior Cenne had usually prodded her awake at dawn, dragged her kicking into the light and tried and tried to help the girl. Cenne had taught her the way of the knife, hoping that education in something a little “dangerous” might peak Anita’s interest in self-preservation and ambition. It didn’t stop there. Cenne had imparted local knowledge, stories, the ways of woodcraft and dance, all in an attempt to seduce Anita from dull melancholy.
It was during the evening meal the night before when chatting with her mentor, that Anita had attempted to show a semblance of gratitude and desire to make some kind of progress. It had been a long time coming. The grind could not go on forever, and today she had sworn to venture out and maybe, just maybe start on making something of herself. Reaching for some simple rations to break her fast, Anita pondered on the people she had seen the weeks before whilst aimlessly roaming Mura and the tranquil surrounds. A few individuals leapt out at her, a strange little man with pink hair on the path from town, playing with a small animal, a girl wandering the coastline with paintbrush in hand, she had not ventured too close to them but secretly wondered if they might be out there again, and perhaps she might muster the strength to offer them a simple greeting. They seemed harmless and content, a good place to start.
With Cenne gone and most likely already at the market with their goods, Anita prepared herself mentally and physically. She slid on her black well worn sandals, tied a black belt around her slim waist, popped five coins into a pouch, stood, sighed, and stepped out into the light.
"Let's do this then..."
Each and every morning the same cacophony battered through the walls, shuffling footsteps in the laneways, distant voices, the muted beginnings of prayer, the clang and bustle of marketeers and artisans preparing for trade. She rolled to face the wall and pulled a soft green blanket over her head. Light conspired to force this girl from slumber, dust particles dancing within warm blinding beams of sun, made stronger in the reflections born of patterned silver shells which coated the walls. Even here in her mentor's humble abode on the outskirts of the city, first light brought with it all the joyous things, sounds and visions that travelers journeyed far and wide to feast upon. Anita had had more than her fill.
At last with a deep sigh Anita kicked the covers away aggressively, sat on the edge of the bed and ran slender pale fingers through her knotted sweeping white hair. She had slept in a simple white cotton dress, the same one she wore yesterday, and what reason to not wear it… again. For a long while she just sat there, devoid of inspiration, unable to think of a reason to stand, no words in her ears to offer direction, motivation or pride. Today was her "free" day, a day to herself.
One could be forgiven for thinking this child unappreciative or just hopelessly transient. There was no question she lived in one of the most wondrous and beautiful cities in all the known lands, a home ripe with creativity, love and opportunity, but it was becoming a grind. Anita was nothing special here, just one of many, in fact she was invisible to most, just another Konti going about her daily routine. Therein lay the difference, the routine? There was none.
For two years her savior Cenne had usually prodded her awake at dawn, dragged her kicking into the light and tried and tried to help the girl. Cenne had taught her the way of the knife, hoping that education in something a little “dangerous” might peak Anita’s interest in self-preservation and ambition. It didn’t stop there. Cenne had imparted local knowledge, stories, the ways of woodcraft and dance, all in an attempt to seduce Anita from dull melancholy.
It was during the evening meal the night before when chatting with her mentor, that Anita had attempted to show a semblance of gratitude and desire to make some kind of progress. It had been a long time coming. The grind could not go on forever, and today she had sworn to venture out and maybe, just maybe start on making something of herself. Reaching for some simple rations to break her fast, Anita pondered on the people she had seen the weeks before whilst aimlessly roaming Mura and the tranquil surrounds. A few individuals leapt out at her, a strange little man with pink hair on the path from town, playing with a small animal, a girl wandering the coastline with paintbrush in hand, she had not ventured too close to them but secretly wondered if they might be out there again, and perhaps she might muster the strength to offer them a simple greeting. They seemed harmless and content, a good place to start.
With Cenne gone and most likely already at the market with their goods, Anita prepared herself mentally and physically. She slid on her black well worn sandals, tied a black belt around her slim waist, popped five coins into a pouch, stood, sighed, and stepped out into the light.
"Let's do this then..."
