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Canon: © Anne Bishop
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Established February 2010
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* Plot Information for Nharkava

Rebellion has swept the Territory in the south as Glacia dominates the north. Landen and Blood join forces to spread a message of equality with any method possible while Glacia works to infuse the land with power and the people with their Dark Beliefs. The Rebellion, led by a Council of Eight, is not always in agreement but none can resist the power, and the danger, the movement has generated.
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Author Topic: water is another matter  (Read 2325 times)

Description: solo; freyja settles into nharkava.

Offline Freyja Sayre

    • Character Sheet

      [Link]

    • OOC

      Reid

    • Caste

      Queen

    • Role

      The Snow Queen

    • Posts

      8

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water is another matter
« on: Jan 15, 12, 05:33:34 AM »
WC: 1162

Freyja sunk her hands into the pail of water, eyes clenched tightly shut in concentration. It was hard, sometimes, to concentrate and release her power into the water without the shedding of blood. That, she'd been told by the Nharkavan woman who had been teaching her, was the way you did it during the festivals. Just releasing her power, though, as she did often enough that she couldn't articulate exactly how often, didn't require the slice of a knife across her palm. It just seemed counterintuitive, though, she thought, lifting her hands and shaking them off. The droplets flew about, and she scraped the back of her wrist across her forehead to spread just a little bit of the cool water across her face. It ran down and into her eyes.

She'd been in Nharkava for scarcely two months and already she was acquiring a tan; Vanadis had acquired a balm from somewhere that she was to apply every time she went outside or else she would get a terrible sunburn. The idea puzzled Freyja a bit. She'd played out in the sun all the time in Glacia without any penalty for it, and now all the sudden she was supposed to protect her skin all the time. Then she'd heard another refugee moaning in the Healer's tent and she'd decided not to risk becoming ruby-red all over. It just seemed altogether a lot smarter to put on the balm (even if it felt so greasy) and wear a hat over her white-blonde hair when she went out to help with the fields.

The blonde Queen bent down to wrap both of her small hands around the handle of her pail; she hauled back, her expression one of intense effort. Her bucket was huge, stretching from her bare feet to just below her scabby knees. It was huge, and full of water, but she wanted to carry her own weight, not depend on others! Depending on others, well, that would mean that they could think she was weak or lazy. And she wasn't any of those things! She could carry this bucket, and she could release her power into the land, and she could help cook things. She was a very mature twelve, after all. Lifting both eyebrows as high as they could go and making an exaggerated frown, she gave a passing friend her best highbrow look; she had to set down her pail to do it. When he'd passed, she heaved it back up, slopping water over the high hem of her dress.

Hell's fire, she thought. Her father didn't know she knew those words, but she did. It wasn't hard to pick up all kinds of language between the landens here, the Blood here, and escaping from Glacia (she still didn't understand why exactly she'd had to leave home, other than it had something to do with Vanadis and also something to do with the whipping she'd been given). Power given to the land was power given to the land, of course, but it would be better to give it directly to the crops, the growing plants she was desperately needed to tend to. She hauled her bucket to the edge of the field, staggering a little when she stepped on a sharp rock; almost absently, she let a little tendril of White power seep out with the blood.

Nharkava was so hungry, she thought as she set the bucket down on the ground and peered up at a tall Nharkavan man with a smile. "I think if you give all the little plants half a ladle it'll go farther," she said, because she knew lots about her Craft. Sort of. In a way, she knew it. "Then the water will go a lot farther. That's basically why you should do it that way." She nodded, propping her fisted hands up on her hips. The loam felt good between her toes, a lot better than the stone of the caves where her father was forging for the rebellion. "And I cut my foot, so I'm going to go over there, and you should call me if you need me to put more power in more water." Was that everything? Yes, she thought so. She didn't know that she could manage all that much more power in the water, but she would try.

She waited until the landen had turned away, to go back down the row of seedlings, before limp-skipping back towards one of the tents. She could heal the cut in her foot on her own, but that would take power. Power she should be sinking into the hungry, hungry land--she bit her lip as she settled down in the shade and threw her hat as far away as she could make it go. It flew like a spinning disk, the simple straw construction nevertheless lending it flying power.

Folding her legs up, she peered at her dirty foot and the small, angry gash. Prodding at it with her thumbs and just a touch of Craft--a touch, because that was all she could spare--she nodded, satisfied that there was nothing bad in there. She could just wash it and wrap it and go back to work. So she did, her tongue caught between her teeth as she dabbed at it with the wet part of her skirt. It would be nice if she had an actual Queen to teach her things, she thought; the tutor teaching her rejuvenation Craft was nice enough, but he wasn't a Queen. He was boring and how was she supposed to talk to him about the other Queen stuff, anyway? She could talk to Vanadis about other Craft and girl things, but not about Queen things.

Still, that was pretty minor, she told herself, scooting backwards on her butt until she could reach a box and pull out the little first-aid kit. Using landen strategies for healing had been one of her Mama's first lessons. Freyja was able to finish tying off her bandage quickly, though it wasn't pretty. It would do until she got home to Vanadis; since she ought to be leaving soon, she poked her head outside. The day was bright, the air warm and humid, and the plants already looked a little greener. Even just a touch of the weakest Jewel strength was enough to bring so much to the earth, she thought; why couldn't darker Queens just give it a touch more?

With no answers forthcoming, she withdrew back into the tent. Just because she could be out in the sun, with Vanadis's balm on and a hat, didn't mean she always wanted to be out in the sun. She could always do that later. For now, she would hide out and wait for them to sound the break for lunch, and listen to the slow heartbeat of the land. Soon it would grow lush again. She would help, so there was little it could do otherwise.

Obviously.