Post by Yuliya on Oct 9, 2007 21:21:59 GMT -5
Yuliya Dukhin' sat on a hard, moss-loved log by a blazing fire. As the dancing flames reflected onto her pale face, she furrowed her almost-invisible eyebrows. Always secret...always hidden...when could they act? When could the throne go to the rightful heirs?
The Elders warned her against rash actions, but she was intuitive. Action was where her strength lay. Her only true trust was in the sword at her side and the horse that she rode. They were her war companions, well, her horse was her everything companion. And then of course there was her bow...but she used her sword more often.
Lifting her face, she surveyed those around her. They helped her, believed in her, but it was hard for her to get to know them. She feared attachment. Attachment only made the separation worse. She sighed as she let her head down to knee level. Her thick, heavy boots played with the dried leaves on the ground, and her black cloth-covered hands seemed to be weaving invisible thread.
It was too hard to trust people. Half of the citizens of Manzanare wanted her dead, and there could be spies within her group. She didn't have the power to peer into their souls and see where their allegiance lay, even if they were her only family.
She knew there were other things to do. Battles to plan, along with support for the rebels. After all, they had to eat. There was armor to be washed and swords to be sharpened. The only chore she looked forward too was taking care of the horses. But for now, she sat by the fire, and looked over her life.
The Elders warned her against rash actions, but she was intuitive. Action was where her strength lay. Her only true trust was in the sword at her side and the horse that she rode. They were her war companions, well, her horse was her everything companion. And then of course there was her bow...but she used her sword more often.
Lifting her face, she surveyed those around her. They helped her, believed in her, but it was hard for her to get to know them. She feared attachment. Attachment only made the separation worse. She sighed as she let her head down to knee level. Her thick, heavy boots played with the dried leaves on the ground, and her black cloth-covered hands seemed to be weaving invisible thread.
It was too hard to trust people. Half of the citizens of Manzanare wanted her dead, and there could be spies within her group. She didn't have the power to peer into their souls and see where their allegiance lay, even if they were her only family.
She knew there were other things to do. Battles to plan, along with support for the rebels. After all, they had to eat. There was armor to be washed and swords to be sharpened. The only chore she looked forward too was taking care of the horses. But for now, she sat by the fire, and looked over her life.
