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Greetings. I am... Well, I suppose you may as well call me Dragonpaws. It is what I'm used to after all, and after a certain amount of years a person is entitled to what they want, are they not? At least in these little manners, like names. So I keep my war-name, my child-name that I kept longer than any child ought- but that will come later. I write this, not to record my life for posterity or any such, but because something puzzles me- there is a pattern to the events in my life that I cannot quite grasp, and perhaps if I write them all down, I will understand it. So I begin- before my birth, because that is when things truly started. Unlike most first borns, I was not a full blood. Indeed, my mother was not even appointed of the Council. My father met her, once, when he was out somewhere... adventuring, I suppose I've always thought of it. I ought to know better b y now, but life's habits die hard. Suffice to say that he met my mother, and loved her. I don't know if she loved him, although I like to think so. I don't think that I would be who I was, if my parents had NOT loved each other truly. There is heart in that. And so yes, they fell in love there in my mother's primitive little swamp-world, and he brought her back, to The Place of No Naming, where all of the full-bloods live. I can say all, for even I, in the end, cannot separate myself from here, or truly want to. I do not even know if she was pretty, my mother. I take after father mostly- he, medium height and average of build, with his light brown hair and blue eyes, and light complexion. Not the build of a warrior, but of a thinker- a strategian of highest magnitude. Such is my father. I suppose my mother must be in me- I am indeed a warrior, and my hair is thick and darker than his. Those who knew her are so few, those who cared, even less. She was an outsider, inferior- seeress of her people, but because she was not one of them, they cared not. If she had been more grounded in her powers, perhaps- but why do I care? My own vanity, seeking to have as a parent something other than a Seeress from the swamplands. Mother... I do not think of her very much. She was gone, after I passed my 4th birthday. Now that I think on't, I believe there is a picture of her. A portrait, of all static things- painted by one of those who were her friend. Or by her, perhaps. The woman in it always seemed odd to me- her skin was darker than mine, coarser and olive tinted, and her thick hair fell about her to her waist, curling. She had beautiful long fingers, in the picture, and wore- oh, I do not remember. But she did look happy. As I said, father loved her very much. After mother passed away, an event I do not remember as I think I was isolated from it, father shut himself up. Or at least I assume so. Surely the Council could not have been so crass as to send him out so soon after THAT. At any rate, I heard sobbing from my father's rooms at times, and I stayed away, or was kept away by servants. Ah yes, the servants. I shall leave my father proper room for his grief and describe our family Keep, instead, for I am sure none have heard of its like. All huge and gray it seemed then, as I wandered alone through it. I dearly love it, I did then and do now- big enough for many more people than I have ever seen inside. We've tapestries of scenes, I can only suppose they are family history- I have not asked. Is't not odd? 12,000 years of life, and I never asked. One could laugh. But onward- we had a magnificent library, all hung about in rich crimson and silver and crystal, a place of discussion and planning, and of many things. I spend much time there still, reading the books collected by many, many ancestors, dead now, or not in this place. At the time, of course, I was too young to have an interest in reading, so I mostly walked, and tried to stay away from the servants who would herd me out of their way or try to entertain me. All I wanted then was to flit from room to room, observing but not observed- oh! the servants. No doubt you must wrinkle your nose in disapproval, thou who snoops in my writings, at the thought of two people needing a cadre of servants. Ours, however, were much changed from the usual type. Or, to be more accurate, the rest of the world has the concept all wrong. Our servants serve the Keep, not us. We are merely... fixtures. Temporary, but necessary for the upkeep of the place, and giving them a reason to keep it so nice. They are neither immortal, nor even seemingly so, but come and go randomly, as their uses wax and wane. They are bonded to the castle, and flit through it like ghosts- passing through walls and aught else. Although they have no choice in who owns the keep they care for, it is best to stay on their good side- they know everything about the place and will not hesitate to be neglectful of a bad lord. This is not to say they will hurt the keep in any way to be rid of the owner- never that. But one had best become resigned to eating meals in the kitchen, wherever the kitchen might be at any particular time. That was another peculiarity, they moved rooms about at their convenience. This was at times pleasant, and at times extremely irking, but they would leave rooms alone for a bit, if requested especially. My personal bedroom, although I spent little enough time in it, was positioned at the highest spire of the tallest tower, most of the time. Father's was buried in the guts, near the library. Ah yes, one last thing- the entire castle itself had walls of sheer gray stone, high and seamless and unclimable by any, except perhaps the very determined, although surely they would be spotted as they tried, and dealt with. My kind has always preferred heights, and our keep in particular was built on the edge of a great cliff, with a lake of still, still clear water at the other side which reflected the castle. Or at least, this is how it was when I was a child and looked out my window a' nights. The entire landscape was beautiful and still- lush plants and cool water, and not a movement among them but the wind. The sky outside was like black velvet upon which a globule of mercury had been spilled- rich, deep and soft, with silver beads and streaks running across it from time to time- they cast no light, but merely shone against the soft blackness. The spires of some other one's castle were sometimes visible above the rich trees on the very tip of the horizon, but never closer- we value few things more than solitude, or so we claim- I believe it is merely because any closer and innate competitiveness drives neighbors to foolishness. Well, truly our keep was great, and full of marvels, but at 4, who appreciates size except as a barrier, and who appreciates marvels when they see them every day? After I grew accustomed to mother's death in my own way, I became quite bored. Father still mourned, I could tell, so I did not disturb him, even if I could've- everywhere I went, servants flitted after me, watching to see I did not hurt myself, and heading me subtly away from father's rooms if I wandered too close. Finally, one day, I grew frustrated with all the fuss. I was stomping about as only a four year old can, muttering petulantly, when I stumbled over something and fell, hitting my head against the stone floor. When the stars cleared and I blinked away the tears of shock pain usually creates in those too young for it to be a reality yet, I felt something furry under my legs. Sitting up quickly, I beheld a large, grey creature, crouching down slightly and looking at me with the most indignant expression I'd ever seen. I immediately apologized for tripping over the strange thing, and it's large amber eyes blinked at me. Then, to my utter and fascinated delight, the thing stood and padded up to me on large grey feet. I was entranced, and spread myself out on the stone, head braced on my arms, watching as the approached, tail a-waving behind it, and grinned smugly at my befuddlement. Cautiously I sat up and reached out a hand, brushing it over the short, silk-like fur, then impulsively lifted the thing and held it. It began rumbling in a markedly self-satisfied manner, and I nearly laughed aloud. Someone to do things with! I bent over and whispered to it, then stopped, puzzled at myself. Why was I whispering? I brushed hair out of my eyes, then jerked as the fur ball began kneading his claws into my sleeve, and through it, my skin. Distracted for a minute, I then looked down the hallway and remembered- my almost-invisible babysitters. Possessively I looked down at the
creature, and stood, tipping my head forward. At the time my
round, rosy child's face was framed by a curtain of straight,
light brown hair, and I clutched the furball to my chest and
hit it behind my hair. Walking quickly, I entered the next room,
and then the next- for once, it seemed no one watched me, but
it was uncertain. I was very frustrated- was there NOWHERE in
this blasted pile I could call my own? All I wanted was a small
space that did not MOVE and didn't have servants climbing all
about! Walking out the next door and into a hallway that had
not been there before, I spied a flitting form hiding just about
a corner, and with the unreasoning anger of a child, I assumed
they were going to catch me and take my new friend. Furious and
impotent, I concentrated as hard as I could on the one thing
I wanted- a place to hide. And suddenly, the oddest feeling swept
over my little child self. It was as though I was sweeping along
on a great river, great and gold-orange, and I was a channel
of that river, when I wished to be, and it could do anything
I liked…. Dazzled, I spoke aloud what I wanted, child's
certain-uncertain inflection swallowed in the rush of the golden
river. Clenching my fists (for the cat had dropped at the first
rigid start of surprise) I thought as hard as I could of making
that power into a little room, a cozy invisible bubble which
no one could find or go into. Like a dam breaking, a bit of the
orange river broke off and rushed towards me- it seemed huge,
and I flinched away from it's immensity, but it did not strike-
merely passed through me, as though I were no more substantial
than the rock was to the castle servers- or no, that wasn't right.
It passed through me in specific channels, leaving them with
a raw and tingling feeling, like something never used and newly
awakened. I closed my eyes tightly until the rush abated, then
stood- at some point my chubby infant legs had deposited me on
my bottom on the floor. I stood and blinked confusedly, then
held my hands out before me- there was something there! A little
door, I could feel it- prying it open with my fingers and quivering
with excitement, I climbed inside, feeling a strange sort of
tingly rush when I my shoulders passed the barrier and I looked
about. A perfectly round, cozy, warm, honey-lighted sphere, floating
in midair! I jerked my head out. But I could see nothing out
here… I looked down, and the fur creature blinked impassively
up at me. "Did you do this?" I asked it, not quite
willing to ascribe myself such abilities. |
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