Post by Nadja on Feb 19, 2009 4:27:03 GMT -5
To say her life was uneventful, would be the furthest thing from the truth. The past five years was a clear indication of this. The end of her teens had her dealing with a situation in life, that many could only envision in their nightmares. Being attacked in the depths of the forest, her tiny form shred to near unrecognition, only to survive, and that was simply what she did; Survived! Each rake of those deadly claws, and each bite that tore at her tender flesh only solidified the cursed state in which she'd live from that night forth. Although she suffered the curse of the Lycan, it also gave her many gifts to accompany those which she already harbored naturally; or due to the mind walking of the darker minions in the past. Those dark little tid bits that would always return with her, become a part of whom she was.
Even before the attack in the forest, she could sense things beyond her natural abilities. The ability of clear sight in the darkness, to hear the steady drumming of a heart when one passed near. These would be hightened more when her blood intermixed with that of the beast that attacked her. The nightmares that would soon follow, calm and serene in comparison to the realization that, such horrid visions were rememberances of her own actions. However, the tiny Gypsy was never one to lie down in defeat. It took much concentration, strong will, and determination, and soon she found the ablitity to control the raging beast that laid dormant within her.
With this came the turmoil in her heart, of having become the natural enemy of the only ones who ever showed her understanding, affection, and acceptance. From a young girl she had spent more time in the presence of the Night Walkers than she did with those who lived by the light of day. They took her in, offered her protection and a sense of family. Not once did she feel her life in peril, nor did any make a move to try and defile the tiny Rom with their mark. They came to her for guidance, and at times to sooth their troubled soul. For you see, so many misunderstood those who lived by the light of the moon, viewing them as monsters. Creatures that should be destroyed from the face of the earth. It was because so many feared things they did not understand or went against the grains of their belief system. Not Nadja, she seen them for who they were. They were not beasts nor creatures to the tiny Rom, but individuals who like she, had learned to live with their curse and make the best of the life they were forced to live.
In many ways the Gypsy's, Night Walkers, and Lycans were alike. Shunned by humanity, viewed as evil entities that should be wiped from the face of the earth, or enslaved to enact at the will of their owner. They found little comradery with the denizens of the lands they traveled through, or chose to live. Always the first to have a finger pointed at when something went wrong or an explaination could not be found.
Now as she became a young woman, her life took another drastic change. In her heart and mind, her acceptance was meant as a way to be saved. Much the same way a man or woman would trust a Priest to submerge them into a flowing river in the form of a Baptism. She thought not about the long term effect, or how it would change her life even more as time passed. It might also have to do with the amount of trust she had in the one who offered her hope, a trust that she had not realized would bring forth the fate she'd face in the end. The offer, well meant as it sounded, was not to help the Gypsy fully, as there was an underlying agenda the small Rom knew nothing about.
The years of standing back and watching the small girl grow into a woman. The things that touched her life, mind, and heart had also touched his own. One would call it an infactuation, and the man she had looked to as a mentor was in a sense a stalker of the worse kind. He took advantage of her innocents, niavity, and youth. Finding a perfect position in which she had found herself to gain his full wish; to claim her fully as his own. Not by way of wedded bliss, nor in claiming the young tender body in the way a man would claim a woman's. But in a way that would tie the tiny Rom to him for eternity. Yes, he removed the curse of the Lycan, or so he had thought and she believed. In return, he gave her of himself, bound them together with blood ties. She was now a part of him in ways that could never be severed. No ring, nor license or contract could be as binding as "The Kiss". A kiss of death that brought eternal life.
In all of this, in the end, the small Gypsy felt more alone than before. The one she called Stapan, Lord and Master, was gone from her life in the blink of an eye once more. What friends she had made began to slowly fade from the tiny Rom's life, being self absorbed in their own. The town she had settled in was colder than a dark winter's night. Not the weather, but the people who lived there. Distant, unapproachable, unaccepting of those outside their small community circles. Not that this surprised Nadja, for it was a way of life she had come to accept long ago. She had no wealth, no position nor title to be accepted in a society that such things mattered most. It would ultimately be the reason that a single choice would be made. An invitation to a Masqued Ball would be another turning point in her life.
It was in the dead of night that she loaded her possessions into the Vardo parked upon the cobble stone street before the small shop she rented in the Port. The Piedbald was anxious, his hooves pawing at the hard surface of the road. He feared not his care taker, even with the changes she had undergone. They had been together for many years, and the animal had a trust in the woman that superceeded the scent of a preditor she gave off. There were no well wishers to see her off, no tears, nor anyone requesting the Gypsy to one day return for a visit. She was sure none would even notice she had gone, just as they noticed not that she had lived. Not even those she once called friends would notice the absense of the Rom, their visits had slowly dwindled to where she never seen them again.
The last item was packed into the Vardo, the door closed and latched. A singular glance back towards the small shop that had also second as her home during the wintery months. There was no remorse in her unbeating heart, no sadness did she feel. Acceptance, something that she learned a long time ago. How foolish she was to think her life would ever change, tomfoolery she'd never sucumb to again. She was who and what she was, nothing could ever change that. Even if for one night she lived a thousand lifetimes upon a ballroom dance floor, it was a night hidden behind a mask and not reality. The reins taken in hand and a softly spoken command in her native tounge, the Vardo would lunge forward as the Piebald made his way along the cobble stone path.
Exactly where would she go? Even she didn't have the answer to this. Where ever the road would lead her, and what ever the circumstance that would have her remain in another place, was a vision she had not for herself. Darkness, that was all she could see ahead. One thing was for sure, where ever it was she'd end up, it would be a place that offered warmth; of some kind!
Even before the attack in the forest, she could sense things beyond her natural abilities. The ability of clear sight in the darkness, to hear the steady drumming of a heart when one passed near. These would be hightened more when her blood intermixed with that of the beast that attacked her. The nightmares that would soon follow, calm and serene in comparison to the realization that, such horrid visions were rememberances of her own actions. However, the tiny Gypsy was never one to lie down in defeat. It took much concentration, strong will, and determination, and soon she found the ablitity to control the raging beast that laid dormant within her.
With this came the turmoil in her heart, of having become the natural enemy of the only ones who ever showed her understanding, affection, and acceptance. From a young girl she had spent more time in the presence of the Night Walkers than she did with those who lived by the light of day. They took her in, offered her protection and a sense of family. Not once did she feel her life in peril, nor did any make a move to try and defile the tiny Rom with their mark. They came to her for guidance, and at times to sooth their troubled soul. For you see, so many misunderstood those who lived by the light of the moon, viewing them as monsters. Creatures that should be destroyed from the face of the earth. It was because so many feared things they did not understand or went against the grains of their belief system. Not Nadja, she seen them for who they were. They were not beasts nor creatures to the tiny Rom, but individuals who like she, had learned to live with their curse and make the best of the life they were forced to live.
In many ways the Gypsy's, Night Walkers, and Lycans were alike. Shunned by humanity, viewed as evil entities that should be wiped from the face of the earth, or enslaved to enact at the will of their owner. They found little comradery with the denizens of the lands they traveled through, or chose to live. Always the first to have a finger pointed at when something went wrong or an explaination could not be found.
Now as she became a young woman, her life took another drastic change. In her heart and mind, her acceptance was meant as a way to be saved. Much the same way a man or woman would trust a Priest to submerge them into a flowing river in the form of a Baptism. She thought not about the long term effect, or how it would change her life even more as time passed. It might also have to do with the amount of trust she had in the one who offered her hope, a trust that she had not realized would bring forth the fate she'd face in the end. The offer, well meant as it sounded, was not to help the Gypsy fully, as there was an underlying agenda the small Rom knew nothing about.
The years of standing back and watching the small girl grow into a woman. The things that touched her life, mind, and heart had also touched his own. One would call it an infactuation, and the man she had looked to as a mentor was in a sense a stalker of the worse kind. He took advantage of her innocents, niavity, and youth. Finding a perfect position in which she had found herself to gain his full wish; to claim her fully as his own. Not by way of wedded bliss, nor in claiming the young tender body in the way a man would claim a woman's. But in a way that would tie the tiny Rom to him for eternity. Yes, he removed the curse of the Lycan, or so he had thought and she believed. In return, he gave her of himself, bound them together with blood ties. She was now a part of him in ways that could never be severed. No ring, nor license or contract could be as binding as "The Kiss". A kiss of death that brought eternal life.
In all of this, in the end, the small Gypsy felt more alone than before. The one she called Stapan, Lord and Master, was gone from her life in the blink of an eye once more. What friends she had made began to slowly fade from the tiny Rom's life, being self absorbed in their own. The town she had settled in was colder than a dark winter's night. Not the weather, but the people who lived there. Distant, unapproachable, unaccepting of those outside their small community circles. Not that this surprised Nadja, for it was a way of life she had come to accept long ago. She had no wealth, no position nor title to be accepted in a society that such things mattered most. It would ultimately be the reason that a single choice would be made. An invitation to a Masqued Ball would be another turning point in her life.
It was in the dead of night that she loaded her possessions into the Vardo parked upon the cobble stone street before the small shop she rented in the Port. The Piedbald was anxious, his hooves pawing at the hard surface of the road. He feared not his care taker, even with the changes she had undergone. They had been together for many years, and the animal had a trust in the woman that superceeded the scent of a preditor she gave off. There were no well wishers to see her off, no tears, nor anyone requesting the Gypsy to one day return for a visit. She was sure none would even notice she had gone, just as they noticed not that she had lived. Not even those she once called friends would notice the absense of the Rom, their visits had slowly dwindled to where she never seen them again.
The last item was packed into the Vardo, the door closed and latched. A singular glance back towards the small shop that had also second as her home during the wintery months. There was no remorse in her unbeating heart, no sadness did she feel. Acceptance, something that she learned a long time ago. How foolish she was to think her life would ever change, tomfoolery she'd never sucumb to again. She was who and what she was, nothing could ever change that. Even if for one night she lived a thousand lifetimes upon a ballroom dance floor, it was a night hidden behind a mask and not reality. The reins taken in hand and a softly spoken command in her native tounge, the Vardo would lunge forward as the Piebald made his way along the cobble stone path.
Exactly where would she go? Even she didn't have the answer to this. Where ever the road would lead her, and what ever the circumstance that would have her remain in another place, was a vision she had not for herself. Darkness, that was all she could see ahead. One thing was for sure, where ever it was she'd end up, it would be a place that offered warmth; of some kind!
