Wednesday, October 15, 2008 - The Forgotten Princess: Chapter I: Stop and Start
Dedicated to Eowyn, Padawan, and uhhh....my Bionicle lovingg duude whose name I can never rmemeber! Yeah, that'll work :D
~The Forgotten Princess~
~Chapter I~
~Stop and Start~
I awoke suddenly, so suddenly, scaring even myself. My eyes ripped open quickly, fear encasing their outlines. I lay where I had before closing my eyes last night: in my room. My forehead was dotted with small beads of sweat, the remains of my dream still lodged in my troubled mind.
My body felt heavy, though my head felt un-naturally light. A blink of my eye was all it took for my head to start to spin, dizziness chewing away at my strength.
"What's going on?" I said to particularly no one, out of pure annoyance.
Leaning up, my elbows the only thing used for support, I began to wash my face from water that I had slipped into a basin last night.
The cool water felt amazing and yet shocking as it splashed against my pale face.
My face still dripping with water, I stretch her stiff limps and bones. Twisting my body, I sighed.
My amber and green eyes fell upon her bed.
The pillows were scattered across the floor, my sheets and blankets looked as if they had been dancing all night, and were tangled up with each other.
“I’m not making that.” I muttered. My tongue felt puffy, my voice raspy.
To my right, I knew, was my dresser, which was filled with my clothes (no dresses) that I had learned my make myself. Swords and makeshift knives sat on top of my dresser, dust collecting around their steal and metal forms.
A maroon and brown mirror hung above it, the designs told of a story about a woman who killed twenty spirits for the man she loved, who intern, did not love her back.
It seemed to be mid afternoon, so the lighting was dim.
I slowly walked over toward my dresser, and reached for my companion: my sword.
It felt heavy as it rested upon the palms of my hands. I love her sword…it is my friend….for I had none.
One hand grasped the hilt, and slid the blade out of its resting place.
The blade was red, because I was a Firebender; one of the rarest Firebenders in the world, actually.
I live in the Spirit World, and in the Spirit World, you cannot Bend any Element.
But I can.
The handle was decorated with symbols of my family’s heritage, such as my family’s crest and pictures of my mother and father.
The pictures starred back at me, mocking my every feature. I looked like a perfect blend of these two people, but they seemed so unlike me.
Too unlike me.
The blade screeched as it slid forth from its hiding place and into the air.
My arm quivered, not used to the strain of the blade. Light danced off the beautiful weapon, flashing through the room.
A small scratch came into view as she turned it slightly. That had been an accident, one of my only, as I made it seem.
My father and I had been training together, I had slipped, and he took the chance to ruin my blade.
I will always regret that simple mistake, and the ruining of my precious blade. Never again would I commit a mistake in battle. Never.
FireLord Ozai, my father, was a fierce competitor. He showed no mercy, and neither would I.
I obtained no mercy from anyone, so what was the point of showing any? You get what you dish out after all.
Together, we were the perfect match. Our wits played off of each other perfectly, our skills battling each other to the death. Nothing seemed out of our reach, and nothing had gone wrong yet. I had only won a duel with him once--but that was with a blade. I would challenge her father to an Agni Ki every chance I could get, no matter how tired I was, or how young I was. I have a fighting and rebellious spirit, and as he had told me, war and rage was simply ran through my veins. If I tried fighting it, my actions would be in vain.
When I was Firebending, I was in my element. I was perfect, and I could make no mistakes. In a trance was I, no matter the outcome of my actions, when Firebending, I was unbeatable. My lungs suppressed a hard sigh, emotion filling them up to their capacity.
I miss him….too much.
A couple of years back he had disappeared.
Memories flashed before my eyes…eyes that had seen too much…
I remember that day well…too well…
~Avii(c)2oo8~
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