01-14-2010, 12:28 AM
Ah, this sucks. Somehow a two hour nap and a stomach ache doesn't make for good writing. And IDK if I mentioned it, but Corona is in her Optime form if you need it for reference. XD
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It reality, it had been years. Long years, marked by nothing more than the passing of the tangible seasons and the rise and fall of a full moon. At first her mother’s voice was unfamiliar, but then there was that spark, that familiarity that she had heard long before her the sound of her father’s voice that garnered her attention. Kaena’s approach had gone unnoticed; an awkward happenstance that always seemed to happen in conjunction with Corona being lost in her own thoughts. Even though the recognition was there when she brought her own gaze to meet the single gold of her mother, Kaena looked very little like how she was remembered. This time, she could see the age much more clearly than before, and this time there were many more scars. But it was for whatever reason—perhaps the seemingly silent approach and the weariness of her eldest living daughter—that Corona did not initially perceive her mother to really be there.
It made some convoluted sense to Corona that she would see things there of all places. It had been in the months past Ahren’s death that she had questioned herself and with it, her own sanity. Losing siblings had been one thing, because for the most part Corona had lost her bond with them, but with her father that had been strong, if not waned eventually, but still strong. Apathy was certainly the new black and something that she had worn for quite a while, but there were colourful pinpricks of feeling that lit up against that dark backdrop. In this case, there was a little guilt that bubbled beneath her skin and for the brief second that she acknowledged her mother being there, her gaze returned to the crudely marked grave at her feet. She remembered finding her sister there not a handful of days after they had left Andrezej to rot.
“Rachias buried him here,” she said aloud, assuming for whatever reason that if her mother was something of a ghost, she would know. “I never really knew him, but he always hated all of us, even when he was little.” And perhaps in the same way that her mother often regretted not sticking with Inferni, Corona had it too. Her phases in the clan came and went and that was something that they shared in common. Aside from blood, it may have been the only thing that they shared; of her siblings, Corona had remained the one dichotomy in them, with nothing to mark her as a Lykoi and nothing to mark her as a de le Poer. That was of course and unfortunate when one excluded the tell-a-tale blue of her eyes for the now rampant de le Poer red.
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It reality, it had been years. Long years, marked by nothing more than the passing of the tangible seasons and the rise and fall of a full moon. At first her mother’s voice was unfamiliar, but then there was that spark, that familiarity that she had heard long before her the sound of her father’s voice that garnered her attention. Kaena’s approach had gone unnoticed; an awkward happenstance that always seemed to happen in conjunction with Corona being lost in her own thoughts. Even though the recognition was there when she brought her own gaze to meet the single gold of her mother, Kaena looked very little like how she was remembered. This time, she could see the age much more clearly than before, and this time there were many more scars. But it was for whatever reason—perhaps the seemingly silent approach and the weariness of her eldest living daughter—that Corona did not initially perceive her mother to really be there.
It made some convoluted sense to Corona that she would see things there of all places. It had been in the months past Ahren’s death that she had questioned herself and with it, her own sanity. Losing siblings had been one thing, because for the most part Corona had lost her bond with them, but with her father that had been strong, if not waned eventually, but still strong. Apathy was certainly the new black and something that she had worn for quite a while, but there were colourful pinpricks of feeling that lit up against that dark backdrop. In this case, there was a little guilt that bubbled beneath her skin and for the brief second that she acknowledged her mother being there, her gaze returned to the crudely marked grave at her feet. She remembered finding her sister there not a handful of days after they had left Andrezej to rot.
“Rachias buried him here,” she said aloud, assuming for whatever reason that if her mother was something of a ghost, she would know. “I never really knew him, but he always hated all of us, even when he was little.” And perhaps in the same way that her mother often regretted not sticking with Inferni, Corona had it too. Her phases in the clan came and went and that was something that they shared in common. Aside from blood, it may have been the only thing that they shared; of her siblings, Corona had remained the one dichotomy in them, with nothing to mark her as a Lykoi and nothing to mark her as a de le Poer. That was of course and unfortunate when one excluded the tell-a-tale blue of her eyes for the now rampant de le Poer red.