we fall down on the inside. [p]
#1
[html]<style type="text/css">
#fia01 { width: 400px; background: #000 url('http://i1140.photobucket.com/albums/n571/britcurtisxo/fia/tablehead01.jpg') top center no-repeat; padding-top: 260px; padding-bottom: 15px; border: 1px solid #000; color: #fefee2; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 14px; text-align: justify; }
#fia01 h1 { color: #fff; font-size: 18px; text-align: right; font-weight: bold; margin-right: 15px; }
#fia01 p { margin: 5px 20px; line-height: 15px; }
#fia01 .ooc { color: #525243; font-style: italic; }
#fia01 .speak { color: #ffad0e; font-weight: bold; }
</style>

For Harlowe. SSWM: 389


Fiachra had traveled enough for a lifetime. Now, she was more than content to sit against a tree above her new home, mending her bag with some spare leather and cord, her icy blue eyes so concentrated, she might have burnt holes through the leather. Her hand's grasp around the leather working needle caused her minor amounts of pain from Naniko's little blood rite, just enough to make her twitch occasionally. She had decided she enjoyed the pain of it, and tried to remember, as she worked, why she had ever disliked pain. It felt natural now, like breathing. She stabbed the leather with the needle a little harder as she realized that she'd not liked it because she'd been flawless. She had never known pain in her soul - how could she like it in her body?


But life had changed her. The monsters had changed her. Now, her soul brimmed with pain, and she sought for her body to follow suit. She leaned closer to her work, her hair falling across her face, and she pushed it aside impatiently. She had lost the strip of leather she'd formerly used to tie it back. She set her work aside and grabbed a scrap piece of leather, using the sharpened edge of her rosary crucifix to slice off a strip. Her hands worked carefully, but not carefully enough. She slipped, scraping her hand, and a muffled sound came from her throat.. something not quite as displeased as it could have been. Blood hit the strip of leather, staining it, but she ignored it. Slowly, she tied her hair back, then licked her hand lightly and picked up her bag again.


It was a while before she completed the mending on her bag. Next, she set to work on her clothing. She didn't have a lot of it, but what she had was worn through from traveling. Piece by piece, she fixed holes and tears, modified pieces too damaged to be restored to their original state, and then folded each piece and put it back in her newly mended bag. Ah, being productive. What a way to spend the last hour before sunset. She might have complained about busy work at one time, but now, she was glad for nothing more important to do. She was glad to be home.



[/html]


Messages In This Thread

Forum Jump: