3rd of Vhalar, 719
She knew it!
It was as if every fear Zih ever had was being proved correct. Maybe there was a more logical explanation for it but she didn't need a logical explanation to know that people were terrified of everything different, of her. Not just her in this particular instance but if they knew (she was having a hard time convincing herself they didn't already) what she was it wouldn't be a point in her favor. The Yludih didn't know when it had started, she had yet to leave her room for the morning but the strange thundering of steps, the voices so loud, so angry seemed to be all around her. The previous season had been hard and this one no better to start, but she couldn't regret coming yet when she still had no where else to go, and had planned to stay in her room, if not in Melrath.
Right up until the first sets of screams reached her ears.
Not the screams of rage, riots, or even ravelry. She knew these screams, the sound of her own from the prior arc still haunting her mind. It was one of pure and abject terror, one of death. Already her hands shook, it was none of her business and she would not check, could not but the shouts, the stampede sounds, they hadn't stopped either. Now, she could even hear the breaking of doors, closer, clearer. The more the inched toward her door, so close she swore she could see shadows under the door, the less opening it was an option. The young woman knew no one in the city, no one should be at her door. A small part of her tried to say it would pass but her body was several steps ahead of her shocked brain. Already her joural was tucked in her pocket, her body dress, shoes on, and her fingers curled around the edge of her window. With time she didn't have she quietly peeled it open then pitched herself through, taking even more precious seconds to close it softly behind her. But she didn't instantly flee, though her heart hammered a pace her feet longed to follow Zih had to be cautious. She let her eyes rove where people were far too interested in the tavern happenings, where people were being dragged out and another scream filled the mid-morning air, the military being no better than the onlookers.
There would be no help.
With all the calmness she didn't have, the Yludih adjusted her hood then walked as slowly and swiftly as she dared to the back of the tavern, the waters of the horizon taking up the whole of her vision for a moment. She thought that if she made it to the waters edge she might escape whatever was happening, and the eyes that seemed to follow her anyway. Her Mer form would let her hide until this stopped or even let her flee the city. The Mer were still a better bet than most humans with how little interest they had in those not of their tribe. Eyes on the ground, only looking up to watch the way she paved for herself, Zih picked her way through the city.
She knew it!
It was as if every fear Zih ever had was being proved correct. Maybe there was a more logical explanation for it but she didn't need a logical explanation to know that people were terrified of everything different, of her. Not just her in this particular instance but if they knew (she was having a hard time convincing herself they didn't already) what she was it wouldn't be a point in her favor. The Yludih didn't know when it had started, she had yet to leave her room for the morning but the strange thundering of steps, the voices so loud, so angry seemed to be all around her. The previous season had been hard and this one no better to start, but she couldn't regret coming yet when she still had no where else to go, and had planned to stay in her room, if not in Melrath.
Right up until the first sets of screams reached her ears.
Not the screams of rage, riots, or even ravelry. She knew these screams, the sound of her own from the prior arc still haunting her mind. It was one of pure and abject terror, one of death. Already her hands shook, it was none of her business and she would not check, could not but the shouts, the stampede sounds, they hadn't stopped either. Now, she could even hear the breaking of doors, closer, clearer. The more the inched toward her door, so close she swore she could see shadows under the door, the less opening it was an option. The young woman knew no one in the city, no one should be at her door. A small part of her tried to say it would pass but her body was several steps ahead of her shocked brain. Already her joural was tucked in her pocket, her body dress, shoes on, and her fingers curled around the edge of her window. With time she didn't have she quietly peeled it open then pitched herself through, taking even more precious seconds to close it softly behind her. But she didn't instantly flee, though her heart hammered a pace her feet longed to follow Zih had to be cautious. She let her eyes rove where people were far too interested in the tavern happenings, where people were being dragged out and another scream filled the mid-morning air, the military being no better than the onlookers.
There would be no help.
With all the calmness she didn't have, the Yludih adjusted her hood then walked as slowly and swiftly as she dared to the back of the tavern, the waters of the horizon taking up the whole of her vision for a moment. She thought that if she made it to the waters edge she might escape whatever was happening, and the eyes that seemed to follow her anyway. Her Mer form would let her hide until this stopped or even let her flee the city. The Mer were still a better bet than most humans with how little interest they had in those not of their tribe. Eyes on the ground, only looking up to watch the way she paved for herself, Zih picked her way through the city.
