Post by Aldrid on Apr 13, 2014 1:57:37 GMT
The lilting sound echoed out with a haunting melody intermingling with the cool night air. The notes danced about on the winds, evoking an odd sense of harmony in the world. In it's wake everything seemed to be lulled into tranquility; serenity washed over any who heard it, including those resting by the warmth of the fire. The young girl watched from the darkness swaying to and fro. It was hypnotizing. The sensations were overwhelming and unfamiliar; she didn't realize she was sobbing softly to herself. It was only when the music stopped that she realized she had cried out. The others, alerted by her cry, quickly found her standing in the brush, naked, scratched, and bruised. Dirt clung to her fair skin and matted in her hair. At the sight of her and the tears running down her face, pity welled up inside them.
She didn't understand what was going on, and caustic fear settled in her gut. Though this was nearly drowned out by the warmth of the fire. She hadn't realized how cold she'd been until she sat directly beside the flickering flames. She stared at it with fascination, her hands extending towards it. The others watched her quizzically, wondering at her reaction - it was as if she had seen fire for the first time... and in truth, it was.
The shadows cast across her face made it too difficult to discern much of her features, but it was obvious she wore no clothing. This was quickly remedied when a cloak was draped around her slender shoulders, further warming her skin. She hunched gratefully into the thick fabric. Looking at the kind strangers about her, her only sign of appreciation was a simple smile. In truth, she didn't know their language - or anything of his world. Everything was instinctual to her. As the night wore on, the men around the fire evidently fell into sleep... All but one. It was the man that had produced the lovely sound that had drawn her to their whereabouts. She watched him curiously. His hands moved about with unnatural grace, whether he was stroking the fire, or playing with pieces of debris. The two didn't speak to each other, but she somehow felt a small pang of unease with how he watched her... it was the same look as when a wild cat stalked a rabbit; and she was the prey.
The next day the others seemed to be fascinated by the young girl. Her hair was long and as inky black as the darkest night, the kind of night which lured even an innocent soul into committing sinister deeds. Her eyes were the colour of freshly spilled blood. Her skin was fair, pallid and unblemished. They had tried to fit clothes to her, but her size in was impossible to cover with anything they had without causing her to stumble around and trip over the ends of the pants, so for now, she walked around in nothing but the cloak. Her feet remained bare, the harsh earth barely seemed to draw her attention. She traveled with the small troupe for a few days, spending her time relaxing with them at night and being drawn to the sound of the man and his instrument, calling a shroud of peace and calm to their adventure.
Days became weeks, and then months - in that time, she had come to learn a lot. She had learned words, and the men often had her sing when the man with the lyre played, finding her sonorous voice a beautiful treasure on its own. The more time she spent with them, the more at ease she felt. Looking at these men, she felt warm, and happy. The enigmatic girl had come to know them as a family. She had grown a bit too, enough that when they had come across a small village, she was given a hemmed tunic and trousers. They were still a little big but the feeling of being clothed gave the child a sense of security; though most importantly, they were a gift, and one she treasured dearly. In her naive mind, everything was perfect; though this would be short lived.
She didn't understand what was going on, and caustic fear settled in her gut. Though this was nearly drowned out by the warmth of the fire. She hadn't realized how cold she'd been until she sat directly beside the flickering flames. She stared at it with fascination, her hands extending towards it. The others watched her quizzically, wondering at her reaction - it was as if she had seen fire for the first time... and in truth, it was.
The shadows cast across her face made it too difficult to discern much of her features, but it was obvious she wore no clothing. This was quickly remedied when a cloak was draped around her slender shoulders, further warming her skin. She hunched gratefully into the thick fabric. Looking at the kind strangers about her, her only sign of appreciation was a simple smile. In truth, she didn't know their language - or anything of his world. Everything was instinctual to her. As the night wore on, the men around the fire evidently fell into sleep... All but one. It was the man that had produced the lovely sound that had drawn her to their whereabouts. She watched him curiously. His hands moved about with unnatural grace, whether he was stroking the fire, or playing with pieces of debris. The two didn't speak to each other, but she somehow felt a small pang of unease with how he watched her... it was the same look as when a wild cat stalked a rabbit; and she was the prey.
The next day the others seemed to be fascinated by the young girl. Her hair was long and as inky black as the darkest night, the kind of night which lured even an innocent soul into committing sinister deeds. Her eyes were the colour of freshly spilled blood. Her skin was fair, pallid and unblemished. They had tried to fit clothes to her, but her size in was impossible to cover with anything they had without causing her to stumble around and trip over the ends of the pants, so for now, she walked around in nothing but the cloak. Her feet remained bare, the harsh earth barely seemed to draw her attention. She traveled with the small troupe for a few days, spending her time relaxing with them at night and being drawn to the sound of the man and his instrument, calling a shroud of peace and calm to their adventure.
Days became weeks, and then months - in that time, she had come to learn a lot. She had learned words, and the men often had her sing when the man with the lyre played, finding her sonorous voice a beautiful treasure on its own. The more time she spent with them, the more at ease she felt. Looking at these men, she felt warm, and happy. The enigmatic girl had come to know them as a family. She had grown a bit too, enough that when they had come across a small village, she was given a hemmed tunic and trousers. They were still a little big but the feeling of being clothed gave the child a sense of security; though most importantly, they were a gift, and one she treasured dearly. In her naive mind, everything was perfect; though this would be short lived.