Timestamp: 31st Winter 511 A.V. -- after dusk
Many a tale had been spun to the youth of the world from their parents that spoke of the undead. Many a tale had passed over that sacred storytelling place of the bedside that included the detail of such disgusting, unnatural enemies. Such undead were always vile, merciless creatures that were missing half of their flesh and prowled in the dark, who nonetheless always emerged to threaten the hero of the tale. "No!" the child would cry, little pudgy fists tightly wrapped around their bedsheets in fright for their imagined friend's fate. In the good tales, the hero would always triumph. They would rout the undead soundly, send them back to the darkness from whence they came and all that other nonsense. In the darker stories however, such was not always the case.
In such tales, after detailing how the undead ate the face of the would-be protagonist, the parent would thereafter lower their voice and say, "And be sure you don't do so-and-so, or the Nuits will come after you."
And thus UIdr's blessed were reduced to discouragement tools for parents. Something to threaten the unruly youngster, something to whip him into shape while the truth was, they were so much more - especially in the case of the Nuits. The average Nuit would never devour ones face, and it was rare indeed to see one creeping in the dark.
Which made it all the more ironic Sela found herself crouched in that dark alleyway after nightfall like all the stories she had heard of the Nuit that did exactly the same thing. Back then, when she'd heard the stories as a child, she'd never once had thought that she would have joined the undead ranks.
Her chest did not heave, her breath didn't come fast, but Sela was obviously startled. And, although she wouldn't admit it, she might have even been scared. he shock of a hand coming to grip hers in the middle of the night was still all to fresh. The hand might have been from a friend, but Sela wasn't about to take that chance. Long-ingrained instincts had sent her running as fast as her sluggish Nuit body would take her.
What came next was not a continuous thread of memory but rather disparate, enclosed events, snapshots taken by an overworked mind. The house she had rounded. The bush she had crashed through. Her mind only began functioning properly again when she had reached - her.
Sela took a deep (and unneeded) breath. Calm down! her mind told her body, as cross as the body was nervy. That could have been anyone. We didn't need to react like that!
Her body meekly acquiesced, the jittery nerves all across her borrowed body beginning to calm down. When the footstep sounded on the other side of the alley, however, it erupted into anxiety once more, much to Sela's annoyance.
"What now?!" she muttered angrily, grabbing her right hand with her left to keep it from shaking. She turned slightly, the better to see the other side of the alley while keeping the one closer to her still in view. "Who's there?" she called out. Despite her attempt to make her voice sound resounding and confident, it came out sounding forced and scared. Sela silently cursed.
This is just getting better and better! she thought even as she waited for whoever was coming to get closer.
In such tales, after detailing how the undead ate the face of the would-be protagonist, the parent would thereafter lower their voice and say, "And be sure you don't do so-and-so, or the Nuits will come after you."
And thus UIdr's blessed were reduced to discouragement tools for parents. Something to threaten the unruly youngster, something to whip him into shape while the truth was, they were so much more - especially in the case of the Nuits. The average Nuit would never devour ones face, and it was rare indeed to see one creeping in the dark.
Which made it all the more ironic Sela found herself crouched in that dark alleyway after nightfall like all the stories she had heard of the Nuit that did exactly the same thing. Back then, when she'd heard the stories as a child, she'd never once had thought that she would have joined the undead ranks.
Her chest did not heave, her breath didn't come fast, but Sela was obviously startled. And, although she wouldn't admit it, she might have even been scared. he shock of a hand coming to grip hers in the middle of the night was still all to fresh. The hand might have been from a friend, but Sela wasn't about to take that chance. Long-ingrained instincts had sent her running as fast as her sluggish Nuit body would take her.
What came next was not a continuous thread of memory but rather disparate, enclosed events, snapshots taken by an overworked mind. The house she had rounded. The bush she had crashed through. Her mind only began functioning properly again when she had reached - her.
Sela took a deep (and unneeded) breath. Calm down! her mind told her body, as cross as the body was nervy. That could have been anyone. We didn't need to react like that!
Her body meekly acquiesced, the jittery nerves all across her borrowed body beginning to calm down. When the footstep sounded on the other side of the alley, however, it erupted into anxiety once more, much to Sela's annoyance.
"What now?!" she muttered angrily, grabbing her right hand with her left to keep it from shaking. She turned slightly, the better to see the other side of the alley while keeping the one closer to her still in view. "Who's there?" she called out. Despite her attempt to make her voice sound resounding and confident, it came out sounding forced and scared. Sela silently cursed.
This is just getting better and better! she thought even as she waited for whoever was coming to get closer.
