Flashback A Mother's Tears

Savannah tells a bit about her childhood.

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Built high in the massive branches of Taldera's bloodwood forest, The Spires is a city crafted by the peaceful and scholarly Jamoura. Considered a haven for scholars and sages Mizahar-wide, The Spires is a mecca of philosophy and science that draws people from far and wide with its promise of deeper thinking and higher reasoning.

A Mother's Tears

Postby Savannah Farstar on August 20th, 2013, 11:02 pm

A Mother's Tears


I can still remember the first day I ever saw my mother's tears fall. To this day she doesn't know I was climbing the branches around our home. I can remember it perfectly now, as if I'm looking in through her bedroom window right now. She sat on the edge of her bed with a picture clutched in her large hands. I'm not sure who was in the picture, but it was a man. I guess it was my father, the man who left her days before my birth. I was maybe three seasons old at the time, not much more mature than I am now, but regardless I knew she wasn't cry tears of happiness. No she was mourning for the man in the picture. I'd never seen my mother cry before, and I haven't seen it since. She's a strong Jamoura, you see. Caring and kind on the inside, but a firm and strict mother on the outside.

I remember wondering why the indomitable woman that is my mother could be crying. I took those thoughts with me to lessons that day. All throughout the day I thought about those tears soaking into my mothers furred face, making her eyes red and her nose sniff uncontrollably. I couldn't possibly ask my mother why she was crying. I was certain she would wave it off and tell me not to climb the trees anymore if I asked. So I decided I would find the man in the picture and figure out why he made my mother cry. I didn't know back then, and I wish I hadn't ever found out.
School wasn't a highlight of my early years. Quite the opposite actually. All the Jamoura children in my school were always polite as the culture dictated, but I could hear the whispers. When they thought I couldn't hear, they always talked about me. "Where is her fur? She isn't one of us, right?" I was born a human to a Jamoura mother. It shouldn't be even possible, but here I am. But for this very reason, I was alienated from the rest of the children. I never really had a true friend, but that was okay. I never had a need for company anyay. Instead, when outside of lessons, I would draw. My mother taught me to draw around the time the teachers pronounced me unteachable. I can't read or write, and the teachers initially thought it was because I was mentally deformed. It wasn't until they learned of my true race that they stopped seeing me as a deformed Jamoura, and instead a Kelvic. Because I'm a Kelvic, I don't learn very well. Not until I'm a little older at least, so until then I'll ba an illiterate Kelvic.

At an early age- around my second season- my mother took me out to the edges of The Spires. She packed a little lunch in my bakpack and carried two large bags on her shoulders all the way out. I always marvelled at her strength compared to mine. Even as a tiger, I could never compare to her prowess. Anyway, passed the gates of The Spires my mother led me. I remember being very eager to go wherever she was taking me. Even back then I was adventurous, so I had absolutely no trouble hiking in the wilderness. Eventually, about two hours later, we broke into a clearing.

Surrounding this clear lush brush in the clearing were large trees. The sun twinkled high above, serving to bathe everything in its soft light. A lazy strem ran through the center, bringing soft trickling noises coupled with birdsong from the branches hig habove. I remember stopping in my tracks and marvelling the beauty of the place. This wonderous place of eternal peace soon became a haven for me. Away from all the stares and whispers, here I could shift freely and just relax. This clearing was also the place my mother passed on her skill to me. I learned to put pencil to paper and let out my caged creativity. While most children were writing to get out their pent up creativity, I instead drew. I'd like to think I came close to being as skillful as my mother, but no one could surpass her art.

For two more seasons I came back to that clearing, which remains unnamed. I'd hike a lunch out, armed with my pencils and paper, and sit for hours. Sometimes I didn't draw anything, other times I drew for a solid four hours. It all depended on what my heart wanted. I gained my self confidence and my smiles stopped becoming shields against the whispers of the Jamoura children. This great clearing was also the beginning of my first adventure, and my first heartbreak. But that's for another story entirely.
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Savannah Farstar
The Timid Tiger
 
Posts: 33
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Joined roleplay: August 20th, 2013, 2:44 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Kelvic
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