Wide eyes stared up. A mass of hair took over the pillow as she allowed her head to sink into it. It was... Unusually cold for a Thanalan night. Or perhaps it was just how she felt it. She knew not. An irritable sigh escapes her lips.
Rest. An easy notion should your mind be able to. She wrinkles her nose in annoyance has she drags herself out of her bed, lazily slumping over the side of her bathtub. The water was still. Everything was silent. And it irritated her. She glances disdainfully at her reflection in the water.
Pathetic
She growls, and splashes the water, the ripples marring her image as she did.
No. You’re not.
She purses her lips, looking back to it as the reflection reformed.
Can’t even stand on your own two feet.
She told herself. She wasn’t sure if they were even her words.
Yes... I can....
Hesitation was in her voice. Her own complacence for the matter irked her.
What, with Matt propping you up? With the Kindred used as a pillar to lean on?
The voice snarled back. It wasn’t her voice. But it was similar.
“Mother...?†She whispered. Her voice wavered. She remained still and silent.
No...
Brow furrowed, staring straight at the vivid purple orbs in the reflection, she grits her teeth.
Help people? You can’t even help yourself? What good are you?!
The voice continued. Bexy narrows her eyes again to her reflection.
I...
She purses her lips very briefly, before sitting straight up.
No.
NO.
She drags a towel from the side, submerging it into the water before smothering it into her own face, rubbing at her eyes as she did. Smudges of purple eyeshadow and red lipstick left their marks.
Bexy...
She waited for the water to settle. It was still her. She looked younger.
Gods... That word. Younger.
She was different. Alone. Solitary. She feared it more than she dare tell anyone, and her eyes welled again, widening with that familiar fear. Bringing her hand up to again splash the water, she almost whimpered with the thought of it. But something.... Stopped her.
With loneliness came clarity. No others to cloud her thoughts with. No friend to worry over. No lover to fret about. She could think clearly.
With solitude came independence. She had no one else to lean on. No one to speak to. Every problem that presented itself had to be dealt by her, and her alone. And she did. She used to thrive alone.
But... Am i even still able to...?
She thinks to herself. Her eyes well once more, and a tear rolls down her cheek from remembrance. The red robe now dampening some with the water. She always wore it when he wasn’t present. His first... Gift, in a sense, to her.
She rises to her feet, slowly, and paces towards the wardrobe.
With a sigh, she packs some clothes into a box. Long, plunging V necks. Short skirts. Dresses. Such weren’t needed. Not now. Vanity was a pleasure she would no longer allow herself. She takes out a small wooden box, and unhooks her earrings. More niceties. Function over fashion. She’d allow herself to wear them again when she felt more deserving. Hastily, she pushes the box back into the wardrobe before she reconsiders, pushing the wooden door shut before slumping onto it as thought it was going to burst out. She takes a deep breath and lets out a sob as she slides down the front of the wardrobe, dropping behind her knees.
See this seedling, little one...?
The voice was... Famillar. She hadn’t heard it in years. Her eyes opened again with confusion.
Seedling...?
Mhm. Seedling. All the Shroud trees start as tiny, little seedlings. Amazing, would you not agree, kit?
A pet name that would normally scald her sounded pleasantly soothing. But she couldn’t place the voice. It was soft and full of warmth. She wanted to cling to it.
But it’s so small...
Aye. It is. And it might not look like much now. But with the right things... Nutrients... Care... And a little good luck, it will grow into a mighty tree.
What kind of tree?
Who can say? Many different kinds are present here in the Twelveswood, little one...
She closed her eyes again. Why was this man so... Familiar?
“Father...?†Bexy whispered, almost fearfully. No. She... She’d never heard his voice. Not that she could remember anyway.
The young miqo’te tugged at the bottom of the seedling, wrinkling her nose.
Is there something wrong with it...? It’s... Kinda ugly at the bottom...
That’s the roots, Bexy. Not always pretty to look at. They don’t always make sense in how they grow, too. But they’re necessary. Even if they’re hidden most of the time.
But... Why?
Well, if there were no roots, there would be no tree. Nothing to grow from. Nothing to help the tree get stronger. Without them, it would just die. So even if they are a bit... Unsightly, some. They’re as necessary as the rest of it.
I see...
“I see...†Bexy gasps with realisation. The voice was familiar now. Nephiren. The one who trained her. Educated her. She always found him to be a little strange, but she was always fond.
You were never talking about trees, were you?
People. Trees. They’re not so different. You used to say that.
Bexy looks to the potted plant at the other side of the room, picking herself from the floor.
People need roots. Past. Things they leave behind and often bury, to grow. Often not pretty. And of course, one is bound to surface every now and then. But it’s important.
People need nutrients. Food. Water. Shelter. But that’s a given.
People need... Care. Love. Affection. Friendship. Else, they won’t be as strong without them.
People need... Luck.
She stifles a laugh at the notion of luck. Her eyes narrow as she stands.
“I need... Need to remember this...†She mutters, walking to a cabinet with many different dyes, inks and paints in them. She pulls out an inky black, and a brush.
“To remember to see clearly. No matter how dark this gets...â€
She brings the brush across her eyes, leaving a thick, black line across her face. Her purple eyes flicker open through the newly drying paint, two bright eyes peering through he darkness.
A fitting reminder.
A smirk graces her lips, as she slips in once again between the sheets. The only thing that remained was the robe.
![[Image: BexyAmalaryssia28_07_201421_29_04_zps5f7795da.png]](http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p42/BexyMithra/BexyAmalaryssia28_07_201421_29_04_zps5f7795da.png)
Rest. An easy notion should your mind be able to. She wrinkles her nose in annoyance has she drags herself out of her bed, lazily slumping over the side of her bathtub. The water was still. Everything was silent. And it irritated her. She glances disdainfully at her reflection in the water.
Pathetic
She growls, and splashes the water, the ripples marring her image as she did.
No. You’re not.
She purses her lips, looking back to it as the reflection reformed.
Can’t even stand on your own two feet.
She told herself. She wasn’t sure if they were even her words.
Yes... I can....
Hesitation was in her voice. Her own complacence for the matter irked her.
What, with Matt propping you up? With the Kindred used as a pillar to lean on?
The voice snarled back. It wasn’t her voice. But it was similar.
“Mother...?†She whispered. Her voice wavered. She remained still and silent.
No...
Brow furrowed, staring straight at the vivid purple orbs in the reflection, she grits her teeth.
Help people? You can’t even help yourself? What good are you?!
The voice continued. Bexy narrows her eyes again to her reflection.
I...
She purses her lips very briefly, before sitting straight up.
No.
NO.
She drags a towel from the side, submerging it into the water before smothering it into her own face, rubbing at her eyes as she did. Smudges of purple eyeshadow and red lipstick left their marks.
Bexy...
She waited for the water to settle. It was still her. She looked younger.
Gods... That word. Younger.
She was different. Alone. Solitary. She feared it more than she dare tell anyone, and her eyes welled again, widening with that familiar fear. Bringing her hand up to again splash the water, she almost whimpered with the thought of it. But something.... Stopped her.
With loneliness came clarity. No others to cloud her thoughts with. No friend to worry over. No lover to fret about. She could think clearly.
With solitude came independence. She had no one else to lean on. No one to speak to. Every problem that presented itself had to be dealt by her, and her alone. And she did. She used to thrive alone.
But... Am i even still able to...?
She thinks to herself. Her eyes well once more, and a tear rolls down her cheek from remembrance. The red robe now dampening some with the water. She always wore it when he wasn’t present. His first... Gift, in a sense, to her.
She rises to her feet, slowly, and paces towards the wardrobe.
With a sigh, she packs some clothes into a box. Long, plunging V necks. Short skirts. Dresses. Such weren’t needed. Not now. Vanity was a pleasure she would no longer allow herself. She takes out a small wooden box, and unhooks her earrings. More niceties. Function over fashion. She’d allow herself to wear them again when she felt more deserving. Hastily, she pushes the box back into the wardrobe before she reconsiders, pushing the wooden door shut before slumping onto it as thought it was going to burst out. She takes a deep breath and lets out a sob as she slides down the front of the wardrobe, dropping behind her knees.
See this seedling, little one...?
The voice was... Famillar. She hadn’t heard it in years. Her eyes opened again with confusion.
Seedling...?
Mhm. Seedling. All the Shroud trees start as tiny, little seedlings. Amazing, would you not agree, kit?
A pet name that would normally scald her sounded pleasantly soothing. But she couldn’t place the voice. It was soft and full of warmth. She wanted to cling to it.
But it’s so small...
Aye. It is. And it might not look like much now. But with the right things... Nutrients... Care... And a little good luck, it will grow into a mighty tree.
What kind of tree?
Who can say? Many different kinds are present here in the Twelveswood, little one...
She closed her eyes again. Why was this man so... Familiar?
“Father...?†Bexy whispered, almost fearfully. No. She... She’d never heard his voice. Not that she could remember anyway.
The young miqo’te tugged at the bottom of the seedling, wrinkling her nose.
Is there something wrong with it...? It’s... Kinda ugly at the bottom...
That’s the roots, Bexy. Not always pretty to look at. They don’t always make sense in how they grow, too. But they’re necessary. Even if they’re hidden most of the time.
But... Why?
Well, if there were no roots, there would be no tree. Nothing to grow from. Nothing to help the tree get stronger. Without them, it would just die. So even if they are a bit... Unsightly, some. They’re as necessary as the rest of it.
I see...
“I see...†Bexy gasps with realisation. The voice was familiar now. Nephiren. The one who trained her. Educated her. She always found him to be a little strange, but she was always fond.
You were never talking about trees, were you?
People. Trees. They’re not so different. You used to say that.
Bexy looks to the potted plant at the other side of the room, picking herself from the floor.
People need roots. Past. Things they leave behind and often bury, to grow. Often not pretty. And of course, one is bound to surface every now and then. But it’s important.
People need nutrients. Food. Water. Shelter. But that’s a given.
People need... Care. Love. Affection. Friendship. Else, they won’t be as strong without them.
People need... Luck.
She stifles a laugh at the notion of luck. Her eyes narrow as she stands.
“I need... Need to remember this...†She mutters, walking to a cabinet with many different dyes, inks and paints in them. She pulls out an inky black, and a brush.
“To remember to see clearly. No matter how dark this gets...â€
She brings the brush across her eyes, leaving a thick, black line across her face. Her purple eyes flicker open through the newly drying paint, two bright eyes peering through he darkness.
A fitting reminder.
A smirk graces her lips, as she slips in once again between the sheets. The only thing that remained was the robe.
![[Image: nwo9VGX.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/nwo9VGX.gif)
