breaking sense into concrete skulls. [Kat!]

[Cy]

[Kat]

Morgana had been in the Eyrie for almost two whole days and the end of the night on which she had been searched, and yet she had not spoken properly to her roommate. The girl seemed incredibly shy. Morgana did not like shy girls. They were difficult to interact with, and Morgana did not have patience or tolerance to deal with girls who did not have the confidence to assert themselves. Why should she waste her energy talking to people who would not talk back? Besides, Morgana hated passive women. They allowed themselves to be controlled by men, and Morgana liked to think that she believed heavily in the freedom for a woman to live unattached. Of course, her reaction was somewhat hypocritical, as she had been controlled by her father until three days previously, but Morgana did not quite comprehend her servitude to her father as being the same as that of a passive wife. She was an exception, of course, because she would never let herself be controlled even when she was being controlled. The girl’s new detachment from her father, granted to her by the Eyrie, instilled within her a sense of liberation. Morgana was empowered by the ideas which coursed through her mind, of her freedom, of her own success, which she would gain through her own hard work. And now that she had left, she never needed to return to her father in any submissive capacity again. He would replace her with some pretty girl off of the street who would be thrilled for the opportunity to learn, and once Zephyrus did not need her, Morgana could do whatever she wished.

But because she had not interacted with her roommate, whose name started with an E or an A or something—Emily, perhaps, or maybe Amy, Morgana felt uncomfortable every time she entered her room. She loved the space, as she had been able to decorate it in her own way, with items that had never been used in any capacity previously. She had never occupied a space of her own, one that would be her place for an extended period of time, and Morgana had decorated her room with the excitement which came with years of wondering what a home really was. Because the walls were rock, she could not line them with the scarves or fabric. She would have liked to do that, as she had many pieces of fabric which were lovely and lush, but instead, Morgana had to make do with draping them over every drapable surface. She covered her simple Eyrie provided bedspread with a bright swatch of fushia silk hand painted with large, decorative flowers. A piece of gauzy gold fabric lay over Hamlet’s cage, ready to hide the bird away at night, and the windows were covered with plush, dark blue, pieces of velvet. And there was more fabric in the girl’s bag, folded carefully, which she planned to use to make something, probably more clothing. So the space was feeling more and more like a place to live—not ‘home,’ because Morgana did not know what that was, but her roommate remained a stranger.

Morgana pushed into the room, her room, with a smile on her face. She was not going to let her roommate’s negative attitude affect her mood. The other girl was there. Hamlet squawked happily, and suddenly, Morgana reached a realization, as if the bird had triggered or inspired her new thought. She had the power to leave her father. She had to power to control her life, and she should have the power to improve the relationship with this girl who she may have to live with for months. Morgana’s green eyes scanned Amira over, as she tried to gain some information to talk about.
”Have you had that stuffed bird since you were little? I was never allowed to have stuffed toys. They are too difficult to pack, my dad thought, so I could never have them. I suppose he was probably right; I was always leaving things everywhere when we moved locations.”
The statement was a bit babbly, but Morgana spoke with a bright friendliness whichw as clean and energetic. Her tone was a bit forced, although one would not be able to tell from just hearing it, but Morgana was sure that positive sounding statements would make the girl more willing to talk. Morgana moved to Hamlet, and she slipped her hand in between the bars of his cage to stroke the top of his head lovingly. He cooed. As she stroked the bird, Morgana’s eyes wandered over Amira’s half of the room. She noticed the flowers because they were bright and colorful. Morgana approved. They brought some life into Amira’s half of the room.
”Oh, did someone give you those?”
Morgana questioned as she tilted her head near the flowers. Her eyes danced with the hint which dripped beneath the surface of her words. She wanted to hear about any male friends her roommate had, solely because such stories were wonderful to tell, even if the person in question was a total stranger. Morgana smiled widely, the gap between her teeth showing entirely, as she watched Amira, who would at least speak to Morgana. She had to.

((I'm sorry this is so rushed, but I had company coming over, and I wanted to get it up. ))

[Cy]

[/b] She returned wistfully, her own voice soft in contrast to the carrying tones of the other girl. Her gaze lifted back to catch on the blonde’s face, her brow creased with her concern. “You really never had any toys? That seems sort of sad, how often did you move?” Apparently often enough that any difficulty packing was highly frowned upon, but how often was that?

For a moment, her eyes widened with the abrupt change in topic, darting them over to follow Morgana’s own gaze and she fell back to her bouquet. Immediately, a grin graced her features, sliding easily and fluidly across her lips, and a shade of pink crawled up into the pale swell of her cheeks. She ducked her head down a bit as if to hide the heat in her face, tilting to the side a bit so she could keep her gaze on the splash of blue and white. Clearly, she’d not missed the suggestive tone of her roommate. “Yes… a friend of mine,” she started, picking her head up to look back to Morgana, trying to drop the smile from her mouth and failing utterly in the mission. “Just a friend, her name is T’gan.” She explained, blinking and looking down to the bird that now sat on her pillow, staring up at her with tiny bead eyes. Patches of his faded coat looked to be the same shade of Othokenph. “She’s a winglet now.”[/ul][/size]

[Kat]

Morgana had never really thought about how strange it was that she had not had toys as a child. She had been allowed to play with some of Zephyrus’s props, and so she had set out to amuse herself with the items of magic. He had not bought anything for her, though, that were her own toys. The moves were just too frequent, and Morgana was just prone to forget things, for her to own anything of her own besides clothing, until she was much older. And so, Morgana thought that it was so cool that Amira had owned the stuffed bird for so long. Morgana was really impressed, since she had not owned any items for her whole life. Her face erupted into a large smile, as she looked from the stuffed toy to Amira’s face. She was impressed that the girl had owned the toy so long. Morgana had never realized how unusual it was that she had never had toys. She did not think it was sad, exactly, but Morgana knew it was unusual. She bit her lip, and then she shook her head, splashing her hair around her face.
”Yeah, I’ve never really owned toys. I had plenty to play with, but never anything of my own, and I’ve always wished I had. But I guess you always want what you don’t have.”
Morgana replied. As a child, she had always wished she owned at least one doll or stuffed toy. Other girls looked so happy playing with them, but when Zephyrus continuously told the girl no, she eventually accepted that such items were not for her. In a way, Morgana mused, Hamlet was a happy medium between an item her father allowed her to have, and a living, breathing, and incredible doll.

The woman brightened when Amira asked Morgana about how often she moved. Morgana loved to discuss her travels. She knew that she should not boast or brag, but she liked to talk about her travels. So few people in Pohono ever left their homes, and Morgana got the chance to wander around the Spiderlands.
”My father and I moved every couple of weeks between Sayaie and Chydyn. Basically, we just left one city for the other when my father got himself in trouble. Which was roughly every few weeks.”
Morgana explained with a large grin. They never had a permanent home when they traveled, and in fact, Morgana had never occupied a space of her own before. Sometimes, the pair had slept in the houses of friends, accepting the charity of others, or other times, if they had more money, they would rent rooms in inns. The concept of personalized space was foreign and bizarre to Morgana, which was why she was decorating her room with such excitement and gusto.

The flowers were not a lover’s token. Morgana was disappointed. Amira was cute, in a innocent, large-eyed way, and her red hair was exotic. The fact that the flowers were a gift from a friend was just so disappointing, and so Morgana latched onto the more interesting part of the conversation. She was not sure how Amira had friends that were winglets. Had the girl been around since before Eceph’s hatching? Morgana understood that some people were not chosen, but from what Morgana could tell, almost all of the previous class had impressed.
”Oh, I met some winglets the other day, I think their names were L’nan and N’raan. They were—interesting.”
Morgana explained with a small shrug of her shoulders. Although the two had claimed to be winglets, Morgana had not seen or met their simourv companions, which now that she thought on it was strange. Maybe they were lying.
”How do you know this T’gan? Is she interesting?”
Morgana questioned with a small smile. She was glad that Amira was talking at all to her, so Morgana decided to pursue the topic which was making Amira discuss. Morgana waited expectantly for Amira’s response, her face excited and open, as she perched lazily on her bed.

[Cy]

[/I]? Her brain leaped to the conclusion that this was a truly awful fact, but Morgana flipped her hair and spoke as if it were the most logical thing in the world. She replied as if it were nothing at all and Amira watched her with frowning eyes, searching for any sign of the regret or sadness that she felt absolutely had to be there. After all, a life of no toys at all seemed like a really lonely sort of life to lead and perhaps she was being a deal materialistic for thinking so, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that. There were other things to care about, like the fact that her roommate was a toyless individual. She bit at the inside of her lip as she let her eyes drift down to her stuffed songbird, fingertips lightly and self-consciously tracing along the faded texture of his little head and body. It was the only toy she’d brought with her to the Eyrie, but perhaps she could push herself outside to visit the lower caverns soon. Surely there was a doll maker somewhere among the stalls and workers. She could surprise her roommate with something. She didn’t really know the other girl at all, aside from the idea that she might love her if only for the bright swatches of fabrics that she’d draped everywhere, but she felt it didn’t really matter if she knew her or not. Everyone deserved a good toy in their life.

Her light eyes snapped back up to the shapely blonde with the refreshed excitement in her voice, blinking dumbly, and letting her gaze widen in open surprise at the concept being presented before her. Moving between Sayaie and Chydyn every couple of weeks? It sounded so… bold, unpredictable, and certainly adventurous! She’d never left Itnala. She’d never been away from home, and she’d had her own bed to stay every night in. The nomadic lifestyle described by Morgana sounded considerably more lavish than it probably was, dressed up in that large grin and contagious brightness upon the girl’s face. A faint wince tugged at the corners of her eyes at the joking way that her father’s troublemaking ways were presented, but it was so casual that it seemed easy to push a tiny smile upon her thin lips. She cleared her throat softly. “Not Itnala?” She questioned with a tilt of her head, narrowing her eyes a bit. Sayaie was so close to Itnala that she could have assumed that perhaps the showgirl had meant to imply that she’d passed through the fishing village, but, even then, it surely meant that the community had not been settled in for even the few weeks that the girl’s father was apparently able to behave. That seemed sad too, about as much so as never having a toy.

If Amira caught the disappointment that had struck her roommate so strongly, she didn’t show it as she continued to blush, light gaze sitting firmly on the bright blue and white flowers that had been gifted to her and her mind wandered. And it struck her for a brief moment that, despite the ill mood that had befallen her, she wouldn’t mind seeing T’gan. Right that very moment. However, she couldn’t ignore that she was currently preoccupied and her eyes returned to Morgana as the blonde began to speak, tilting her head slightly at the mention of winglets the girl had met the other day. Features steadily brightened at the familiar names and she was nodding to her recognition before the other teen had even finished. “I know them. L’nan, I knew her as Leannan, she used to be a midwife in Itnala actually. I never really know her there and… honestly, I didn’t really talk to her much here. N’raan though, he’s… something else.” She finished lamely, glancing to the corner of her vision with a soft exhale falling from her lips. Thoughts of the boy brought up a voice like velvet and the glaring red at his side, a creature that was forever combined with the image of bloody claws. They were quite a pair.

Abruptly though, she cast them all aside for happier thoughts and she smiled, shrugging her shoulders up and holding them there for a moment. “She’s very interesting, actually.” With a small nod of her head to the side, she returned her blue eyes up to her roommate. “We actually knew each other back in Itnala, we were friends and our families had known each other for, like, ever. She was chosen to come to the Eyrie before me, but we were candidates together too. We go way back.” She finished with an affirming nod, smile continuing to sit faintly on the edges of her lips before she was looking back to the flowers sitting sprawled in their jar.[/ul][/size]

[Kat]

Itnala. It was such a problem for Morgana. It was the one place she had never been. It haunted her with its mystery, especially since her father refused to talk about the city. To him, it was an unmentionable place, which was odd, because Zephyrus had been in trouble both in Chydyn and Sayaie, but Itnala was different. Her father refused to talk about the city. It was just there, a large void in Morgana’s understanding of the world. Because she had never been to the city, Morgana had imagined as a fantasy city, filled with beautiful, lush colors and running rivulets of ocean water. She knew her vision was absurd, the kind of creation of a little girl, but Morgana was imaginative and she was inventive, and Itnala needed to be invented in her mind because it was her mother’s home, or at least, she thought her mother lived there. Morgana idealized it. And she would make it there one day. Maybe one day, after Morgana left the Eyrie, she would travel first to Itnala before she went to Sayaie. She could easily do that. People were coming and going to the Eyrie often, and Morgana was sure that she could find a party traveling to the seaport.
”No, not Itnala, my father refuses to go.”
Morgana explained. She almost revealed her father’s odd behavior towards the town, but Morgana decided that Amira probably would not care much about the intricacies of Morgana’s relationship with her father.

Oh, the girl was from Itnala? That was interesting, and perhaps Morgana should have talked to her more about the location, but the topic of conversation had already drifted to the other winglets. How strange it must be for Amira to be a candidate with them all, and then to still be a candidate, and Morgana was positive that Amira was in that position, now that the girl discussed knowing other winglets. How else would she know so many? Another aspect of Amira’s speech confused Morgana. The other girl started talking about L’nan changing her name. Leannan, it was a much more common and name-like name.
”Why did she change her name? Is she on the run or something?”
Morgana questioned, and that was the only reason Morgana could fathom changing one’s name, but the girl had not changed it enough, really, and Morgana could find no reason for a midwife to be in trouble with the law.
”But yeah, N’raan seemed interesting.”
Morgana added with a small shrug of her shoulders. She had not made a judgment either way about the boy, who had a frightening edge to him, but whom had intrigued Morgana. The girl, L’nan, or Leannan or whatever, was bland, not interesting and not especially uninteresting. Morgana did not care much for her.

Morgana also did not care about Amira’s relationship with her old friend, but the topic allowed Morgana to confess something she wished to confess. She bit her lip, toying with the idea before she spoe.
”So you’re from Itnala? I think my mother is from there. I mean, I think that’s why my father won’t go, because he’s afraid of her or something.”
Why Morgana felt the need to explain this to a basic stranger, she did not know, but the fact that Amira was from Itnala was enough to make the confession. She wanted Amira to talk to her about the city. She wanted to know about where she had really come from, because she had no idea.

[Cy]

[/I] with the fishing village? A frown settled upon her lips for a moment as confusion wrinkled her brow. “Why?” She questioned boldly, tilting her head curiously. She felt like something of a child, asking for the ‘why’ of everything, but Morgana, in just a few short minutes of interaction that she’d been too slow to avoid, was proving to be a truly interesting character. One that filled her up with questions and the desire to know the ‘why’ of everything about her. Would she have been so captivating without the bright decorations everywhere and the raven tucked away in the corner? Possibly. But as it were, all of these pieces of herself sat at Amira’s peripheral and the mystery of this showgirl only seemed to grow tenfold. Why were none of these draperies and costumes worthy of a place like Itnala? It was certainly just as beautiful.

However, her affronted bafflement was effectively distracted by the peculiar question. Was Lea on the run? It took her a moment to realize that this well-traveled girl knew absolutely nothing about how the whole process worked, of the simourv and their respected partners. Of course, she had to remember that Morgana couldn’t necessarily be expected to. Nobody truly understood it unless they’d experienced it. Even she had had no idea of any of it until she’d arrived at the Eyrie and undergone the lessons for those of her candidate class. Her roommate would go through the same lessons and the same experience and she’d learn all about it. Why wait for then when she could learn it now though? “No, she’s not on the run.” She returned, lips quirking into a delayed smile as she huffed, a tiny laugh from her throat. “It’s an honorific. I guess the change in the name is meant to symbolize our change from a candidate to an actual rider. Or winglet, whatever. I think we find out what ours is once we bond.” She explained as best she could think to. Honestly, the technicalities of the issue eluded her, but she laid down the bare bones as she had come to understand them. And it made sense that the shortened name would be called an honorific. It would truly be an honor to have one because it implied that you had a simourv at your side. And oh how she wanted that.

The mystery of the girl deepened. Her eyes widened a bit at the confession and she shifted to sit up more in her bunk, back against the wall and her toy bird now sitting comfortably in her lap. “…who’s your mother?” She questioned after a pause of trying to figure out of just what to say in response. It didn’t occur to her that Morgana might have no idea. After all, who didn’t know who their mother was? It seemed absurd, just as it seemed difficult to grasp for someone to not know who their father was either. She’d come from a happy home. A simple and together home where she knew both of her parents quite clearly. And so she assumed, when her roommate laid down that she suspected her mother to be from Itnala, that the girl knew exactly who the woman was and perhaps why her father might be afraid of her. [/ul][/size]