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Archive 29 / power-within
Triggers: Violence, Slavery, Abuse
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Sol Beijou BOT 03/15/2024 00:10
It was dark. The depths were prone to darkness. With a name like the depths, that isn't surprising though, is it? Yet with a name like Sol, one would be surprised that the young one had never so much as felt the sun kiss her skin nor heat her back. Sol. In likeness to the sun. It was almost a humorous name for one so pale. Most fae were pale though Sol knew not whether they had always been blessed with that trait or whether it was a side effect of being kept underground for so long. Yet even among Fae, Sol was yet to be the palest. With silvery hair that lacked even a hint of blonde and grey eyes that seemed not to hold even a fleck of color within, it seemed a name in likeness to the moon would be more fitting. Names. One used to say that names had as much power as words did meaning. Sol disagreed. She read a book once that quoted, "What's in a name? That by which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Such a line had left her pondering for many days. She had apt time for pondering. It was a statement in which she aligned much closer to and yet also left her frustrated. For if she was Luna and not Sol, she would still remain the same person but perhaps at the very least her name would align more closely to her own likeness. In human culture, as Sol understood, it were the parents who chose their children's names. Imbuing both meaning and history into their children's names in order to provide them with a name that would suit them throughout their entire life. Sol had not so much as met her mother and father. Most fae had not. Those who were raised in the depths ranged from ages 2 until 18. The only above such age were the mortal guards and who kept watch over them. A hard breath forced it's way into her lungs as the cold air stung at her. It was often cold in the depths, the kind of cold that clung to the ground and sent chills climbing your spine all the way from your toes up. "Oi! Keep going! I didn't say to stop!" His voice cut through
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the air and nearly sent chills even colder up her spine once more. Once a day the Smiths would come down to enact "training" as they called it. Their training consisted of running until the air burned right through their lungs, strength training that made their legs shake the day after and occasional lessons. Yet their lessons never taught them enough, the mortals wouldn't have it that fae became educated enough to overcome them. Or at least that was Sol's opinion. They were purposefully stunting their growth so that they would live in their submission for the rest of their existence.
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Something stung down her back, sharp pain biting right into her skin and forcing a pained yelp right out of her chapped lips. She shivered and fell down to the ground, her vision blurring for a moment. "I said, don't stop." A cruel voice growled at her, it's source grabbing her by the arm and roughly lifting her to her feet. Sol lifted her gaze to stare up at the Smith, a rough looking man in his late 20s. By his side stood a fae boy not much older than herself with a thick metal collar around his neck. In the collar a glowing stone seemed to shimmer, draining his magic from him. The fae boy looked ill, but she knew who he was. Lysander. He had been in the depths until about 3 years ago. Sol shivered and attempted to pull from the Smith yet his grip was too forceful. "Are you going to run?" He asked, his breath smelling of garlic and fish so pungent that she nearly wanted to vomit. She gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching as she glared up at him. "I'll fucking beat the defiance in your eyes away. And if it isn't me, your Master will without such hesitance." He growled at her, voice gravely and filled with grit to intimidate. He roughly threw her back to the ground and grinned. "Run, Fae. Before I make you regret looking at me with such hatred." She pushed off her feet and began to run. Reluctantly giving in. Once more, powerless in the face of the strong, the Smiths.
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@Sorren
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