08-16-2009, 03:08 AM
Sorry, that's the name i was stuck with by my parents; sometimes i think it's because they knew what things were going to be like for me, or maybe it's their apology to everyone.
Either way i thought about changing it, but then i find: when one tries to name oneself; people will often just pick something that irks you like "shortface","upnose","bent-head" or "glandswell". I didn't like the sound of any of those, despite my head having some bending..so i stuck with Sorry.
Papa was a scientist on freeport 7, he lost his arm when we lost mommy back during the start, when the aliens came. Even though i was just a baby; i remember mommys face as the crowd pressed hard against the glass. I remember her eyes wide, and emploring, as they crushed her against the bulkhead; as pappa and i made it out into the void, and mommys' face was lost in the fire.
We got lucky along with the others, and were picked up by a fleeing, kind hearted, trader. Sweaty, close days and nights followed; huddled with the others who had shared our loss: yet disconnected, unable to find solice in each other. Papa and i tried hard to manage without mommy, sometimes i think he clung to me all the harder ; since her terrible, wrenching, departure.
Blue ghosts, ethereal death; weave and burn; towing sorrow, sowing pain. Tearing holes in her perfect tapestry.
Papa says i "shouldn't remember mommy; but it's nice that you do." But then papa doesn't hear voices promise mommy will be home soon.
Papa starting leaving me with adopted 'aunties' and 'uncles' who looked after me, whilst he went to work at the shipwrights. I helped myself out by making friends with whomever dropped by; and a lot of varied peoples did I meet.
Sometimes it's as though someone else takes my words, and makes them speak. And sometimes my hands take things that aren't mine, and realise later that i've kept them.
I had a dream that I should manufacture a piece of cosmic art that she may gaze upon. I plan to move planets using dam kvosshh secrets and then engrave their faces with a sizeable doom ray, or similar lazer-y device.
--
Life was often difficult growing up on a freeport with her father often away, sorry helped herself out by making friends with whomever she met, whoever passed through; and a lot of varied peoples did she meet.
in 816 as, her fathers' ship was declared missing and he was presumed dead, and so sorry has had to fend for herself for these past 2 years. you might think her faith would be broken by these huge losses, but sorry holds to the thought that her father may still be out there; since she isn't definately dead. She has faith that things will turn out good in the end.
--
A parade was taking place on gammu, in tribute to the harvesters; Sorry balanced a basket of food upon her head, and stood next to an old lady with her own burden, at the side of the promenade, as the mass of metal and meat rumbled past.
Rigga's hand shot out and snagged the girl's thick black hair, yanked it hard.
The girl cried out. The basket on her head lurched, then slid down on to one shoulder. She grabbed frantically for it but it was too heavy. The basket struck the ground and split apart. "Aaai!" the girls gasped, attempting to kneel, but Rigga pulled and snapped her head around.
"You listen to me, lass!" The old womans sour breath hissed against the girls face. "The empires been grinding this land down for a hundred years. You were born in it. I wasn't. when i was your age Gammu was a power. We flew a banner and it was ours. We were free, lass."
The girl was sickened by Rigga's breath. She squeezed shut her eyes.
"mark this truth, child, else the cloak of lies blinds you forever." Riggas voice took on a droning cadence, and all at once the girl stiffened. Rigga, Riggalai the seer, the wax witch who trapped souls in candles and burned them. Souls devoured in flame-" Riggas words carried the chilling tone of prophecy. "Mark this truth. I am the last to speak to you. You are the last to hear me. thus are we linked, you and i, beyond all else."
Riggas' fingers snagged tighter in the girls hair."across the sea the empress has driven her knife into virgin soil. The blood now comes in a tide, and it'll sweep you under, child, if you're not careful. They'll put a sword in your hand, they'll give you a fine steed, and they'll send you across that sea. But a shadow will embrace your soul. Now listen! bury this deep! Rigga will preserve you because we are linked, you and I. But it is all i can do, understand? Look to the lord spawned in darkness, his is the hand that shall free you, though he'll know it not-"
"What's this!" a voice bellowed.
Rigga swung to face the gangway. An outrider had slowed his mount. The seer released the girls hair.
The girl staggered back a step. Debris on the ways' edge turned underfoot and she fell. When she looked up the outrider had trotted past. Another thundered up in his wake.
"Leave the pretty one alone, hag!" this one growled, and as he rode by he leaned in his saddle and swung an open, gauntleted hand. The iron-scaled glove cracked against rigga's head, spinning her around. she toppled.
Either way i thought about changing it, but then i find: when one tries to name oneself; people will often just pick something that irks you like "shortface","upnose","bent-head" or "glandswell". I didn't like the sound of any of those, despite my head having some bending..so i stuck with Sorry.
Papa was a scientist on freeport 7, he lost his arm when we lost mommy back during the start, when the aliens came. Even though i was just a baby; i remember mommys face as the crowd pressed hard against the glass. I remember her eyes wide, and emploring, as they crushed her against the bulkhead; as pappa and i made it out into the void, and mommys' face was lost in the fire.
We got lucky along with the others, and were picked up by a fleeing, kind hearted, trader. Sweaty, close days and nights followed; huddled with the others who had shared our loss: yet disconnected, unable to find solice in each other. Papa and i tried hard to manage without mommy, sometimes i think he clung to me all the harder ; since her terrible, wrenching, departure.
Blue ghosts, ethereal death; weave and burn; towing sorrow, sowing pain. Tearing holes in her perfect tapestry.
Papa says i "shouldn't remember mommy; but it's nice that you do." But then papa doesn't hear voices promise mommy will be home soon.
Papa starting leaving me with adopted 'aunties' and 'uncles' who looked after me, whilst he went to work at the shipwrights. I helped myself out by making friends with whomever dropped by; and a lot of varied peoples did I meet.
Sometimes it's as though someone else takes my words, and makes them speak. And sometimes my hands take things that aren't mine, and realise later that i've kept them.
I had a dream that I should manufacture a piece of cosmic art that she may gaze upon. I plan to move planets using dam kvosshh secrets and then engrave their faces with a sizeable doom ray, or similar lazer-y device.
--
Life was often difficult growing up on a freeport with her father often away, sorry helped herself out by making friends with whomever she met, whoever passed through; and a lot of varied peoples did she meet.
in 816 as, her fathers' ship was declared missing and he was presumed dead, and so sorry has had to fend for herself for these past 2 years. you might think her faith would be broken by these huge losses, but sorry holds to the thought that her father may still be out there; since she isn't definately dead. She has faith that things will turn out good in the end.
--
A parade was taking place on gammu, in tribute to the harvesters; Sorry balanced a basket of food upon her head, and stood next to an old lady with her own burden, at the side of the promenade, as the mass of metal and meat rumbled past.
Rigga's hand shot out and snagged the girl's thick black hair, yanked it hard.
The girl cried out. The basket on her head lurched, then slid down on to one shoulder. She grabbed frantically for it but it was too heavy. The basket struck the ground and split apart. "Aaai!" the girls gasped, attempting to kneel, but Rigga pulled and snapped her head around.
"You listen to me, lass!" The old womans sour breath hissed against the girls face. "The empires been grinding this land down for a hundred years. You were born in it. I wasn't. when i was your age Gammu was a power. We flew a banner and it was ours. We were free, lass."
The girl was sickened by Rigga's breath. She squeezed shut her eyes.
"mark this truth, child, else the cloak of lies blinds you forever." Riggas voice took on a droning cadence, and all at once the girl stiffened. Rigga, Riggalai the seer, the wax witch who trapped souls in candles and burned them. Souls devoured in flame-" Riggas words carried the chilling tone of prophecy. "Mark this truth. I am the last to speak to you. You are the last to hear me. thus are we linked, you and i, beyond all else."
Riggas' fingers snagged tighter in the girls hair."across the sea the empress has driven her knife into virgin soil. The blood now comes in a tide, and it'll sweep you under, child, if you're not careful. They'll put a sword in your hand, they'll give you a fine steed, and they'll send you across that sea. But a shadow will embrace your soul. Now listen! bury this deep! Rigga will preserve you because we are linked, you and I. But it is all i can do, understand? Look to the lord spawned in darkness, his is the hand that shall free you, though he'll know it not-"
"What's this!" a voice bellowed.
Rigga swung to face the gangway. An outrider had slowed his mount. The seer released the girls hair.
The girl staggered back a step. Debris on the ways' edge turned underfoot and she fell. When she looked up the outrider had trotted past. Another thundered up in his wake.
"Leave the pretty one alone, hag!" this one growled, and as he rode by he leaned in his saddle and swung an open, gauntleted hand. The iron-scaled glove cracked against rigga's head, spinning her around. she toppled.