Difference between revisions of "Iolene"

Revision as of 07:10, 15 August 2011

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Prologue

Dark eyes he'd once called mesmerizing, flared in anger as they stared up at him: for his supposed betrayal of her, for the verdict laid in her trial. Exile. He tried to feel remorseful and he might have been able to if only she'd been apologetic; if only there had been apology and submission in her eyes. Even resignation might have brought him to tears for being apart from this wife of his. He might have prostrated himself in front of the Lord Holder and the judgment of harpers to ask for leniency for a silly woman - a woman who did not even know how to think other than do as told and other, stronger minded individuals had led her astray. But really, who was he kidding?

It was those dark eyes, the color of a rolling, tempestuous ocean, that haunted his thoughts as he rolled off his new wife, unable to continue. She'd long learned not to question this, being the submissive angel he'd always thought he'd wanted, instead choosing to press herself towards the edge of her side of the bed, drawing the covers over her bare shoulders until his hand reached across to roughly pull them off. She was his and he'd do as he pleased, and the reminder of his she-wolf of a wife rose bile in his throat and a flushed anger to his cheeks. Rough hands worked to release those emotions and evoke a cry of pain from the girl and self-satisfied, he started to lapse into sleep, though not before those eyes, seemingly imprinted on the back of his lids for life, stared accusingly at him.

It would have pleased Ioni to know that the legacy of her eyes persisted on the main land, even as she stood despondant on a boulder on the beach. Wrapping her furs about her, the rich lustor of them having long been worn to the elements, the tall, blonde once-lady stared into the distance. Standing a short distance away was her oldest daughter, one of three, who had to, even now, strive not to cry.

Voice harsh, Ioni said, "Don't cry. Crying is useless for people like us," and just as obediently, her daughter stifled her sobs though not the stream of tears down her cheeks. It took all of Ioni's will not to hop off the rock to cradle her 10 year old girl close, to comfort her and tell her that it'll be ok. But that would only grow someone as soft as she had grown up. As naive and trusting of the people who were supposed to care for others. Of the men in her life. How do you explain to your daughter that her father had cared more for his elevation in society than for family? For ideals?

One day, Ioni was sure, she'd have time to explain to her children, who would then tell their children, just why they were on the island. That a dream of someone good, someone just actually taking command of High Reaches Hold and its beholden lands and people was worth fighting for. That sometimes, it was better to fight for the greater good than for your own gains. But such idealisms were so foreign out here on this collection of rocks where surviving one day and then the next took precedence.

Ioni's thoughts strayed to the caves that she held dominion over and thought of the fights that were sure to come when supplies ran lower. Bless her cousin for whisking in those tithes and entrusting them to her. Bless him and his Impression to a brown - so many of he family had foresaken the dragonriders as the Interval had pressed on that J'roni's Impression had been something to hide. But she had remembered him kindly and he her. Ironic that she might have married him some day had he not Impressed. There was food enough for a season, supplies enough for a turn at best. Already, Ioni's mind had skipped thoughts to run through the lists of both Blooded and those servants who hadn't been able to escape Beradin's unjustness, desperate to place them in skills.

How do you teach grown babes to simply live and claw for life?

Description

Dark blonde hair, dirty some would call it, is braided in two lines and then coiled up at the nape of Iolene's neck. Very few strands escape to frame her thin, cagey face. Narrowed dark blue eyes are framed by a set of long lashes, a gracious feminine oddity midst sun and salty-sea worn features. Built lithe, a hunter's stance and grace is held in the tall girl's stature, her body holding few curves, though toned muscles carry throughout. She is dressed in a pair of clear hand-me-down pants and tunic that have been hemmed and restitched with what /looks/ like blades of grass but surely couldn't be. Her feet are bare and calloused.

Background

Iolene was raised by her grandparents, who were in turn the descendants of Ioni, a minor holder's wife of High Reaches Hold. Ioni became the defacto Headwoman due to her 'can do' and 'must do' nature, and stepped up while others faltered in their new surroundings.

Iolene barely remembers her parents, being only four when they died in one of the early Comet Pass falls.

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