100_original - Beneath the Rose - 001
Title: Beneath the Rose
Claim: Main Character: Arinoch
Prompt: 001. Beginnings
Word Count: 644
Rating: G
Summary: Starting anew... again.
Author's Notes: Here's hoping I can keep up! My first entry for 100_storybits
The day always started the same way. The first hints of daylight would begin to show through the mottled darkness of leaves, and the world would begin to wake. This was the time of morning Arinoch liked best, and it was with an almost uncanny regularity that he found himself stirring at this exact time every day.
He wasn't certain just what it was, really. It wasn't something the yuniko could put his finger on. It could have been the crisp air that made his skin tingle as he stood just inside the carved window that overlooked the orchard where he would be working that day. It could also have been the fact that no one else had begun to rise yet. He enjoyed his time alone, it gave him the solitude he needed to think. In the orchards and fields, he was one of many that gathered the food for the village... the many who would routinely start conversations with anyone handy, if only to make certain they weren't alone. Arin knew very well that he wasn't alone, and didn't need the verbal reminder. In fact, he simply preferred to listen to the banter of the others, and keep to himself as he worked. Yes, he decided, this was definitely one of the 'perks' of getting up early. No one to listen to except his own thoughts.
The yuniko, by nature, were a secretive race, living as far away from 'civilization' as they could. Males could be distinguished by the single horn on their foreheads, some twisted or curved while others would be as smooth as ivory, with no curve at all. Both genders, however, were easily recognised by the velvet-like fur that covered their skin, and the iridescent scales that mingled in with the soft fuzz here and there. Long legs tapered down to gleaming hooves, some shining gold, others silver of copper in colour. They were a hunted race as well, others realising quickly that a yuniko's horn was far more 'valuable' as medicine than the purest platinum. As a result, the yuniko kept to themselves and rarely made their existence known to others at all. Arin simply took that one step farther and secreted himself away from even his own kin.
He didn't need the company... and he could do without the stares and whispers. Arin was a bit of an 'oddity' in his kind, you see. He was muscular and toned, but far too short to effectively wield any kind of weapon, according to the fighters. He was too small as well, to wield a bow, according to the scouts. The shaman masters had no use for someone who couldn't remember which herbs to grind up in potions, so he was turned away from there as well... and then he found himself in the last refuge of his people. Those who had no talent for anything else, were the workers of the village. They were the farmers, the gatherers, the merchants and menial workers. Some, the lucky few, were servants for the higher houses, but Arin was never interested in even attempting that feat. Instead, he worked the fields, and enjoyed the knowledge that he had accomplished something that day.
The glint of sun in his eyes broke his reverie then, and he realised just how long he'd been standing there, woolgathering. With a soft chuckle to himself, Arin pushed a few strands of long blonde hair back from his face and tucked them behind one pointed and fuzzy ear. It wouldn't do to let the crops rot in the fields. With that in mind, he pulled on a tunic and pants and headed out the door to begin a new day.
Claim: Main Character: Arinoch
Prompt: 001. Beginnings
Word Count: 644
Rating: G
Summary: Starting anew... again.
Author's Notes: Here's hoping I can keep up! My first entry for 100_storybits
The day always started the same way. The first hints of daylight would begin to show through the mottled darkness of leaves, and the world would begin to wake. This was the time of morning Arinoch liked best, and it was with an almost uncanny regularity that he found himself stirring at this exact time every day.
He wasn't certain just what it was, really. It wasn't something the yuniko could put his finger on. It could have been the crisp air that made his skin tingle as he stood just inside the carved window that overlooked the orchard where he would be working that day. It could also have been the fact that no one else had begun to rise yet. He enjoyed his time alone, it gave him the solitude he needed to think. In the orchards and fields, he was one of many that gathered the food for the village... the many who would routinely start conversations with anyone handy, if only to make certain they weren't alone. Arin knew very well that he wasn't alone, and didn't need the verbal reminder. In fact, he simply preferred to listen to the banter of the others, and keep to himself as he worked. Yes, he decided, this was definitely one of the 'perks' of getting up early. No one to listen to except his own thoughts.
The yuniko, by nature, were a secretive race, living as far away from 'civilization' as they could. Males could be distinguished by the single horn on their foreheads, some twisted or curved while others would be as smooth as ivory, with no curve at all. Both genders, however, were easily recognised by the velvet-like fur that covered their skin, and the iridescent scales that mingled in with the soft fuzz here and there. Long legs tapered down to gleaming hooves, some shining gold, others silver of copper in colour. They were a hunted race as well, others realising quickly that a yuniko's horn was far more 'valuable' as medicine than the purest platinum. As a result, the yuniko kept to themselves and rarely made their existence known to others at all. Arin simply took that one step farther and secreted himself away from even his own kin.
He didn't need the company... and he could do without the stares and whispers. Arin was a bit of an 'oddity' in his kind, you see. He was muscular and toned, but far too short to effectively wield any kind of weapon, according to the fighters. He was too small as well, to wield a bow, according to the scouts. The shaman masters had no use for someone who couldn't remember which herbs to grind up in potions, so he was turned away from there as well... and then he found himself in the last refuge of his people. Those who had no talent for anything else, were the workers of the village. They were the farmers, the gatherers, the merchants and menial workers. Some, the lucky few, were servants for the higher houses, but Arin was never interested in even attempting that feat. Instead, he worked the fields, and enjoyed the knowledge that he had accomplished something that day.
The glint of sun in his eyes broke his reverie then, and he realised just how long he'd been standing there, woolgathering. With a soft chuckle to himself, Arin pushed a few strands of long blonde hair back from his face and tucked them behind one pointed and fuzzy ear. It wouldn't do to let the crops rot in the fields. With that in mind, he pulled on a tunic and pants and headed out the door to begin a new day.