Promethia
Arrival
Aiofe's green eyes set on the sign in front of her. It was quite old-looking. Not only was the wood torn, but the words were also starting to wear off. Now covering the words were letters written by no more than a black sharpie marker. Regardless of the sweet and informative words listed upon it, a shiver traveled down the fairy's spine. Whether the chill was from the wind, the early winter weather or pure fright, she wasn't quite sure.
Gulping, she took a wimpy step backwards. It was light out -- thankfully. However, that didn't necessarily mean that that made her feel any less nervous about setting foot on the planet. To be completely honest, as she slowly glanced around at the snow-covered ground, she wondered if she would have felt more confident if nighttime had arose from the midst of the day. Sure the light would be no more for a matter of hours, but at least she wouldn't have to stare at the words completing the odd-looking sign.
<i>Don't be afraid</i>, she whispered to herself. <i>Everything's going to be all right. You mustn't speak to anyone yet, though. Who knows what kind of dangers can lurk from deep within the shadows.</i>
Often, uttering words of reassurance to herself made her feel better. Even in the darkest of situations and in the roughest of times, boasts of confidence tended to make things all right. She had first figured this out when she was only three years of age. Her great-Aunt Muriel had become very ill. She spent three weeks in the Zarognole hospital. Day after day, she seemed to be getting worse, not better. Her once awfully smooth face crinkled until wrinkles covered it like a mask. Still, the red-haired creature had refused to give up hope. She could distinctly remember how rough it was to think so positively for what seemed like a century, but she managed she was never on her own. Her mother had been kind enough to be there for her daughter, as well as her sister. Together, the parent and the young child prayed each and every night as well as every dawn, until the old woman was welcomed home again, alive and fairly healthy.
Sure enough, these words of reassurance helped her feel the slightest bit better about her arrival. It was going to be quite an electrifying experience, yes, but she would make the best of it while she was there. That <i>was</i> what she had originally promised the elders of her small village in which she grew up in, after all.
The rustling of leaves caught the teen off-guard. She quickly gazed around the meadow -- covered in white frost as it was -- and at least gave an honest attempt to find the source of the noise. Again though, she was caught off-guard. This time, however, it was by a voice -- a glorious, high-pitched sing-song voice. The sound was absolutely beautiful, if she did say so herself. It made the young female awfully curious.
Absentmindedly, she began to flutter her white and shimmery gold wings. It took only a matter of seconds for her legs to lift off of the surface of the snow. Surprisingly quickly, she then began to fly towards the noise, her anxious thoughts now leaving her.
Gulping, she took a wimpy step backwards. It was light out -- thankfully. However, that didn't necessarily mean that that made her feel any less nervous about setting foot on the planet. To be completely honest, as she slowly glanced around at the snow-covered ground, she wondered if she would have felt more confident if nighttime had arose from the midst of the day. Sure the light would be no more for a matter of hours, but at least she wouldn't have to stare at the words completing the odd-looking sign.
<i>Don't be afraid</i>, she whispered to herself. <i>Everything's going to be all right. You mustn't speak to anyone yet, though. Who knows what kind of dangers can lurk from deep within the shadows.</i>
Often, uttering words of reassurance to herself made her feel better. Even in the darkest of situations and in the roughest of times, boasts of confidence tended to make things all right. She had first figured this out when she was only three years of age. Her great-Aunt Muriel had become very ill. She spent three weeks in the Zarognole hospital. Day after day, she seemed to be getting worse, not better. Her once awfully smooth face crinkled until wrinkles covered it like a mask. Still, the red-haired creature had refused to give up hope. She could distinctly remember how rough it was to think so positively for what seemed like a century, but she managed she was never on her own. Her mother had been kind enough to be there for her daughter, as well as her sister. Together, the parent and the young child prayed each and every night as well as every dawn, until the old woman was welcomed home again, alive and fairly healthy.
Sure enough, these words of reassurance helped her feel the slightest bit better about her arrival. It was going to be quite an electrifying experience, yes, but she would make the best of it while she was there. That <i>was</i> what she had originally promised the elders of her small village in which she grew up in, after all.
The rustling of leaves caught the teen off-guard. She quickly gazed around the meadow -- covered in white frost as it was -- and at least gave an honest attempt to find the source of the noise. Again though, she was caught off-guard. This time, however, it was by a voice -- a glorious, high-pitched sing-song voice. The sound was absolutely beautiful, if she did say so herself. It made the young female awfully curious.
Absentmindedly, she began to flutter her white and shimmery gold wings. It took only a matter of seconds for her legs to lift off of the surface of the snow. Surprisingly quickly, she then began to fly towards the noise, her anxious thoughts now leaving her.