5 Glade 4622 ◈
Location ◈
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Kindred are terrible creatures, so the stories say.
Terrible as in
“Terrible. Adj. Causing or likely to cause terror; sinister. 2. Extremely or distressing bad or serious.”
Horrific. ADJECTIVE
causing horror.
“an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust.”
children screamed in horror
“a thing causing a feeling of fear, shock, or disgust.”
Formal God
Informal definition:
“a bad or mischievous person, especially a child.”
Synonyms
rascal · devil · imp
What if the Kindred were just
Mischievous children?
Verasol read over the attempt at poetry and looked out among the city streets, leaning over with a sigh as she tore the paper into long strips as snow fell outside the window. The words were too dangerous. Blasphemy of the highest order. Not that she felt the poetry was incriminating in itself. Terror and horror were powerful words with broad imagery, but she doubted The Omen, the religious voice piece of Lorien, would be so open-minded in their interpretation.
Outside on the streets below, residents of Gothenburg shuffled through the snow, hoods lifted and furs drawn tight across their bodies. Every industrial building looked a wash of white and grey and black street slush, only sometimes shocked by the occasional color, made electric by the dreary backdrop. Not at all like the Arkanai homeland she had once lived. Now, she sat in the East End, in the great library of Gothen University. A pile of books on the table, some opened to display diagrams of avian anatomy with her own notes laid to the side. She thought it would be the best place to start, although she could only hypothesize. Had anyone ever gotten the chance to dissect a Kindred? Had anyone ever recorded such a feat?
Vera lifted a finger to trace a frowning face upon the fogged window, watching as a snowflake clutched the glass, perfectly preserved for a moment in time. She moved her finger over it, body heat passing through the glass to melt the perfect crystal. Its beauty vanished, melted to a droplet. She had to admit, there was hidden beauty in this place, tucked into the overlooked details. From eyewitness accounts, it was said Von Rabe emerged from the East End, rising up to sweep across the landscape in an icy flurry. She remembered the snowstorm that killed so many in the countryside in an act of wrath and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper to write what she knew about these creatures.
What did they call that again? Abstract art?
Something shuffled behind the tall bookcase to her left, two eyes peering at her from between the gaps of shelves, "Verasol," a soft voice whispered, bright with delight, "What luck!"
Vera sat straighter, dropping her pencil and instinctively tried to hide the poor sketch, smearing it in the process. She looked at the strips of shredded poetry to her side and snapped the book closed as a brunette inched around the corner of the bookcase and smiled warmly.
"Katarina. You scared me," she chuckled, carefully setting her journal aside and tried not to appear hurried as she collected the scraps of paper, "It's good to see you."
The green eyed girl came bounding closer with a stack of books in her arms, thin wire spectacles resting on her aquiline nose that gave her a sort of buggy appearance when she wore them, which was always, "Are you here studying for the entrance exams too?"
"Yes," she lied smoothly, scooting over to pat the spot next to her, keeping her face unbothered as her former classmate notably looked over the open books that were on the table, noticeably snooping. Don't look suspicious, "Is it that obvious?"
Katarina seemed fixated on the printed diagram of an avian Vera had been reading over, lifting her gaze and looked at the Arkanai with a smile that raised alarm bells. There was a beat of silence, somehow feeling... intentional. "Are you still studying... Law?"
"I am," she answered brightly, taking Vera's silent offer to slide next to her with a girlish pep. Despite being the same age as Vera, Katrina always had a strangeness about her, alternating between friendly and animated to something more sly. It was disarming to Verasol, who rarely knowing how to take her shifts of disposition or how to interpret its meaning. Was it intentional, or just the result of prolonged unpopularity throughout the girl's life? Perhaps she simply did not know how to follow the same social cues as those around her, "And you, the sciences? How brave."
Brave.
Ha.
It was a good thing Katarina could not feel how her heart pounded. Willing to write sacrilegious materials and ponder the existence of Lorien's "gods" in public spaces, even if quickly hidden... Was it brave or just stupid? "Well... I wouldn't call it that."
"Why not? I heard the professors of that department are ruthless in their labs. And with the staff knowing who your father is? You must be afraid they will expect more from you than any other student. You'll be on their radar from the moment you walk into the room."
Vera scoffed, feeling her tension lessen. It was easy to forget how familiar they were with one another, sparked from two misfits bullied once upon a time. As girls, they had formed a thread of friendship, founded on necessity and desperation for allies. The two had grown apart over the last few years, yet Katrina had never shied away from sparking the occasional conversation as if nothing had ever changed. They were not enemies, why had she jumped so? She smiled, reaching out to scoop the textbook and flip through the different collection of birds and the descriptions of their ecosystems, "I'm afraid that's bound to happen, no matter what major I declare. Arkanai, remember? It's a bit hard to go unnoticed," she turned the page of the book, admiring an illustration of a type of parrot found in the south, "Not all attention is good to draw."
"You sound like you have a secret."
Vera's attention snapped upward to see Katrina looking at the spot between them, where the scraps of paper were wedged partly beneath her thigh.
"No," she grabbed at the strips, stuffing them into her pocket, "Just too much wasted time."
"Really?"
Faintly, from somewhere outside of the Grand Archive, a church bell tolled and the duo looked towards the window in unison, "It's time already?"
"Temple," Katrina responded with a nod.
Shit.
"I didn't realize what time it was."
"Me neither." If there was one lesson Verasol had learned early on, it was how religious the citizens of Gothenburg could be. Her acceptance in society was balanced precariously, and her best way to continue her existence relatively unbothered, she had to embrace certain cultural demands. Vera might have been a citizen, but as a non-human, she was still an outsider, something even Katrina would never fully understand. She knew the law student had nary missed a sermon, even the week her father passed; For Katrina to risk being late now was wildly out of character. What could have captured her attention so?
The same sense of unease that had plagued Vera began to creep back into her mind, "I'll see you around?"
"I'll walk with you," the brunette offered, standing, "If we hurry, we can still make it before they close the doors for first hymn."
It wouldn't be so easy to escape Katrina's clutches. Vera managed a small smile, trying to imagine a worse fate than being subjected to hours of suffocating ceremony and its sermon of apocalyptic cleansing, "Perfect."
Katrina positioned herself so that Vera led the way and the Arkanai felt like a prisoner being marched to the gallows. As they stepped into the cold, Vera shivered and drew her coat tighter around her, the tips of her ears stinging from the drop in temperature. She tried to think of small talk topics, but as they made their way across the street, her discomfort grew. The playing of the pipe organ had begun to play and resounded up the street in a rich hum, citizens all over emerging from buildings, breaking from conversation. Together, they moved towards the sound, drawn forth as if pulled by an unseen force. Sheep to slaughter.
The stepped beneath the shadow of the grand spire and up the grey steps, Vera's breath quickened. Standing by the doors were Sisters and Brothers donned in their ceremony garb, greeting the arrivals, "Von Rabe sees your faithfulness," one of the men greeted, as she stepped across the threshold. He nodded at Katrina now beside her, "Von Rabe sees all."
The torn parchment in her pocket rustled as they found their seat among the packed pews. She remembered the poem, the drawing. The danger.
As the hymns began, Vera bowed her head and prayed it wasn't true.
Terrible as in
“Terrible. Adj. Causing or likely to cause terror; sinister. 2. Extremely or distressing bad or serious.”
Horrific. ADJECTIVE
causing horror.
“an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust.”
children screamed in horror
“a thing causing a feeling of fear, shock, or disgust.”
Formal God
Informal definition:
“a bad or mischievous person, especially a child.”
Synonyms
rascal · devil · imp
What if the Kindred were just
Mischievous children?
-V
Verasol read over the attempt at poetry and looked out among the city streets, leaning over with a sigh as she tore the paper into long strips as snow fell outside the window. The words were too dangerous. Blasphemy of the highest order. Not that she felt the poetry was incriminating in itself. Terror and horror were powerful words with broad imagery, but she doubted The Omen, the religious voice piece of Lorien, would be so open-minded in their interpretation.
Outside on the streets below, residents of Gothenburg shuffled through the snow, hoods lifted and furs drawn tight across their bodies. Every industrial building looked a wash of white and grey and black street slush, only sometimes shocked by the occasional color, made electric by the dreary backdrop. Not at all like the Arkanai homeland she had once lived. Now, she sat in the East End, in the great library of Gothen University. A pile of books on the table, some opened to display diagrams of avian anatomy with her own notes laid to the side. She thought it would be the best place to start, although she could only hypothesize. Had anyone ever gotten the chance to dissect a Kindred? Had anyone ever recorded such a feat?
Vera lifted a finger to trace a frowning face upon the fogged window, watching as a snowflake clutched the glass, perfectly preserved for a moment in time. She moved her finger over it, body heat passing through the glass to melt the perfect crystal. Its beauty vanished, melted to a droplet. She had to admit, there was hidden beauty in this place, tucked into the overlooked details. From eyewitness accounts, it was said Von Rabe emerged from the East End, rising up to sweep across the landscape in an icy flurry. She remembered the snowstorm that killed so many in the countryside in an act of wrath and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper to write what she knew about these creatures.
- Kindred radiated cold. Real cold.
- They had powers of ice and snow.
- Their appearance varied, but often resembled enormous, mutilated ravens.
- Von Rabe was the white vulture, locally known as Tundraec, Lord of Frost.
What did they call that again? Abstract art?
Something shuffled behind the tall bookcase to her left, two eyes peering at her from between the gaps of shelves, "Verasol," a soft voice whispered, bright with delight, "What luck!"
Vera sat straighter, dropping her pencil and instinctively tried to hide the poor sketch, smearing it in the process. She looked at the strips of shredded poetry to her side and snapped the book closed as a brunette inched around the corner of the bookcase and smiled warmly.
"Katarina. You scared me," she chuckled, carefully setting her journal aside and tried not to appear hurried as she collected the scraps of paper, "It's good to see you."
The green eyed girl came bounding closer with a stack of books in her arms, thin wire spectacles resting on her aquiline nose that gave her a sort of buggy appearance when she wore them, which was always, "Are you here studying for the entrance exams too?"
"Yes," she lied smoothly, scooting over to pat the spot next to her, keeping her face unbothered as her former classmate notably looked over the open books that were on the table, noticeably snooping. Don't look suspicious, "Is it that obvious?"
Katarina seemed fixated on the printed diagram of an avian Vera had been reading over, lifting her gaze and looked at the Arkanai with a smile that raised alarm bells. There was a beat of silence, somehow feeling... intentional. "Are you still studying... Law?"
"I am," she answered brightly, taking Vera's silent offer to slide next to her with a girlish pep. Despite being the same age as Vera, Katrina always had a strangeness about her, alternating between friendly and animated to something more sly. It was disarming to Verasol, who rarely knowing how to take her shifts of disposition or how to interpret its meaning. Was it intentional, or just the result of prolonged unpopularity throughout the girl's life? Perhaps she simply did not know how to follow the same social cues as those around her, "And you, the sciences? How brave."
Brave.
Ha.
It was a good thing Katarina could not feel how her heart pounded. Willing to write sacrilegious materials and ponder the existence of Lorien's "gods" in public spaces, even if quickly hidden... Was it brave or just stupid? "Well... I wouldn't call it that."
"Why not? I heard the professors of that department are ruthless in their labs. And with the staff knowing who your father is? You must be afraid they will expect more from you than any other student. You'll be on their radar from the moment you walk into the room."
Vera scoffed, feeling her tension lessen. It was easy to forget how familiar they were with one another, sparked from two misfits bullied once upon a time. As girls, they had formed a thread of friendship, founded on necessity and desperation for allies. The two had grown apart over the last few years, yet Katrina had never shied away from sparking the occasional conversation as if nothing had ever changed. They were not enemies, why had she jumped so? She smiled, reaching out to scoop the textbook and flip through the different collection of birds and the descriptions of their ecosystems, "I'm afraid that's bound to happen, no matter what major I declare. Arkanai, remember? It's a bit hard to go unnoticed," she turned the page of the book, admiring an illustration of a type of parrot found in the south, "Not all attention is good to draw."
"You sound like you have a secret."
Vera's attention snapped upward to see Katrina looking at the spot between them, where the scraps of paper were wedged partly beneath her thigh.
"No," she grabbed at the strips, stuffing them into her pocket, "Just too much wasted time."
"Really?"
Faintly, from somewhere outside of the Grand Archive, a church bell tolled and the duo looked towards the window in unison, "It's time already?"
"Temple," Katrina responded with a nod.
Shit.
"I didn't realize what time it was."
"Me neither." If there was one lesson Verasol had learned early on, it was how religious the citizens of Gothenburg could be. Her acceptance in society was balanced precariously, and her best way to continue her existence relatively unbothered, she had to embrace certain cultural demands. Vera might have been a citizen, but as a non-human, she was still an outsider, something even Katrina would never fully understand. She knew the law student had nary missed a sermon, even the week her father passed; For Katrina to risk being late now was wildly out of character. What could have captured her attention so?
The same sense of unease that had plagued Vera began to creep back into her mind, "I'll see you around?"
"I'll walk with you," the brunette offered, standing, "If we hurry, we can still make it before they close the doors for first hymn."
It wouldn't be so easy to escape Katrina's clutches. Vera managed a small smile, trying to imagine a worse fate than being subjected to hours of suffocating ceremony and its sermon of apocalyptic cleansing, "Perfect."
Katrina positioned herself so that Vera led the way and the Arkanai felt like a prisoner being marched to the gallows. As they stepped into the cold, Vera shivered and drew her coat tighter around her, the tips of her ears stinging from the drop in temperature. She tried to think of small talk topics, but as they made their way across the street, her discomfort grew. The playing of the pipe organ had begun to play and resounded up the street in a rich hum, citizens all over emerging from buildings, breaking from conversation. Together, they moved towards the sound, drawn forth as if pulled by an unseen force. Sheep to slaughter.
The stepped beneath the shadow of the grand spire and up the grey steps, Vera's breath quickened. Standing by the doors were Sisters and Brothers donned in their ceremony garb, greeting the arrivals, "Von Rabe sees your faithfulness," one of the men greeted, as she stepped across the threshold. He nodded at Katrina now beside her, "Von Rabe sees all."
The torn parchment in her pocket rustled as they found their seat among the packed pews. She remembered the poem, the drawing. The danger.
As the hymns began, Vera bowed her head and prayed it wasn't true.
