Information

Jacquie_470 has a minion!

Bird the Zomulturio

Jacquie_470
Legacy Name: Jacquie_470

The

Common Experiment #932
Owner:

Hope

Age: 13 years, 9 months, 1 week

Born: July 25th, 2010

Adopted: 12 years, 1 month, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: March 10th, 2012

Pet Spotlight Winner
April 22nd, 2014

Statistics

Level: 3
Strength: 14
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 8
HP: 13/8
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Store Clerk

The needles clack away as she sits in her corner, letting the brown yarn roll on the ground as she pulls piece after piece up from the skein, tucking it away into neat little knots that make up a long chain of stitches.

"Come now, Bird, get off of there, you silly coot," Jacquie chastises, waving the Zomulturio away from her shelf of herbs. She never got around to giving that creature a proper name; one day he had just flown into her open window and never left. She always figured he'd eventually leave, just as suddenly as he came, but so far it hasn't happened. Oh, she knows how rare a sight he is; she even knows he's considered something of a mythical creature, or a legend. But that's never stopped him from existing, and frankly, it's never stopped her from existing either, so she pays it no mind.

The brown yarn continues to transform in her fingers. While working the neat stitches, she sends some of her energy into it, letting it flow easily through her fingertips. Right at this moment, miles away, a girl reads the tea leaves in her cup and try as she might to ignore them, they ring in her mind with truth.

The link in her hands is strong, and Jacquie can feel the girl's discomfort.

"I'm sorry," Jacquie thinks to herself, inadvertently sending it to the girl in the process. "I do only what needs must." Back in her apartment miles away, the girl shivers, but inexplicably feels calmer.

Satisfied for the time being, Jacquie sets aside the earth-colored yarn, and reaches into the basket beside her for another color. How she manages to do this so easily while blind is just another mystery in a long line of mysteries surrounding her - or it would be to anyone who watched her. To her, it's simple: she has been without sight for so long that she just simply adapted. It's why she was blinded, really. When her tiny horns grew in as an infant, alerting her people to her gift, they removed her eyes, as tradition dictated. It only made her power stronger, as they knew it would. Of course, what they didn't anticipate was her strong refusal of tradition. For whatever reason, she was different than the ones who came before, and she had not been able to stand being the emotionless object of reverence and fear, the one her tribe went to first in times of trouble and the one who was kept separate from the others during all other times. It made her dread times of peace, yet fear conflict, when all rested on her.

So she left. It was surprisingly simple. People didn't expect it of her. She quietly and determinedly walked out of the house they gave her, and just kept walking. To where, she's not sure, because she's not sure where she came from. No one questioned their existence in the place she was born; they simple were. Strangers never entered and no one ever left, until she did. There had been no need for a name, a definition of their place, and so there was none. So how was Jacquie to judge it against wherever she went? She couldn't. There was no comparison when there was nothing defined to compare it to.

Finally Jacquie came upon a new place. It was loud and crowded and everything was moving, and she could not immediately sense things the way she always had. So she stopped walking, and stood still, and let herself go. The noise faded away; the vibrations beneath her feet disappeared. She raised her closed fists in front of her and slowly opened them up. Suddenly the air felt charged around her. She stood perfectly still, yet she was shaking with feeling, senses rushing into her and through her. Abruptly she froze, and everything stopped. Her arms fell back toward her sides, and she tilted her head to the left. Then she calmly walked that way, her robe softly billowing around her, and she faded into the crowd.

That was all so long ago. Now she sits with a royal purple knit chain gliding through her fingers and a Zomulturio perched on the shoulder of her chair. Into the violet yarn she sends dreams of stars to a young man who will stop needing her soon. Once there was a time when she would have personally gotten involved with this young man, and the tea girl too, making sure they were taken care of, and nurtured their gifts. But it was getting harder. She was getting so old, and it was getting so darkâ€¦so dark. How long could she resist that old-lying fear of peace? It was best this way, through the yarn, hidden here apartâ€¦but this time it was by her choice. That mattered. She tells herself that matters.

Needles click. Bird caws. The spirit carries on.

profile by Chelsea