Information

Kirsten_547
Legacy Name: Kirsten_547

The Glacier Torrent
Owner: Pinto

Age: 13 years, 1 month, 1 week

Born: April 6th, 2011

Adopted: 12 years, 9 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: July 17th, 2011

Pet Spotlight Winner
May 30th, 2013

Statistics

• Level: 4
   
• Strength: 10
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 0
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

It is said here that if the river does not freeze in winter, there are mermaids in it.

-Phobs

"Next time, love. Be patient."

But he was not patient, and he was strong. He took her by surprise and there was nothing she could do. She lay beneath him, helpless, silently weaving a curse through her tears.



The night was silent as snow fell, covering the forest in a heavy blanket of white. Asbjörn pushed onward through the thick tangle of pine trees, snow dusting his shoulders as he made his way through the underbrush. Flakes of it caught in his scarf. His breath fogged in the cold, crusting his beard in ice. The muffled crunch of snow breaking under his snowshoes mixed in his ears with the beating of his heart. He was utterly alone.

But Asbjörn felt odd. He stopped and swung his lantern in a wide arc to fend off the quickly descending night. Someone was there. Something. The snow twinkled. Someone was watching through the trees. He peered through the falling snow in the grey dark but could see nothing. He shook his shoulders and a cloud of snow drifted to the ground. This forest was full of eyes. Something was always watching, he was not afraid. Although, perhaps he should have been.

Later, his mother would say she named him well. Asbjörn, the bear god. He was seventeen.

She was barely alive.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, body shuddering with the effort of keeping herself alive. Sharp rocks cut her skin and the cove swirled with opalescent blood. Everything in the pool that was once alive was dead, except for the child. The thing was no creature of this earth. Some bastard chimera, it mewled and waved its tiny limbs from the mossy rock where it lay, looking for love.

"Disgusting," she spat.

Its skin was the color of seafoam. Its hair, the texture and color of kelp. Shining emerald scales covered its hips and swirled down its very human legs to two tiny human feet. It wailed in despair as a wave rolled over its tiny body, a harsh, human sound. She left it to die as she dragged herself with trembling arms form the cove, into the river.

But someone was watching through the mist. This place, too, was full of eyes. Something was always watching.



Mermaids were more than worth their weight in sterling. Even a dying mermaid would fetch a pretty penny. He tied his rope into a noose, and held it aloft, out of the snow, as he picked his way over the rocky bank, treading lightly over ice-crusted stones. She had no chance. Her scenes were dulled from blood loss and the agony of a human birth. She barely registered the heavy rope as it fell, cold around her neck.

Asbjörn was twenty.



Kirsten was ten. In the corner of the one room log cabin was a cast iron tub, and in it she lay. She didn't speak, she refused to eat. She lay, filthy salt water sluicing across her body when she moved. Only when he was asleep would she venture out. She would pull herself up with the cane he left propped on the wall. Drying salt flaked from her arms, it crusted over the ends of her hair, on her eyelashes. Her legs were weak, even with the cane she could only take a few steps. It was her curse. Outside of water, she could hardly move. Her breath was shallow and weak, and she quickly grew tired.

Every night she tried the front door, but every night it was locked. He kept the key on a chain around his neck while he slept. And so she sat, hungry and cold, prisoner in the tub in the corner of the house.



Asbjörn was dead. He lay, mangled and ripped in his bed, steeping in blood. The front door was open, the key in the lock. A trail of tiny, bloody footsteps made its way from Asbjörn's bedside to the front door where they disappeared, covered by new snow.

Further into the forest, by a gurgling stream, another body lay. Its skin was the color of seafoam. Its hair, the texture and color of kelp. Shining emerald scales covered its hips and swirled down its very human legs to two tiny human feet. But it was silent. Its naked body still in the snow. It was alive, but only just. It closed its eyes, tired and cold. But something was watching.



Kirsten was thirteen. Snow fell quietly through the pines, dusting her hair white. She sunk lower into the river, watching a hunter pick his way to the bank. An open river was a rare sight in the middle of winter. He was curious, and perhaps foolish.

"Silly human," She thought, and licked her lips. She was hungry.

It had been a long time.



Profile art by pidies on DA
[x] by josi[x] by roar

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