Information

Soovitud has a minion!

Tuhel the Turlle

Soovitud
Legacy Name: Soovitud

The

Glade Clawsion
Owner:

Ice

Age: 11 years, 8 months, 2 days

Born: August 23rd, 2012

Adopted: 11 years, 8 months, 2 days ago

Adopted: August 23rd, 2012

Statistics

Level: 50
Strength: 122
Defense: 49
Speed: 53
Health: 51
HP: 51/51
Intelligence: 127
Books Read: 127
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Community Event Director

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A Long Story of transformation and...Idk yet

It was raining the day my great aunt died. It had also been raining the morning my parents succumbed to their fate to die young. It was snowing by the time my brother left for further education far away.

The weather had never really been a monumental part of my life—it was just the only thing that gauged passing time anymore. It was easy to watch clouds pass my small dormitory window, but, it was much harder to understand the events that had brought me to this small school. My breath fogged up the window reducing my visibility of the clouds; the fogged up glass didn’t ruin the outward view just turned my thoughts to self-reflection which I had been avoiding. I closed my eyes while taking a deep breath. My mind wandered back to the morning filled with my giggling peers teasing me about the ribbon I had tied my curls up with. Further it wandered, back to when I told my brother he could leave because the world needed people like him to solve the problems that plagued this burdened planet and he could only do that by bettering himself through a quality education. Further still…the birds…they were singing so wonderfully that day. The tomatoes were ripe. In the kitchen my beloved great aunt was tearing basil leafs from their stems by the hundreds while I was in our large garden. My brother and I were just learning the art making tomato based sauces that first year we lived with her.

As I sat deep in thought with my eyes closed I could feel the corners for my mouth raise. Why had I avoided remembering? I loved this memory. I could smell the aroma filled kitchen, I could hear her humming, I could taste that first sip of our family’s famous tomato sauce fresh from the pot, and I could feel the warm late summer breeze blow across the tops of my dap, soiled feet. I must have been about six at the time and my brother had to be twelve-ish. My memories stopped regressing (Because, oddly enough, I can’t remember much before this memory—I can’t even remember my parents faces) and started to progress. We lived happily with her on the coast living atop the cliffs that overlooked the sea. My parents had left behind a small fortune; however, we led a simplistic life living off the fields and gardens. Nothing was lavish about my childhood and that isolates me from my peers that I attend this expensive boarding school with. I remembered when I was twelve and my great aunt had me deliver sauce to all the local shops and send off packaged bottles to other towns. I loved to go into the shops and speak with the shop keepers; I felt like I knew everything that needed to be known about our humble little corner of the world. The shop keeps always treated me well and like to have me around then when someone was looking at the sauce I had brought for them to sell. They would point me out and say, “Look! The lovely young lady on the label has come to life!” They would almost make a sale after introducing me to their customers. I felt I was coming into my own between cultivating the lands with my family, attending school, and now delivering the product of our labor. That went on for two and half glorious years.

I could feel my shoulders raise, my brow furrow, toes curl, breathing slow, and the corners of my mouth fall as I prepared myself for the barrage of less pleasant memories to flow through my senses. My brother left after those two and a half years promising that I could join him after I finished school if I didn’t want to continue the business. Not two weeks after her left I came home to find her…my beloved great aunt…on the floor in the kitchen unconscious. The medics said she had, had a massive heart attack. I said my goodbyes alone because for some reason the postal service would not accept my letters to send to my brother and all other forms of communication were blocked.

Tears started to swell under my eyelids as my face flushed. I have been here for six months now as the business was liquidated (the assets placed a in a trust) as per accordance to the will and I became a ward of the state until the church intervened and took me in. I have a few girls that I am making friends with, but I might as well be making friends with Martians. The girls here have a total different type of background—they hadn’t been raised in gardens up to the elbows in…dirt. Although, things should be getting better soon because I have enrolled to go a country not far from here for the next year as an exchange student. Even though it isn’t incredibly far away I will still have to learn a whole new language and adjust to a whole new culture. Anything could be better than this pretentious place.

I opened my eyes releasing an onslaught of tears down my reddened checks. My roommate must have come in at some point. “Really, Soovy!” she shouted, “You are such a strange girl!”

Later

I pressed my pink and white floral sundress and unfolded the white button up half sweater as I prepared to go to see a film with some of my classmates. The other girls were wailing on and on about some boys that were surely to be there, “We must look our very best for these (country name) boys,” they chimed as we all got ready “they are so handsome!” I unpinned my hair releasing long, blonde ringlet curls one by one that nearly touched my shoulders. I rouged my cheeks and barrowed some lipstick. After curling my eyelashes and darkening around rims of my eyes I looked up into the full-length mirror to see someone I had never seen before! A tall beautiful young…woman… was standing in front of me. Her collarbone defined above a low neckline of the floral sundress that hugged her curves. Her calves were also defined from standing atop a pair of flattering, white stilettos. My eyes widened as I recognized the familiarities I shared with this young woman—she had my dark-blue-almost-brown eyes, my full lips that seemed a little too big for my oval face, and my small ski-slopped shaped nose. As I stared at my reflection I started to come to terms with how separated I had become from reality—I hadn’t realized how much I had grown in a just six months. Before I could grab my sweater to cover my shoulders one of the girls grabbed my arm and said some words I didn’t recognize as she pulled me out the door. Everyone seemed so happy as we made our way down the stairs. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of being one of these pretentious snobs I had came to really dislike. I looked just like one of them! I hoped that I never have to act like one of them.

There were five of us and for some reason there was two girls on each side of me. They went out of their way to have conversations with me as young men would pass. As the men would pass they would stare at me then their gaze would fall onto the others. After the first few glances I began to feel awkward. This is not who I am. My blood started to rush to my head. I needed a break. About that time a group of four young men had joined us as we continued to make our way to the theater. All the other girls could speak (country language)—I barely knew a few terms. I avoided the group and managed to slip behind without them noticing. I let them gain some distance when I turned onto a wider road that intersected with a rushing river. There was a large elegant bridge that span across the water that seemed like it would be the perfect reprieve to get the blood flowing back into my limbs.

A beautiful turtle swam beneath the bridge; its shell glistened through the drear, overcast day guiding my gaze down into the water below. My sudden captivation with this creature had deprived me of the ability to recognize the feeling of being watched. But, I didn’t care. I was free. I didn’t have to be around those girls anymore. I was gaining my sense of self again when the wind picked up causing my dress to rise above my thighs. I heard a low rumble of laughter as I tried to flatten the unruly dress to no avail. I turned to catch the spectator’s gaze.

When I met his gaze for the first time I full-out blushed clear down to my collar. So much for being a young woman! I felt like a child in his presence even at a short distance away from him. He was different from everyone I had seen up to this point. He was a product of this city adorning a similar worn, monotone and dulled motif fee that city emanated from the aging architecture to granite cobble walk ways. Because his clothes blended into with his surroundings it illuminated his face, but most predominately—his enchanting eyes.

He was a stranger, but something from within told me different.

I hadn’t noticed how quiet it had been until the ground began to shake. I looked at my feet as explosions erupted beyond the bridge. When I looked up I could see bombs being dropped upon the city—everything seemed to crumple in a noiseless scene of tragedy. I was stuck. The blood had congealed in my body the moment everything changed. What? Wait? The young man had grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the other side of the bridge just before it would have collapsed beneath us. While standing there on the newly exposed shore my attention darted from place to place unable to focus. All I could see was motion--buildings falling, people running...dust rising. Apparently, at this point the dust was what was to be feared the most because at that second we became part of the motion. I'm not sure why he decided to bring me with him, but, ultimately it saved my life. He had never let go of my wrist in all of the commotion. He was my tugboat as he guided me through tight, tumbling alley ways. He truly was a product of (City name) he knew the streets and didn’t seem to be phased by their sudden disorganization. We were alone in the capillaries of this once majestic city. I felt clumsy and totally out of place. I hadn’t had ran like this since I had played in the fields with my brother, this terrain was vastly different, as the bombs continued the fall glass was shattering above us, but we always managed to out run it before it crashed to the ground that was already filled with decades of decaying trash. He kept my arm taunt as stumbled behind him. I tried to ask why we were running but the words couldn’t find a place to intercede between deep, gasping breaths both out of exasperation and panic. And it almost seemed obvious—sitting ducks get shot when hunters are near. I had lost my shoes somewhere along the way and was completely unaware of the damage it was causing to my poor feet. All I was aware of was the speed at which we were navigating our way through the bowels of downtown. All at once the speed came to an abrupt stop. He threw me up against a wall, knocking the wind out of my lungs—not that there was much there. My head throbbed and my eyes couldn’t focus. My knees were weak and my feet were unstable. He was braced against me—pinning me against the wall. I started to see shapes again then the shapes took on details. As I looked past his shoulder to our right I could empty window frames, smoke, brick walls, and the sky. Or was it the sky? I blinked many times trying desperately to gain clarity. The sky wouldn’t be getting larger and the sky wasn’t white to begin with today. My eyes widened as I became aware that it wasn’t the sky at all—it was dust, a massive cloud of dust that had accumulated from all of the destruction. My whole body began to shake as I wanted to run again, but I couldn’t move as he held me in my place. As a last resort, I tucked my head into his neck under his chin and tucked my arms into his chest—he tightened his embrace in response. The massive wave of dust and ash descended upon us totally consuming our entwined bodies.

The shock didn’t allow for pain. I couldn’t feel the billions of particles grind against us as they hurtled past. I couldn’t feel the dust as it lodged itself in every nook and cranny that was both exposed and not exposed. I had never been violated in such away—I had never been physically assaulted by one sudden event. That cloud of dust was the changing point in my life—my life together with him—he was there protecting me from the overwhelming pressure pressing against us. It felt like it took a very long time to open my eyes; really, it was only from one breath to the next. When I opened my eyes I raised my head, at first, all I could see was bright white--ash white. I looked up into his concerned* eyes to see the only color left in this dank world. At ease lost in his gaze I made the mistake of taking a in a deep sigh of relief. The dust condensed in my throat causing me to cough and cough; my lungs burned and eyes wept. I could feel his chest rise and fall against mine as he continued to brace me again the wall. When I stopped coughing he tried to say something to me. I had completely forgot I couldn’t speak the language here. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to commutate with the one person that my life depended upon. This was ridiculous! I began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I could feel sobs welling at the back of my throat; however, they were never given the opportunity to manifest as I moved away from him. I tried to take the first step away but fell to my knees all while he was still talking. He pulled me up again and I fell to the ground once again; he must have noticed my feet were shoeless and in pretty rough shape because he disappeared then reappeared with some boots. Not only had I misplaced the language barrier I misplaced the function of boots. I looked up at him while he held the boots and just smiled. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with something so useless, regardless, I was just happy to see him return. I then waved my free hand that wasn’t holding me up saying, “Really, I’m not crazy…I just don’t understand,” I looked down at the ground then added softly, “please, don’t think I am crazy.” I was hoping that he would either recognize (language she is speaking) and happen to know it or at least gather that I could speak. (His facial expression then he will have to put the boots on and get her going again)

We were walking again when I started to really examine the buildings. I had to shift my attention to something other than myself as I felt completely out of place. I felt like I was nuisance because I was very cumbersome, particularly useless, and, sadly, rendered mute by the language issue. At first I focused on him as he moved effortlessly through the streets.(she will make more observations after I see your part) I then shifted my attention to the buildings, the shells that they had become, I was assuming, was very different from what they were before. Signs laid on the ground before the entrances covered in glass and other debris. On occasion there was body covered in dust. I felt indifferent towards them as they didn’t seem real covered in inches of dust. They seemed like they were part of a film or maybe a story from a book, but, all the same, not real. There was smoke billowing out from some of the buildings but the fires hadn’t spread to the bottoms of the buildings yet. We were alone on the street. Hey, we were on a street and not in some back alley. No wonder I was just noticing the shops--this was the first time I was seeing their fronts. I was lost in deep thought and hadn’t notice the gap between us. He must have been in deep thought too because this was the first time he hadn’t kept an eagle-like eye on my every move. My gaze fell upon my newly acquired boots—where had these boots came from? I had stopped just for a moment when someone had seized that moment by pulling my entire body weight into one of the empty shops.

A large, burning hot hand covered my mouth and half of my face. The opposite arm was wrapped around my waist. I could smell fire and I could taste it on his charred skin. He pulled me back, far back, where it was dark. I couldn’t see his face, but, I could feel his breath flow down my neck. He whispered something into my ear but I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me. He then pushed me away from him into the light and tossed a jar at me. In very poor (language she speaks) he said something along the lines of, “Girl from jar.” I looked down at the jar to see my face peering back up at me—it was our famous sauce! I smiled through my dust-caked curls. I couldn’t tell if he returned my smile or not. The man seemed to be kind, however, I questioned his abruptness. He again tried to speak (her language), “You no follow trouble maker—he lead you to trouble. You pretty girl. Stay with me.” My smiled dropped. Where was my trouble maker? I couldn’t even call his name because I didn’t know it. My panic was met an unusual response from the shop keeper. He had taken a step forward into the light and in that moment his face became very distorted. His eyes seemed to bulge and he stopped breathing. He seemed to rise onto his tip toes and his arms seemed lifeless at his side. His face widened but not with a smile, rather out of silent horror. A feeling of concern washed over me as I took in the very unnatural turn this conversation had taken. I stepped toward the man and placed my hand on his chest while peering up into his eyes. As my eyes travels up into his I saw a blade pressed to his throat. Stunned, I gasped, “My troublemaker!” I was elated to see him, but disheartened to see him threatening another man in this way. I gently pressed my finger tips against the back of the blade with one hand and reached over the shop keeper shoulder with the other to rest on top of his. I looked back at the shop keeper and thanked him for his concern. I kept my hand on my trouble maker’s as I moved behind the shop keeper. I gathered the few words I knew of his language to express my feelings of loyalty, “For you, I always follow” I said as my eyes met his. I led him out of the shop with my hand in his. I dropped my hand after we passed a few more shops. From that point on he stayed very close and I tried to keep my focus on him.

Ash was falling from the sky as the sun began to set silhouetting fragments of what buildings were still standing. The streets began to empty. We had stopped just shortly so we could relieve ourselves and continue on. When I didn't come back to the street within a few minutes he came looking for me in the area in which I had disappeared. The huge mound of rubble he rummaged through looking for me held a wonderful secret, actually a wonderful gift of sorts. There were a few random walls left standing that were about 10 to 15 feet tall--where two of these walls met there was a hole that I had skillfully found, okay, maybe I fell into it, but all the same I had found a very fortuitous place for us to stay; a shop that was still intact under the rubble and was not showing any signs of collapse. The best part was it was disguised and very hard to find--all we had to do was a place a large rock in the hole and we would be good for a while. When he was passing the hole I called out to him. When he peered into the hole I lit a candle so he could see the shop. ..