Information
Antherion has a minion!
Lexicon the Snow Fox
Lexicon the Snow Fox
Antherion
Legacy Name: Antherion
The
Glacier SheetaOwner: Irefe
Age: 17 years, 8 months, 3 weeks
Born: July 9th, 2008
Adopted: 13 years, 10 months, 6 days ago
Adopted: May 26th, 2012
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
Character Description by Namine
Sheeta, Glacier design (c) Subeta
~*~
The quiet sound of a quill scratching against parchment filled the otherwise quiet room. Not even her light breathing could be heard as words filled page after page after page with the elaborate quill, plucked for her from the wings of a minion skittering by her lair. Her own minion was curled up in a fluffy ball on the edge of the stone writing desk, eyes closed and dreaming of heaven knows what. A light smile appeared on the rather stoic Sheeta's lips at the sight of the dreaming minion as she continued on writing. Maybe one day she'd know about what dreams her minion had so she could write them down. The fluffball kept her company, but it was only to a degree. She may have made her residence in the coldest part of the regions, but she had her company. It was a cold place, a quiet place, a place that her winter-attuned body could slip into a sleep that brought up vivid dreams and gave her the inspiration to write, to create worlds within starched white pages bound by leather obtained through various merchants. Antherion's smile faded as she looked back at the almost completed book. How to complete this one, so that it would be able to be perfect? Many of the books scattered around her she had written, and somehow to her talented mind they all seemed to end the same exact way. How, then, would this one be different? Maybe she should leave it, leave the story to write itself in the future?
But if that was so, when would that one in particular ever end?
The thought disturbed the Sheeta deeply, causing her to cease her writing and pull her cloak closer to her and rise. Those thoughts brought up the past--a past frozen beneath the ice that layered her heart. She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, watching the curls of steam dissipate slower than usual.
She hadn't always been this way, always been frozen. She was a young, tiny Sheeta at the time, all spindly arms and legs and known by a different name then. Halima, known in her herd's tongue as 'my light'.
The irony was that meaning was what had brought her to this situation, isolated from everything she had known but her minion.
From a young age she had a special skill in the art of writing. The best of the elders were jealous of her skills, for her fluidity and complexity in weaving the words of tales surpassed their own by many years. The caste system was strict upon her entering the years of young marriageable ages, and the young Sheeta found herself constricted from writing and forced to learn more feminine traits like drawing, sewing and proper conversation etiquette with potential suitors. Females of any rank were not allowed to publish anything, but Halima found her solution. Secretly, under the pseudonym 'Antherion' she published book upon book, soon becoming popular among the crowds. It filled her with silent pride until that day where she was found out.
She was brought to the meeting grounds--a large circle in the deep snow of the Arctic Fields--and publicly humiliated in front of peers, suitors and family. Disgracing the honor of ones' family was a grave offense with only one option of recovering it: exile.
Antherion breathed in bitterly, keeping her suppressing hold on the tears that threatened to rise as she looked over at the bags that held all the books she had written. The original manuscripts, that is. They had set fire to her others, allowing her to keep her diary, her original manuscripts, and some food and sent her, just barely entering adulthood, into the frozen tundra that lay before them.
She had cried the first two nights on her own, alone and frightened by the landscape. That was when she had met her little Snow Fox. She had slept in the freezing cold for the past three nights, her cream coat turning white from the snow and horns frozen and numb from the accumulating ice upon them. Waking up, she was about to have the last of her food when she saw her. The Snow Fox had tilted her head, slowly coming over towards her as if wary. Antherion looked at the food before her, debating on what to do. With a gnawing feeling in her stomach she passed the food to the fox, who ate it all before scampering off and then waiting for her. The Sheeta rose and followed her to a cave, where icy water rested in a pool in the warmer cave. She gratefully took a drink, feeling the cold and numbness and general discomfort melt away. Her fur changed fully from cream to white, snow falling off her as she shook. She examined herself, noting the icy blue of her eyes, the ice encasing her horns, the beautiful grey markings her spots had become. "Glacier," she had breathed, eyes wide in amazement. Only the elders became Glacier, through their trials. Only the men had this opportunity. And now she...she had it. She could use this, but would anyone ever see? She doubted it.