Post by Ivy on Oct 26, 2010 10:36:40 GMT 12
In the seven kingdoms there are people just like anywhere else, talents and faults all their own, but there are some in this world who take their talents to an extreme. They are the graced.
A grace can be useless as being able to speak backwards without thinking it or as desired as mindreading. The graced are children born normal, nothing unusual, until the day they fall asleep with both eyes the same color and wake up with mismatched eyes.
The moment they open two different eyes they are property of the king, taken from their families and raised until their grace is useful or not. Our eyes range from gold and blue, red and grey, purple and copper any color you can dream of. I've been told that my right eye is the same color as the corals of Lienid and the left is the same shade as the granite mined in Monsea, but I've never seen either.
My name is Terhi. My grace is still unknown at the age of sixteen. And my usefulness is drawing to a swift end.
You are the graced, the strange, mythical children who had been stolen from their families because of potential. Sometimes a child may be sent home but there are those who have no home to be sent back to. And sometimes the kinds find a dead body easier to deal with than a pauper on their streets. A pauper who, inconceiveable as it may seem, may one day be a threat to them.
Some of you are too dangerous to let live and some may very well be deadly and simply unaware. Whatever your reasons, the useless gracelings of Birn City in Wester are plotting their escape. Wester lies where the sun sets, far from the hills of the Middluns and farther still from the rocky passes into the mountains of Monsea. They make for the land past them, known as the Dells. There you may find safety. If you are not swift enough to outrun and outwit your hunters, you may meet your deaths before even seeing the border.
Are you willing to risk it?
input anyone?
A grace can be useless as being able to speak backwards without thinking it or as desired as mindreading. The graced are children born normal, nothing unusual, until the day they fall asleep with both eyes the same color and wake up with mismatched eyes.
The moment they open two different eyes they are property of the king, taken from their families and raised until their grace is useful or not. Our eyes range from gold and blue, red and grey, purple and copper any color you can dream of. I've been told that my right eye is the same color as the corals of Lienid and the left is the same shade as the granite mined in Monsea, but I've never seen either.
My name is Terhi. My grace is still unknown at the age of sixteen. And my usefulness is drawing to a swift end.
You are the graced, the strange, mythical children who had been stolen from their families because of potential. Sometimes a child may be sent home but there are those who have no home to be sent back to. And sometimes the kinds find a dead body easier to deal with than a pauper on their streets. A pauper who, inconceiveable as it may seem, may one day be a threat to them.
Some of you are too dangerous to let live and some may very well be deadly and simply unaware. Whatever your reasons, the useless gracelings of Birn City in Wester are plotting their escape. Wester lies where the sun sets, far from the hills of the Middluns and farther still from the rocky passes into the mountains of Monsea. They make for the land past them, known as the Dells. There you may find safety. If you are not swift enough to outrun and outwit your hunters, you may meet your deaths before even seeing the border.
Are you willing to risk it?
input anyone?
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