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Shania rolled over in bed for what seemed like the twentieth time in five
minutes and finally decided it was time
to face the day. After much
grumbling, and fussing, the young elf finally poked her head out from
beneath the moss-like
covers of her bed, the expression on her face sour.
Despite the welcoming rays of sunshine that peeked through the
stone-branches
of the window in her room, one could see the forming of
black clouds above the young sentinel's head.
Elves were
supposed to be graceful, beautiful, delicate and over all
well-mannered. It was assumed that each elven child got blessed
with all
the graces of Sikkar upon birth and that well-polished character beaten
into their head sometime before they
could speak their first word--
obviously, somebody had looked over Shania and forgot to brief her on how
things were
supposed to be. Upon tossing the covers aside, Shania's
expression could not get any more disgruntled. Any onlooker would
think
that she had just swallowed a concoction of sour milk, lemon and hot sauce.
Her lips were set in a twisted smirk
of sorts, eyes shut tightly, her whole
expression contorted into one of complete discomfort and her hair.... By
Sikkar,
had anybody told the girl on the usefulness of braiding one's hair
before going to bed? The lustrous locks of black did
not only resemble a
tumbleweed, as it stuck out all over the place in disheveled knots, but was
still damp to the touch.
Of course, cold, damp hair only added to the
headache that was already brewing in her head.
Eventually she climbed
out of the hollowed-out trunk of her bed and the
shock of cold grass welcomed her into the day. Almost instantly did her
full
lips give way to the curses that had been swimming in her mind and for
a few moments, her speech could give even the most
foul-mouthed sailor
something to blush about. Once her morning 'prayers' were finished, the
girl ran about the confines
of her room trying to find the warmest path
across the grass to her trunk until she fell face first before it. Shortly,
the
word 'donut' came to view and Shania grumbled, wagging a finger to her
strongbox. "Good freakin' morning to you too."
After
having dressed and fought with her hair to tame it as best as she
possibly could, Shania headed on out the door only to
run into the master
of the house. Usually, bumping into the well-mannered anakim brought a grin
to the usually cheeky
elf as the two got along exceptionally well. It
was not uncommon to find the duo in each other's presence, conversing,
advising
or simply annoying the hell out of one another. When bored, as it
was often the case, Sentinel and Templar could often
be seen at the Golden
Boar, staring intently at checkered board as they tried to outsmart each
other on chess. Needless
to say, neither won as both Kestrel and Shania
since the two often got distracted by the strangest of things.
"Morning,
Sunshine." Kestrel teased, playfully ruffling Shania's hair. The
two had been living under the same roof long enough for
him to know that
the elf was not a morning person and it had become a running gag to call
her by such an unfitting name
early in the day.
"Eh." She responded, carefully adjusting the straps to her pack as she
ducked her head. Shania
was nearing her twentieth birthday and still
resembled a ten year old upon a first glance. She was short, thin, and
whatever
assets that were tell-tale to her age were normally concealed
beneath her uniform. The fact that she *acted* like an obnoxious
preteen
half the time didn't help the illusion of prepubescense. Curses to the
genetics of elvenkind and their slow
age process!!
Again the anakim patted her head, a gesture that only deepened the scowl on
the elf's face. Curse
him! Had the idiot forgotten how much Shania hated
that? Of course not. In fact, Kestrel patted her on the head as often
as he
could because he knew it annoyed the hell out of her. Despite her age,
despite her frailty-- despite the hardships
of being a sentinel, the one
thing Shania hated most was being treated like that which she resembled: a
kid. One could
say she'd developed a short-complex through out the years.
"Take care. Don't drown."
The patting would have been
enough to get under her skin on a day like
this, but his comment only made things worse. Shania, despite suffering
from
Horribles Daynous, was the sort of person who'd do her best to keep a
cool head. Kes, after all, was only being himself..
"Yes father."
"I'm not your father."
"Then stop acting like it." She mumbled, heading out the door.
"Then
stop drowning at my doorstep." Well, that much was true. Shania and
water didn't mix-- Curse him for having a home next
to a freaking river!
It took an exceptionally long time before Shania could reach Sauronan's Sun
Gate when the trip
usually took a good half hour on a lazy day. Somewhere
along the way she'd met up with an angry mazaka fly that had decided
to
'taste the elfy' and chased Shania around the grassfields until said elf
fell into the river and got washed upstream.
One would have come to believe
that black-headed elf would have learned to swim considering how many times
she had drowned
but nooo... she couldn't even dogpaddle her way to the
shore in two inches of water. By the time she'd managed to get her
butt
back on the river bank, Shania was halfway dead, her bardiche washed
somewhere, the uniform she fought so hard
to keep immaculate, covered in
mud and one of her boots had torn. That is, not to mention, the grand
fuzziness of hair
that had decided to pop back to the "Tumbleweed" look.
"Newbies enter free of charge." And with the guard's words,
another pat on
the head greeted Shania only this time her hair decided to play 'capture
the gauntlet'. As the man withdrew
his hand, a shriek escaped her lips and
for a few precious moments, the only sounds that greeted passerbies were
those
of insults as the uniformed peacekeepers screamed at the other to
'let go'. The culmination of the heated exchange ended
abruptly when
another guard used his sword to separate the two. For a moment all three of
them stared at each other,
eyes bouncing from the mass of hair that still
clung to one of the guard's gauntlet, the quasi-bald spot on Shania's head
and
the sword that cut Solomon's Knot loose.
If looks could kill, a sea of dismembered bodies would have been left at
the
gate for Sha's fellow sentinels to make sense out of. Instead of
arguing, Shania headed toward her guild, fuming and cursing
at the world.
"I swear by Sikkar, if one more person touches my head..."
The sweet smell of pastries wafted
up that delicate nose as soon as the
guild doors opened to reveal the busy beehive that was the Sentinel guild.
Almost
instantly the clouds lifted and for a moment, all was forgotten.
Delicate fingertips caressed the small pink box that contained
the jelly
donuts Shania so much adored before lifting it off the table altogether and
bringing it up to her nose. "Ah,
at last, my sweet precious.. you're mine..
mine.. ALL MINE!!"
Of course, things were not to be as they should. As
soon as victory had
been proclaimed and the elf had stuffed a donut into her mouth, chaos came
to be. Out of nowhere,
a gray, white and black paw decided to make that
black tumbleweed its home for a few seconds. No longer could the sweet
taste
of lemon meringue custard make things better. The fluffy goodness of
her beloved pastry gave Shania no comfort. "Sirry,
sirry Erfy... meaties
are better."
How it happened, nobody knew for sure. One moment, the short, elven
sentinel
had been enjoying a fix and the next, Zeamass was on the floor,
sorrounded with smashed jelly donuts and a crushed, pink
box crowning his
head.
"I told you," she mumbled as a finger waved toward the heavens. "I told you
not to tempt
me... But noo... you *had* to see what I'd do didn't you? What
did I ever do? Huh?"
So said, Tumbleweed spun on
her broken heel and limped on out of the door,
fuzzy hair a flappin' as if it were a giant lip. Somebody was going to have
to
clean up the jelly, muddy mess but it was not going to be here. Nope. No
siree... she had better things to do, like...replace
what had been damaged
and kill trimerfolk.
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