[ AW ] an unexpected party

we were born to live,
not meant to die.
In a realm far from this land there lived a child. Not a fantastical, beyond belief, beyond time kind of land, populated by mythical creatures and ancient beings, nor was it a primitive, crude, and single-minded kind of land filled with cultists and monsters. It was the Realm of the Elven, Artaurē o Edelā and that meant home.

And in this realm there were the provinces of five: the Endless Sand, Ornothlitthe, the Land of Green, Dôrgwene, the Sea Dwellers, Airenmardo, the Mountain Plains, Tainihad, and the Far Ice, Ledkhelek. True to their names these regions were, under the same banner of Elven they are. The Far Ice where the child resided.

Had resided, for they had ran. Ran and ran and ran. Why one may ask? Pray, do tell that one may say. The Mantle of Fire was filled with guilt that is why. An act of bravery they did not commit, a title of honor they did not earn. Nervous nature could not speak the truth of the lie, every time those lips parted silence had quieted them. The clench of their own throat stopped them short from revealing the falsehood. 'I don’t deserve the title.' 'Im baw covant eneth di fael.'

This here is where their story begins.

Traipsing through fields of small grasses and wildflowers alike, they had slowed their run to a walk. How ironic of a lesson it was, to not be able to push one’s body to run anymore. They were tired, tongue softly appearing between the small gap between lips. Their ears pulled back as they observed the wildflowers, such a sight to behold. Back home to their birth region there was a rare amount of flowers, to the south and east, however, there was an abundance. They could remember the pollen sticking to their nose when they had poked it at the face of a flower. Times spent as a child was limited and precious, maybe they didn’t feel like they had appreciated it enough at the time. A mind filled with ‘what if’ had stopped them from doing so many things, meeting so many people, seeing so many places.

Well, it seemed that they were now making up for that lost time. Those eyes had seen many places now, seen many things, and seen many people. Hmm, that was the problem. They had seen, but never done or met.

The quietest of sighs left those parted lips, lids slid gently closed as they took a moment to just breathe. Breathe in the scent of wildflower, that scent of moss, that scent of baby grass. The faintest of winds, like a comb, brushed through the nape of that flame-crested fur. Oh, but not a moment too soon did that breath of air turn to ice. A slight twinge in that right side of theirs. Not allowed to breathe too deeply. It was a rightful penalty for their lie. “Man nauth aw im aw an alpedo i mith?” They spoke lightly aloud and opened their eyes, but only a little, keeping that gaze down at the gold toes of their worn paws.

Translation: Why did I not speak the truth?
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Colruin goes by gender-neutral pronouns and on rare occasions uses feminine pronouns.

Knows the language Sindarin, a fictional elvish language made by J.R.R Tolkien.

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