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March 27, 2023 at 1:56 am (This post was last modified: March 27, 2023 at 2:00 am by Foxaèr.)
(March 27, 2023 at 1:40 am)BrianSoddingBoru4 Wrote:
(March 27, 2023 at 12:07 am)Tomato Wrote: Still uncertain how to start the first chapter; this is always the hardest part.
Have you considered, 'It was a dark and stormy night'?
Boru
I finally started. Just two paragraphs right now.
Being over two thousand years old is considered quite the achievement, moreso by my sister than me. We were supposed to meet at the second millenia anniversary, thirty-one years ago, but personal activities kept us busy. Now here I am waiting for her. The sun has yet to set so it will be a few more minutes before she can make an appearance.
And why she wants to meet here of all places is beyond my comprehension. Having already been here a week, an early arrival to scope the area, it is apparent nothing of particular interest is happening. Galilee, twenty-seven years into the reign of tetrarch Herod Antipas, is still a beautiful enough place. More specifically, I am outside a little tavern in Nazareth. I have not ordered anything, but I did pay handsomely to just sit here.
Starting with blasphemy, obviously.
"Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat."
~ Erin Hunter
Being over two thousand years old is considered quite the achievement, moreso by my sister than me. We were supposed to meet at the second millenia anniversary, thirty-one years ago, but personal activities kept us busy. Now here I am waiting for her. The sun has yet to set so it will be a few more minutes before she can make an appearance.
And why she wants to meet here of all places is beyond my comprehension. Having already been here a week, an early arrival to scope the area, it is apparent nothing of particular interest is happening. Galilee, twenty-seven years into the reign of tetrarch Herod Antipas, is a beautiful enough place. More specifically, I am outside a little tavern in Nazareth. I have not ordered anything, but I did pay handsomely to just sit here.
Simple mud-brick makes for the surrounding buildings and where there is bare ground tends to be an indication that one can walk it as a pathway while simultaneously kicking up dust with one's feet. The women here are dressed in a way to hide all but their faces from view. There are a few women who bare their arms, but I have the feeling their more flexible display is not fully tolerated by the community. It is the first time I have encountered such a cultural aversion to the female body.
As is the case with the new places to which I travel, people stare with curiosity because I simply do not belong. My foreign appearance is made more exotic by the fact that I am immortal. So they stare with judgment that coexists with thoughts of awe. And I enjoy it, the attention, as I feast upon them.
Just a wisp. No more than this from each individual. Took me a while to learn the lesson. Stealing their life-force is necessary, but sometimes I wish their emotions were not included. Even their private thoughts I do not mind, but being made to feel something against my will is quite upsetting. Especially to the beast that resides within me.
Once, in an effort to end my existence, I stopped feeding. Only to eventually have the inner, ravenous monster destroy a village of innocent people. An act from which fanciful tales are created.
But after listening to philosophers, I have come to the conclusion that the life-force of humans is to me as their consciences should be to them. Whereas some of them manage to separate themselves from this inner guide, I am forever bound to the fate of humanity.
My sister does not have the same problem. We were born twins, but we are completely different. Even our paths through immortality are divergent. She may be a slave to the taste of blood, but not at all suppressed by humanity.
One aspect that has people looking favorably upon me, although it is also quite annoying, is that I forever look as though I am on the verge of puberty. Many cultures already consider me a man, albeit a young one. Granted, being a sickly child also contributed to my stunted growth.
My sister, because girls seem to mature faster than boys, appears like a young woman. And appears she does, as night seems to have crept upon the land, with the kind of grand entrance down the street that has all eyes on her. She is not one to be culturally sensitive, showing more of her body than any woman here, and the onlookers have a name for her.
Their whispers and their thoughts call her Lilith.
Unfamiliar with their mythologies, just a wisp here and there informs me of the comparison. It is an apt one, which she no doubt accepts proudly since she is an unapologetic force for freedom.
She looks the same as I remember her from hundreds of years ago. Other than alternate clothing styles and a great deal of body paint, there is not much she can do to look any different. Immortality has this way of ensuring one does not change physically. Although she is not one who wants to change.
Her hair is redder than mine. She probably enhances it with some sort of coloring. Her hair is also longer and much more luxuriant. It is thought by many cultures that red hair is a symbol of magic, of witchery. Her eyes are as dark as mine, perceived by people as endless, emotionless pools of darkness. If only they knew how much more strongly we experience the world than them, how our emotions are intensified by our curses.
Well, my curse. She considers herself blessed.
Even though she is not bare enough to cause a complete riot of outrage from the male community, her bare legs and bare neck are enough to earn their disapproval. She is also afforded some leniency because she is clearly foreign. Our ancient island facial features are more pronounced than that of the Judaic people.
They naturally wonder why we are here, yet at the same time they attempt to push us from their minds to avoid temptations of idle thoughts.
She smiles as I indicate with a nod to the chair opposite of me. As she seats herself, I wonder where she hid from the sun to arrive as pristine as she is. I have heard of others digging into the ground to escape the dangerous sun, but I cannot imagine she does this. Her inclination for the finer things in life means she has likely charmed her way into a nearby elegant estate.
"Thank you, for coming, Kitanetos," she says in our native language.
"Glad to be here," I say courteously as I look around. "Though I'm curious as to why you chose this place."
"I have to admit, I have a secondary motive for calling you here of all places. I need your help with something."
This is a surprise, considering she has never asked for my help before due to the fact that she is a powerful being who can do just about anything. After two thousand years of existence, for what can she possibly need my help?
Still trying to come up with a plot.
"Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat."
~ Erin Hunter
(March 26, 2023 at 9:36 pm)Tomato Wrote: There don't seem to be any philosophers from around the time of the Council of Nicea, except one who was likely on his deathbed at the time, which means I might have to create a fictional character who was heavily invested in the study of knowledge.
Slowly working on chapter two. With no plot in mind, still, I think I will use the beginning chapters to hop through time while briefly detailing what I experience at certain points in history. Maybe when I settle at a certain point, I will have the plot figured out.
"Never trust a fox. Looks like a dog, behaves like a cat."
~ Erin Hunter
