Old Wounds Sometimes Heal Nov 6, 2022 20:23:52 GMT -5
Post by Cato on Nov 6, 2022 20:23:52 GMT -5
OLD WOUNDS SOMETIMES HEAL
| Plant -- The Saiba Wastes |
| Plant -- The Saiba Wastes |
Cato had longed to learn about the secret of her parentage for most of her life.
The truth was little comfort. She had always known she had descended from nobility, and that she had strong blood running through her veins. But she could never have predicted that she had been born to what were little more than cultists. Though their blood may have been noble, traceable back to the old families on Sadala, House Bloodbrand had ended its existence as barely more than a collection of scattered souls, clinging to the pretense of greatness: a pretense the rest of the Saiyan race had long abandoned. To lose ones mind to the primal Oozaru was a shame to many nobles, but to House Bloodbrand, it was ritual. To lose oneself into the 'true' mind of the Saiyan, and to leave blood and destruction in their wake.
It was a legacy that Cato no longer desired any claim to, if indeed she ever had such a claim.
Her mind raced as she trudged through a thick forest of gray and blackened wood, on the edge of the Saiba Wastes, dangerously near to the horrific Breeding Pits. Her last trip through here had been fraught with peril and miserable to the last, until she had been rescued by some stroke of luck by a powerful Saiyan commander. This time, she was more than strong enough to brave the Wastes, and perhaps even the Breeding Pits themselves. She had grown powerful, more than she had ever imagined she could during her time in the fringes of space.
But it wasn't enough. She knew that as long as she clung to the past, clung to some false legacy of what she was meant to do or who she was meant to be, she would never be able to reach her real potential. She would be destined to spend her whole life searching, her whole life wanting. But she had decided that would not be her fate. That was why she willed herself onwards, as her boots sunk into acidic mud and the chittering of Saiba-men drew closer.
She wasn't far now. Her blade cut a path before her, slashing away tangled knots of brush and branch to clear the way. She had been walking at least an hour, maybe two. Time with her thoughts. Some things weren't meant to be rushed. Still, it was harrowing work: the air seemed to cut thick with the remnants of a recent, toxic rain, and the trees were made of strong stuff, even when faced with the razor edge of hew new blade.
She supposed there would come a time soon when she would have to choose who she really was. That was the key, after all. But for now, she would have to make do with choosing who she wanted to be for now. She came to a sudden halt as she reached the edge of the woods, and saw the decrepit manor before her. There were mysteries to uncover here, of a family that knew greatness unlike her own. But first, she would have to clear the way.
Mud, bramble, and time had not given her pause. Nor would the few Saiba-men who wandered through the grounds of Bonewood Manor.