"No," Kreyu replies, voice soft, and slightly sorrowful. She can't help but picture the boy as Skellig, in her mind.
"The tribe raised him as one of their own, took care of him communally. As he grew, it became clear that he was aware of things others were not, attuned to the mystical and the uncanny. They did not quite know what to make of him, how he should fit within the tribe."
She paints the woad on his skin, her touch gentle. "It was an edge life he lived, among them. Part of them, yet not fitting in. He was more at home in the wild than among the dwellings of the village. The great celebrations were the hardest for him to endure, for though he was welcome at them, the places where he did not fit with them hurt more at such times."
There is more sadness in her voice as she pictures Skellig in his place. "As he grew into a man, he learned that though they would drink and feast with him, neither man nor woman would invite him to lay with them or accept such an invitation from him should he offer it."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-07-28 04:52 pm (UTC)"The tribe raised him as one of their own, took care of him communally. As he grew, it became clear that he was aware of things others were not, attuned to the mystical and the uncanny. They did not quite know what to make of him, how he should fit within the tribe."
She paints the woad on his skin, her touch gentle. "It was an edge life he lived, among them. Part of them, yet not fitting in. He was more at home in the wild than among the dwellings of the village. The great celebrations were the hardest for him to endure, for though he was welcome at them, the places where he did not fit with them hurt more at such times."
There is more sadness in her voice as she pictures Skellig in his place. "As he grew into a man, he learned that though they would drink and feast with him, neither man nor woman would invite him to lay with them or accept such an invitation from him should he offer it."