VO
05-10-2004, 03:19 PM
This is a bit of an experment into a different writing style and subject. Constructive criticism, please
The very first memory Nuadis had was pushing open milky eyes, thick with womb-fluid, and peering through still-unfocused retinas at her birthparents – although at this point she did not know any of their names, let alone could focus the finely tuned muscles to adjust the blur. She could feebly move her multi-jointed fingers, flex her still hairless tail, and bawl like a helldemon, but at this point wanted to do nothing other than sleep – the trauma of birth had sapped her of strength, and the tiny being wished for little more than a return to the warm darkness where she had grown from a tiny bundle of cells into the sib that lay on the damp birthing-cloth. For now, however, she was placed into a cot lined with thick woolly fibres and lapsed into a deep and wholesome sleep. This is where this first memory ends.
The second memory the young sib had was when she (we used this term generally, due to the unusual gender structure among Sib’hau) had only developed slightly in the rapid birthshadow, and was barely a cycle later – by now, her eyes had righted themselves, although the thick and downy fur that would coat her body by the end of the season against the cold southern winds had not yet begun to sprout. Nuadis’ recollection of the multitude of squeaks and whistles that made up the sib language was, after a thirdturn in the womb of her mother - (again, we use this term lightly, as Nuadis’ mother is as alike to the mother of you or I as each of the three colours, invisible to the human spectrum, which makes up the pennant of the nation of Sib’hau is to each other) – had picked up a large amount of the language of all of the colony’s many other youngsters through the thin wall of her mother’s body. As she lay there, dozing in the woolly basin of warmth which was traditionally used to allow new births to develop fully through their birthshadow, could not hope to overhear and make sense of fragments of what the other sibs were saying in the sheltered sibtent :
“Hark!” said one, and before any of the others could reply in the formalised manner favoured by adult hau and even some older sib, continued his expression : “There has been a new birth in the colony!”
At this the squalid assembly of sibs raised a rapid chattering that shook even the solidly pitched structure of the treetent, and in such an instance, many such as Nuadis would have raised a great sound to alert her mother hau or any of the other attendants and nurses to her side. However, the young Nuadis kept quiet, and soon many inquisitive sibs were poking their furry faces over the edge of her cot, and poking her with long and leathery fingers.
“Cor!” said a large and bristly second with round blue eyes, “It’s another sib!”. He ran a warm finger across Nuadis’ face and onto her nose, and the young sib giggled in delight.
“That’s another this cycle?”, said another. She appeared to be a third like Nuadis, with dainty white fur and a smaller build than the larger firsts and seconds. Her caste was responsible, like she would be, for the farming and foraging in the highest reaches of their tree city, while her more brawny siblings would be sent down below to the forest floor and lower boughs.
“Of course”, replied the previous talker. “Don’t you know that there are more and more half-winged thirds like you now? I heard a hau talk about how they were going to be sending thirds down to some of the lighter salt mines now that there are so many, and so few firsts to work them.” At this, Nuadis’ second pristine birthmemory ends, and it was until eight long seasons had passed, and the young third grown to almost a fully developed hau that, an age of listless play later, at the birthing feast in honour of the eleven thirds that had been born in her cycle, the grim reckoning of this statement would come to pass.
The very first memory Nuadis had was pushing open milky eyes, thick with womb-fluid, and peering through still-unfocused retinas at her birthparents – although at this point she did not know any of their names, let alone could focus the finely tuned muscles to adjust the blur. She could feebly move her multi-jointed fingers, flex her still hairless tail, and bawl like a helldemon, but at this point wanted to do nothing other than sleep – the trauma of birth had sapped her of strength, and the tiny being wished for little more than a return to the warm darkness where she had grown from a tiny bundle of cells into the sib that lay on the damp birthing-cloth. For now, however, she was placed into a cot lined with thick woolly fibres and lapsed into a deep and wholesome sleep. This is where this first memory ends.
The second memory the young sib had was when she (we used this term generally, due to the unusual gender structure among Sib’hau) had only developed slightly in the rapid birthshadow, and was barely a cycle later – by now, her eyes had righted themselves, although the thick and downy fur that would coat her body by the end of the season against the cold southern winds had not yet begun to sprout. Nuadis’ recollection of the multitude of squeaks and whistles that made up the sib language was, after a thirdturn in the womb of her mother - (again, we use this term lightly, as Nuadis’ mother is as alike to the mother of you or I as each of the three colours, invisible to the human spectrum, which makes up the pennant of the nation of Sib’hau is to each other) – had picked up a large amount of the language of all of the colony’s many other youngsters through the thin wall of her mother’s body. As she lay there, dozing in the woolly basin of warmth which was traditionally used to allow new births to develop fully through their birthshadow, could not hope to overhear and make sense of fragments of what the other sibs were saying in the sheltered sibtent :
“Hark!” said one, and before any of the others could reply in the formalised manner favoured by adult hau and even some older sib, continued his expression : “There has been a new birth in the colony!”
At this the squalid assembly of sibs raised a rapid chattering that shook even the solidly pitched structure of the treetent, and in such an instance, many such as Nuadis would have raised a great sound to alert her mother hau or any of the other attendants and nurses to her side. However, the young Nuadis kept quiet, and soon many inquisitive sibs were poking their furry faces over the edge of her cot, and poking her with long and leathery fingers.
“Cor!” said a large and bristly second with round blue eyes, “It’s another sib!”. He ran a warm finger across Nuadis’ face and onto her nose, and the young sib giggled in delight.
“That’s another this cycle?”, said another. She appeared to be a third like Nuadis, with dainty white fur and a smaller build than the larger firsts and seconds. Her caste was responsible, like she would be, for the farming and foraging in the highest reaches of their tree city, while her more brawny siblings would be sent down below to the forest floor and lower boughs.
“Of course”, replied the previous talker. “Don’t you know that there are more and more half-winged thirds like you now? I heard a hau talk about how they were going to be sending thirds down to some of the lighter salt mines now that there are so many, and so few firsts to work them.” At this, Nuadis’ second pristine birthmemory ends, and it was until eight long seasons had passed, and the young third grown to almost a fully developed hau that, an age of listless play later, at the birthing feast in honour of the eleven thirds that had been born in her cycle, the grim reckoning of this statement would come to pass.