xiah
Supposedly, in a year, Xiah will be an adult. A fully functional adult, one who should by all means be capable of independence. Just before her second birthday, she might have whined for this tall-tale of independence. But when her parents did not greet her with good-morning kisses and heart felt happy-birthdays on that day; the day she had spoken of animatedly to them ever since her first birthday. Baby Kida came and wished her well, but at that exact moment, the little unicorn knew that exactly the opposite was about to overtake their lives.
Nearly a year has passed since that misfortunate day, and every day more stressful than the next. Supposedly, in a year, Xiah will be an adult. And yet she would fiercely argue to any who said such that she is already an adult. She is, after all, independent to the point of caring for another soul, another body. With Mum and Daddy quite thoroughly gone, Kida’s life flopped into Xiah’s cumbersome care. Just like the first day she met the little cyclops, however, no thought of abandonment enters her mind. Kida is her sister; Kida is her baby now.
Every morning, it is the thought of her sister that rouses her from an ever advancing darkness, and not the one that comes with sleep. This morning is no different. While it may take her a number of minutes to compose a tear-lined face and soften her stormy grey eyes, Xiah always manages to exit her cavern in what may seem to be a good mood, at least to a young soul.
Eyeing the complicated path down the side of the mountain, Xiah snorts contemptuously. Deciding to have a little fun, the two year old lifts herself above the rocky debris and shoots downwards. Legs pumping beneath her, as is instinctual for the girl, Xiah skillfully dodges oncoming obstacles. A light-hearted laugh bubbles from her lungs, and for a moment, that silly girl Errant and Lea knew reappears.
As she lands just outside the entrance to Kida’s cavern, the carefree persona falters, and the Xiah she has become returns. “Kida!” She calls impatiently, striking the cool stone floor with a striped hoof. “Kida get up! Don’t make me come in there and get you,” She forces a playful tone into her high-pitched voice, though it pains her to do so. Yet despite this pain, even the orphan girl manages to find some glimmer of what she used to be.
It’s not so bad…
You won't have any friends, and I'll live in a room
With flowers on the walls, and golden doorknobs