IP: 66.208.250.154
Posted on January 15, 2015 at 00:18:15 AM by estefania
NOTE:
Stef currently only speaks Spanish, however, she will pick up English again more quickly than someone who is learning it for the first time! Most people found Estefania formidable in at least some way. She was a fierce competitor with an unstoppable determination and perseverance many envied, after all, and she possessed a fiery spirit that flared from time to time with the sudden intensity of a wild fire (though those were brave enough to weather the storm would also discover that rage would dissipate as quickly as it came). It is for these reasons that, had any of those people been able to see Stef in that moment, they would have had trouble reconciling the two images into one being. All dignity tossed to the winds, Stef sprawled on her stomach, legs and arms akimbo and her mouth opened wide to allow both loud snoring and the occasional bit of drool escape; from time to time a long limb would jerk a little, as if she were running even in her dreams. While one must admit that she did look a bit amusing in this position, there was a child-like innocence to her expression and the sprawl of her limbs that made her more... human, if not more approachable. There were three things in all of time and space that Stef loved more than anything: her pain in the ass brother, Mallos, even though she was currently not speaking to him; a nice deep sleep, particularly on cold nights when she could curl up under several large blankets; and a nice long run on a day that was neither too hot nor too cold, but somewhere in the middle. Of course, her second and third loves often overlapped, particularly since she did most of her training in the early hours of dawn before most Shaman residents were beginning their day. When her alarm went off promptly at four in the morning, Stef grunted and flopped to her back, letting out a snore loud enough to rival the device's constant, and purposely irritating, screech. When this did not dissuade the alarm clock from its noisiness, one long arm snuck out from under her blankets to slap irritably at the nightstand beside her bed, missing the clock entirely several times until she finally cracked open an eye wide enough to focus on it. Though the idea of skipping her morning routine for a few more hours of sleep was tempting - as it was every morning - she dragged herself out of bed with only a handful of choice swear words to reflect her feelings on the matter. Her hair sticking up wildly in every direction and her long feet stuffed into slippers in the shape of fluffy white cats (a gift from her brother, who'd been certain she would never use them and by saying so ensured she would wear them every morning until they fell apart), Stef dragged herself down the steps into the kitchen where - thank the universe - her coffee pot had already begun to brew her up a much needed caffeine infusion. She stood in front of the pot with bleary eyes, swaying just a little as her body tried desperately to cling to the last shreds of sleep, and gave a jaw-popping yawn. When at last the machine gave a self-satisfied beep - announcing it had completed its duty and was going back to sleep - Stef ceased the pot and poured the hot black liquid into the biggest mug she could find, loaded it down with as much sugar and cream as she could stand, and then chugged it down as if afraid someone would come along and take it from her if she didn't drink it fast enough. Feeling less inclined towards murder and/or a nap, Stef made herself a second cup while she prepared her usual protein-packed breakfast of quinoa, eggs, and sausage. Though she would never admit it - Stef was nothing if not stubborn about such things - her gaze often slid to the kitchen door leading to the exterior of her little cabin in anticipation of her brother swooping in, uninvited and currently unwelcome but nonetheless determined to invade her space. But no matter how often she found herself looking, and no matter how much extra food she'd made without even realizing it, that dark and dashing figure did not appear. It took her a moment to remember - as her third cup of coffee finally cleared away the last bits of sleep from her mind - that Mallos was not well and, more than that, that she shouldn't be disappointed by his absence; she had, after all, told him to leave her alone in no uncertain terms. Her heart gave an uncomfortable pinch, reminding her how worried about him she'd been despite her rage and how, because her pride was just as formidable as the rest of her, she'd refused to even check up on him; Stef squirmed in her chair, the warring emotions of anger, frustration, and guilt making her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Though that treacherous heart was far softer and easily bruised than she would ever admit, Stef often blustered her way through moments of high emotion by pretending she didn't feel them; in recent years she'd (almost) succeeded in convincing herself she didn't have any emotions besides "normal" and "angry" and so such outbursts of feelings left her decidedly uncomfortable. Thankfully, there was a quick and easy remedy at hand. Stef jogged back up the steps as fast as her kitty slippers would carry her to brush her hair and teeth and toss on a matching pair of jogging clothes in her favorite color, a deep, passionate red. Though she would have liked nothing better than to race out the door and hit her morning trail that instant, she knew better. She stretched, paying careful attention to her hamstrings and calves, before setting off at a sedate and steady pace. Snow crunched beneath the soles of her running shoes - also bright red - as she jogged, feeling her muscles burn and stretch in that familiar and comforting way. In seconds she was lost in the moment, her long limbs moving in time with one another while her mind filled itself with the crisp, cold air, the scent of pine trees and woodsmoke, and the solid sound of her feet hitting the ground in a smooth and steady tempo. She was so lost, in fact, that she did not see the person just a short distance ahead until she was almost upon them. She kept her head down, hoping they wouldn't want to chat or - somehow worse - join her; her heart was lonely and her emotions a tangle beneath the cool and confident exterior she put out, but she didn't know how to reach out and often associated conversation with others as an awkward but necessary evil. |
Replies:
- should be over all the butterflies - By morgana January 19, 2015 at 04:44:14 AM
- sueño en colores - By estefania February 5, 2015 at 00:56:41 AM
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