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Entry tags:
Word 159
Title: Untamed
Fandom: Original
Rating: G
A/N: Ravenloft isn't mine. Neither is Ambrose Willoughby. They belong to Wizards of the Coast and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
squirrelmadness, respectively. Anya's mine, though.
It wasn’t that she hated her family. There was no love lost between her and her mother, certainly, but she didn’t need to be smothered, in affection or anything else. But paradoxically, though they prided themselves on not being tied down, Anya could never understand how they missed the fact that they were tied more firmly to each other than most giorgo were ever tied a patch of dirt. Ties were ties. And that was why she had turned her back on the only family she’d ever known without a word of goodbye. Not because she had been degraded for her father’s sake, or because she was the outsider. She left because, very simply, she wasn’t going to be tied down, even to people who never stopped moving.
She could live in a house, as long as no one told her when to go and when to come back. She could stay in a city, if all parts of it were at her disposal, all roads open to her feet. And she could even make friends, after a fashion; they simply had to realize that if they expected her to follow them all the time, they would be sorely disappointed. And so Paridon agreed with her, because all the expectations were unspoken, which made them very easy indeed to ignore. Freedom was Anya’s first love, and she found that far away from the family that was so confoundedly important to her people. When she was alone, she was free.
So why had she been agonizing over this letter for hours, and wondering if it would be too nosy to ask directly when Willoughby would return to Paridon? Surely she didn’t care. And he was just as free as she was.
She crumpled the letter and began a new one.
On her fourth attempt, she gave up and went out to take a walk. There was no one to stop her. But for once… the thought didn’t give her any real satisfaction.
Fandom: Original
Rating: G
A/N: Ravenloft isn't mine. Neither is Ambrose Willoughby. They belong to Wizards of the Coast and
squirrelmadness, respectively. Anya's mine, though.It wasn’t that she hated her family. There was no love lost between her and her mother, certainly, but she didn’t need to be smothered, in affection or anything else. But paradoxically, though they prided themselves on not being tied down, Anya could never understand how they missed the fact that they were tied more firmly to each other than most giorgo were ever tied a patch of dirt. Ties were ties. And that was why she had turned her back on the only family she’d ever known without a word of goodbye. Not because she had been degraded for her father’s sake, or because she was the outsider. She left because, very simply, she wasn’t going to be tied down, even to people who never stopped moving.
She could live in a house, as long as no one told her when to go and when to come back. She could stay in a city, if all parts of it were at her disposal, all roads open to her feet. And she could even make friends, after a fashion; they simply had to realize that if they expected her to follow them all the time, they would be sorely disappointed. And so Paridon agreed with her, because all the expectations were unspoken, which made them very easy indeed to ignore. Freedom was Anya’s first love, and she found that far away from the family that was so confoundedly important to her people. When she was alone, she was free.
So why had she been agonizing over this letter for hours, and wondering if it would be too nosy to ask directly when Willoughby would return to Paridon? Surely she didn’t care. And he was just as free as she was.
She crumpled the letter and began a new one.
On her fourth attempt, she gave up and went out to take a walk. There was no one to stop her. But for once… the thought didn’t give her any real satisfaction.