 |
Finding the Pathway Home
Name: Ingyentsim (Na'vi for mystery, riddle, enigma, conundrum)
Screen name: - Mynsed -
Personality: Before the storm, she was a cheerful and bubbly lion. She could never have too many friends and was always eager to make more. She had recently become an adult and was excited about the possibilities she now had in life. She dreamed of romance, of family, of friends. She dreamed of the simple and typical pride life.
She was friendly and open to all and very honest about how she was feeling. Sadness, anger, fear… she thought she knew what these feelings were, had thought she experienced them. But then the storm happened and Ingyentsim realized she knew nothing.
Washed up, Ingyentsim was confused, scared, and lost. Cold and hurting, with wounds that required days of rest and a fever that needed to be nursed. Nightmares came to her dreams every night, of the storm and memories of what she had witnessed. With the nightmares came a distrust in others, came a realization of true fear. And then came the desperation to keep it all hidden, to lock away her feelings. After the storm, she becomes stoic on the outside. On the inside, she’s bubbling with anxiety, fear, and the constant battle to keep going. She becomes depressed and the only thing that drives her to keep going are her goals. Her goals keep her living. After finding the pride, it’s finding the flute. After finding the flute, it’s protecting her cubs. She needs goals in her life. And she craves distractions that help her momentarily forget her memories.
Slowly but surely, she’ll become better. Not healed, never like she was. But more like glued together pottery that had been in pieces; whole but evidence of cracking.
Prompt reply: She was plagued with nightmares.
Waking up, shivering and drenched, Ingyentsim’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, panic having her by the throat. She didn’t like the dark now. But then, she now had many phobias, all of which she would have believed only a cub should have. Even most cubs grow out of their phobias. She wanted to laugh and immediately recognized the hysteria she was approaching. A soft pitter patter from rainfall sounded and she loathed the noise. It fueled her nightmares, gave them power and life. She hated the rain. She hated the wind. She hated the dark. But worse of all, she loathed rivers.
It was irony, a sick and twisted joke. She wasn’t like this before the storm. Ingyentsim had been a happy lady and very proud of the new honor she was given. The responsibility of Eywa’s blue flute had been passed upon to her, after her predecessor passed on. It was a great honor and she swelled with pride.
It seemed Eywa found her unworthy.
Ingyentsim could finally see, partially, though her back was tense, her thoughts still plagued by the lingering dreams. Her breath was still harsh but had slowed down considerably. Slowly, she picked her way against the cave walls. She wasn’t going to drown here. There won’t be another flood. The rain will stop. She knew this wasn’t punishment for obtaining the flute; that was an arrogant thought that she battled out of her mind. It was an ongoing battle, these moments after waking. The moments before sleeping.
Thoughts of lightning cracking, wind tearing, rain pouring. A wrong step, slipping into rapids that should have not been there. Have brief relief from being torn from her pride and, while clinging to a weakening limb, digging a hole and shoving the flute there, praying that it wouldn’t be torn back up from the ground, like her home was being, like her family was. The branch snapped, she was pulled under water again, and her head had been struck.
She remembered all of this; she hadn’t forgotten, fortunately. She remembered the water being sucked into her lungs, the burning panic. She remembered the screams and cries that contested with the sound of the wind. The crack of limbs and the moan of the earth. Oh, how she wished she could forget it all. That the rock had knocked the memory out of her mind. She didn’t know where she was or which way was home; she had been a very sheltered lion. She didn’t know how to survive on her own. She didn’t know where the sacred flute was. Yes, she wished her head had split her skull, something to make her forget. Her fond memories of home were no where to be seen; the moment she called one up, it was immediately replaced with the face of someone she knew, someone she cared about, being pulled away. Her fond memories were hiding from her, allowing her to see the drowned lions, the injured lions. The lions whose necks were in the wrong way, those with glazed eyes, those impaled with splintered wood.
The rain finally stop and with it, so did her memories. A dry sob escaped her throat and she pressed her head against the cool stone wall. Strength. She needed strength and courage again. She pleaded to herself to find it within herself, to keep going. She had to find home. Hope was a small ember in her stomach but she tried not to despair. The trek had been long and she no doubt there was still a long way to go. But she had heard and all was not lost; the Na’vi were rebuilding. Her pride was still there. Hope was still there. Hope was the breath she breathed in, the motivation between each step. Hope was what got her through her nightmares when she is both asleep and awake. Hope is what kept her from stepping off a cliff. Hope was her lifeline that had been fraying, attached by small threads until news of the Na’vi being rebuilt had reached her.
Her breath had calmed. Her fears soothed and lying in wait at the back of her mind. Her fears were never truly gone. But she would be strong. She will push on. And she will never allow those fears to seep out for the world to see, leave her naked and exposed, vulnerability bare. She dressed herself with a smooth expression and stern eyed, unfeeling, unyielding. Picking her way out of the cave into the dawning morning, she stared at her green companion, who was already ready to go. Lijen, he called himself. She had met him almost a week time past and his intentions were still unclear to her. He insisted he could never leave a damsel in distress, despite her insistence that she was not distressed. He travelled. He knew the lands well. And though he haven’t heard of the Na’vi, he knew the land by description. He knew of the storm.
He would help her home. And when she arrived home, she would bid him farewell. Before reaching the borders. No doubt, he heard her shouting, in the midst of her nightmares. She didn’t doubt the reason he was awake was because of her noise. He learned to give her privacy. But he knew to much. No, before they reached her home, he would have to leave.
She wasn’t anxious to be home. Home was shattered. She was shattered. She wondered if anyone could tell her from the innocent, playful lion without a care in the world to what she had become now. Picking up the pieces of her life seemed impossible, improbable. How would she be able to carry on? Another goal, perhaps. Once she got home, she was find the flute. She will fulfil her duty to her pride. And after that… the bleakness opened up a pit in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about after that. She was dangling from a cliff, holding onto her frayed rope of hope, after all.
Future Plots:
Paranoia- For a while, Ingyentsim will keep to herself. I would imagine, before the storm, she had been bubbly and friendly; she may have knew a lot of lions and lioness, was friends with many. When she comes back, she would be stoic and on guard, trying to carefully hide her fears. She'll be imprisoned by her new phobias and due to this, paranoid by anyone learning of them.
Breaking Point- Being interrogated about the flute, about where she went, about what happened. She would be calm and collected but the more memories that is pried out of her, the more tense she will be. She may lunge at whoever is asking the questions and snap. Very violent and slightly crazed until pinned down. And then, she'll struggle to control herself.
Fears- There could be plenty of instances where her fears surface. She does try to battle them, such as taking a bath in a still, shallow part of a river. But most of the time, facing her fears will leaving her trembling and unable to process what is going on around her.
Healing- A friend or potential lover involved. Or a cub. Though, it could be all three? Like... a friend before the storm who becomes persistent. Maybe had their own tragedies but isn't in the pity party boat. Has been patient but snaps. With time together, feelings develop. In comes cubs. Which leads to the next prompt.
Cubs- She would be terrified of bring cubs into the world. The world is cruel, harsh, and with no justice or fairness. When she learns that she is expecting, she would be terrified; it would be a fear she didn't know she had: bringing innocent life to the world. By the time she has the cubs, she'll be protective and wary. Overreacts at any storm and takes the cubs to higher grounds. Her mate/the father of her cubs battling her paranoia when raising the cubs and helping them live a healthy life.
The Flute- She would vow to find the lost flute for the pride, bring it back to them. She finds the place where she had buried it, remembering a vague detail that was near the site. However, it is no longer there; turns out, Lijen has it, though she would not know of it.
Lijen- Lijen visiting the Na'vi to check up on his lady companion. And he's generally curious about the pride. Hearing about the flute, he ponders if what he recently sold is the flute they're looking for. Whoops. Time to hunt it down~ He informs Ingyentsim of this and cue being snapped at.
Are you a pride newbie? Yes I am
Are you an SOA newbie? NOPE.
Do you like to roleplay? I looovvee to rp. ; - ;
Have you watch Avatar by James Cameron? Yes, I have seen it several times! It's one of my favorite movies!
|
 |
