You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Humming with curiosity, the elf is quick to listen, sliding into the tent and plopping down where directed. The question is blunt, as well as unappreciated, but after a moment, Kip decided to humour it. They shifted atop the cushion, allowing their eyes to close. Where to start..
"Well, I certainly don't think it remains any of your business, but who am I to deny a fan? Aha. Anyway, ahm.. Not sure where to start! What, you want my birth story too? That has some gruesome details. Y'know, with it being literal birth, and stuff. Haha!! But, no, uhm.."
A breath. Kip frowned beneath the mask, drumming their fingers along their thigh.
Why do they have to tell this lady anything? That was frankly an invasion of privacy, no? Kip didn't want to tell her a word. It was nightmarish enough as it was, thinking back on the years of their life that had passed both so quickly and so slow. Their life was not a kind one, but they supposed it wasn't the worst -- frankly, it was a set of unjust and unfair cards. What did the lady want to know? Whether their mother or father were kind? Kip wouldn't even be able to answer that much. All they knew was that the two were souls placed in the wrong time, the wrong bodies. Mixed elves, that's all they knew -- outcasted by society, by the only safe place they called home. Or were they 'mutts'? Mixed elf upon mixed elf upon mixed elf.. Kip wasn't sure. They weren't told much while growing up, anyway. Told very little by the woman who reluctantly cared for them, a human in every right except soul.
A nice woman, Kip had always acknowledged, but not one ever fit for being a mother. Their life was hard with her, up until they gained the understanding needed to talk with her -- really talk with her. Kip had matured too quickly, in that aspect. They believed it was valid that they disliked the woman for that, too. She taught them how to survive, but never to live, because a world for them would never be welcoming -- perhaps she was their only supporter and their only bully. Kip wasn't sure. The words that rung out the loudest in their mind weren't even a lesson from her, rather a mournful plea. "You are luckier than me, child, in every aspect that you won't respect. I am forced to a life far shorter than my soul demands. You are granted one where you may play as slowly as you please."
Did she hate them for that?
Kip never got to ask.
What happened, Kip would never know. Not when they were sent away to forage for whatever they could, expected to come back to blazing flames. Was it something committed by an estranged villager, was it something committed by a cruel criminal? Kip didn't know. They didn't know, and they'd never know, because they were not foolish enough to go sprinting towards the bellowing smoke. The animals ran, and so did they -- fifteen years of age, with nothing to aid them now. Not the final act of a dying parent, not the reluctant support of an unlucky woman--nothing.
They ran because that is all they knew how to do.
Perhaps fortune is an infectious thing. Perhaps being raised by a soul unlucky from birth left their mark on them.
Scavenging in the woods was a darker time of their life, one Kip was embarrassed about, and one they did not want to tell. They remember, being the child that they were, experiencing such excitement upon spotting another soul wandering the forest. Perhaps they should've noticed just how empty it was, just how quiet the wildlife was--a kind soul is welcomed by the wild, they learnt, a kind soul will hear the life that surrounds them.
This soul did not get that privilege.
Kip was left bloodied after that. Bloodied and bruised, on the forest floor, gasping for life. What that person was, what they did, Kip didn't know--a magic user, maybe? Kip had never seen magic up close, they wouldn't know. All they knew was the excruciating pain, the hand of their attacker reaching towards them, before everything was black and quiet.
It was fuzzy. How long they had been out, Kip didn't know (have you noticed they don't know a lot of things? Yeah, hah, Kip hated that too). All they knew is that their body hurt, but was no longer bleeding, a scar left behind. All that changed was that they had since been tucked away into a more discreet cove-like location by the forest, a small bundle of food beside them. Perhaps an apology? Maybe that person didn't mean to hurt them, didn't mean to attack.. maybe they were mistaken for somebody--something--else.
If you guessed they didn't know what the answer really was, you'd be right.
That was just about two years ago. Now, freshly eighteen, Kip had made the habit of wandering, surviving off of a self-sustaining lifestyle (with things stolen in between). They often jumped from town to town now, trying to integrate themselves into the areas that would let them, to try and get some cash, a job.. it was--
The lady cleared her throat. The elf blinked.
"Whoops. Yeah, sorry, decided I don't really wanna tell you." They grinned, noticeable just by their amused voice, as they leaned forward. "Wanna play a game or something instead? I'm bored!"
(IMPORTANT NOTES AS THIS IS BERY STORY-FORMATTED:
KIP IS A 'MUTT' ELF, AKA AN ELF WITHOUT DISTINCTION, DUE TO BEING FROM A LONG LINEAGE OF MIXED ELVES
KIP WAS BORN WITH THE NAME KIIRION, BUT PREFERS TO GO BY KIP, AS THE WOMAN WHO CARED FOR THEM PREFERRED NOT TO CALL THEM BY THEIR TRUE NAME -- DUE TO THIS, THEY ALSO PREFER THE NAME KIP OVER KIIRION
KIP IS FRESHLY EIGHTEEN
KIP HAS NO RELATION TO FOXES, THEY ARE JUST FOND OF THE ANIMAL AND WHAT THEY REPRESENT, HENCE THE FOX MASK, WHICH THEY STOLE ONLY WITHIN THE RECENT FEW YEARS)
