A little bit about her:
Her home is currently in an iso-
lated region in northwestern Siberia. Her origins
remain shrouded in mystery: particularly vague
and possibly dark, but since found and saved
by her older brother Osborne and taken in by
her mother, Astrid, little Anya has been flour-
ishing. Even as a young toddler, she's inquisitive
to a fault and overjoyed by even the littlest things.
She's seemingly attached to Osborne by the hip
and sees him as the center of her universe, right
after Astrid who she tries to impress in her own
child-like ways. She's got her older brother wrapped
around her little paw and can seemingly get anything
from him if it's in his power. Once she gets a bit
older, she'll start traveling with him to and from
America, where Osborne's immediate and extended
family resides.
She looks happier than I do on my good days- which is such a good thing my gosh I love her simplicity
who could hate polar bears man
Closest Relationship- Her older brother/father figure, Osborne- who is sixteen and apparently knows how to take care of a baby better than most adults
"He's dream machine"
ookay let's go do somthing productive
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- ANASTAYSIA - [resurrection] - female -
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Garbled sound. Just... Garbled. But it was okay! I was surrounded by warmth and such a sweet milky scent even though it was so dark, dark... dark.
Is dark bad?
But I'm always in the dark, but even in the dark I see light.
But this dark... has no light. I cry out to the soothing beating drums next to my ear, asking why. Only more garbled sound. It sounds scared. How can something I don't understand sound scared?
I feel myself change position, and now I'm on something hard, flat. No beating drums. And cold. So cold.
I weakly bat at the air, trying to find the scent, or the drums, or the warmth, but my energy starts to sap out of me and it's so cold, cold...
There was no garbled sounds during this, only stomping, but now the sounds get louder and louder and LOUDER
Before I hear a scream.
It doesn't sound like a scream I would make. The scream is scared. So scared.
The scream gets louder, LOUDER.
But... no scream? Where did it go? It was just here.
I shiver and curl up. The dark only gets darker... And then....
Nothing.
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Is... Is that a dead rabbit?
I furrow my brow at the fuzzy little lump lying on the rocks near the forest tree line. I nearly pass over it too; the late spring weather melted almost all of the snow at this point, but I merely suspect it to be a stray ice block that decided to hang on for just a little longer. The dull blue sheen of the block catches my eye before I could stray much farther.
Upon closer exception, the block of ice looks much furrier than it should be. I debate poking it with my claw instead of actually picking it up, since that would be just unsanitary if I even attempted it. But, the little lump moves. So, not dead then.
My steps falter as I see the little fuzzball weakly turn over on its back, but then a cold wash of dread runs down my back. Those distinct hind legs, and that fuzzy chest fur- I'm looking at a viscling. Who in their right mind would abandon a kit like this?
I take a moment to sniff the silent wind, and the stinging cold morning air bites at my nose. Not a single unique scent out here besides my own. The only ones around for kilometers are my mentor and I. The nearest town isn't even tolerable walking distance. I'm not cold at all, but I feel myself shiver in the weak morning light. I take a moment to pull my scarf tighter around me.
Turning back to the little viscling, I nuzzle around their neck. The pulse I feel is as faint as it can be, and a trill of fear fills me when I can't even feel breath coming out of their maw. I try nudging them harder, and the relief I experience at the weak mewl of indignation that escapes them makes me weak at the knees. Not wanting to wast much of any time, I gather up the small kit into my arms who almost immediately perks up in my embrace. They burrowed further into my dark chest fur and almost immediately start shivering. I puff out a little laugh of relief at the automatic response to warmth. And to think, their eyes were closed shut this whole time.
I briefly consider hanging around to see if anyone would return for the viscling before banishing that thought. Who knows how long they've been left out here. And why.
I pick up the small child into my mouth before starting the two kilometer trek back to my mentor's home. I just hope that she'll be a bit lenient with a child. With her, there's no telling how she'd react to something like this.
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"Put it back where you found it."
I gape and splutter in disbelief at the gray-jointed viscet. Her eyes remain deadpan as she examines the white ball of fluff in my arms. "You're, you're not actually serious, are you?"
Her piercing golden orbs slide over to me, and I feel myself recede back into my fur. "When have you ever known me to joke? Osborne, you're barely sixteen. You have no business caring for a child."
For once, I curse the unwavering obedience that I have for her as I briefly consider walking back out of the house with the small kit in tow. With more effort than I'd like to admit, I square my shoulders and look directly into her eyes. "I'm not abandoning them. You don't understand, they were left alone."
Astrid regards me silently in the well lit room as I transfer the kit to my mouth in order to carry them better. The silence stretches.
"Her."
"What?"
"The viscling. It's a her, not they. If you really want to consider keeping this child here, then you are responsible for her. Goat's milk should be a good substitute for now, and I'm not taking you into town for anything until our weekly trip. Improvise."
"Yes ma'am!"
Astrid looks at the kit again. While her expression doesn't change, I think that I see her eyes soften just a fraction. "Welcome, Anastaysia."
My ears perk up at the name. She really is as excited as I am.
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I feel myself shake with exhaustion as Anya's cries wake me up in the middle of the night yet again. It's the 7th time in as many days. I want to cry myself. Robotically, I set her up in my arms so that she can eat. She immediately quiets, and I huff as I lead her to the makeshift bottle. "Oh, so now you settle down..."
Her eyes opened recently. Her crystal baby blues, much like my own, peek up at me as I rub my eyes tiredly. The unwavering trust in her eyes is astounding. I can't help but smile.
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Thanks for taking the time to read ;3; Your consideration is much appreciated.
art credit goes to me, and both viscets belong to me as well. I'd rather the art not go to the winner since
my own boy Osborne is so central to it along with the viscling, unless they want the abandoned batch and Osborne to have
some type of brother/younger sibling relationship in the future. .3.
The extras were annexed to the story! So, one piece of art, and 200 words added onto the main story giving me a 1000 word limit.
Actual Word Count: {1000/1000} -counting the name meaning at the very beginning after the name!
Initial formatting template taken from here: the one by CaptainShaymin.
