I know I edited this super late, I really hope you can forgive me. I really am sorry. ;A;
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❝ ... Nature is an infinite sphere of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere ... ❞Blaise Pascal◣______________________________________________________________◢
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⇛ κıα'ƨ пαмε ⇚ This Kia's name is Pillangó. I have not yet decided on a middle or last name for him.
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ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ
Pillangó is a very calm and patient Kia. He can withstand a lot of pressure and strain before he snaps, which is rare, though possible. Outbursts are scarcely heard from him- perhaps because, as a child, he was- how to put it- forced into obedience. Wise and watchful, he observes all but says very little, choosing instead to reflect upon others' actions and reactions.
Pillan also has a very strong love for nature. Green is, undoubtedly, his favorite color, and it is everywhere in nature- though that is not at all why he loves it. He spends all his time in the meadows, among the trees, trying to fit nature into as much of his life as possible.
A Kia with very strong willpower, Pillan can be quite the charmer if he needs to be. Sometimes determined, but sometimes just plain impulsive- trying to prove himself- he can get into tough spots quite often. He can also be quite captivating, though he never ever tries to be flirty.
He also, usually, tends to be very sensitive. Inquisitive, intelligent, and adventurous are three more adjectives to add to the list- but a large part of his personality is how touchy he can be. A simple phrase can enrage him, or worry him, or threaten to make waterfalls out of his eyes. This comes in large part from his childhood, which was not pleasant.
Overall, Pillangó is;;
patient ~ observatory ~ sensitive ~ intelligent ~ bold ~ adventurous ~ willful ~ nature-lovingｌｉｋｅｓ
⇛ Butterflies, especially the green ones. They're pretty and a wonder of life- they go through metamorphosis, and it astounds Pillangó.
⇛ Nature- plant life, animal life, and the color green.
⇛ Daydreaming...about a lot of things.
⇛ Climbing trees, or just being in trees. It's very calming.
⇛ Bright, contrasting patterns- they remind him of Harinsya.
ｄｉｓｌｉｋｅｓ
⇛ Being coddled as though he is only a few days old. He's tough and eager to prove it!
⇛ His ever-constant nightmares- seeing Rin dead, being caught and forced to return to the castle, dying without Rin at his side...mostly about death. The list goes on and on.
⇛ Being on the ground, or in cities. They are far too suffocating and busy for him.
⇛ Having to be around other Kias- after months on the road, Pillan is not eager to be even with one or two of his kind.
ｐｉｌｌａｎｇｏ́＇ｓ ｆａｖｏｒｉｔｅｓ⇛ cαпɔч
:: His favorite candy would probably be Air Heads, or- chocolate-wise- Three Musketeers.⇛ шεαтнεя
:: Very bright, sunny days, where you can lay draped on a tree branch and be enveloped in sunlight without a care in the world. ⇛ cσʟσя
:: A green as vibrant as he- or the rich green of Harinsya's spots. ⇛ пυмвεя
:: 10- you get this by adding the number equivalents of his nickname, Pillan- like, A=1, P=16, and so forth. You get 64, and 6+4=10. Easy, right?⇛ ғσσɔ
:: Basically anything, as long as he's not allergic to it. He's not picky.⇛ ƨσпɢ
:: He only knows a few, though he favors Light 'Em Up by Fall Out Boy, Pompeii by Bastille, and Counting Stars by Onerepublic, among others.⇛ вαпɔ
:: Onerepublic, Bastille, Fall Out Boy, or Great Big World.⇛ ƨтσяε
:: Any nature store, like Bass Pro Shops.⇛ вσσk
:: Again, most books about nature.⇛ мσνıε
:: Pillangó likes the Disney movies that come out on Earth Day, and he also has a soft spot for other Disney movies as well.⇛ αпıмαʟ
:: That's easy- a butterfly! Their wings remind him of the jagged, outstretched marking over his shoulders that almost looks like a wing itself. It also happens to be what he's named after.ｈｏｂｂｉｅｓ
⇛ Climbing trees, duh.
⇛ Watching fires. I know it seems quite contrary to his whole 'lover of nature' personality, but fire truly does hold a unique and captivating aspect for him.
３ ｏｄｄ ｑｕｉｒｋｓ
⇛ Pillangó often talks to himself. It's a trait he's developed through years of being alone.
⇛ He often refers to others as male rather than female if he does not know their gender.
⇛ Pillan can be startled or angered at the drop of a hat. Though he's not bipolar, his childhood experiences have made him very sensitive to certain things.
⇛ ρнσвıαƨ
⇚-death
-being rejected
-falling out of a tree
-being in an enclosed space
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ｆａｖｏｒｉｔｅ ｐｌａｃｅ ａｎｄ ｗｈｙ;;Pillangó's favorite place to be is high up in a tree. The clear air, quiet and refreshing, holds a profound clarity for Pillan unlike any other place on Earth. The sights, the smells, the sounds, the feeling of just being so elevated, off the ground, above the reaches of any earthbound creature...and yet despite the wonder, the awe he holds for being among one of the most direct connections to Mother Earth, it also humbles him. It reminds Pillan how fragile Earth is, how fragile he is, and how soon any of it could be ripped away. He enjoys every priceless moment he has in the woods, grateful to be a member of a sentient species with the ability to climb trees. It also reminds him of a time before times, a time he rarely deigns to think about anymore, a time when he was perfectly miserable, for he was completely without trees or grass or anything he enjoys nowadays. That time, of course, was his old life, the first fifteen years of it, when he was trapped in the fortress he once called home. The trees remind him of Rin, his love, and his time spent in the castle. Pillan lives for his memories, and he can keep them and always be surrounded by them, thanks to the great forests he so often frequents. Being high among their branches truly is his favorite place on Earth.ｅｘｔｒａ;; {ｓｔｏｒｙ}{this page is hastily torn out, ripped on one side. It is slightly tattered as though stuffed quickly into a hiding spot. It is written in straight, neat writing, with a few stray doodles of what appears to be a strikingly beautiful female Kiamara.}
What do I love about her?..Her smile, her laugh, her voice, her vibrant green spots, so full of life; her orange eyes, always daring me to go one step further, ever teasing and flickering with light; her black marking, like a veil draped over her face; her thin stripes and the stocking-like patterns on her legs and tail; her almost radioactively bright feathers, all four as pretty as she; the way she treats me, her personality, her interests...the list goes on and on. The point is, I love her. I love her. I love her and I cannot wait to see her again...ahh, but it is too late for that. I will never see her again. It pains me greatly, filling me with almost unbearable anguish...but a nagging feeling deep in my chest tells me. Someday, we will meet again. I am sure of it.
{this page has a few scraps of random writing attached to it. The handwriting is the same, straight and neat, but with words or sentences scratched out in several places. It also appears written more slowly, more deliberately- indicated by the occasional blot of ink.}
I have decided to tell this story now...I shall word this the best I can.
I was young when I met her. Sick, actually, being taken care of by my grandmother Fennva- my parents, of course, did not care enough to treat me properly. She was...oh, wandering around, I suppose, and found her way to the west side- she belonged to the east side family. She was welcomed into my room by Fennva, and...I was unwilling, not to mention unable, to admit it, but her beauty took my breath away. Even at a very young age, she was striking. I told her my name- each syllable cracking like rocks in my throat- and she seemed so...I don't know. Happy. Hopeful. So full of light...
Her name, she told me, was Harinsya.
I welcomed the name. It raced through my mind until it settled on one word- its translation. Stockings. I should have guessed, of course. Her legs and tail, with their bold black-and-white stripes, gave it away. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, and it was so radiant, I wanted to capture that smile and keep it. Forever.
I guess the day I met her was the day I fell in love with her.
Then there was the day we got our feathers...oh, how fun that was! She would receive four; I, being a bit of a hoarder, I'm afraid, would have fortune smile on me and receive six feathers, the maximum. We would receive these feathers in the form of a scavenger hunt. We would collect them, and when the adults- I say adults rather than parents, for mine were well into their cups and not precisely paying attention to me- told us we had found them all, we would select where to place them on ourselves. My darling Rin, having fewer feathers to collect, found them much faster than I- not only did she have two less to find, but she was an incredibly good tracker, even so young. Hers, as mine, were all the same hue- a bright acid green fading to a darker, richer emerald. My six are all teal, though their hues vary slightly in the full light of the sun. They were hidden around the courtyard, and oh, we had such fun seeking them out! But what I remember most vividly, and value even above my feathers, was when we confessed feelings for one another, told each other we loved them with our whole heart. {The second part more I than her; she did not love me quite so much yet.} We were only around twelve, such young lovers. But we knew...and I knew, in that one sparkling moment, that she was mine. I would protect her best I could, and love her, cherish her. Forever.
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ＰＯＥＭThis is a style called an "I Am" poem. I will be, however, extending upon the base form of it. c:
I am not what I once was, nor will I ever be again- but still I am Pillangó, I am the butterfly.
I wonder if Rin is still alive. My darling Stockings, my dearest, my love. I hope she is alive. I cannot help but wonder and dream...
I hear her voice, murmuring in my ear. I hear the words of her first encounter, and our last, and I feel stricken. At those times, I can barely move.
I see her face, her vibrant green spots and her black mask that stretches across her face like an ebony veil, a mask. I remember her. Everything about her. Perfectly.
I want to know she is safe. But there is no knowing now. And I can't go back. I won't go back.
I am not what I once was, nor will I ever be again- but still I am Pillangó, I am the butterfly.
I pretend that things were good back at the castle. I think, maybe it wasn't as bad as I remember. After all, Rin was there. But then I laugh, because I am just pretending. My life was horrible. And it was real.
I feel many things- too many things. i cannot make sense of myself. What world is this where a single thought, a single figure, can conjure a thousand emotions and thoughts and feels and make you lost in yourself?
I touch everything around me- the leaves of a fern still damp with morning dew, the rough bark of an ancient, gnarled oak, and I touch nature. It is my only link to Rin, and it gives me all the power in the world. More.
I worry...about nearly everything. Rin. The castle. I loathe the thought, but even, a bit, my family. I worry mostly about them taking me. Finding me. Bringing me back to the castle. I cannot go back. Not ever.
I cry when I feel, on my darkest days, the savage rip of my vivid green fur, stained a muddy color with blood. Mine, of course. I took every blow without complaint. I did it for Stockings. My love. I cry for that I have lost, for Harinsya.
I am not what I once was, nor will I ever be again- but still I am Pillangó, I am the butterfly.
I understand that I won't go back. I will never see anyone I hated again. I find solace in that- a surprising amount. But I also understand that I might have lost Rin forever. I can barely comprehend the words, but I still understand them.
I say that I am fine. I say I do not think of her, I do not remember her. I say I am fine. I have forgotten. But I have not. Outwardly that may be true. But inside...inside is a mess, and I can never say what lies there.
I dream...I dream? No, I do not dream. I have the nightmares, that is all.
I hope they don't mourn me, I hope they don't miss me. I'd feel...disturbed if they missed me. But they would only be sad if I was gone because they no longer had someone to beat up. Ha. But I do hope...I hope I will see her again, one day.
I try to know everything, to be everything and everywhere. I think, just maybe, I try too hard.
Well...I am not what I once was, nor will I ever be again- but still I am Pillangó, I am the butterfly.◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼█◼
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