The rucksack was heavier than even before she left the Goltbred estate, it felt. And it wasn’t the fault of the charm she told every next shopkeeper about. After leaving the jeweler and making a stop at the Wolfhide Fellowship branch bank, Elua had proceeded to buy her even more things the sa way other people breathed - unthinkingly and also like it was necessary to even exist.
All the kinds of provisions a bag might need for travel and stay. At least as long as each thing was well taken care of. Like a set of camping cups and dishes that nested into each other. A travel notebook for writing down her thoughts or questions, especially if El got distracted by Qat. Three changes of practical clothes that Yatrel would have worn herself at that age, but notably only because her orphanage couldn’t *afford* the pretty dresses she aspired to wear.
Dried fruit and a wrapped block of pressed and sweetened grain to put up as ergency rations... more to teach her that it was good to think to pack than in any belief she would let her go hungry. A strong comb and soft brush that the girl would probably never use herself, but which the elder sister was sure would be fun to be the one holding. To spend ti when winding up in the morning or down at night with her. A scenario which would later make Onya say she would grow her hair out.
Just so that those little grooming sessions took that much longer.
"Should I introduce you to my friends when we get there?"
"Sure. There are probably quite a few of the newer children I’ve never t, that you know better than I do."
All of it and more that slowed the little girl’s steps with its weight was very *ordinary*, if quality made. But the last stop of the day, before they went back ho, was not a place that sold anything. Though it was a place filled with ordinary people, dealing with a problem quite ordinary to the post-Descent period.
The orphanage was sturdy and unglamorous, but well maintained. Onya was through its gate before the woman who minded it in the afternoons had finished her startled greeting... at seeing the familiar brown eyed missile with an unfamiliar white payload strapped to it. Bags were usually checked so that visitors did not bring in anything that the kids could harm themselves with.
"Good day to you. I’ll keep her in line."
"O-oh. Good day...?"
But checking the carried items of the family who, in this region, gave the most to their building’s charitable needs was defined by the headmaster as: ’rude’. A fact which Yatrel and Elua generally considered stupid and ill-advised, lest it be abused by others the Goltbred won did not trust as much - but which Onya and Ondua liked. Because it ant they could get to doing what they ca for or seeing those they ca to see even quicker.
Monts later, the rucksack was shed and abandoned in the grass after making sure the stones hanging off the one part of it remained nice and up in the air, away from any dirt. Two older kids saw her first and shouted a na that wasn’t Young Miss or any of the callings that Aurehl had drilled into her to respond to. Just her na, called with actual happiness, and the reddish-blonde answered it. By launching herself bodily onto the nearest one.
’Yes. My sister. Absolutely.’
Elua hovered over her sister’s belongings and watched her hugging the well-fed boy while simultaneously chattering away at the tall and lanky girl rubbing her head. Five years was a long enough ti that many of these kids would almost look like different people, especially since she wasn’t witnessing that growth biweekly like before. However she recognized them anyway. It was hard to see the lives of thousands and thousands of humans and not get a good ntal model of how to de-age soone.
Though even that wasn’t perfect, especially when a slight and skinny little boy of nine becos such a big fourteen year old. Or the chubby little ten year old loses all her weight in trade for her height. The ancient cultivator could admit to herself that she had modelled their growth a bit lazily... but splitting the middle and making everyone average at least ant it wasn’t a grand surprise to see them on opposite extres.
However, the way Onya was with mortals seed to be a very different thing to see in person than hearing about it, which was less harshly surprising than it was *mildly unexpected*. She had heard over these intervening years from her parents that her sister was a rougher child. That she ca ho filthy and delighted about it more often than returning clean and unhappy.
’Maybe they didn’t notice because even with my tips, they don’t - or did not when they visited the Exclave - have my fine spiritual sense.’
It made sense to her now why that had been able to be the case for Onya. She wasn’t just ’lazy’ with her cultivation. The reddish-blonde haired child had taken what the illusory training tool taught her and happened to master a couple key techniques that truly inford who she was as a person. Firstly, she could suppress her own physical energy to a degree that only cultivators who wanted to hide as mortals were capable of. Or cultivators terrified of hurting their mortal friends.
Secondly, she had developed an uncanny sort of sense to *match* the power of her opponent. When she had jumped, she was almost fully suppressed, but the mont she was caught and felt the other side’s power, a particular density of strengthening energy pressed throughout her form... an ability that was often better understood as a Primalist. Certainly not one that only an Initial cultivator - even at their peak - without their Physique’s Aspect unlocked at all, should be able to do.
Especially just because her miniature ’fake’ elder sister sung about the principles of the Reactive Hydrostasis Technique in a fun song. If it was so easy to learn for everyone, then the intensity level of sparring sessions on this martial continent would turn as brutal as the ones she put two Enchanter boys through inside the Astral Exclave.
"I guess those are the... safest two of all the techniques I made songs for? But it concerns very much that she weakens herself so drastically, even for a mont. For the reasons it seems she does it. Silly pure hearted girl."
While Onya was definitely a sore loser - and to the boys she pushed and made fists toward for insulting her friends, she was ’crazy’ - she also liked the little bit of competition that ca with being equal to others. Everyone laughed and had a good ti if she was barely ahead of them in a race. No one liked it if she ran twice as fast!
As it was, though it was from a very different viewpoint and desire entirely... the youngest daughter of the Goltbred family had co to the sa conclusion as the eldest. Being seen by others as weaker than you were... was the key to living well.
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