Aravis Tarkheena - Tumblr Posts
watch me start another fic that i will never write enough of to post
“Look!” cries Lasaraleen, the turquoise veil shading her head from the sun slipping down her shiny black hair. “Isn’t that the Tarkaan Anradin returned from the south, Aravis?”
Aravis squints though the dust clouds sent up by each strike of the warhorse’s massive hoofs, blinking in the the sunlight reflected off her eyelashes.
“Don’t stare,” she rebukes Lasaraleen. “Anradin may decide to scoop you up and make you his wife.”
“Not without my father’s permission,” says Lasaraleen, her laugh fast and twinkling, like the giggling of stars on a cloudless night. “Besides, you would notch an arrow and shoot Anradin straight through the heart sooner than he could bear me away to his palace.”
Slaves are unloading carts outside of Anradin’s palace, leading horses to the stables, and sweeping sand settling in his gardens.
Lasaraleen laughs again. “Where did he find that barbarian so far south?”
Aravis stares at the golden-headed slave boy. His skin is pale under his nut-brown tan, like the accursed barbarians of the north, and his eyes are grey as the mountains in her books in the airy library.
What is not said by men is whispered sweetly
By the wind which caresses the distant mountains
And makes them sing.
She has every character memorized, each a shining inky shape draw with her Khamish pen, a new reed prepared by her father’s servants each moon.
The most beautiful slaves tend to last the least, but he doesn’t know it, by the unhurried way he’s lifting crates into carts, his sinewy muscles working under his rag of a shirt. Whatever dirty hole Anradin Tarkaan found him in, he’s better off there.
Aravis really was That Girl and Aslan was so wrong for trying to 'humble' her.
a stupid shank: he's such an evil character. He has to die.
Me:.......
Me: excuse YOU sir, that's my emotional support killer.