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Nadya Petulengro

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adara
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 03, 2013 10:21 am Post subject: Nadya Petulengro Reply with quote


Name: Nadya Petulengro


Appearance

Age: 20ish (Exact age uncertain)
Race: Human (Gypsy/Rom)
Hair: Mahogany Brown
Eyes: Dark Grey
Skin Tone: Dark complexion
Height: 5’2”
Weight: 135

Physical Description:

She is of short stature, boasting an athletically pear figure with mahogany brown hair that falls straight and unkempt to her hips. Dark gray eyes accompany a round face, aquiline nose, lips slightly too full, and a protruding almost masculine chin. She projects an air of reservation bordering on rudeness.

- Clothing is brightly colored, weathered, and layered
- Wears thick, chunky bands, earrings, and rings
- Beauty mark above her mouth
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adara
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 03, 2013 10:44 am Post subject: Reply with quote

[This is the backstory for Nadya Petulengro - a work in progress that will be updated routinely until present day is reached.]


Nadya finishes the simple sketch, holding it afar to cast an admiring glance. She had seen it in her dreams - something bright, fashionable, but most of all not black. She dare not see that ghastly color muddling up her masterpiece. With a sigh of satisfaction she placed her sketchbook in a drawer, securing it with a key she wears about her neck. She gathers her shawl, tucking it tight around her shoulders - a suitable response to the pounding wind as she exits the shop. Looking up, she takes note of the small structure, noting the shabbiness of the building. Yet, among the other debilitated structures it blends in perfectly. She walks east quickly, this part of the town isn't exactly dangerous but it had its characters every now and then. She didn't want or need any more trouble than people already gave her. She clears the outer areas of the city, merging like a shadow into the forest. Her ears pick up the faint sound of waves lapping against the shoreline, the smell of the salty sea in the air, and the midnight murmuring's of the many woodland creatures Her stride is brisk, despite her lack of obvious height, and soon her family's small homestead is within view.

She knows the way by heart, walking this route daily from shop to home and back. The faint glow of fires against the darkness greets her eyes, along with a large pack of whining dogs. They growl at first before recognizing her scent, bounding about with tongues lolling forth to administer wet kisses upon her hands. She pats them affectionately as she passes, giving the first genuine smile all day. The clearing is rather large in size, crowded with small homes, large caravans, and a ring of numerous campfires representing each household. Camp sounds assault her senses - the barking of dogs, whinny of horses, crying of children, the reprimand of a father, and gentle whisper of a mother. The smells are by far her favorite - wild, open wilderness mingled with smoky burnt wood, a myriad of different foods being cooked, and the faint smell of man.

She skirts the camp, making her way to the small shack on the outskirts that is her home. It is small, built of simple patched pieces of wood, the windows covered with a mismatch of quilts. The caravan outside is bare, lacking a covering and also a wheel. Feeling the beginning drops of rain, she runs inside the home, closing the door with a great slam. She laughs to herself, the sound bubbling up and out of her throat in a resemblance of childish glee. She always felt free, lighthearted, when she ran.

Her mother greets her with a tsking sound, wrapping her in a warm embrace before placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Sastismos, Chakano" Nadya smiles at the formal greeting, intermingled with the nickname her mother had bestowed on her since childhood. It meant, star, for that is how her mother thought she shone - brightly. She returns the kiss, stepping back to eye her mother.

Mirela Petulengro stood at an exact five feet, her pear shape much more pronounced than her daughters - aftermath of birthing two children. They had the same mahogany tinge to their hair, the only variance being a slight graying had started discoloring her mother's temples. She had a soft face with smile lines forming around her mouth and eyes. Her eyes were a pale blue - the love and laughter she had for life shining forth for the world to see.

"You are home early Chakano" her mother calls, moving away to stir a large pot upon the stove. The smell pervades the air, Nadya's stomach growling in response. "Ay, was 'ardly any business ta be 'ad today." She sits at the table, smiling in thanks as her mother hands her a warm cup of mulled wine.

"Petsha?" she asks aloud, giving her mother a questioning look. Her mother merely looks over her shoulder, shrugging lightly in response. Her little brother was always running around, more than likely he had encountered trouble, as oft was his habit. As if he had been summoned, Petsha ran through the door, cradling a small bundle in his arms. His blonde hair fell thick and wavy to his shoulders. His pale blue eyes the same startling bright color as her mother's. His frame was thin and wiry, long limbs flying everywhere as he screeches to a halt - almost knocking Nadya out of her chair in the process.

She laughs, reaching over to tousle his hair affectionately.
"There's tha' lil' scamp!"
"Your late for dinner, Petsha." her mother scolds him, continuing in the same breath "And what do you have there?" her eyes narrow.

He shrugs, a guilty looking passing over his face. Nadya snatches the package from his scrawny hands, unwrapping it with deft quickness to reveal a loaf of bread.
"Where di' ya' manage ta' fin' this?" Her gray eyes bear down into him with disapproval. He merely shrugs once more, suddenly finding something very interesting upon the floor.

"Petsha.. did you steal this?" Her mother grips his shoulder, gesturing to the bread with her free hand. He raises his head, a look of defiance passing over his face. "Sah.. tha' were gonna throw i' ou' anyway! Nah one saw!"

Mirela frowned, opening her mouth to begin what Nadya was sure would have been a hardy scolding but in that moment her grandfather chose to emerge from the back room. "Petsha.. go tend the horses before dinner." His voice was firm, his tone making no room for argument. With a small nod, Petsha walks back outside.

In spite of his large frame, her grandfather, Djenikov Petulengro, stood frail using the support of a cane to walk. Gray wiry hair stood askew accompanied by mahogany eyes, almost milky from blindness. His flesh hung loose, an aftermath of the permeating sickness. His cough was deep, rattling his entire body as he hacked into a thin white handkerchief. Once finished, he threw the rag into the fire, taking a seat at the small table. Reaching over, he patted Nadya's hand - evoking a wane smile.

They sat in comfortable silence, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. Petsha returns to the table, taking his place, and then her mother - placing large bowls full of stew at each setting. Nadya taks a bite, savoring the chunks of meat and seasoning. Her mind drifts, going back to sketches and the plans she has for her designs. Her grandfathers voice breaks her revery.

"Demetro came by today." The statement hung in the air, causing Nadya's entire body to stiffen in response. She glances to her mother who was studiously eyeing her stew. As expected, she looks to her grandfather, acknowledging his statement.

"He is a good man, Nadya.. strong and handsome" She knew what it was he was not saying - marriage, the one thing she feared most. And to her, the most restricting tradition practiced by her people.

"He will ask, and when he does, you would be wise to consent. He will make a good husband for you." Her grandfathers tone had strayed from gentle to firm, an indication of his irritation at her silence.

"Puro dad.." she speaks softly, her eyes beseeching him. She nibbles at her bottom lip, trying to cease the trembling his words evoke within her.

"No!" he slams his fist upon the table, violent coughs causing him to shake.

"You spend far to much time, in that shop, among those Gadjo's! I will have it no more! They fill your head with foreign ideas, keep you from you people and your family!" He raises his voice.

"Your place is here, among the camp, with the other women. Demetro will ask, and when he does, you will say yes. To refuse would bring only more disgrace to our name. Understood?"

She nods vaguely, her mouth all of a sudden feeling dry. She looks to her mother, trying to find some argument in her gaze but she sees that it is a losing battle. Her mother never argued with him, they were here, under his roof, by his good grace alone. Nadya pushes her bowl away in disgust, her appetite suddenly diminished. She rushes out of the house, knocking her chair over in the process. She hears her mother say something unintelligible but her ears do not even register the words.

She kicks off her shoes, bare feet alighting across the bare, moist grass. The sky is gray,overcast, the burden of the rains caught among the clouds.

It seemed not even nature would shed tears for her plight.
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 04, 2013 9:25 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Nadya pauses, hearing the faint sound of a door being closed.

"Jus' a momen'.. I'll be righ' tha!" she yells from the back of the shop, hoping her voice has carried. Sighing, she rises from the floor, brushing her dusty hands off upon her skirt. She had been sorting through the different bolts of cloth in an attempt to organize the small storage area into something resembling order. With a quick step, she rounds the corner, bumping into someone - strong hands circle her upper arms in a steadying motion. Looking up, she swallows. His size dwarfed hers, standing around six feet with broad shoulders and chest that spoke of his physical strength. Black hair falls in a wavy mop across his forehead and green eyes bear down at her, his pronounced jawline tightening slightly.

"Nadya... ya' should be more careful." he gave, what she imagined, he viewed as a dashing smile, white teeth gleaming in the poor light.

"Demetro.. wha' brings ya 'ere?" she frowns, blatantly ignoring his comment as she shakes off his hands. Crossing the room she tries to put some distance between them, seemingly looking over the merchandise.

"I 'ad 'oped to speak to ye abou' somethin' rather importan'." he speaks softly, the attempt at a dashing smile still plastered on his face.

"Aye, I know." she states bluntly, her voice clipped and sharp. She looks down, fingers fidgeting with the pieces of material upon one of the display tables.

"I brought ya' somethin'" she jumps, his voice emanating from behind her. Gently, he brushes her hair aside. She feels the cool touch of metal upon her neck as his fingers deftly slip the trinket around, clasping it firmly. Glancing down, she eyes the bauble appreciatively. The chain is composed of thin gold, the centerpiece an opal shaped emerald set in a small ring of metal resembling a frame.

She couldn't help but to smile - it really was beautiful. Feeling his fingertips linger upon her neck she steps away quickly.

"Wai' 'ere a momen'" she gives him what she hopes is a friendly smile. Moving to the backroom she gathers the small bundle quickly, hesitating a moment. Once she gave him this gift there would be no turning back. She could refuse, throw the gift in the flames, rip the necklace free, and never turn back. But to do so would bring disgrace upon her family, and that she could not bear. In what could easily be mistaken as shyness, she drops her gaze, handing the small package to him. She hears him open it quickly, the sound of the wrapping being discarded from the object making her shift upon her feet nervously. Then silence - she waits for a few more seconds before looking up.

Her gift to him was a leather vest, made soft and supple from days of handling and dyed a deep, rich blue color. He nods in approval, shrugging his shoulders as he slips on the vest. They were formally engaged now, the exchanging of gifts more binding and sacred a ceremony than the marriage ritual itself.

"Demetro.." she catches his gaze, eyes bearing into his with curiosity. "Why meh?" a faint frown lingers upon his lips, then it was gone replaced with an arrogant smile. "Maybeh I fin' yer beautiful, Nadya".

She laughs at that, the sound bubbling forth from her throat before she has a chance to stop it. Among her people marriages were usually not arranged upon looks, but more upon the riches, prestige, and standing of the family within the community. She knew why he asked, her grandfather held great weight and respect among the small band. He had held the previous position of Ataman - resigning because of his debilitating illness. She gives him a look of disbelief. "If ye were marryin' fer looks ye would do betta' ta choose Lubya. Ye' know well as I she's tha pretties'". He merely shrugs in response, refusing to give an honest answer.

She drops her gaze to the floor, feeling him cross the room. She feels a firm grip upon her chin and for a moment she holds fast in a test of wills before consenting, allowing Demetro to lift her chin. His head tilting in, she ses the moment coming before it ever happens. His lips brush hers, warm and soft, with only the lightest of pressure. She neither yields or refuses, merely returning the affectionate gesture in the manner that was expected of her. Pulling back, he gazes down at her, his eyes a mixture of relief and disappointment. He had expected defiance of her or perhaps his kiss to ignite some burning passion he presumed lingered within. He brushes a stray hand of hair behind her ears before turning, exiting the shop with nary another word. She follows, securing the door behind him. She sinks to the floor, knees curling to her chest in a futile gesture of security. Her tears feel hot against her cheek, falling freely for the independence she knew was just lost and never to be had once more. She could not refuse, would not, for her family's sake - that was not even a possibility, they would outcast her in the same manner they had her father. She would accept the situation as best she could, and who knew, perhaps it would not be so bad with Demetro.

With a resigned sigh, she wipes the tears from her eyes, feeling foolish for such an open, childish display. Rising, she throws upon her shawl, gathering her belongings to return home. Her grandfather would wish to be informed as soon as possible, she knew.

And thus, she sealed her fate.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 05, 2013 1:54 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Nadya sits perched on the shoreline, one leg tucked beneath her, the other hanging perilously over the edge. She had excused herself in the guise of a walk and somehow her thoughts had led her here. The small beach was not overly far from camp, the baying of the dogs sounding in the distance - interrupting the muffled sounds of night. A touch of hands upon her back brings her from reverie - a high pitched squeal of surprise emits from her throat. Spinning, she turns to face her attacker, fists above her head in a protective gesture.

"Lyuba!" she yells, eyeing her childhood friend. "Ye scared meh! I's a wonder I didn' fall off tha' cliff!"

Lyuba merely laughes in response, emerald eyes sparkling with mischief as she tosses a strand of pale blonde hair over her shoulder.

"I'd ha' caugh' ye before ye did." she winkes, flashing a pearly white smile. Nadya merely scoffs, rolling her eyes as she stands. Brushing her hands against her skirt she asks "Wha' ye brin's ye ou' 'ere this time ah nigh'?"

"Actualleh.. was lookin' fer ye.. 'ard te find ye these days. If I didna know ye betta I'd say ye were 'iding" Lyuba raises a brow, giving her a knowing look. Nadya pointedly looks away, avoiding her gaze. "Jus' been busy is all."

Lyuba nods, acquiescing to the non-verbal cues. She knew better than to press the issue. "I say we go ou' an' 'ave a little fun... afore ye tie yerself down an' all."

"I didna' think tha's such a wise idea."

"Ye scared?"

Nadya glares, forcing out a sardonic laugh. "Alrigh'.. lead tha way.." Lyuba knew she would not back down from the challenge. They walked in companionable silence - following the coast. This time of night there was nary a soul about, making it that much easier for them to go about unnoticed. The pale glow of light, upbeat music, and sound of bawdy laughter greeted their ears. They had visited this establishment maybe a few times before yet each time gave Nadya a thrilling sense of recklessness. Holding her chin high, they slipped between the open doors. The key, she discovered, was to merely act like you belonged. They quickly made their way to a small table in the back corner of the room. Only then did she allow her eyes free roam of the room. Thankfully, she saw no familiar faces among the crowd - that would only mean guaranteed trouble. There was a small band of musicians in the corner, enthusiastically playing along to the requests of patrons. Some, she noticed, were even dancing - a small square in the middle of room designated for such.

Lyuba nudges her, giving her a wide smile. "This is exactly wha' we needed!" Nadya only smiles in response to her friend's exuberance. "I'll ge' us somethin' ta drink" Lyuba rises, walking toward the bar. Her eyes rove around the room, feet tapping in time with the beat. She pauses, the gaze of a stranger making her pause. He stares boldly, a smile of flirtation curving the corners of his lips. She blushes, looking down at her hands. The thunk of mugs being slammed upon the table brings her head up. Lyuba slides her a tankard - the wine was mulled, warm and sweet yet slightly cloying upon the tongue. It wasn't long until she felt the warm flush come to her cheeks.

And then he was there, the stranger whose eyes she now saw were staring very boldly upon her. His brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, his stature tall and lean. "Care for a dance?" he smiled once more. Normally, she would have refused but the wine was making her feel bold. "Aye!" she giggles, exchanging a glance with Lyuba. The strangers hand warm in hers as he leads her into the dancing area. And then they were off - bouncing around in a quick reel. She laughes joyously, pleased by the feeling of his hand gripping hers and gentle bump of their bodies among the crowd. The music slows then ceases, immediately melding into a softened melody. His hand grips her waist, pulling her closer. He gives her a brazen smile, leaning down to whisper in her ear "Wha's yer name, lass?"

She blushes, looking down at their feet moving together in harmony upon the hardwood floor. "Nadya, an' yers?"

"Daniel. I's nice ta mee' ye Nadya. Tha's a vereh pretteh name.. sui's a pretteh girl like yerself"

Laughing, she gives him a doubtful smirk. "I'm sure ye say tha' ta all the girls."

"Aye, bu' onleh tha' pretteh one's" He opens his mouth to speak again, but halts, his gaze staring at something over her shoulder. Turning, she gasps. Demetro! Not only was he here but he was making his way over, and quickly. The stranger seeming to sense the trouble, releases her hand and steps away to meld into the crowd. She feels a firm grip upon her arm and then she was being dragged unwillingly through the crowd. She didn't want to cause a scene so her struggle was minimum. The cool breeze upon her skin as they step outside helps clear her hazy mind and in anger she jerks her arm free from Demetro's grip. "''ow dare ye!"

He whirls, his dark green eyes fairly seething. "Wha' exactleh do ye' think yer doin' 'ere Nadya?" Before she could even respond he continues. "Do ye nah know 'ow dangerous i' is ou' 'ere all by yerself!"

"I wasn' by mehself, if ye woulda took a chance ta notice afore ye dragged meh ou' o' tha'. I didna' know who ye think ye are bu' tha' is nah yer righ'!" she raises her chin defiantly, mouth set in a hard line. He grabs her, forcing her back against the wall of the tavern. Standing this close she could see the glazed eyes and smell the ale upon his breath. He fairly growls out his next words, eyes narrowing down at her. "We will beh married soon Nadya and tha' soon will be meh righ' as yer 'usband! Nah only are ye ou' 'ere bu' yer dancin' with tha' scum! Tha' Gadjo! I can smell 'em on yer.. all over ye!" he grabs her upper arms, slamming her back against the wall with each ending sentence.

"Demetro.. yer 'urtin' meh..'' she whimpers gently but her words fall on deaf ears as he continues to slam her back into the wall. His hands jerk up, stilling her body as he grabs her chin. She cries out, feeling as if her jaw is going to break with the amount of pressure. Then his lips are pressing upon hers, grinding, completely lacking the gentleness that he had formerly possessed.

"Demetro.." Lyuba's voice is hard, her hand touching him gently on the shoulder. "Demetro, stop!"

Releasing her, he walks back towards the doors. "Ge' 'er 'ome now.." he spats the statement and then was gone.

Lyuba sighs softly as she wipes the tears from Nadya's face. Silently, she takes her hand. And as quickly as that their night of celebration was over - shattered by the man she would soon call husband.
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 06, 2013 9:39 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Nadya walks inside the door, her spirits considerably more desolate. It had been a few days since the incident at the tavern with Demetro and her time ever since had been spent inside her small tailoring shop. A shop that once she married would revert into her husband's possession. Turning, her mood darkens instantly seeing those gathered about the room.

In the middle of the small room her brother and Demetro sit, heads huddled together, speaking in earnest whispers. A mischievous glint sparkling at the corner of her brother Petsha's eyes. Demetro laughs, head tilting back in almost a roar of mirth. He stops when he sees her, eyes roving over her body in a possessive manner, that same arrogant smile coming to his handsome face. She curls her fists at her side, resisting the urge to reach out and slap him. The smile stays in place as he rises, crossing the room to place a soft kiss upon her cheek. "Evenin' Nadya.. ye are lookin' as beautiful as eva'"

She merely scoffs, rolling her eyes. He leans close, brushing her hair aside to whisper in her ear. "Nah still mad a' meh are ye? I'm sorreh... an' ta prove i' I brough' ye somethin'. He grips her hand in his, dragging her along outside to the back pasture behind her home. She grudgingly follows. A fight would not be fitting, especially when he seemed to amicable at the moment.

"Demetro I am vereh tired.. please.. jus' cu' i' ou'.. " she halts, words caught in her throat.

"Isn' 'e magnificen'?" he smils, fingers intertwining with hers. He opens the pasture gate, leading her in by the hand. "'I been savin' 'im fer ye. 'e doesn' 'ave a name ye'.. though' I would save tha' fer ye. O' tha' fines' stock.. a little spirited bu' 'e 'as a strong 'eart." The stallion gallops forward, black name whipping in the wind. His color is mottled, intermixing of black and white - he gallops with an ease of grace, head tilted high in a prideful manner. She reaches out her hand, marveling at the dark brown depths of his eyes. He stops inches away, taking account of her. With hesitation he extends his neck forward, nose butting against her open, outstretched palm. Huffing, his warm breath sends goosebumps along her bare flesh. She steps forward, trying her best to appear courageous. It would not do to show him any fear, especially now upon their first meeting. Her hands shake gently as she places it fully upon his nose. In silent acquiescence, he freezes, allowing her to rub her fingertips along the velvet of his nose.

"'es tha bes' gif' ever Demetro" she smiles back at him, beaming with joy. He smiles in return, brushing a loose lock of ebony hair back from his face. "I'm glad ye lioke 'im.. 'es yours." She turns, exuberantly wrapping her arms about him.

Despite all his faults maybe Demetro was not to be her complete undoing after all. In the back of her mind a tiny voice whispered, causing her blood to chill...

"Liar.."
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PostPosted: Fri Sep 06, 2013 9:47 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Nadya diligently runs the brush through the horse's mane, freeing away the knots that had accumulated overnight. Albyond, meaning loyalty, is the name she bestowed. He nickers softly, butting his head into her shoulder in silent affection. A warm smile breaks upon her face. Already there was a bond forming between her and the proud, gentile giant.

"Chakano!" she hears her mother's voice yelling in the distance. With a gentle sigh she wraps her arms around Albyond's neck, willing it all to just disappear. Yesterday the agreements had been arranged and finalized, both families eventually deciding on a bride price. She was not privy to that information, much to her chagrin. She feels her mothers hand, applying the smallest pressure, upon the small of her back and then a kiss upon her cheek. "Chakano.. the pliashka is tonight.. and you are not even dressed yet.. " she chides gently, a disapproving tone coming to the forefront.

Idly, she scratches Albyond's neck before pushing him away with the barest nudge. Wordlessly she watches him graze, eyes intent on everything but her mother's face. She feels fingertip on her chin, turning her to look. "Day.." her face crumples, bottom lip quivering. "I'm frightened.. please.. do nah make meh do this!". Tears form at the corners of her eyes, then proceeded to flow steadily down her cheeks. "I cannah marreh Demetro, day, I donnah love 'em."

Her mother takes a deep breath, letting out slowly. "Nadya, love isn't everything it is chalked up to be. I loved your father and look at the mess it got me in. The only blessings to come from our union was your brother.. and you."

"An' ye' ye still wai' fer 'im! Don' pretend ye don'. I know ye still think o' 'im when ye 'ave tha' far away look in yer eyes. And don't ye dare lie ta meh an' preten' othawise!" she fairly yells, pulling free of the embrace. She waves her arms about in frustration, trying to find an outlet for all the frustration that had fabricated within.

"You are lucky to have someone like Demetro asking for your hand. Your father disgraced my position in this camp and only by the sheer grace of your grandfather's reputation has it been salvaged. He is strong, handsome, and will give you many sons. What more could you want of him? Love, that will come with time."

Nadya remains still, lips set in a hard, thin line. She had not mentioned the little incident with Demetro, and besides Lyuba, no one would have knowledge of it.

"You made an agreement, chakano, one you must see through to the very end.. this you know.." her mother reaches for her hand, wrapping her arm about her in a gesture of reassurement. "Now, dry those eyes and come wash up." They make their way back to the house, each preparing for the evening to come.


************************************************************

They sit at a long banquet table strewn with half eaten plates and full glasses of wine. Always, at Rom ceremonies there was a hearty serving of alcohol. The makeshift tent, hastily erected for this very occasion, was brightly lit with an abundance of candles that were beginning to burn down to a low flame. Her back felt tight and stiff from sitting for an extended period of time, her feet sore from numerous dances, and her head light from too much wine. Demetro sat an arms length away but was eagerly chatting away with his companions.

Across the hall, she heard a low din that eventually increased to a small roar - infested with cries of congratulations and ribbery from the Rom seated about the tent. Her eyes espied Demetro's father, Besnik, walking steadily towards them. In his hands he carries a dark bottle of brandy, secured tightly in a flamboyant silk blue handkerchief. Upon closer inspection a necklace of gold coins is wrapped about it. She rises, preparing for the ceremony at hand. This was the most important rite to the pliashka and was the deepest symbol of their eminent union. His teeth gleam, lips forming in the same arrogant smile as his son. Unwrapping the necklace he proceeds to secure it about her neck, kissing her full on the lips in a chaste gesture of acceptance. She laughs despite her rising nerves. "Bori!!" he yells, opening the bottle to take a long drink before passing it about the room. The bottle would be passed about, among family and friends, until it was completely empty. And then it would be refilled, sealed, and saved for their wedding day.

She feels arms enveloping her, hears Lyuba's laugh ringing through her ears, whispering slurred words of congratulations. Quickly, she was pulled into another dance. The room spun, time passing in a blur of laughter, wine, and familiar faces.

Tonight, rejoice, for it was to be her last as a maiden.
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 09, 2013 11:39 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Nadya dozes in the sun, the warmth it conjures lulling her consciousness into a peaceful dream-like state. She allows the haze to wash over as her limbs relax, brain starting to become fuzzy as it succumbs to her weariness. The last few weeks following her marriage nuptials had been a tedious mass of lectures, chores, and obligations. This was well and truly the first time she had been alone with herself. While temporary and short-lived the moment was rather blissful. She was losing herself in this union, gradually, like waves against the shore, her soul was being carted off in pieces. There was no freedom, every action was dependent upon the whim and will of her husband.

She had risen early to her mother’s gentle chiding and ministrations – bathing, eating, and dressing herself according to custom. Her garb had been a simple dress the color of a gray dove, accompanied by dark blue ribbons braided and intertwined with her chestnut hair and blue flats to match upon her feet. She remembered the frightful feeling as she had made her way to the front of the small company bearing witness, her nerves fairly bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She kept her eyes on the ground, afraid that if she looked up and met the eyes of her familyia that the floodgates would open and she would collapse in tears. But, alas, she plastered on an uneasy smile and brave front – all for the sake of tradition.

Mustering what little courage there was, she had lifted her gaze to lock with that of Demetro. He was clad modestly in brown boots, black wool pants, and the leather vest she had gifted him during their engagement. His hair was one unruly black mass, falling across his brow haphazardly. The arrogant smile was in place, teeth gleaming in the sunlight. They joined hands, he merely raised a brow but did not dare comment upon the clammy state of hers. There was no thrill at his touch, merely a satisfying warmth to the chill. The vows were brief, echoing the bandolier in mutual promises of faith and promises to be true. The bandolier, Demetro’s father, Besnik, removed a small dagger from his waist, pricking a finger of each. The blood welled to the surface of her index finger, bright and out of place amongst the pristine nature of the ceremony. Yet, it was the most important step. With a slight feeling of reverence she allowed a few drops to fall upon the piece of bread presented. Her eyes glanced up for a moment, watching Demetro mimic her movements. They exchanged their food fare, the metallic taste only slight in comparison with the sweet, doughy bread. Then the re-filled brandy bottle from the pliashka was brought forth, secured in the blue silk from before. Demetro drank first then passed the bottle - the burn of liquid courage poured down her throat, creating a warming sensation that unfurled deep in her belly. Besnik proceeded to grab the bottle, moving about the group of Rom that had gathered around to present them with drink.

"Chakano" her mother stepped forth, tears brimming the corner of her eyes as she smiled. Petsha stood by her side with a forlorn look in his eyes as he produced a smile. Nadya ruffled his hair, leaning down to embrace him. He was growing older and she doubted she would see much of him from this moment hence. Her eyes moved back to her grandfather's stern face - that alone being enough to hold back the onslaught of tears that threatened. Her mother's fingers deftly unbraided her hair, removing the ribbons.

Dike, Demetro's mother, secured the diklo about her head. This action truly cemented her status as a married woman within the community. From this hour forth Nadya could never be seen with her hair uncovered except in the presence of her husband alone. Both her mother's gripped her firmly in their arms placing kisses on her cheeks and making a great show of shedding tears, as was fitting. Then the celebration truly began! Nadya doubted she had or would ever eat so much in her life. There was a large boar roasted over an open fire along with roasted chicken, geese, and various other wild game. Amongt that to warm her palate was fried potatoes, boiled cabbage stuffed with rice, chopped meat, and an abundance of garlic. Not to mention the liquor, something that was never lacking in ceremonies of the Rom.

She had drank until her head felt like a cloud and danced until her feet felt as lead. The festival carried over into the night and in the pre-dawn hours of the next morning Demetro grabbed her hand and proceeded to lead her away. His house was not far from the tent that had been erected during the pliashka. This was the only night they would have to themselves. Their union was quick but not entirely unpleasant. He had smelled of sweat and drink, calloused hands quick and deft in the art. She had lain in silence, trying her best to hold in her cries. After all was finished he collapsed atop her, slipping into the deep sleep. She had struggled for a moment before she pushed him off, rolling him over onto his back.She studied him in the dark, trying to make out his masculine features. Timidly she ran her fingers along his abdomen, jerking her hands back in response to his gentle murmur. Gingerly, she laid her head upon his shoulder afraid to wake him. Not long after she too succumbed to slumber.

Since then their nights together were quick and brief, Demetro falling asleep not long after. Her days were spent with Dike, her mother in law, being taught the ways of a wife. They cleaned, washed, swept, cooked, and any other tasks that were deemed pertinent. Nadya was no stranger to work but missed the bustle of her own shop and of other company. Whenever she asked when she would be able to return to her former position and run her own business Dike merely brushed off her questions. And during the day Demetro and his father were always absent, their work always outdoors. His sister's had already been married away to other households and there were no children. She was forced to while away the hours listen to Dike tweak every action that Nadya completed. Everything had to be just so for her son. Nadya hoped soon she would be with child so that her and Demetro would at least have their own home. Maybe then he would not be so distant with her. She truly was trying and never refused him a want. He smiled, laughed, and teased her except when he had drank too much. Then his touch was rough, his words harsh, and he was always on edge. She had several bruises, easily, on nights he went to the tavern with his friends.

But she bore it all - for it was her's to bear and she would not shirk it.
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adara
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 10, 2013 9:25 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Nadya staggers alone through the dark forest, footsteps sounding louder than they were due to the silence that permeated. Her mind was covered in a liquor induced blanket of haze, blurring her vision and disorienting her balance. Music pounds in the distance behind her, caused by Lyuba’s wedding festival that had been taking place since the early light of morning. She needed to escape the raucous noise, laughter, and general mirth. The only cocoon of silence to be found was her familiar place of solace – her shop. She had not been allowed to venture there since her and Demetro had been wed. Every time she tried to bring up the subject he would change the subject or find some excuse.

“Ba! A po’ on tha' ‘usband o’ mine!” she laughs in response to her statement, covering her mouth with a gasp as it echoes throughout the barren streets. There was not a soul in sight and she was becoming painfully aware of the tap-tap of her shoes upon the cobbles. An eerie feeling creeps up her spine, sobering her as she glances around in trepidation. Impossible. Demetro had been so far in his cups that he probably wasn't even sure where he was at – he wouldn't notice her absence. She shakes off the feeling, traipsing forward with a conjured confidence. Yet her step hastens all the same.

Her hand curls around the door to the shop, key in place when a small shuffle causes her to turn. Her eyes strain into the dark but all she sees are shadows. Trying to keep her eyes in two places at once she turns the key, opening the door, rushing inside, and slamming it in place behind her. With a sigh of audible relief she leans against the door. Her eyes adjust to the dimness inside - moon full in the sky illuminating everything in bright luminescence. A sickening feeling rolls in the very pit of her stomach as she rushes around the now barren room. It was gone - her material, tools, storage containers.. and her sketchbook. The only thing remaining was the table that had once served as her desk. A sudden slam into her back sends her sprawling face down upon the wooden floor. She just barely manages to catch herself on her hands, earning a few scrapes upon her knuckles and knees as she does. Her face also makes contact but the graze she feels is small in comparison to the kick that lands in her gut, causing her to flop unceremoniously onto her back. With a groan she lays there doubled over, holding her stomach and willing the air to return.

“I though’ I told ye nah ta come back ‘ere!” Demetro’s voice roars, aiming another kick in the direction of her ribs. She manages to roll out of the way, using the wall as support as she wobbles to her feet. She shrinks in fear against the wall, inching along towards the back where the store room once was. If she could barricade herself inside there would be enough time for her to slip out a window while he was busy with the door. He wouldn't dare hit her in the presence of so many of their family members. If she was able to make it to camp before he did, that is. He staggers closer to her, the rage evident in his green eyes, glazed over heavily with drink. She can smell the liquor upon his breathe, strong and potent enough to almost knock her over.

“I told ye.. all ye ‘ad ta do was listen… jus’ listen..” his fingers form a fist in her hair, slamming her head against the wall. The room flashes, spots appearing before her eyes as he repeats the motion. She tries to step away despite the tender cries of her hair follicles but his grip is too tight. She feels herself falling forward as he shoves her into the center of the room. This time her reflexes, inhibited by drink, are far too slow and she feels the warm gush in her mouth as her jaw makes connection. The metallic taste is bitter in her mouth, her tongue sliding over the tender spot on her lip where her teeth had broken through skin. She rises slowly, feeling a new found strength in her limbs and determination in her heart. He had something else coming to him if he thought she was going to idly take another thrashing.

"'ow coul' ye.. wha' 'appened ta all meh thin's?" Her tone is calm and cold, mouth set in a grim line. "Meh sketches.. where are they? Ye tell me!"

“Don’t ye order meh around!” the back of his hand connects with the side of her face. She was sure to have a bruise coloring the area on the morrow. “I’s time ye learned ye place. No one else will teach i' ta ya.. always bein’ spoiled by tha’ good fer nothin’ grandpa and wench of a motha’!” He leers at her, teeth flashing sharp and bright in the dark. He crouches down, almost as if anticipating resistance from her. His hands curl into fists at his sides. "And as fer yer.. things.. " he spats "I burned 'em! Won' 'ave no wife o' mine ou' 'ere.. away from camp.. amon' all these Gadjo!"

"Yer a monster Demetro.. an' I'm done with i'" her eyes glance towards the opening of the storeroom door. "I'm done with ye.."

She darts towards the storeroom door, it is merely yards away beckoning as a means of escape. She gives a cry of elation as she clears the doorway but it turns into a scream as his arms enclose about her waist. Her whole body lurches in response, causing her to stumble and they both fall to the floor in a heap of arms and limbs. She swings an open hand, trying to connect with whatever part of him she can find. A resounding slap is the response as her open palm connects with his cheek. He roars in anger trying to grab her. She bucks, limbs flailing, as he straddles her waist. It was only then that she sees the rage in his eyes. She knows deep down she had taken it too far by hitting and taunting him. It was his ultimate sign of defiance. His clammy fingers curl around her throat, bruising as they squeeze. She grabs at his wrists, nails scratching deep furrows down his arms. She writhes beneath him trying vainly to get some sort of hold or leverage that would give her even the slightest hint of oxygen. She felt as if she were a sponge and the very life was being squeezed from her.

And the whole while Demetro growls and cusses, spittle flying from his lips with teeth bared in a snarl. His words are now in-comprehensive to her ears, sounds fading out. Her vision seems to collapse, the edges turning dark and blurry. She cries out in a strangled moan, tears rolling down her cheeks. In one last desperate attempt for her life she uses all her strength to bring her knees up. She doesn't even register if they connect as she drifts into the darkness.
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adara
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 11, 2013 9:41 am Post subject: Reply with quote

The first thing she registers when she opens her eyes is pain. It coursed through her whole being – knees, face, back, arms, and especially her throat. It felt as if a hammer had been taken to it and that it was now merely a collapsed pile of bones scratching down to the pit of her stomach as she tries in vain to swallow. Her muscles groan in protest as she slowly sits up. She runs her hands over her body in an attempt to check if anything had been broken. Though bruised it felt as if nothing had been seriously damaged. Her eye, she could feel, was swollen shut and her mouth felt twice its size. Her gaze darts around trying to make sense of the surroundings. And then everything comes rushing back – Lyuba’s wedding feast, her silent escape, and her confrontation with Demetro.

She stills, squinting into the darkness. If he was still here then he could continue his assault. She doubted his rage had abated, though it looked as if a few hours had passed since the incident. Pale moonlight still shone through the window - casting everything in an eerie glow. With one eye swollen it was difficult to see it all clearly. She painstakingly crawls to the lone table in the room, muscles protesting every inch. Her fingers grapple with the edge but after some time passes she manages to pull herself to her feet. Maybe he had gone home or passed out in the storeroom since the door, she notes, is now closed.

She tiptoes across the room, one hand in front of her as a guide. Her feet catcht on the edge of something, causing her to pause mid step. Her eyes connect with a large shadow - the prone form of Demetro, face first upon the floor. She drops to her knees cautiously, using one hand to shake him gently. It wouldn't do to just leave him here. “Demetro..” she whispers softly, a feeling of uneasiness unfurling in her belly. She shakes him harder, this time using both hands. “Demetro.. come o’.. wake up.” Her tone becomes more urgent as she shakes him fervently. It is only then that she realizes there is a dark pool beneath his head. She rolls him over, hair matted together in a dark mop upon his head. The smell of liquor and blood intermingled wafts into her nostrils. She struggles not to gag as she takes shallow breaths. His skin is cool to the touch and his body already stiff with rigor.

“Demetro.. please.. wake up..” she brushes his dark curls from his eyes, crying in earnest as her hands are coated in blood. Pulling his head into her lap she keens, hunching over his deathly stiff form. This was her fault. If she had not left the feast he would not have followed her. He must have stumbled into the corner of the table when she kicked her knees forward. That was the only reason she was alive now, more than likely, but now his death was upon her shoulder. She was a murderer, whether accidental or not.

“Wha’ ‘ave I done..” she looks around the room, trying to take solace from somewhere but is only met with silence. Hands shaking, she gently lowers Demetro’s head back to the floor, wiping stray strands of hair from her eyes. She gasps in horror as she feels blood being smeared across her cheeks. Then she loses all self-control, balling her knees to her chest. Her sobs reverberate throughout her body, shaking her small form. Her mind couldn't grasp the incredulous situation she was now placed in. Nor could it fathom the next steps that should be taken. She tenses, poised to bolt as she hears the smallest scuffle of a step. She rises, making her way to the door as quietly as she can. If she is caught here the repercussions would be swift and final - exile from the Rom and quite possibly death. Her fingers curl around the door, prying it open as she peers out into the vacant streets. Trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible she closes the door behind her. Mentally, she is trying to calculate the best route of escape. Her eyes on the ground, she quickens her step walking north towards the woods.

As soon as makes it to the wood line she runs, feet taking her as far and fast as possible.
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 12, 2013 9:06 am Post subject: Reply with quote

Her lungs burn from the chill night air, breath rattling the very sides of her rib cage as she struggles onward. Her feet feel tender, her shoes offering little support against the rocks, branches, and other woodland assortments that had crossed her path. She was sure to have bruises upon her soles if she continued much farther. Her bare arms are scattered with stray scratches from twigs and she had almost lost her only good eye by running into a tree branch. She stumbles, falling to her knees in exhaustion. She crouches there, slumped over, trying to catch her breath.

She had been running straight north for about an hour, varying her pace and speed. She wanted to cover as much distance as possible before the sun had a chance to rise. But she knew if she continued she would likely wind up dead from hunger, thirst, or just plain exhaustion. She needed time to rest, recover, and for her wounds to heal. Though no stranger to hardship she realized, with a sinking feeling, that all she had were the clothes upon her back.

She begins to search the area, discovering a small copse of trees fairly shielded by large jutting rocks. Placing her shawl upon the ground she curls against one of the towering stone giants, grateful for the shield it provides from the wind. Her stomach growls loudly and her throat feels dry as a husk but right now all she wants is to sleep. She sits awake for a few moments, eyes alert to her surroundings. Feeling a little jumpy she leans over, grabbing a branch upon the ground. It wasn't much compared to steel but hopefully it would be enough to scare away any animals that threatened too close.

Grudgingly, she closes her eyes – unable to resist the calling of sleep.

***************************************************************************************************************************

She awakes the next morning, trying to blink past her still swollen, blackened eye. The sun is already high in the sky but thanks to the shading of the trees, the heat had yet to overwhelm her. Reluctantly she rises - using the lower branches of a small tree as an anchor. Her legs feel wobbly and her body moans in protest with each step but steeling her reserve she continues forth. The going was slow, her feet were not wanting to walk. She stumbled over rocks, branches, and anything else in her path. She wasn't sure how far she had walked before she heard the distinct trickle of water in the distance. With a new found vigor she begins to run - all of a sudden swift footed and nimble. The water source is a small stream - over shaded with large trees and having an abundance of bushes around its bank.

She collapses to her knees as the adrenaline leaves her body shaking relentlessly. Dragging herself to the streams edge she discards all decorum - sticking her face directly in the waters path. She drinks enough to fill her stomach, helping to abate some of the hunger. When she recovers she takes a look at herself in the reflection of the water. What she can see of her hair beneath the diklo is matted, face covered in bright, angry scratches that accompany her completely blackened eye. She sheds herself of her clothing - noting the thin scratches on her arms, bruises upon her torso and back, open raw scrapes upon her legs, and most of all the dark, purple mottled bruises around her neck. Her fingertips brush over the area, watching herself in the water. In a sudden flash of rage she tears the diklo from her head - screaming as loud as she can. Her vision blurs and she imagines she can see swirls of yellow, black and red surrounding her - flashing brightly before dissipating.

She remains here for days - healing her wounds as she fends off the land, making due on berries, nuts, and whatever small game she can catch. Then she sets forth into the woods, keeping to its depths and only venturing into the smaller villages upon necessity - most oft stealing the bare minimum to survive. But mostly she runs - runs from her past, her family, and her sin. She runs towards her future and the life it holds for her.

One year later.. she emerges into the light.. for she is ready to live..
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