Forged of the Psyche (For Mintorn)

[jasmac]

The culture of far renowned Imperia could be seen by the average outsider as brutish. Such as a kingdom in the clouds is impossible terrain for a human, the birds who've only ever known the skies can and do tweet easily atop their sunbeam perches, paying those who can never join them no mind. With the mighty sloped roofs and columns of the empire's pantheons, all stationed to pay tribute to their respective gods, foreboding stature of their coliseum, where slaves, beasts, and warriors alike quarrel tooth and nail for the public's entertainment, and the majesty of their lavish palaces, housing the ragtag senate, their closest servants, and in the finest building of the capital, the empire's attempted leader, war hero Kato. Any outsider in their right minds would only gape and marvel at Imperia and its structures no different than they would the supposed king of the gods himself, father of the world, Machina.

But, to Mintorn Avitus, this raging empire is home.

On the farthest outskirts of the more intense sectors of the nation, his brother, Marcus, sets a hand in his hair, smiling weakly as he stares him in the face. They stand at the front gate of the family farm, with their parents rushing around just inside to fetch the last of his baggage. By either side of him, Mintorn's two younger sisters, Laelia and Taevia, hug his waist possessively.

"Don't go, brother..." Taevia sniffles, looking up at him with teary blue eyes.

 

[jasmac]

Taevia grins weakly at the promise of a present, detaching herself from his waist, and Marcus's smile fades as he speaks. "Mintorn, life is slow. The rise and fall of the sun in the sky, the crops through the harvest... all we've ever known is how to live life the slow way. I know I can't stop you from leaving, but be careful. The busy bodies of the capitol could turn your hair grey in a blink of the eye if you're not. For them, and for us, watch out for yourself." Mintorn's brother ruffles his hair playfully, smiling again, and withdrawing his hand to let him be. "My little brother... a driving force in the world. I'd like to see that." He teases.

From the rickety door of the family farmhouse, the siblings' two parents appear after giving them apt time for goodbyes. They work together to lug a rugged marching pack, sewn from sturdy animal hide and packed full of necessities, as they carefully carry the cumbersome bag on a stick.

"Incoming! Help your dear father out if you would. It looks like he needs it." Their mother calls, her kindly face aglow with mischief as she taunts their dad. He only snorts a quick laugh in response, lowering the marching pack slowly to the ground.

[Describe Mintorn's appearance in the upcoming posts, if you would be so kind.]

 

[jasmac]

His mother and father's expressions are poised in sympathetic frowns, tears welling in their father's eyes first as he suddenly shifts forwards and traps Mintorn in a hug.

"Our boy... Our little boy. No, not little. You're a man now, more of a man than your old father ever was." There's a grim chuckle from where his head rests by Mintorn's shoulder. "Just... I know you've heard it enough to check off every number of stars in the night sky, but be careful. We need you here, even when you're not around."

There's a sniffle from his brother as the seam finally breaks for everyone else. His mother wraps her arms around whatever his father hasn't already encompassed, squeezing him tightly as her soft, tear streaked cheek brushes against his own. "Darling boy. We'll miss you." She chokes out through a sob, and immediately, his brother and sisters are there too, clustering around him in a big group hug.

 

[jasmac]

His family finally takes the hint, and wrestles to untangle him from their crossed arms and lovingly strong grips. Even Taevia and Laelia reluctantly let go, allowing Mintorn to finally breathe as they flock to their mother and father's sides. Hefting up the disregarded marching pack, which looks an awful lot like a rugged burlap sack fastened to a pole, Marcus smiles and hands it over to Mintorn, draping the bag over his little brother's shoulders. "Gonna miss you... little bro." He whispers.