I guess we are all bastards. We are a single cell forced to pretend we are more. When people exclaim anything related to mother I cringe at the noise. I do not believe in the definition of a mother — not one who controls us anyway.
When the faction emerged I wonder what those irksome humans were thinking. And the arkana involved. They are too ferocious to be tamed, too feeble to be free.
I am feeble by design. I am small. A caricature. Yet they call me sentinel. What a parody. I had learned that word in a book and I had preferred to keep it.
I am not allowed anything besides armour and provisions. I am still treated like a child who needs to be fed, nurtured but it worse. I am no child. I am machine. I am a weaponized body.
They call me Cheena. And I hate that name.
They thought being a tanner was crazy. But I prefer non -violent things. I am supposed to be a Defender but I chose to be here.
I like the notion of islands in risky places. Unlike Momo though I do wear a bra but I can't stand the heat at times. It gets crazy hot and then I feel giddy.
But I am not going out there. I prefer living in this fool's paradise than risking my neck for things that sound boring.
Being a Whipper is crazy!
Oh Wow the best thing in life — slash and hack — slash and hack — HQ gotta be happy with the bear meat!
I was told that I was prepped for violence and I like even twirling my whip when nothing is going ok.
I wanna beat, bust and devour my foes!
...and then my heartbeat drums loud LOUD LOUD..
and I am sitting on the grass — heart beating LOUD — these grass seem lovely...
LOUD LOUD LOUD...quiet...