Noya (Mary Moonite) dancing in Tyros Dance Competition, she took third place. Noya took a long slow breath as she stood before the onlookers, the boney cage beneath her breast confining the black hole of suffering, no joy escaping the tendrils of it's grasp. High cheeks tinted red, the pools began to spring to thassa eyes as she remembered this day. Movements full of anguish, slow and heavy, weighted her barren arms as they fluttered in the humid air of the arena, trembling with a pouted lip, her sorrow was great. It is said a slave loses her family when the collar reaches her neck, thick and steel as was this fresh metal, but the memories of a Barbarian girl could never be erased. Noya as dewed lashes lowered, withdrawing to the deepest place within, her shoulders rolled in perfect harmony with wavering hips, the power of the thassa's waves beat upon her mind as the horns played a saddened tune. Drips of loss wetted the sands, reminiscent of similar grains she stood upon just three years ago. From her delicate fingers, she dusted the sands with the grey remains of a woman who filled her childhood with such merriment, the flaking ashes floating away to the sea. But now the slave, draped in her mother's favorite hue, was left alone in this world, alone with burning rivers of her legacy upon a face that resembled the vivacious life lost. Noya felt her feet sink into the sands, the same sensation as she would, hand in hand, walk along the beaches of Earth with her guardian ...
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