Thalassa

1. The calm before the storm

Being a little girl in a world full of gods and goddesses was certainly a difficult concept for a six year old to handle, especially when you were surrounded by nothing but bad things and evil people. 

When Aurora was six years old, her mother meant the world to her, she was her knight in shining armor and no one else could convince her otherwise. Her family lived in a relatively small village on the coast of the continent Taemora. Taemora is a sprawling landmass, characterized by its breathtaking diversity of landscapes. Towering mountain ranges, crowned with snow-capped peaks, stretch like the spine of a slumbering giant along the northern border. These mountains are rumored to hide secret valleys, where ancient tribes guard long-lost treasures. Or that's what her mother told her stories about. 

To the west, a vast, untamed wilderness unfolds, a realm of dense forests where colossal trees seem to touch the heavens. Deep within these woods, whispers of sentient flora and elusive forest spirits capture the imagination of daring adventurers.

As you venture eastward, the terrain transforms into a vast expanse of rolling, emerald-green hills, reminiscent of an artist's masterpiece. The plains were home to nomadic tribes who had mastered the art of horsemanship and whose grand caravans traversed the land in an endless dance of life and tradition.  Towards the south, the continent meets the sea with dramatic coastal cliffs that plunge into a crystalline, bioluminescent ocean. Here, hidden coves harbor pirate legends and rare, elusive sea creatures, while vibrant underwater cities of merfolk thrive in harmony with the tides.

Her mother told her all kinds of stories about the gods and where they came from, that no one quite knew, but that she did. "The Aurora Borealis, which dances in the northern skies, is believed to be a bridge between the mortal realm and the land of the gods, where the divine and the earthly converge." The soft voice of her mother echoed in her head, reminding her of how her name came to be. She'd go on and on about how the gods had blessed her mother with her existence, which is how she got her name, that she was the mortal who would unite god and man as one.

As her childhood continued, she lost faith in the gods, each new day a new bruise and the same grumpy brunette man screaming at her mother. The few times she spoke up, she shared a similar bruise to her mothers the next day. It got progressively worse into her preteen years when she started going by the name 'Rory', their mother adored their name and thought it fit them well. Their father was livid, they convinced themselves that he just didn't understand and tried to give him time. But it failed every time. Everyday, one new bruise.

Eventually, they stopped speaking all together to avoid any conflict. From ages eleven to thirteen they were silent, hardly ever spoke unless Arthur wasn't home. Arthur is what they started referring to their father as, they'd referred to him as such since they were ten.

Manipulators often exhibit a range of common signs and behaviors that can help you identify their attempts to control or deceive others.

 There were days where he was okay, the days when he was sober, the days he didn't recall any of his horrible actions and actually acted like a proper dad. One of those days, he tied a piece of pink twine into their hair and braided it down their back. 

Charm and Flattery: Manipulators often begin by showering their targets with excessive charm, compliments, and flattery. They aim to create a sense of trust and admiration.

He'd compliment it, say it was a nice color and that they should change it to look like that some day. That they'd be such a good and strong person one day and even that he was proud of them. It gave them hope.

  "..Dad?" Rory asked, glancing over their shoulder at Arthur as he braided their hair. "Yes sunshine?" He asked, a light hum in his voice. "...Why do you hurt mom?" They asked, bracing themselves for any form of violent action.