Aroha Marathi

Aroha, Do you know who you are?

-I love a girl who don't even fuckin' need a boy-

Aroha turned over on the stone bed, pressing the soft fabric of the blanket to her face, breathing in deeply as tears stung the corners of her eyes.

'You cannot cry. Orcs do not cry.'
But damn if she didn't really want to.

Why was this all so complicated? She thought about her, the girl she saw, who worked at the Silverblood Inn. An elf of some sort, maybe a mix of two races. Completely unlike anyone she had ever seen before. Long hair, beautiful, uniquely colored eyes, and witty as all Oblivion. By Dagon, she managed to get a drunken harasser to leave using just her words. Tricked the poor sod into thinking she would meet up with him near the smelter just outside Cidhna mine. If anything, the bastard would trip and fall into the river. At least then it'd give the guards something to do, fishing a drunken wastrel out of the frigid water.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but even as the burly orc attempted to sleep, her mind became more and more invaded by images of romantic intent for the elven woman. Thoughts of running her stubby green fingers through the taller elf's blonde hair, as she kept a comforting arm around the thinner one's body, finding a feeling of immense joy flooding her heart as the subject of her admiration fell asleep next to her. Being able to hear the woman's heartbeat in time with her own, as one paw-like hand curled itself around her adored's longer one, gently squeezing it reassuringly...

---

"Aroha,"

Her fathers voice was abnormally deep, almost amusingly so, as he tried to make himself sound more menacing.

"Your purpose in the stronghold, is to make your kin proud, by becoming a good wife, just as you were intended to. Why are you shaming the clan like this? You've already scared off three potential mates!"

He shook his head disappointingly, his arms crossed over his chest, in the exact same way Aroha had learned to mimic from a young age.

"What if that isn't my purpose? What if I'm not meant to be some rockbrain's forge-wife? What if I'm not meant to be any of that at all?"

Her father's face twisted in anger, his nostrils flaring wildly as the young orc talked back to him.

"That is your only purpose! Its what you were born to do! Nothing else. You were born to bring this clan honor, by following tradition, by listening to your elders, by doing what is expected of you!"

Aroha stared the older orc down, her upper lip raising as she bared her tusks at her father, rage pooling in the pit of her heart.

"What is expected of me, is not what I want! I am not some mindless plaything, Father. I am more than that. More than you will ever hope to be."

The male violently slammed his fist down upon the wooden table, causing its support beams to creak in protest.

"Daughter, you will listen to, and respect me!"

With that, Aroha turned, stopping briefly at one of the lit braziers and removing a single decorative piercing from her pointed ear, before dropping it into the flames.

"I am not your daughter. Not anymore."

---

A deep sob tore its way out of her chest, as she hid her tusked face even further in the cloth, clutching at it desperately as she tried to even her breathing. Was this why she never found interest in any of the men her father tried to set her up with?
Sure, they were attractive, but they never.. made her feel anything like this for them.
This was more, so much more, and it terrified her.

It made her feel like something was wrong with her.

Was something wrong with her?