undeveloped film

her name, pt. 1 // prose

A/N: okay so this one is actually part of a series which i'll likely be posting in installments of three? background info (this was a failed attempted at word-build, actually, so sorry if things don't make sense): the story takes place in a country called Vata, which is one of several big nations which are enclosed by a mountain range (Vata is an island nation, but connected to the mainland with a land bridge that's underwater for most the years). Vata is specifically more militant focused (small nation, it's richer, more to protect and so forth) and their soldiers are called valitel, who train in small squadrons starting from the age of 13. 

more information and background history that's relevant will be introduced as it's needed, but honestly ask any possible questions and I hopefully will know the answer. the snippets hopefully don't require you know too much, but the valitel part is important. do good, be well. <3

...

THE first time he saw her, he thought she was the sun. Not because she was the center of his galaxy, or because she had a bright smile, or because she was needed in the way all life needed the sun. No, he thought that she was the sun, because the energy shrouding her was so bright, you couldn't look at her without hurting your eyes.

They were thirteen and getting put into their squadrons for valitel training, when she walked up to him. The second she smiled - a terrible, beautiful sort that seemed to be able to tear down walls – his body hummed the sun, the sun, the sun. For a second, he could see the future where that terrible, beautiful smile would lead armies, inspire a nation, burn down cities and rebuild more stunning and stable structures out of the ashes. But then he blinked, and the future and present separated, and she was just a small girl of thirteen; hair likely once neat, now a bit too skewed to be considered proper.

With her terrible, beautiful smile, her eyes – pitch dark and calculating – analyzed his rumpled form before resting on his eyes. He felt fear jumping at his throat, but his curiosity was even stronger, so he stared directly at the sun. It may have been blinding, but it was beautiful in a way earthly-bound things were not supposed to be, and as he remembered her teeth – white and hungry – he figured she was not like he. She was something different, she was the sun, she did not have a name.

The girl looked impressed at his fortitude, and the smile lost some of its terrible glint, and she stuck out a hand. He took it, not afraid of burning himself yet still shocked when her skin was ice-cold.

She was an odd type of sun.

"My name's Pierson Parsons. You can call me Piers," he said, and enigmatically enough, the odd-sun of a girl smiled.

"And you can me whatever you want, Piers." His brows furrowed as he grappled to find the right answer (because he knew there was one), but before he could say anything to the girl he named Sun, their valitel leader, Ryn, spoke, so Piers listened, not for one second forgetting about the Sun beside him.

...

LATER that year, when the distant politeness their squadron members had with each other melted into familiarity in the sweltering summer, Piers felt more at home than he ever had before. The ancestral pillared house where he and his family slept and ate and fought and smiled was home, it always would be. But the home he was building with his new family was different – it was entirely his own. That pillared house was built long before he was born, but the home his squadron carried in their annoying habits and familiar laughs was something that he built with them, and that was something amazing in its own right.