I remembered the day he got his piercing; it was to convince me into getting my ears pierced for the first time, it was when we were just rug-rats and he got mercilessly teased for being a girl, but he overcame it in that gentle quiet way of his. People like him don't deserve to live in this hell we call our world. But who does? Even the worse of us don't deserve it.
I stared at the traditional beads that adorn his neck, wrists and ankles, the same ones on mine, only mine were more elaborate, it even formed part of my body armor that covered my vitals made up of precious, hardened Arkor beads found in Arkor mountain somewhere far from here. In the colonies all the way to the Hinters, they are more precious than even food supplies. Beautiful silver and red markings in swirls and ancient calligraphy of a long lost tongue the very cradle of our language, symbols that are part of our everyday life, one of a sun on my forehead, with what look like a shield of some kind, bordered by two lightning bolts on each side, marking me as one of the Kendulusu tribe. To people we were a savage tribe, I would not blame them because we do everything with a passion that was astounding.
Love, hate and fight.