One day, it'll be alright.

[METAL BAWKSES]

She could remember the first time she heard the words. Or so she thought. Everyone always thinks they know the first time. The first time the girl had heard the words was more likely more bitter than the time she remembered. Parents hovered over the horned thing, and one muttered, "It'll be alright." This was not as comforting as Fiore's own "first time". The first time was nonetheless bitter though. She could not remember more details than the way the light fractured when it hit the tears in her eyes. It was words that stuck out.

One day, it'll be alright.

She could feels arms wrapping around her, a hug. The squeeze was tight, though the man holding her was trembling as much as the young thing was. It would not be the last time. This first time was oh so many years ago, oh so many human years. It came and went in days, months, years. Truly it depended upon how much the fates conspired to work against the horned thing. Whether violence, cruel words or snubbing, the caring words found their way to the surface. Mostly through that same voice as before but at times, very rarely, through others.

One day, it'll be alright.

Saerloon was unkind. More unkind when you stuck out. It continued, from scrappy little thing to quickly forming "adult". Though it became far more bitter. As the violence began to be cast back outwards. The cruel words were tossed back on those who she thought deserved them. Though never snubbed, never snubbed. She wanted them to know, to feel. It was for the most part though, thieving. To steal here and there. Perhaps in taking coin and objects of sentimentality she might be able to inflict some small measure of pain back onto them. All of them, involved or not. Because it was the world against her, not just its people. But even so, those kind words came. Stinging more than any other time.

One day, it'll be alright.

The sting of the blade would never be nearly as bad as the words. The dulled edges of the training blades made it even less so. The bruises after each practice, nor the lumps she had received for speaking out of line. Nothing would ever match up to the bitterness she felt in those words. Surprisingly though, when they came from the Instructor's lips they did not sting. One day, perhaps it would be alright. Her swordsmanship was showing improvement. At least in this regard. It would be alright. But as before, the words would always sour. The Instructor would vanish like others before, and once more were the bitter words of the Father.

One day, it'll be alright.

The bitter words were inescapable. Even as yet another presence was gone. The Father departed, as all the others, she found they remained. They echoed in her own head now, she hated it. She hated it. But with them all gone, with all she had left their memories and imparted wisdoms she could not fall back into it. Could not remain in Saerloon. She had wandered, for a long while. A long while for the young thing, not even nineteen seasons. And so, she left. She wandered, and moved along the roads. It was better this way. No one knew, no chance of it. She could wear the hood, suit herself up. She had the skills to take care of herself. Once more those words echoed, escaped as she was from her past. Perhaps they might ring true.

One day, it'll be alright.

Truer and truer they were beginning to prove. The horned thing hated to admit it but perhaps all those years they had been right. Perhaps it was simple one day, perhaps that one day had drawn nearer. Itinerant, Garv, Myr, Luca, the names were beginning to pile up. People cared, and so in turn she would care for them. Itinerant had convinced her to open her heart, and so open she would let it be. More than before, more than simply escaping her past. Perhaps it would be true. Perhaps:

One day, it'll be alright.

She screamed. She did not care for the thoughts of any passerby. The boards creaked beneath her and the girl screamed. These noises were mixed with the intermittent thumps and crashes as Fiore tossed the books, tossed a chair. She even brought a mirror down for a shattering. Outside, even the noise of the Cordor had settled some. Descending into silence in lieu of the crashing anger and soon after sobbing silence. She'd been left, like all the others. She had no doubt the piling list of "friends" would follow. As Fiore found a comfortable spot upon the floor, away from the shattered shards of glass, she reminded herself.

One day, it'll be alright.