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by Anonymous | Score: 3000

Ziqa's first storm is gentle, if a storm can be called such a thing. It is great, in its own way. Mighty, in its own way. Alive, in its own way.

It rips the world apart, rips the air apart, sets something electric and unkind on the skin even as they cower with their parents.

One is afraid, but one has been afraid for days. Fear and impatience had been one's friend for many years, for a childhood spent uncertain and bathing in the anger of one's otyne and the soothing impatience of one's otyla. There are stories whispered and kept, sharp and afraid, under Ziqa's skin; one becomes a storehouse for the future one can only have nightmares of, for a past one can only have daydreams of.

Later, Ziqa will learn to meditate on this feeling. They will learn to send it to the sky, to the wind, to call clouds from the heavens and send lightning barrelling down to the earth. Later, Ziqa will feel the terror of their own undiluted rage, the simmering unsteadiness that makes them strong.

"Should have known," Ziqa mutters to their otyla's chest. "Should have asked for help. Should have--"

Their otyla shushes them. "Let it be what it will," their otyla whispers. "Let it be what it can."

Ziqa considers this. The wind howls. Their otyne takes a blanket form the makeshift bed and wraps around their shoulders, their teeth sharp as they smile, their hands warm as their touch Ziqa's cheeks.

Let it be what it can.

So it is a gentle thing. It does not unleash what roils inside them so much as it leak it to the world. 

When they emerge as three, studying what damage one's storm has wrought on the trees and the ground, and stepping delicately into a puddle that chills them all the way up their leg, Ziqa wonders at strength, and at power, and at lightning.

"One should like to be as strong as you," they mutter to their otyla.

Kea atn Lyn smiles and brushes a hand through Ziqa's hair. "One should wish to be stronger," they say.

Kea crouches in front of them, touches thumbs to freckles just beginning to sprout in scattered patterns on Ziqa's cheeks. "This is a gift," Kea says. 

Completed challenges

The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:

Begin Start typing to begin
Words Reach 50 words
Words Reach 100 words
Event There is a great storm
Words Reach 200 words
Letter Use the letter G
Prop Include a bed
Words Reach 300 words

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