A lot of things that would have been repressed have all been about his father. Luna had and in a way has (expanded upon in a story I’ll be writing soon) some MAJOR daddy issues, and his biggest fear is growing up to be exactly like this father.
Studies have shown that children that grow up abused have a good chance of growing up to -be- abusers, something Luna tries very very hard not to happen, hence why even as a member of a very savage society among trolls, he tries very hard not to become what he calls ‘A Zalakar’, using violence and abuse as punishment. He especially takes care to avoid being aggressive towards younger Clan mates, as he knows they’ll eventually either grow up or get over it.
((Zalakar oocly is probably the nicest guy you could meet. I mean that only ICly))
Example will be under the ‘Read More’ line. I suggest you don’t go any further if such things as this upset or trigger you.
He could see the flesh around her eye starting to blacken, even as she sat there with the cool skin of her hand pressed against it. The herbal concoction she made for such things was having less and less effect every time she used it, and the swelling and the bruises stayed longer than they should have. Troll regeneration was, so the Priests on the island said, based on your faith and your sacrifices to your Loa. He came to the conclusion a long time ago that his mother either had no faith, or Zanza was a very, very cruel Loa. In his heart he suspected it must be the latter.
The hut had no door for his father to slam, so the grass mat that covered the doorway fell to the floor in a heavy thud as it was ripped away in his departure. Father often left many such things in his wake: doormats, broken pottery, ripped clothing and even the small spots of blood his mother tried hard to cover up or clean away, the motion of which was a joke. The hut walls were thin, and if the neighbors could hear the angry sounds coming from it at night they were either deaf to it or uncaring.
Still, he looked to him and despite the bloody lip and the pain she must have been in she was all smiles,. “I suppose dinner will be late then.” Luna looked around at the scattered meat and baked roots on the floor that joined the broken plate it must have sat on. “Have to recook the meat. It was a bit too well done for your fathers taste.”
“Maybe he should go out and hunt a direhorn and kill it with his bare teeth, then.” He tried and failed to keep the heavy, dripping sarcasm out of his voice as he helped her off of the floor, holding her up just in case she had any fainting or dizzy spells, as had happened before on much worse occasions. At fifteen he was now eye to eye with her, and though with other people it irked him that he had not yet reached his full man height, with his mother it was different. “But if he did I’d feel sorry for the direhorn for having to put up with a raging, insensible beast.”
“Do not say that!” His mothers voice was like a whip, and her accompanying look of reproach was overshadowed by the fear in her expression. “Do not say that.” She touched his cheek and stepped away from him with stiff steps. “Keep such things to yourself. Do not call his anger down upon you-”
“Anymore than my existence already does?” He felt his anger momentarily flare up. “Why do you let him push you around like this? WHY do you let him hit you? Why do you even STAY here?!” His questions were obstinately unanswered, though, as they had always been when he dared to voice them. She turned from him, hands smoothing down the front of her robes.
“Go to the temple while I clean up, Lunazu.I don’t want to hear anymore of this when your father comes home tonight.” She was already bending down to pick up the scattered food and broken dish.
“But-”
“GO!” It was a mixture of a scream and a sob, and she put both hands over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Angry, shame faced and humiliated, he turned and went, exiting the same front door his father had stormed out of not but ten minutes past. He’d go to temple, as commanded, and return that night and lay in his room waiting for the man in the other to fall asleep, or his mothers quiet sobs into the furs.
I always find that the most interesting, intelligent and stead fast women have a heart of gold that’s constantly being put back together. In this case I speak about my fellow Clan member and shaman, a Darkspear woman by the name of Ren’jai. She was among one of the first of the Spirit Speakers, as I had once known them, that I had met in the city. My tribe didn’t seem to detract from her kindness (as we were both aware of what the Zandalari were doing at the time) but seemed to have her understand the limitations of whatI should expect in Zul’Gurub. Ren’jai has an easy smile that will put you at ease and on your guard at the same time, a dangerous combination, a forward approach but a gentle nature that she keeps for those closest to her.
For her looks? Aye she’s a looker, admittedly. She was one of the first of the Darkspear I ever met that made me think -differently- about the younger tribes. Not that she will ever find out from -me-. Loa forbid. Our relationship is far too…formal, these days for me to ever tell her what has (does) flick through my thoughts when she’s at, as Asa’ti would call, ‘her sassiest’, and to be honest I think I’m a bit too old for her interests anyway.
So far I have seen her love and be left by two mates: The warlock, Zaxic, and the Shadow Hunter Da’ae. I do not know enough about Zaxic to pass judgement, and feel too hostile towards the Shadow Hunter to speak my judgement least it be too rancorous, but I can say this for them; whatever hardships they have put her through, she has endured. Perhaps not all in one piece, but she has endured. Even now I watch her do so- taking care of the clan, tending to their needs, caring for her daughter (even by sending her away for her own safety) and all the while carrying the burden and the emotional load that she has to suffer through nightly and all by herself.I know the loneliness she is feeling, and though I wish I could help her by more than bringing her tea and giving her what I feel to be hollow ‘encouraging’ thoughts, I know that this is a pain that must be worked through alone. For that I salute and admire her, being so strong and working through and handling a pain that kept me emotionally crippled for nearly a decade.
