Beastridden

Dogbite And Moonsick.

In 1866, Orla O'Hare was born to two loving parents. Her birth was one that had been patiently awaited, with excitement and awe. She came into the world during a stormful night, but the dreadful weather conditions were not enough to distract or discourage her mothers. When they held her in their arms, nothing else mattered. They had been waiting for her, and there she was! Their little miracle. There she was, beautiful as the moon and bright as the stars.

As the time passed, Orla's features began to shift and settle. It became clear that something about Orla was... Different. Her hair was black as the night, just like her mothers, but a white streak ran through it, like lightening on a clear, dark sky. Her eyes were deep brown like her mothers, except, well... It was only one of her eyes that was brown. The other one was quite obviously green. Bright green, like a field in the spring. Such unique features were not common around the parts they lived in, and her mothers did not know what to think at first. They quickly chose to think nothing, and instead loved their daughter fully, unique as she was. It had to be an omen, they agreed. A good one. Surely it had to be. Perhaps she had been touched by the Lord. Blessed, even. Surely that was the case.

Orla was a quiet child. Never really cried or made much fuzz. Never really laughed either. She was quite old before she began to speak too. Probably didn't have much to say yet, her mothers agreed. They did not mind. She was surrounded by children her age, but never seemed interested in them. She preferred to play on her own, which did trouble her mothers. But surely it would change with time. They just had to be patient, and believe the Lord had a plan.

With time, Orla grew to dislike the other children. They were mean to her, and they called her names. She knew they thought she was weird. She knew most people did, children as well as adults. They stared at her. At her hair, her eyes. It was difficult to hide without attracting more attention, so she didn't bother. She tried to ignore them, the stares. Shut them out. It became easier with age, and she learned to stare back. Scowl at them, bare her teeth. Make people as uncomfortable as they made her. It served them right. It made her feel better, like she was taking back control somehow. It helped some. But she could't pretend she did not see the way her mother would sometimes stare at her too. When she thought she didn't notice. Her tired eyes, lingering. An uncomfortable emotion behind them. One that would vaporize the moment Orla looked back at her. An apparent sadness, that was quickly replaced with a forced smile.

She looked for it, in the mirror. Whatever it was her mother saw that saddened her so. She looked for it, but failed to pinpoint it. Was it the white streak, the eyes? How could it be, when she'd been told her whole childhood it was nothing to be ashamed of? Could her parents be so hypocritical, to try and fill her with false confidence while they themselves felt disgusted behind her back? That could not possibly be the truth. She did not want to believe it. So she didn't. It had to be something else. Something less obvious. Perhaps she was just ugly. As ugly as the other children often told her she was. Perhaps it was something way beyond that. She eventually stopped looking for it, whatever it was. It was all the same anyways, she thought. Nothing she could change even if she wanted to.

Despite her dislike of the other kids, there was one girl she did not mind. Sarah. She wasn't like the others, especially not the other girls. Sarah was kind, and she was very beautiful. The two rarely spoke in the beginning, and when they did, Orla never knew what to say. It wasn't that she didn't want to, she was just always at a loss when Sarah was near. But it was maybe for the better, she didn't want to scare her away if she accidentally said something weird. She did that sometimes, she knew that. So it was best to say as little as possible. This however did not keep Sarah away. In fact, it did the opposite.