i.
She didn't have many things. Perhaps some clothes, bed sheets, a small cabin in the middle of the woods, and food she she would gather from the forest. Most of what she had were donated to her from her elder sister, and the rest from the children she took care of.
Which, when one thought about it, was rather ironic. The girl had very little to start with, but what she did have, she shared it. Her time, her efforts, and her concern for other people. By the standards of the greater nobility what she had was worth very little in value, but by others it was more priceless than the lands the nobles coveted.
She, the girl in question, never thought of that. Not even once. She was so preoccupied with helping other people, that the idea that her services had greater and significant value than she was aware of went relatively unnoticed, but in her heart she liked to think she was making a difference in the world, even if the difference was small.
As a child she didn't have much. Her childhood was stripped away, she lost her mother, and was forced into isolation after the death of said mother. It bothered her. It bothered her deeply, but she didn't let it bring her down. She didn't let those memories haunt her to the point where she tried to escape from everyone and everything that brought her to this point.
No.
She was better than that. She had more pride than that. Even if her pride was less than what should have been, given who she was, and her bloodline. Not that she knew much about her line, only that she was related to Dukes, Kings, and Queens in the lands she previously lived in.
Claiming that birthright, however, was another matter altogether.
Because Tiffania Westwood, bastard daughter to an Arch-Duke, was an Elf.
She didn't have many things. Perhaps some clothes, bed sheets, a small cabin in the middle of the woods, and food she she would gather from the forest. Most of what she had were donated to her from her elder sister, and the rest from the children she took care of.
Which, when one thought about it, was rather ironic. The girl had very little to start with, but what she did have, she shared it. Her time, her efforts, and her concern for other people. By the standards of the greater nobility what she had was worth very little in value, but by others it was more priceless than the lands the nobles coveted.
She, the girl in question, never thought of that. Not even once. She was so preoccupied with helping other people, that the idea that her services had greater and significant value than she was aware of went relatively unnoticed, but in her heart she liked to think she was making a difference in the world, even if the difference was small.
As a child she didn't have much. Her childhood was stripped away, she lost her mother, and was forced into isolation after the death of said mother. It bothered her. It bothered her deeply, but she didn't let it bring her down. She didn't let those memories haunt her to the point where she tried to escape from everyone and everything that brought her to this point.
No.
She was better than that. She had more pride than that. Even if her pride was less than what should have been, given who she was, and her bloodline. Not that she knew much about her line, only that she was related to Dukes, Kings, and Queens in the lands she previously lived in.
Claiming that birthright, however, was another matter altogether.
Because Tiffania Westwood, bastard daughter to an Arch-Duke, was an Elf.