I’m supposed to write something here.
It’s a blog, after all. By definition, that means I write something and publish it online somewhere. If this was a real blog, it would be online for anyone to see. But…we all know Dardaptoans don’t have real blogs.
Too easy to be discovered that way. But I still have to do this, or I don’t get the points. So I should probably get started writing, right?
Easier said than done.
I’m not the writer in the family. That’s my sister Alaun. She writes steamy demon/Dardaptoan romantic suspense novels with sexy demons and heart-pounding action. You’ve probably all heard of her. She’s one of the best writers of our Kind. Of any of the Kinds, really.
Everyone says so. Most people love the adventure in her novels.
I have always thought that was ironic. Action/adventure is not Alaun’s thing at all.
Alaun isn’t exactly the adventurous type. That’s our sister Kellis’s department. She’s the one who kept guard over all of us, even if that irritates the rest of us. Especially Alaun and Ambrea—who are both older.
I’m younger. Ambrea is 123. Kellis is 83. Alaun is 79. I’m 68. Kellis and Alaun grew up together, so they’re closer.
Like Riv and me. Riv, short for Riverr, is two years younger than I am.
She acts older, though. Quiet and confident. Like she can conquer the world.
She’s unlike anything I could ever be. Confident is not my ‘thing,’ as Julea says.
Probably because talking is difficult for me. I have a speech impediment. From what the healers have said, I’m one of the few Dardaptoans to have ever been born with something like this.
I have learned to deal with it, and my family can understand me. That’s what matters. And it’s not as bad as it used to be. I stutter, but not all the time now. Mostly when I am nervous or afraid.
I am Jumena Kyrann Woald. My family calls me Jume. Like the ancient priestess of the goddess, Jueme, my mother once said. I am not sure how true that is—my mother never lied to me—but I have searched for information about this Jueme and have never even found so much as a mention of her name.
In any record, anywhere.
I’m the fourth daughter of seven surviving daughters. Our parents were lost eight years ago with the birth of Alleah, my youngest sister. I have three older sisters and three younger. I forgot to mention Julea’s age earlier. She’s twenty-six, forty-one years younger than Riv.
She’s almost as quiet, as invisible as I am. Confidence isn’t her thing, either. But that’s just because she’s shy.
We all are definitely introverted. Quiet. Every last one of us.
We are Woald, too.
We’re a part of the House that the goddess has forsaken, I’m almost certain of it.