Jonah - tall, in good shape but still lean; curly, sandy-colored hair, brown eyes with flecks of gold, bushy brown eyebrows, tanned (white) skin
I had never really thought about my appearance much before we arrived in the village, Secra. When I was younger, the other kids at school had made fun of my "Seeker eyes," because I guess the flecks of gold weren't the most common of characteristics for an average kid growing up in the Middle Districts, but as a whole, I was pretty much like everyone else. In Secra, though, my eyes were the least of our differences. I stood a full head taller than most of them, and I could feel their gazes stumbling over my features in a mix of curiosity and fear. My summer's tan was pale in comparison with the dark/antique copper of their skin, and as I would later find out, many of them had never before seen curly hair. There was a boy standing at the edge of the village with his mother, their tattered clothes hanging loosely off of thin, tired frames, and immediately my thoughts went back to a boy and his mother from a picture that had hung in the hallway back at home. The mother's hand rested gently on a head of honeyed curls, and their eyes were full of longing. That was before the boy had been admitted to the academy, back before his frame had grown tall and strong on academy rations, back before his limbs had become corded with muscle from the drills that he and the other Legion initiates had run each morning at the first light of day.
I had never really thought about my appearance much before we arrived in the village, Secra. When I was younger, the other kids at school had made fun of my "Seeker eyes," because I guess the flecks of gold weren't the most common of characteristics for an average kid growing up in the Middle Districts, but as a whole, I was pretty much like everyone else. In Secra, though, my eyes were the least of our differences. I stood a full head taller than most of them, and I could feel their gazes stumbling over my features in a mix of curiosity and fear. My summer's tan was pale in comparison with the dark/antique copper of their skin, and as I would later find out, many of them had never before seen curly hair. There was a boy standing at the edge of the village with his mother, their tattered clothes hanging loosely off of thin, tired frames, and immediately my thoughts went back to a boy and his mother from a picture that had hung in the hallway back at home. The mother's hand rested gently on a head of honeyed curls, and their eyes were full of longing. That was before the boy had been admitted to the academy, back before his frame had grown tall and strong on academy rations, back before his limbs had become corded with muscle from the drills that he and the other Legion initiates had run each morning at the first light of day.
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