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Some Things Never Change
A Story of Vengeance.
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Solo. This thread leads up to Ashla's fight against Lye in the Ice Reaver. Takes place in the sub-region of Scara Brae. ~~~ Image credit to Pinterest.
It was nightfall. In a small back yard surrounded by oaks and maples, two figures sparred with their fists. As leaves floated in the wind, the dirt ground at the figures feet was kicked up and rustled around as they moved. In the corner, a small wood cabin and freezing shed were present. Further off was the bath house. As the stars brightly twinkled in the sky, the two people's only source of direct light was a lamp close to the entrance of a decently sized stone and pine house.
*Thud!*
The sound of a body crashed into the bare ground. Dirt floated in the air as a young, blond teen groaned. As she held her stomach, the girl looked up to a pale, outstretched hand.
A young woman with black hair and pale white skin waited. She had a light blue tunic and brown pants on, a simple outfit. She had mismatched eye colors; one was blue and the other dark burgundy. Her face was stioc, torn apart by the world and lost in tiring times. However, her face also showed signs of gentleness and fondness for the blond.
"We're calling it quits." She stated in a 'no arguments will be tolerated' tone.
The girl still shook her head. Her dirt coated face was just as stern as her's, "No… I need to be stronger-"
"-We are going inside, Deirdre." The woman glared, "No more questions."
The girl lowered her head, discouraged and frustrated. She sighed. "I'm not good enough. . ."
"You'll get there." The woman's tone slightly softened, her hand still outstretched, "We've been practicing for hours. I'm not going to outwork you."
Deirdre lifted her head, extended her bruised arm and took her hand. As she was hoisted up, her mentor smiled, "Really, Deirdre, you're getting better everyday. This is paying off."
The teen, who was wearing a simple white blouse and brown shorts, walked over to a log where a black cloak was kept. As she attempted to not moan, not show weakness, the girl pulled the cape across her back and draped the cowl over her head.
This was when the wooden back door to the house opened. An elderly gentleman in a humble white shirt, brown breeches, stockings, black shoes, and a pair of glasses came out. He had long, nicely handled grey hair. He was skinny, but still extraordinarily healthy for a man in his sixties. He stepped down the stone stairs and walked towards the lamp. As various bugs flew around the lamp, he picked it up, "Ashla, Deirdre, a passing visitor has arrived. Please do freshen up and make yourselves look decent enough that you do not look like you were just sparring in the dirt."
With that, he motioned towards the still open door with his flashlight. Ashla was, at this point, very used to Daisuke's blunt way of speaking; she even found it amusing. Meanwhile, Deirdre did not know what to think of him. Maybe this was because he was one of the select few people who contended with her stubbornness and won? Ashla was positive this was the case. Putting her hand on her apprentice's shoulder, she smiled and nodded at her old friend Daisuke.
As a small hand gripped a rich, oak rail, Ashla walked down a fleet of wooden steps. She currently had a zaffre, loose dress on with a white lace wrapped around her waist and looped around the bottom of the skirt. Wearing white oak slippers, the young woman stepped onto the pine floor which was decorated with a center brown rug. Her hair and face were still cool and damp from being washed, her thin black strands pulled back into a pleasant half tail. Voices could be heard from the neighboring room, the parlor. Socially awkward and wary of the new voice, Ashla briefly looked back on her dreadful days as duchess of Eiskalt. . .
. . . Oh, Eiskalt. . .
Sighing, she walked across the creaking floorboards and into the room. There, many members of the Sirvant family could be seen. In the royal blue sofa resting against the right wall, Angela Sirvant was dressed in a bright yellow dress with little white birds. The dark skinned young woman was around Ashla's own age, although her personality was quite the contrast to her own. Angela was energetic, peppy, and optimistic. A home body, she was thrilled to stay home all day and keep the place in check, keeping her adaptive daughter alive. In a rocking chair in the left corner, a visitor who seemed younger than both was seated. Wearing blue robes, he had a rough but usage crossbow at the foot of his seat. The weapon immediately put Ashla on edge. Remembering the knife hidden under her dress, hanging on her right leg, the young woman's hand rested against the archway to the room.
As she hovered around the entryway, a blond toddler with curly blond locks ran around the room laughing about. The little girl wore a bright pink dress (which was in poor condition thanks to how much she ran around.) As Ashla watched the kid pick up a doll and shake it, she heard footsteps behind her. Turning her head, Ashla saw Daisuke walking up to her with a tray of tea and coffee cakes.
"To eat these goods, you must enter the room." The elderly man smiled at her however, bending over to her and whispering, "I understand how you feel. He is armed, we don’t know him, and we two are the most socially inadequate people throughout all of Althanas."
Ashla grinned, "So Deirdre is the third?"
"Where is your student?" Daisuke moved on upon hearing her name.
"Still getting ready." Ashla shrugged.
Daisuke simply nodded and stepped into the room, taking its two steps down, "Tea and a snack, anyone?"
"Ashla!" Angela beamed upon seeing her, "Come on in! Meet our guest, Ed Aluminum!"
Attempting to smile, Ashla stepped into the room. Walking around the toddler and sitting next to Angela, Ashla awkwardly waved to the young adult man.
It was odd, but he seemed to carry the appearance of an Eiskaltian. He had pale white skin and black hair. His eyes were that nixstella blue. . . It was a strange resemblance, but Ashla shrugged the thought off. As Daisuke passed around the group with the treats, the sound of a door opening in another room sounded.
"We're back!" A male voice shouted.
Angela brightened up widely, "Max, come in! We have company!"
"Company??" Another female voice shouted excitedly.
Daisuke, who was standing next to Ashla, shook his head, "Too many crazies live here. . ."
While Ashla attempted not to snicker, a redhead ran up to the doorway. She was between Angela and Deirdre's age, her youthful stature only further proven by her dust coated boots, brown pants, green shirt, and leather jacket. As her eyes fell on the visitor, she tilted her head in a weird, questioning manner. The man spoke from behind the stone wall, "Felicity, we need to clean up for company."
The girl's eyes widened, her body bursting with energy as she froze excitedly, "Oh yeah!" She immediately raced up the stairs.
Max stepped into viewing range. He was a healthy man with brown eyes and thin, reddish-brown hair. His brown shirt and trousers were dirtied from travels like Felicity's.
He nervously chuckled, "H-hey! Um, sorry about the weird people who live with me."
The visitor scoffed as he received apologies for the somewhat dysfunctional family. He smiled, "No, it is fine. I've seen far worse in my life than weird adoptive families. . ."
Confusion, as well as eerie mistrust, flooded Ashla's being. She quietly clasped her hands behind her back; nervousness made her stim.
The visitor sat straighter in the chair, sighing, "Really, I came here looking for one person. Took me a while to track you down."
Ashla felt her skim turn a shade or so whiter than usual as he looked directly at her, "The Executioner of the Wicked?"
That. . . Title. . .
It was a title she had not heard since she earned that nickname in Corone. Practically obliverating a corrupt business man's reputation, career, and life was what caused a barn full of cheated laborers to chant that moniker for the first time. The times she halted slave traders and killed them on the spot, slaughtered crime lords. . . Her blue eye steadily transitioned to ice.
The man shook his head, "Having taken up the job of being judge, jury, and executioner in Eiskalt out of duty did a number on you, did it not? How about the war?"
Her pale hands came out from behind her back, cold sweat slowly collecting. As ice crystals replaced the droplets by her magical genes, he continued to speak. "We hate what that man did to Eiskalt. The man with white hair and pale blue eyes."
Back against her seat, Ashla, Ayleth, could barely listen as he asked a question.
"I want to kill him, but I need your help. Will you? . . ."
"Who. . ." Ashla's voice was a faint whisper. As half solid sweat beads collected on her forehead, her eyes slowly transitioned from shock to anger. "Who. . . A-are you?"
When he remained silent, the young woman immediately stood up. The floor boards creaked and she pushed herself off the couch, fists tightened as she barked. "Who are you!?"
The entire room reacted in alarm to Ashla's outburst. Angela gasped, eyes widened as the little girl, whom was playing on the floor, started crying. As the unknown visitor's back straightened against the chair, Ashla refused back down. Only Daisuke, who was one of the select few capable of predicting the unstable girl's reactions and emotions, was left unmoved. The sound of footsteps on stairs pounded heavily. In a white blouse, brown kneecap level skirt and her cloak, Deirdre raced down the stairs. Even more so than Daisuke, she was not at all reactive to Ashla's outburst, but her eyes shone with a mere odd curiosity.
Ashla's eyes were both coated with frost, steam rising from her hand as she stood bold. As Angela ran to the crying toddler and picked her up, Ashla eyed the crossbow, "And what is that thing doing in the parlor?"
The man had to shake his head. His shuttering sigh was a clear message that he was indeed scared. Gripping the nobs of the arm rests tightly, he spoke.
"Damian Icemold, a former citizen of Eiskalt. A-after the war. . . I had lost everything. My family, my business. I could not live there any longer. Like you, I've been dedicated to killing him. Like you, I never could."
"If we worked together, though. . ."