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Thread: Fae Conundrum

  1. #21
    Nuclear Rage

    EXP: 64,948, Level: 10
    Level completed: 99%, EXP required for next Level: 52
    Level completed: 99%,
    EXP required for next Level: 52


    Flamebird's Avatar

    GP
    1,898

    Name
    Felicity Rhyolite
    Age
    19
    Race
    Neanderthal/ Human Hybrid
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    A purple sky, coated in clouds and sprinkled with stars, hung over the landscape. Raiaera's ill grasslands hosted a few sick trees, spotted here and there. The village they entered was pathetic. Hatch roofed cottages were poorly designed. The sheer amount of waste, mud, and overgrown pastures were enough to make one vomit. Felicity had to cover her nose as she followed her half-elf teacher towards a pub.

    Lightning bugs swarmed around the flame lit lanterns as her teacher boldly marched through thick mud. The brown ooze was putrid, Felicity was sure it was not just mud they were walking through, yet the woman paid no notice. About ready to puke, the fifteen year old waded through the squishy stuff with clear revolt on her face. She had no idea why they were here.

    “A-Ash – I mean!” Felicity kept forgetting her mentor’s new, weird pet peeve, “Ayleth, what are we doing here?”

    Ayleth guided them towards a larger building, triple times as long as the tiny stick houses. The hay roofed building was surprisingly reinforced with stone. The hanging sign above the door read The Mad Stallion. A tavern.

    Ayleth stepped up the small, two steps. She tracked mud and horse dung behind her, “A mass murderer named Evander Songsliver frequents this pub. We’re here to end his crime spree.”

    Felicity was weirded out by her choice of words. Then again, it made sense. Ashla recently lost her husband. It tore her apart so much, she left everything else behind. While sailing a passenger boat, Ashla kept to herself, alone in her quarters. She barely ate, rarely coming out the entire trip. Not wanting to disturb her after such a loss, Felicity let her be. Right after they landed in Raiaera, Ashla seemed dead set on some sort of goal she kept hidden from her. Felicity only could hope Ashla – or Ayleth’s – darker mood was only a temporary result of grief.

    “The nearest Bladesinger is, like, twenty miles away,” Felicity protested, “Are we really going to escort him the whole way?”

    Ayleth did not respond, instead opening the shabby door to the pub. The moment the door opened, they were met with the lonely sound of a bard strumming his off tune lute, attempting to master it. The rum even smelled awful, the elven inhabitants barely drank it. Instead, only a small group gambled in the corner as several others spoke of their hopeless businesses over a round, crude oak table. The pub was quiet and depressed. Felicity doubted there was a criminal master housing here.

    Ayleth seemed more sure of it, boldly walking towards the tavern. The quite sad looking bartender, with a pathetic frame and long, thin, greasy hair, continued to rub a stain off his counter. “How may I-“

    Ayleth cut him off, her voice loud and stern, “Evander Songsliver. Where is he?”

    The group of talking elves turned from their mushy, tasteless mashed potatoes. They watched the young woman with intrigued discomfort in their blank eyes. Felicity felt butterflies flutter in her stomach as deathly silence ensued. Several long, uneasy seconds later, Ashla sharply pulled a dagger. Felicity gasped in shock as her leader pointed it at the keep. In a bitter, quiet, emotionless voice, she threatened, “I asked you a question. If you don’t answer me, I will hurt you.”

    The tavern keep immediately voiced Felicity’s bewildered, frightened thoughts, “You-you can’t-“

    The brunette jumped onto the filthy counter. The growing crowd of spectators shouted in shock as she drove her boot into his chin, sending him back. His back hit the shelf behind him. He fell, a multitude of empty shot glasses falling around him. Some hit his body, letting blood.

    Felicity extended her hand, stepping forward in stunned horror, “Ash-“

    Ayleth shouted this time, a dark seriousness to be heard in her voice, “It will be the knife next time! Tell me, where is he!?!”

    Terrified, obviously, he cried out in horror, “In the back! My only bedroom! Go take him, just please spare me!”

    As he held his various cuts from the glass, Ayleth lowered her blade. Apathy stung as she put it away, “Thank you.”

    She hopped down the counter. Felicity watched, pale and wide eyed, as Ayleth stormed past her. “Come, Felicity.”

    Felicity only could take a couple frightened steps towards the entryway Ayleth swung open. She disappeared into the dark room. Felicity stood there, sick to her stomach, as the sound of a sword unsheathing sounded. Then…

    *Slithk!*

    A gasp, a cry, a whimper… Silence .

    Felicity finally lost her lunch.

    Several moments after the murder, Ayleth emerged from the room. Blood stained her black blouse. Her sword was in its sheath, but she held a blood stained rag in her hand. She tossed it into a garbage tray like it was nothing of concern. Zero emotion showed on her ice cold face as she stalked towards the door, “Job done. Let’s move on.”

    As she disappeared out of the door, Felicity’s mind spun. Lightheaded, she barely kept her balance. Fear bolted through her body, devastating like lightning, as she stood frozen.

    She-she’s just- Tears welded up as she vainly comforted herself, It-It’s a phase, that’s all! The grief is getting to her. She’ll be back to her old self soon… right?

    As tears pounded the floor, her heart thudded with the weight of lead. When she heard her name called from the door, it took every ounce of strength in her being to follow. Her steps were hesitant and full of foreboding.

    ~ ~ ~


    An unstable creak pulled her out of the trance. Atop the branch, she gazed upon the frozen over roof. Wait, was that… a blade buzzsawing through wood?

    She eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as she looked down. A shriek escaped her as she cried, “YVONNE!”

    She hastily leapt down the entire tree. Her sturdy frame barely took the collision with the earth, dealt no harm. She had landed on her feet, a dirt cloud floating after the thud. She rose, eyes riddled with panic and fear. It seemed unnatural, the way she took a step back, throwing her hand. “What were you thinking?!” The scream rang across the ruined street. All the people nearby stopped and stared at the growing scene. Freshly awoken from a traumatic flashback, Felicity had an unbridled rage and terrified fear behind her voice. She was pale, sweating, shaking. Yvonne seemed speechless, shocked, as the redhead continued to rant, “Who knows where this tree could fall! It could of killed me or toppled over the house, you-“

    With a bellowing moan, the tree fell safely against the ground, diagonal from the yard. Right next to it, the broken seesaw awaited its reforging. As the branches and leaves still resounded in shaken defeat, the seventeen year old fumed, regardless of the safe outcome.

    She started to hyperventilate. Ice cold eyes, frozen, zapped in and out of vision. The sounds. Oh, those terrible sounds of death, torture, screaming. Red. The color red resonated in her mind. Right there, Yvonne stood. Right there. Was Yvonne just like her? The question was ridiculous, but the all consuming anxiety cared not. Fear. So much fear. She gasped, her chest tightening in pain as a mass panic attack shredded her violently to pieces; from the inside out.

    Her thoughts were disjointed, broken.

    Need to get away! Run! Run!

    What if this bond she had so fondly forged broke like that again?

    She'll bring you pain! Hurt you!

    It happened once, it would happen every other time.

    RUN!

    Felicity turned and ran away from it all.

    Fear.

    Fight or flight kicked in. Flight won.

    Unrelenting fear.

    Tears fell from her face, leaving a trail of agony behind.

    Unbearable fear.

    She cried, mouth gaped. Eyesight blurred. Tunnel vision took over. She had no idea where she was running.

    She just had to run.

    Fear.
    Last edited by Flamebird; 07-15-2018 at 07:54 PM.
    "I can't be proud of anything. I am ashamed of everything."

    "I gave my heart, my allegiance, all my energy for this and got nothing but ashes in return. What on earth did I do to deserve being chewed and spit out like this? Time and time again, it's all the same."


    Felicity Playlist.

  2. #22
    Senior Member

    EXP: 8,121, Level: 3
    Level completed: 79%, EXP required for next Level: 879
    Level completed: 79%,
    EXP required for next Level: 879


    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

    View Profile
    Yvonne’s silver eyes stared at the traumatized teenager as she turned and ran. The whirring blade of the cogwheel saw slowed to a harmless rotation before stopping altogether, its buzz quietening into silence. The shocked half-dwarf watched her go, her companion fleeing into the distance. She remained motionless, attempting to process why she felt guilt. She’d only wanted to fix the seesaw for the children and play an amusing prank on her friend. Plenty of time to climb down the tree before it inevitably yawned and collapsed to the earth like a sleepy giant.

    That… hadn’t been the reaction she’d sought-after. Her mind whirled as rapidly as her tool had moments ago. There hadn’t been any chance to reason with Felicity - she’d yelled about outcomes with zero potential of eventuating and bolted. Yvonne knew how to cut down a tree near a house and she knew how strong her blood-sister was - she could shatter the offending wood into toothpicks with her bare hands and pick her teeth clean with it if she’d wanted to. Felicity Rhyolite wouldn’t be dispatched by a rickety old tree. Embarrassing to even entertain the thought.

    The half-and-halfling gestured to the nearby onlookers across the way, to carry on with their day-to-day affairs. Show’s over. Nothing to see here.

    Guilt melded with frustration. Sighing, Yvonne got to work on repairing the children’s plaything. It wouldn’t take long. It would have been even quicker with some help. What had gotten into her friend, promising these kids their seesaw would be fixed and then dropping everything, abandoning her cause. How could that possibly be the right response to her - perhaps poorly timed - joke?

    Felicity was no dwarf, she knew that for certain. A dwarf held fast to their cause, rain, hail or shine. No matter the odds or the ordeal, a dwarf dealt with their issues. Sturdy and reliable as stone, especially with little ones observing their every move. A good example needed to be set. The children would remember this challenging time for the rest of their lives and they’d learn how others resolved it. Regardless of the problem, like an older sister she covered for the half-neanderthal in her time of need.

    Shaseth gave Yvonne the extra pair of hands she needed to tear down and reassemble the play equipment. The pivot point still functioned, albeit a tad frosty. The lever and seating needed replacement and that proved simple enough. A half an hour at most and the kids gleefully celebrated the seesaw’s restoration with an almost instantaneous ride, their toothy grins and clawed hands in the air relating the tale of their happiness.

    “Look mommy, no hands!” Jesnys exclaimed.

    “No brains more like it,” her mother replied dryly.

    Any dwarf could have done it.

    Her companion didn’t appear to be coming back. Shaseth invited Yvonne back inside for a bite to eat, a rest pause after their labour while they waited for her return. Looking again to the trail Felicity had disappeared down she nodded in agreement, opting not to follow after the moody teen. Nearly an adult she was old enough to be making her own decisions. We each follow our own path.

    It would be dark as night before the half-and-halfling quietly departed Shaseth’s hovel in search of the vandal.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 07-13-2018 at 10:16 PM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  3. #23
    Nuclear Rage

    EXP: 64,948, Level: 10
    Level completed: 99%, EXP required for next Level: 52
    Level completed: 99%,
    EXP required for next Level: 52


    Flamebird's Avatar

    GP
    1,898

    Name
    Felicity Rhyolite
    Age
    19
    Race
    Neanderthal/ Human Hybrid
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    The blunt, metal pommel slammed into her gut. The teen cried as she choked a sound out. Holding herself, the girl fell to the floor. Tears dripped down her red cheeks. She opened her eyes to see Ayleth towering over her, holding her sword.

    “Felicity,” She spit venom, “You are wrong.”

    Felicity held her head, vision groggy as she pushed herself up to her knees. Her legs rubbed against rough, stone floor. The cold air of Coronian autumn was crisp and bitter. The nature surrounding them was dying, just like their relationship.

    “No,” Felicity coughed, “You’re wrong. Think of all the people you killed! All the lives you stole and-“

    She gasped in fear. The weapon she held was raised in a wrath guard. All the rage in the world was pounded into her as the force caused her to fall onto her hands and faced. Blunt pain burst into her head as her thoughts rattled. This conversation had only turned into an argument. And this argument had turned… into a beating.

    Just another brutal lesson.

    “Felicity,” Her voice seemed patient, yet everything else inside her obviously was not. It was nagging, tugging, “They got what they deserved.”

    “M-maybe- they did deserve that, but-“ She wheezed, holding her chest, which was tightened by anxiety attacks. “-When you delivered the blow, we-were you worse off than them?-“

    “-Shut up!” Ayleth kicked her side, causing enough pain to shoot through her like lightning. As the teen huddled into the fetal position, the woman scolded her. “I did what I had to do! Nobody was taking care of these murderers, slavers, robbers! The Rangers weren’t! The Bladesingers weren’t! Somebody had to do something!”

    She lowered her weapon, head held high. The leaves falling behind were orange like the bonfire she lit on her twisted morality, “So I did. And I will extract justice onto every criminal in the world until there is only the good guys-“

    “-If-“ Felicity managed a single shout before crying in whispers, “-If you killed killers to bring peace… there’s still one killer left.”

    The wind was bitter, nipping them in the freezing air. Dead, brown leaves fell from the almost bare trees. Icebreaker bent down to her. Crouching to her level, she lifted her finger and shook it in her face, “Don’t you dare judge me.” Her quiet voice was so cold, one could feel the chill, “I tried using mercy and compassion. Those don’t work. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I will take every measure necessary to save the world.”

    ~ ~ ~

    Her vision suddenly returned. No previous memory of where her feet took her. How did she come here? She had no idea. However, one thing did make sense. The dark.

    The sun was setting now. A flame colored, brightly shaded sunset burnt the ground below. It was an isolated, lonely courtyard. The wall's tiny fountains had died long ago, not a drop of liquid in the small spewers. The cobblestone was cracked, coated with dirt and overgrown with twisting weeds. The pillars shooting high up were testimonies of a former glory, lived long ago. One at the left had been halved, the upper half completely cut off. It laid, crumbled, next to the ten feet tall remaining pillar.

    Growing within the wall, embedded at the center top of the pillar's formation, was a towering, humongous, lonely tree…

    Not a single sound whispered here as more memories consumed her.

    ~ ~ ~

    She was aggressive.

    The sound of steel clashing sounded from the forest clearing. It was evening. As dim grey skies floated above, the ringing metal and human grunts and shouts drove all wildlife away. Crickets still croaked as the fifteen year old redhead struggled; shaking in physical weakness.

    Felicity was being continually forced back in the ferocious swings. With the blunt side of her sword sweeping the teen's lower leg, the half-elf forced Felicity to fall to her side, dropping her blade.

    "Weak!" She shouted critically.

    In the uncomfortable dirt and itchy grass, the teen tried to pull herself up. However, her teacher walked around her and raised her foot, pressing it against her back as her blade slightly pressed into the girl's neck. It was not enough to injure, but it was enough to hurt.

    "A-Ash-"

    "Ayleth!" She shouted in a dominating, rage filled tone.

    "Yeah, that…" the girl grunted, visibly under both physical and emotional stress, "Ca-can we take five and-"

    "No." Ayleth replied icily, "We will stop when your defense improves.”

    Removing the blade and lowering her foot, she took a step back in apathy and waited for the sweating, bruised girl to return to her opening stance. "Get up."

    Pushing her shaking body to respond, the young woman stood up, but did not raise her sword again, "Ayleth, please…"

    The young woman walked up to her, lowering her sword. With bitterness written on her face, she raised her hand and backhanded her cheek. "Obey, apprentice."

    Holding her cheek in pain, the girl struggled to stand, but held herself together. Closing her eyes to push back her tears, she responded timidly, submissively, "Yes, ma'am."

    ~ ~ ~

    Her knees hit the floor. Hands slammed the flat stone as she bent over. Vibrating immensely, her mouth hung open, eyes shut, as she cried. Against the stillness of the lifeless courtyard, the girl let it go. One, long, tormented scream packed with every single wound, hurt, scar in this part of her journey. It was wordless, for no words could be used. The emotion itself threatened to destroy everything within eye shot; even the aged, sturdy tree some feet in front of her. Her head churned red, voice finally giving out. A slow fade ended the cry. From there, she sobbed. Her back heaved as tsunamis of tears flooded the cold, hard ground. She barley took in air between the long, bitter cries. She could hardly support herself on her knees and hands. She fell to her side, every ounce of energy poured into her weeping.

    She stayed here, carrying on in her anguish, for hours without stop. Only when the last of her energy depleted did she end her wailing.

    A depressed, exhausted hush came over the circular courtyard.
    "I can't be proud of anything. I am ashamed of everything."

    "I gave my heart, my allegiance, all my energy for this and got nothing but ashes in return. What on earth did I do to deserve being chewed and spit out like this? Time and time again, it's all the same."


    Felicity Playlist.

  4. #24
    Senior Member

    EXP: 8,121, Level: 3
    Level completed: 79%, EXP required for next Level: 879
    Level completed: 79%,
    EXP required for next Level: 879


    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

    View Profile
    Sliding headgear of Alerian technology over her face from her forehead, Yvonne allowed her vulnerable eyes a scant few seconds adjustment to peering through lenses. Her silvers felt comfortable, at home in the darkness of night but that feeling of security was a trap. She needed to take care of her vision regardless of the hour. Lights burned brighter upon a black backdrop and a stark contrast between white and black could leave a lingering spot in front of her eyes, a blindness that refused to fade for hours at a time.

    Nevertheless the Alerian's vision would enable them to track the vandal down through a nocturnal and sleepy Donnalaich. Yvonne made her way through ruined buildings with purpose, along cobble rubble and dirt pathways with singular intent. She tweaked the zoom intensity of her lenses constantly, zooming in on potential clues to scrutinize them in detail from afar.

    Only a puddle of water lay still before her. False alarm perhaps, residual rain from yesterday, or an indication the culprit had fled far from here. The hybrid scout turned back the dial on the zoom, grasping a full picture of her surroundings once again.

    Moving on around a crippled storehouse the building's wounds came into view. Dangling palings, again missing thatch and a door that no longer closed properly but swung back and forth with the breeze - not an ideal place to store anything. Either the vandal had not caused this or had done so many days ago. No ice to be found. Not even water. A drakari could have easily damaged the door to break in and enter, to rummage through the jars of food.

    This building in particular gave Yvonne the impression that more than one person was at fault here. Perhaps a single vandal started the commotion. The desperation and fear of the people did the rest, tearing their city apart in search of food and supplies. Every drakari and fae for themselves.

    If her suspicion proved correct then finding the vandal would only resolve a portion of the problem. These people needed to be reined in and governed. Their self-centeredness would be to the detriment of others. Resources needed to be shared. Food needed to be rationed. Races needed to cooperate no matter how different they appeared to be.

    She would discover who damaged the storehouse later - who risked the survival of the city by taking what they could carry and exposing the rest to vermin and the weather. These jars would be identifiable. If the thieves hadn't shattered them into pieces and cast the granules into the wind she would find them. The scavengers would pay their debt or face the consequences of a surly half-dwarf. This neglected city, the effects on its citizens and the way Felicity frequently lashed out here had all served to put her in a curmudgeonly mood.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  5. #25
    Nuclear Rage

    EXP: 64,948, Level: 10
    Level completed: 99%, EXP required for next Level: 52
    Level completed: 99%,
    EXP required for next Level: 52


    Flamebird's Avatar

    GP
    1,898

    Name
    Felicity Rhyolite
    Age
    19
    Race
    Neanderthal/ Human Hybrid
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    Her throat burned from the endless weeping. Tears fell, yet the energy to do anything else had been relinquished. It was dark now. The sun had set, leaving the faint moon glow over the courtyard. There was no breeze to be felt. It seemed as if nature itself bowed it’s head over the weight this girl carried. In the fetal position, broken and unkempt, the neanderthal hybrid could have rotted in her despair, just another dead pile of dust in these forgotten ruins.

    Her stomach rolled in hunger, her scratched throat begged for relief. Yet, in her exhaustion she could of cared less. Her breaths were long and weak. So fatigued, she struggled to even breathe fully. She was drained in every way. Broken down…

    ~ ~ ~

    *Clang!*

    Two swords collided, sunlight bathing them in light, glowing across their battlefield. It was within the morning. The sun barely peaked above the sea as they fought atop the cliff. White pebbles and stones tumbled down as Felicity fought a bandit at the edge. The woman grunted, her falchion blade slicing through the air as Felicity stepped back, guarding with her arming sword. She felt the ground slowly destabilizing as they fought. Nervousness grew in her chest as the sound of loosening stones grew faster. She anxiously parried and blocked her opponent’s sword, growling in frustration.

    The bandit then made a tricky move. She parried, extending her spare hand to grab Felicity’s throat. The child started to choke. Her sword slipped from her hands, wallowing as it slammed into the loose rocks.

    The bandit gritted her teeth, “Living is for the birds, am I right? Join them!”

    Felicity’s chest exploded in fear. Death by being pushed off a cliff? It seemed terrible, the long way down. The burglar dropped her weapon, using her other hand to slowly tip her over. The redhead dare not fight the steadily smirking mistress. She could just let go in a second. Her upper body felt nothing but the seaside’s wind nipping at her, begging her to leap into it. Maybe, if the little flame was lucky, she could grow wings like a bird and fly.

    Yet, in the horrifically slow process of letting go, the woman was yanked back, dragging Felicity with her. She fell against the bandit, then cried out when she heard the familiar sound of a blade penetrating flesh. Her eyes widened as she looked down, seeing that the sword missed her, barely, but stabbed her opponent in the gut. Liquid red dripped against the white stones of the cliff. They painted the blank sheet of paper crimson, for suffering. The blade was ripped out again, viciously. The body fell, revealing Ayleth in her place. Behind Ayleth, a stream of bodies flowed. She had obviously faced far more opponents than her, and she stabbed Felicity’s agitator like a knife through butter. Atop the cliff, the girl’s hair flowed in the wind, the waves of it hissing in the barren landscape. Holding the bloodied blade, Ayleth looked, well… scared.

    For a brief second, Felicity saw genuine panic and concern. She saw emotion, emotional attachment. For a brief moment, Felicity saw Ashla.

    Yet, that moment passed in a flash, like straw in a fire.

    The woman wiped the blade, smearing scarlet on her stained pants. She put the blade in her sheath, turning. Already, Ayleth’s regular mannerisms returned. Her lowered, dead eyes. That ever present, small frown. The emotionless features, cold blooded attitude. Self righteous, stubborn, unwilling to yield to anything. The mud elf’s dark side, Ayleth, overshadowed Ashla’s side once again.

    Desperate, absolutely desperate to see Ashla again. Felicity spoke, “Th-thanks, master-“

    She was stopped when, without warning, Ayleth violently turned around. She threw her arm, imposing, authoritative, cruel. Her eyes were wide, ice forming, in slits of pure ruthlessness. Her teeth gritted, body tense. “-If you were not so pathetic and weak, you would never have needed saving!”

    Well, that stung. Felicity would have taken a step back, maybe more, yet the cliff overhead still threatened to swallow her in a falling death. The wind howled, causing goosebumps to form on the fifteen year old’s skin. She bit her lip, taking Aytleth’s next onslaught of vicious words.

    “I thought I was training you better! To be strong!” She lowered her arms, the worst of her rage gone. She scoffed, spat, and turned around again, “I guess you have not learned everything, despite my best efforts. You must be useless.”

    Tears welded up in the redhead’s eyes as Ayleth brought her judgement upon her, damaging her. Each word felt like a stab with a knife. The tense, apathetic tone punctured like snake fangs, trickling venom into the veins.

    “You imbecile! You untalented runt! Insignificant!” Her voice was low and imposing. She sighed, shoulders down, “You are nothing but a burden. I have no idea what I ever saw in you…”

    She stormed off, walking in heavy strides. Kicking one of the dead bodies aside as she walked, she left Felicity in hopeless shambles.

    She was a burden.

    She was weak.

    She was insignificant.

    She was useless.

    ~ ~ ~

    … How long did she lay here?

    In the fetal position, she drifted in and out of uncomfortable sleep. Energy slowly filled again, tiny drop by tiny drop. Her appendages were numb, weak. She stared blankly at a deformed, eroded pillar across from her. Her hair was in her face, her eyes drooped in a lifeless, tired expression.

    She continued to rest, well into nighttime. The Dheathian night was cooler. In fact, the girl shivered. Yet, she did not move. She felt unable to. She lay her head upon the hard, frigid stone floor.

    She stayed like this for hours. Her energy slowly dripped back.

    The chilly nighttime winds rustled the leaves of the great, sage tree. One three tipped leaf fell right in front of her. Dazed and heartbroken, the now numbed girl blinked. Despite appearing uninterested. The girl pulled her drowsy, heavy head in the direction of the tree. Then – she felt it.

    That feeling. Again! In yet another happenstance, she felt this odd… Prickling? Energy? Energy…

    Confused, curious, she pulled herself to her hands. Her arms straight, holding her top half up, she watched the tree. Well, nothing seemed that unusual about it. – It was here, however, that she realized something. Every single thing she felt was associated with one, common thing. The high quality sectors of Dheathian were cooled with magic. The ice on the roof also was magic. Now, a tidbit of lore flew through her head. The Ancients were known to grow their trees into remarkable sizes, thanks to some form of magic. For no way could a tree naturally grow that humongous.

    Her mouth gaped, “No way…”

    The magical affinities of her neanderthal kin circled around her head. It all made so much sense! Since she and Nevin found medications to relieve the negative side affects of her Berserk Rage, her own magical affinity did not need to obsess over keeping her dark power functional, keeping her alive. It was within that moment that Felicity gasped, pushing herself to her knees. Was it possible?

    Her heart still ached deeply, her body still exasperated. Thus, her movements were slowed. She dragged herself towards the trunk of the ginormous tree, never completely standing once. As she crawled closer, the connection felt stronger, better. Now, sitting on her knees, her face was so near to the tree. She only had to extend her hand and touch the tree. Her old optimism started to surprisingly surface as she took a deep breath, then let it out Soothing her anxious chest with these deep, calm, breaths, she maintained focus.

    Concentrate, you can do this!

    The half breed closed her eyes, reaching out. Her extended hand touched the aged, rough outer layer. The sound of pieces of brown, gruff crust falling could be heard as she pressed her hand against the base of the tree.
    Last edited by Flamebird; 07-18-2018 at 03:29 PM.
    "I can't be proud of anything. I am ashamed of everything."

    "I gave my heart, my allegiance, all my energy for this and got nothing but ashes in return. What on earth did I do to deserve being chewed and spit out like this? Time and time again, it's all the same."


    Felicity Playlist.

  6. #26
    Senior Member

    EXP: 8,121, Level: 3
    Level completed: 79%, EXP required for next Level: 879
    Level completed: 79%,
    EXP required for next Level: 879


    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

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    Ruined ramparts had almost entirely crumbled over, a structure that couldn’t keep a gentle breeze out, good for identifying where the city limits were and little else. A woebegone watchtower still stood vigilant, but the fortification no longer had a means of entry - the stone stairs lying among the rubble. A lone drakari guard on watch had improvised a vine-ladder to climb up to his post.

    Yvonne had searched Donnalaich and its ruined buildings for hours, and with very little to go on the chance of finding a new clue seemed more and more hopeless. Finding the watchtower stirred a feeling the time had come to turn back. Did she even know what to look for anymore? A fae among fae, in a city of fae - one that could manipulate ice. That narrowed it down but not nearly enough. The age old adage of searching for a needle in a haystack came to mind and it only served to annoy her.

    The half-and-halfling’s hope had been to strike it lucky, explore the city and stumble on something improper happening. The thought of trying to find a hunter to help her came far too late. What a fool’s errand. Vandals keep their activities on tha down low. They don’t make a big show out of it, foolish girl. Ye didn’t even think this through did ye? This could take all night by yerself.

    The Alerian cave-dweller knew how to scout out the darkness, grasp the lay of the land, get her bearings on a locale and she’d done that. Tracking down a single individual among thousands wasn’t a skill in her repertoire. The fact most decent folk now slept was a saving grace, however it seemed she had the wrong time or place. She’d wanted to catch him in the act! At least locate more vandalism as that would be another lead. Not this whole lot of nothing.

    An empty marketplace surrounded the seeker, shuttered stalls and cloth coverings tied down for the night. The merchants had all gone home to their families. With every shop closed nothing appeared out of place. This doesn’t make sense. If someone wanted ta stick a wrench in tha works of this city tha market would be a fine place ta start. Why leave it be? If tha people still have a place ta exchange their goods and services, then any damage done will eventually be repaired. No method ta tha madness.

    Frustrated, Yvonne massaged the stress from her temples, closing her weary eyes a moment and looking downcast. She heaved a sigh. Felicity, where did ye run off ta? I need yer help… When she opened her elven eyes again her hazy focus had settled on the dirt nearby. Drifting back from her thoughts her focus cleared and an unusual shape in the dirt caught her attention.

    Yvonne knelt and faintly touched the markings in the earth with only her fingertips. Not tracks, no - this was-- what? Why would a fae lie down face first in the dust like this? She could make out where fingers had scratched the dirt, hand prints. Those lower marks looked like knee indentations. Their whole body had flopped here with a whomp, blowing dust aside in every direction. A magnificent spot for a nap, middle of tha bloody marketplace.

    Silver eyes frantically scanned around the bodily indent for a trail of some sort, her vigor and dynamism renewed by the latest finding. This had to be what she’d been looking for. Yes, yes! Those marks could have been from the patter of fae feet, bare foot if she wasn’t mistaken. Yvonne took off along beside the trail so as not to disturb the clues, hurrying to meet their maker. Finally, finally she had something to go on. She had a lead! Not much but something and she took it, chased it and followed it through like nothing else was ever more important than this trail, saw it through for as long as she could.

    The dusty footsteps abruptly ended with the grass.

    Yvonne’s fists tightened until her knuckles went white. She wanted to scream. She didn’t. She shook with emotion instead. Silently, silently quaked with frustration. This couldn’t be the end of the road. It couldn’t. No, she wouldn’t let it. There had to be more. There had to be something to follow.

    Like a delirious, wild bush turkey she clawed and scratched at the grass, looking for something, anything! The black-skinned scout paused, reverted to her goggles. She adjusted the right lens, focusing in on tiny, delicate droplets resting on the blades of grass. Water - in this miserable heat - yet to evaporate. Moisture on her fingertips. Again she bolted off like a hound dog, running at full pelt as quickly as her little legs could go.

    She followed the water, pursued the hidden path through the grass and into the outskirts of the ancient city. The trail went cold - literally and figuratively. The seeker entered into a thick, ghastly fog. A fog that sucked the warmth of the world away, sending chills down her spine. She slowed her pace, unable to see her way forward safely any longer. The fog blinded even her eyes, clouding any edges and shapes with its ethereal atmosphere.

    At the very edge of her vision, much closer than normal, another ruin lay concealed in the grey murk. The strangest thing about the ruin though - it had snowed, around and within, white as winter. Snow, in the middle of the jungle. Crisp, fresh and cold as ice. The half-breed tenuously approached the snowy shelter, hesitating. She’d come a long way to finally seize this moment, and now that it was here, she didn’t know that she should barge in. Whoever did this had to be a powerful sorcerer, right?

    Magic, the bane of her existence. How could she approach it? This was everything she feared, right in front of her panicky eyes. Who knew what curses or hexes this individual could place upon her, with a whim, at a moment’s notice. Goosebumps exploded over her skin like a rash, whether from the chill of fog or the dread of her nightmares she could not say. Where she had come from, this act of madness - walking toward a lair of black magic - was against the law. Consorting with witches and wizards would see her gravely punished.

    Dare I take a peek inside? What harm could a peep do? First sign of demonic ritual I will run away like there be no tomorrow, but I must… I need… ta see for myself. I came all this way. All those people, those refugees, those street urchins - they be counting on me. I can’t turn back yet. I won’t turn back.

    Felicity, I feel scared.


    Uneasy footsteps trod over the snow with gentle crunches. She took her sweet time, careful, cautious of catching a stray spell-bolt in the guts at any moment. There was no room for mistakes now. No margin for error. The crossbreed huddled outside the archway entrance, taking a deep breath, steeling herself. She dared her peek inside. The black strands of her hair wavered in the breeze, metallic silver eyes taking a look.

    Yvonne immediately felt sorry for him. The poor thing had bags under his blackened eyes, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. Those swiveling ears drooped, sagged until their lowest point. He rocked gently back and forth, trembling, knees to his chest. Filthy with dirt and gods-knew-what and that pong was a bit on the nose too, but… regardless, he seemed so tattered and worn out, at the end of his rope. Surely he hadn’t slept in a week or more, suffering a severe case of insomnia.

    Her motherly instincts urged her to take the fae boy in her arms and cradle him, soothe his worries with her cooing reassurances and rock him quietly to sleep. He needed to rest his weary head. The concerned mother figure crept out of hiding and stepped into the doorway, mustering her courage to meet the fae. She would offer her help, softly and without threat and see how he reacted. If he turned hostile she could back away safely, perhaps find Felicity and try again later.

    “Hey, ye be okay Mister? Can I come in and sit with ye?” Yvonne called out.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 07-21-2018 at 02:59 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  7. #27
    Nuclear Rage

    EXP: 64,948, Level: 10
    Level completed: 99%, EXP required for next Level: 52
    Level completed: 99%,
    EXP required for next Level: 52


    Flamebird's Avatar

    GP
    1,898

    Name
    Felicity Rhyolite
    Age
    19
    Race
    Neanderthal/ Human Hybrid
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone

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    Many, many explosions! Blinding energy threatened to throw her off her feet. Wave after wave of aged rings, like the rings of old trees, obliterated the atmosphere in her senses. A sense of terror, awe, excitement wrecked her entire being as she opened her eyes.

    There was a series of black and white lines marking the outline of the tree. Within it, enormous veins shot through the plant, the trunk and branches. White, distorted, bold energy swarmed within like a swarm of furious yellow jackets. It was so powerful, so mighty. Yet, the energy running ramped was positive, life giving. Strength flowed like a raging river, bolstering the tree in every way imaginable. It exceeded the natural. It influenced the tree, enhanced it. This energy allowed this century old tree to stay sturdy and healthy. It grew beyond natural proportions as the veins steadily swelled within those black lines. It was overwhelming, excruciating, it-

    -Felicity shut her eyes. She had to get out!

    The very will to stop must of done it. She flew back, the connection to the tree shattered as she fell against material, night chilled cobblestone. Her eyes were wide, body vibrating in a mixture of fright and wonder. There was so much sweat on her, it looked as if she just took a dip in a lake. Yet, for her body’s trembling, only one thought crossed her mind. What just happened?

    She took heavy, yet steady, breaths. Watching the exotic stars, she pondered. It was strange, the constellations and sky patterns were slightly different here compared to the rest of Althanas. Was it the differences in land location? It was crazy how even the sky changed. Everything… changed.

    She sat up, eyes still widened in awe and terror. She looked down, raising a single hand to look at her palm. Watching it, the adrenaline rushes of the tree replayed in her mind. With these thoughts, her neanderthal bloodline also poked at her thoughts. She always knew she had a magical affinity locked somewhere inside. Now that her body was adjusting better to her Berserk Rage, it made sense that her powers were expanding. She was improving.

    She clenched her fist, a sense of optimism returning to her weary heart.

    She opened her mouth, her voice hoarse and spent. Yet, there was confidence in her tone, “I may have been weak before…”

    Her fist shook as she continued to tighten it, “But I’m stronger now.”

    It was true. She was physically so much stronger. Raw strength, healthier bones, an unbreakable body. Compared to the much thinner, softer, more fragile girl Ayleth kicked around, Felicity was now a giant. Even now, however, her intrusive thoughts threatened to tear her down.

    “She was right! You'll never be strong enough!”

    “No more! No more attempts to get close to people. They’ll only hurt you more!"

    “Ayleth hurt you, why won’t Yvonne do the same? Yvonne believes in an eye for an eye just like her!”

    Felicity bit her lip, frustration boiling in her chest. She felt so cold! Ever sense she left Ayleth’s side, she struggled to connect to anyone else again. She felt too numb, too scared to forge bonds with anyone in the Toivonen family; regardless of how much time she spent with them. Nevin was the only who breached her newly built walls thus far. Oh, how he aided her! Felicity direly needed him, her older brother. How much of a blessing he was! Yet, even this fellow alchemist, this healer, was unable to ease these deep wounds.

    So what of Yvonne? What was her place in all of this? No doubt about it, Felicity adored her, yet… the small, stout drow reminded her so much of Ayleth. She frightened her. She still shook, in the center of the dome courtyard, as she thought this through. Now, however, her mind was clearer. Thanks to her newfound sensitivity to magic, she felt stronger. Just like the bizarrely placed stars in the sky, things changed. Just because an older sister figure hurt her once, would another do it again? This was ridiculous! Yvonne did nothing but help Felicity through and through, even when the aid was undeserved. How could Felicity doubt her now? When so many other people fled upon seeing her as a wretch, Yvonne stayed. Yvonne faced her greatest fears for her.

    Now, it was time for Felicity to return the favor.

    She had to risk being pained again.

    Boldly, Felicity put one foot on the ground. She pushed herself, attempting to rise to her feet. The first time, she fell. Her body was still nerve wrecked. Felicity growled and tried again. Again… Again! Somehow, she made it to where she stood. She struggled for balance, but refused to yield. She would not allow fear to win. She was better than that. Maintaining balance, she turned towards to exit of the courtyard. She shakily took one step, two steps…

    She treaded into the city’s nighttime darkness. She had to find Yvonne, confront her… then confront that vandal.
    Last edited by Flamebird; 08-04-2018 at 10:52 PM.
    "I can't be proud of anything. I am ashamed of everything."

    "I gave my heart, my allegiance, all my energy for this and got nothing but ashes in return. What on earth did I do to deserve being chewed and spit out like this? Time and time again, it's all the same."


    Felicity Playlist.

  8. #28
    Sweet Cinnamoth

    EXP: 37,766, Level: 8
    Level completed: 31%, EXP required for next Level: 6,234
    Level completed: 31%,
    EXP required for next Level: 6,234


    FennWenn's Avatar

    GP
    2,300

    Name
    Fennik Glenwey
    Age
    Looks eight. He's definitely older.
    Race
    Frost Fae
    Gender
    More or less male.
    Location
    Corone

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    Hours earlier.

    It was odd, so odd, how dreamlike reality started to become without any sleep.

    Song drifted through the air. A woman’s husky voice. Lullabies. Song that became discordant, abstract and jumbled, if he focused too hard on it. The other fae, the strange and almost human fae of Dheathain, didn’t hear it. Fenn had asked them. Written out questions in shaking hand. Nothing. It was all him. A mere figment of his imagination. A phantom of his mind, grasping at him with a searing grip.

    He was here because…

    Here because…

    Something about wanted to learn more about others like him. Something about heritage. Regent Banrion’s words were lost in his mind.

    The boy wandered through the foreign marketplace, stumbling over himself. Normally, he would be flitting from stall to stall, falling over himself trying to see every exotic ware there was. Pockets around him would be mysterious lightened of their trinkets. Fruit would vanish from their impressive pyramid piles. Beautiful Dheathanian creatures would be admired. Maybe someone would catch him napping atop their colorful cloth canopy and shoo him away. Maybe he’d be scolded for stealing a sip of someone’s drink. Right now though, it was an effort to put one foot in front of the other.

    There was a burning in the blackened scars ringing his wrists and ankles, another phantom presence he couldn’t explain. He wanted the burning to stop. His hands itched at the dark rings, drawing up thin lines of blood and no relief. The stone under his feet was cracked from the sheer cold radiating off of him. Fenn stared at the cracks, trying to make sense of the spiderwebbed pattern beneath him. Focusing his eyes on it — on anything — was a monumental strain that ached hollow within his skull.

    He was faintly aware that the others in the marketplace were staring. It was hard to make himself care about what they thought.

    No, he hadn’t slept in a while, and he was starting to have trouble remembering why that was.

    It faintly registered to him that he needed sleep. It was necessary for the function of a physical body, even one as strange as that of the fae. Fenn rubbed his eyes as he staggered deep into a quiet alley, trying to make something of his bleary, color-streaked vision the same way he tried to make something of his situation; with little success. Once, he’d caught wind of a rumor that there was a man who had died from going without sleep for months and months on end. How long had he been awake?

    Once more, the boy tripped over his own feet; first he fell to his knees, then to his hands, then collapsed with the whole of his body against spongy earth. This time he did not get up. With a sigh of defeat, he let the darkness of slumber carry him off.

    ~ § ~ § ~ § ~

    Dark things crept from the crevice of light.

    There was no Banrion to save him, not in these dreams. She had said something- had said something about him pushing her out, away from his head, when she last struggled to make contact with him. He hadn’t meant to do that. He still didn’t mean to do it, but it seemed to be happening anyway. She had told him about a— the scars— what had happened to his past self— he didn’t want— and—

    They were skittering things, flying down on wings of sharp edges and fear.

    A flood of sensations filled him with each one that brushed by. Mostly, it was a burning that spread across his wrists, ankles. It was hands around his neck. It was the scent of blood and iron. It was red, and black cracks across his vision.

    He couldn’t scream.


    ~ § ~ § ~ § ~

    Present moment.

    Fenn broke back into the waking world with the loudest squeak he’d ever heard out of himself.

    The lingering memory of the dream cut into his chest like an iron dagger. He clasped his hands over his heart, feeling it twitch and spasm from inside his ribs. The boy rocked in place, scrabbling desperately to orient himself in the waking world. He couldn’t sleep again, he couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t… With each beat of outrage, the air around him crackled with cold, the awful humidity breaking out in a blight of spontaneous snow. White, white, white. Fenn started into it. The bright ruins around were deeply frozen and barely thawing — and they were in a recent, extreme state of disrepair. Fog wafted off of them in the direct sunlight. The little fae blinked and stared at the broken rock and fallen walls. This wasn’t where he had last passed out. This wasn’t the marketplace. That much, he could discern.

    He… must have done this. Whatever “this” was. Had he been wandering as he slumbered? Again?

    In the glossy ice, he caught his reflection. It wavered. Squinting blearily at it, Fenn tried making sense of it. His wings, his antennae, they were gone — the skin around his wrists was raw grey flesh and dripping black. A pang of fear sent a new wave of snow billowing out from the fae as he yanked his gaze away and frantically felt his back and his head for his insectoid limbs. No they were- they were still there, falling and rising with his breath. There was no blood. He glanced back to the puddle again, hands clenched. The reflection was normal. The other him, the him with missing parts and fresh injuries, had flickered away.

    He didn’t know that past-him, but he absolutely knew that he would rather not be him.

    Want Daugi, he thought blearily, rubbing at his eyes. Despite having slept, he was exhausted. Absolutely exhausted. The only thing about him that still seemed to be functional was the cadence of his magic; it sang in the air around him, sang of the north and the snow he missed. It raged against the heat and the cage of his frail form.

    Uneasy footsteps caused him to pan his gaze up from the walls.

    It was a woman, he reckoned through his fading sight. One short and dark of complexion. For a moment, he thought that perhaps she was another hallucination, but frowned as she didn’t fuzz away with the next few blinks of his eyes.

    She called out to him. It took him a moment to register what she was saying.

    Fenn felt his consciousness flicker.

    Oh. Oh no.

    ”Get back,” he said in a woozy flutter of his hands. He was so light-headed, the simple lift of his arms left him dizzy. Colors swam in front of his eyes again. Desperately, Fenn hoped he was understood. ”Leave me. Hurts.”

    Turgid winds circled around him as he felt himself begin to pass out again. He felt himself lift just slightly off the ground from the sheer force of them. No! The fae clenched his hands, feeling the bite of his nails make black-beading moon-sliver cuts in his palms, but it wasn’t enough. Whatever mindless unconscious self would surface in his absence, he did not know. White became not only a quality of the walls about, but now the very air itself as he slipped away.
    Last edited by FennWenn; 07-20-2018 at 03:39 PM.

  9. #29
    Senior Member

    EXP: 8,121, Level: 3
    Level completed: 79%, EXP required for next Level: 879
    Level completed: 79%,
    EXP required for next Level: 879


    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

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    Yvonne trepidatiously inched nearer, closer, so carefully approaching the exhausted fae child. She’d verbalized her intentions - that she was entering his hiding place with concern for his well being - but he’d not answered. It seemed her words only stirred him from a waking slumber. He battled to lift his heavy eyelids let alone respond to her call. My word, she felt for the poor dear.

    Silver eyes studied him intently, expecting the worst - awaiting the moment when he reacted with an icicle lance of deadly ice magic. The blackened half-dwarf froze mid-step when he finally moved, making a sort of 'shooing' gesture at her? Oh boy, her heartbeat pounded in her breast, her pulse racing. That be a shoo or a threatening sorcerous gesture? Dare I flip a coin with me own life ta find out? Her feet answered her question by pacing backwards, high heels crunching back into snow.

    The fae vandal gestured again, another sign different to the first. Yvonne didn’t comprehend it and she didn’t have time to mull it over. A gusting breeze took her unawares, nearly knocking the half-and-halfling off balance, her arms swinging wildly to stay upright. A whirlwind began to circulate around the ruined chamber, lifting the fae sorcerer off the ground in the calm of the storm, his fists clenched with wintry desperation. The blustering air currents turned bitter and chilly, the temperature rapidly plummeting. Was Yvonne still thinking of giving the kid a cuddle?

    Nope! Getting out of here!

    She dived toward the doorway with all the leg strength she could muster, the winds threatening to sweep her up, landing in the snow with a wet thump. Her outstretched hand grabbed hold of the entryway and she pulled and scrambled outside as quickly as she could. Slumping her back to the outer wall - the doorway beside her shoulder - a turbulent blast of frost blew through the archway and chilled her to the bone. She curled up tightly into the fetal position and hugged herself, trying to stay warm - trying to stay alive.

    “That be n-no way ta greet a stranger!” she shouted, her voice cracking, teeth chattering. “Ye settle d-down, ye hear me!? Don’t make m-me mad. I only want ta help ye!”

    Yvonne’s body temperature had dropped so much she couldn’t stop shivering, covered in snow flakes and not getting any warmer in spite of her efforts. She took off her backpack and untied the blanket roll attached to it, unfurling it and swiftly wrapping herself up in it like a cocooned bug. There she continued to wait out the magical blizzard happening inside, too cold and too scared to move. She couldn’t stop trembling.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 07-30-2018 at 05:15 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  10. #30
    Nuclear Rage

    EXP: 64,948, Level: 10
    Level completed: 99%, EXP required for next Level: 52
    Level completed: 99%,
    EXP required for next Level: 52


    Flamebird's Avatar

    GP
    1,898

    Name
    Felicity Rhyolite
    Age
    19
    Race
    Neanderthal/ Human Hybrid
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone

    View Profile
    Nightfall was clear and cloudless. As the millions of gems in the sky sparkled boldly against the harsh dark, the city was silent. Not many people were up at this hour, leaving Felicity to walk alone amongst the grey cobblestones and aged buildings. The dilapidated ruins were about the same, street to street, as the girl steadily grew calmer and clearer again, She still hugged herself, nerves wracked and ready to jump at the slightest sound. Yet, only her footsteps echoes across the tall, old town. This skeleton of a civilization long passed was archaic, solemn. Yet, the questions of what happened to this place barely struck her in the cold, midnight air. She was only concerned with finding Yvonne again. With no recollection of how she got from the wreckage of the vandal’s victimized street to that courtyard, she was heading back towards the one landmark she clearly remembered – their old campsite. Maybe, just maybe, Yvonne decided to go there. Then again, she could be at their drakari friend’s house. Felicity, however, had no idea where that location fell.

    The sounds of night’s jungle wildlife drew faintly louder as she drew towards to edge of town. Even at nighttime, Dheathian was humid. After the deathly cold of the city’s limits, she immediately grew to remember her old loathing of this blasted humidity again. As the girl stepped over fallen vines and twisting roots, the sound of rich leaves flattening against her boots sounded. Her hand nervously fell over her sword, she wondered up a hillside towards an old courtyard. Strange, she thought the city’s limits were behind her. Nonetheless, the lone child made a dash through the tall grasses and jungle ferns of the open courtyard. Now lost in a forest of shooting grass, she grew annoyed at the humidity and plants here. – Then, she suddenly realized something odd…

    … she had been hit with a fog.

    The clear sky was unseen beneath the thick smog of grey. She was suddenly caught in what seemed to be a storm of fog. Her heartbeat, which had just steadied a short bit ago, ramped up again. She gasped and clutched her heart, her chest aching. She had to stand still for a moment, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm down again. Yvonne needed her. This was no time to feel anxious, no matter how lost she was.

    Thus, she soldiered on, into the thickest of the fog.

    She could hardly see her hand in front of her face. The shadows of the gruff plants were unseen. Yet, she could fell the plants poking her and causing her skin to itch and tickle upon touch. She pushed on, careful not to trip over any roots. Her footsteps were loud, as she pulled down grass and crushed fern bushes on her way through. Yet, after what felt like forever, she made it out! She was surprised when the sound of her boots against muffled plants were replaced with a hard stomp against stone. She grinned, excited to have reached the other side. The fog seemed to reside, at least a little. It was enough to see the silhouette of a monstrous mansion in front of her. She took a step back, within the edge of the courtyard. “Woah…”

    Wait, did she hear something?

    “Ye settle d-down, ye hear me!?”

    That voice! She knew that voice!

    “I only want ta help ye!”

    Yvonne!

    The fool! What was she doing out here by herself? Unlike Felicity, she was at least half sane! Felicity bolted through the half destroyed gatehouse, dashing towards the noise. Panting, the redhead gritted her teeth as she shouted, “Yvonne! I’m coming!”

    Racing through tumbled statues within the front pathway, she felt the most peculiar thing – chill. The air was blistering cold! Way better than that darn humidity, yet Felicity's panic grew larger. She could feel the faint traces of magic within the air. Yvonne was terrified of magic like this! Dang it, Yvonne, you’re supposed to be the cool headed one here!

    The air even smelled like the freezing of winter. The mixture of crispness and dull dust swirled in her nostrils as she noticed flashes of blue within the building ahead. Ice!

    I C E!

    Her eyes were completely frosted over, like chips of white ice. Her face was hardened in spite, lips curled in a hateful scowl. Ice floated around her as death knocked on her next victim’s door.

    The girl skidded to a hasty halt, a cry escaping her. There was ice beneath her very feet, causing her to comically fall onto her bottom. The pain was nothing, yet the wounded child lifted her hand, covering her face. It seemed as if a blizzard was taking place in there. Against the darkness of the night, the cloudiness of the fog, the ice and snow literally glowed blue in violent splendor.

    “Ayleth!” Felicity cried aloud, “No!”

    Tears filled her green eyes. She whimpered, “Ayleth…”

    Then, she saw something else.

    Behind one of the crumbled statues, so deteriorated it was unrecognizable, stood a short, stout being. She had dark skin, clothes stylish yet sophisticated for travel, and wild hair. Pointed elvish ears oddly matched well with dwarvern height.

    Felicity lowered her hand as the storm howled within the building. Just at the edge of the chaos, they both had wandered into the storm wall of the hurricane.

    “… Yvonne.”

    A flash of white light flew from the doorway. Felicity bolted up. Her voice was curdled in a scream that even against the howling winds, was deafening.

    “YVONNE!"

    Several humongous shards of ice flew towards the statue.

    Felicity raced.

    The sharp ice slammed into the statue, causing it to shatter.

    Felicity scooped the fellow half-breed into her arms.

    Rubble flew everywhere.

    Yet, Felicity ducked behind another statue, Yvonne with her.

    Panting, sweating despite the plummeting temperatures, Felicity shook as she placed Yvonne down. Grey eyes met peridot, both wide in terror, as she met for the first time since her outbreak over that tree.

    The storm within the mansion was but a distant land. Right now, Felicity only saw her. She whispered, tears welding up in her eyes, “Y-Yvonne…”
    Last edited by Flamebird; 08-05-2018 at 10:39 PM.
    "I can't be proud of anything. I am ashamed of everything."

    "I gave my heart, my allegiance, all my energy for this and got nothing but ashes in return. What on earth did I do to deserve being chewed and spit out like this? Time and time again, it's all the same."


    Felicity Playlist.

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