Salutations! This is where I'll be posting my ideas for stories in the meantime. Still working on that original story I mentioned a while back, but I wanted to test some things out first. Like my magic system, dialogue, and a few characters, that kinda thing. These may become full fics in the future, but I'm leaving them here so i don't feel compelled to keep going. For my own ease of mind really. Never the less, I hope you enjoy!
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Plotbunny Bakery
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Skyrim Snippet: Bearing Destiny - Rough awakenings.
New
AzureAurora
Magic Fan and Blorbo appreciator
- Joined
- Sep 19, 2021
- Messages
- 108
- Likes received
- 950
AN: Salutations! This is where I'll be posting my ideas for stories in the meantime. Still working on that original story I mentioned a while back, but I wanted to test some things out first. Like my magic system, dialogue, and a few characters, that kinda thing. These may become full fics in the future, but I'm leaving them here so i don't feel compelled to keep going. For my own ease of mind really. Never the less, I hope you enjoy!
Bearing Destiny (Skyrim Shenanigans)
On every level except physical, she is a bear.
The gods are not prepared.
AN: This is a concept centered on an old Character concept for DND I made back in 2018 and never got to use. It's mostly for practicing writing, characterization, and so on.
It was cold — that was the first sign something was wrong.
The second was the gasp — the unfamiliar sensation of taking a deep breath, lungs filling with air — a feeling half-forgotten, now returned to the surface.
The third was the feeling of cloth: tight, firm, and rough against skin, not fur.
Artio's eyes snapped open as the rasp of air left her lungs, chest rising and falling in stuttered gasps — too fast, too cold, too much. Her breath turned to coughing, hacking wheezes — a body struggling for air, and a mind grappling to assert itself over a reality it didn't recognize.
"Lass, take it easy. Breathe deep — whatever hell you were in, the fight's over."
A voice broke through the mire pressing down on her thoughts like an oppressive haze. Someone was here. Speaking.
It took a moment for the old memories of language — before the vigil — to make sense of the words.
And those obsidian eyes met blue. The man — the human — didn't flinch.
He merely kept speaking.
"By Talos, what did those Imperial bastards do to you?"
His voice was quiet but steady, his bound hands resting calmly on his lap.
"Why are you talking to her? Look at those horns — she's got to be Daedric!!"
A man to her right cut in, voice trembling with fear. A coward, then.
An image surfaced in her mind's eye — horns, short and polished, like the twin peaks of distant mountains rising from a sea of glossy hair.
Then the memory shifted: magnificent, curled horns on a wandering ewe.
Horns were beautiful. Proud.
They were not things to be feared.
Artio looked back at the first man, still holding his gaze.
And then came the memories. Her sister's words — soft and certain.
Evenings of gentle songs. Days spent speaking to wary travelers along sunbaked roads.
"W…where."
The word tumbled from her mouth, and she recoiled as if struck.
The voice — that voice — she hadn't heard in years, but could never forget.
The wrenching in her chest refused to let her.
It trembled. Low-toned, hoarse with confusion — wounded. Thin.
It cut deeper than any blade could reach.
"If I were to guess correctly…" the first man said again, his voice steady but dimmed, "we're in Falkreath Hold. A little way from Skyrim's border. We're probably headed for Helgen, if memory serves. They harbor the Empire there, now."
The words meant little.
This wasn't the glade.
There was no mention of Lyre's Rest — no name she knew within weeks of travel.
There was only the ache in her heart and the gnawing weight in her bones.
She almost didn't hear what he said next.
"I'm Ralof, of the Stormcloaks. Before we go to Sovngarde… may I have your name, quiet one?"
He said it softly. No fear in his voice. No suspicion.
Her response was little more than a whisper, almost lost to the wind of the northern pass.
But it felt like even the air had paused to listen.
"Artio."
The name hurt. It always had. But now, spoken aloud in this unfamiliar voice, it drove the dagger deeper still.
She didn't speak again on the ride.
Only looked skyward.
Everything was colder now.
And she felt so small.
--- Bearing Destiny ---
The ride came to an end within a settlement of some sort — large wooden walls encircling the village, tight and well-fortified. Several stone watchtowers dotted the perimeter, lined with men in red leathers and steel armor.
If there was one thing Artio recognized after all these years — it was armor.
That's what warriors wore. What hunters wore.
What she tore and crushed beneath her claws.
But this wasn't armor she knew. Not the shape of it. Not the flares and ridges, the cut of the shoulders or the glint of that unfamiliar symbol. This "Empire" meant nothing to her — but the mark was clear: soldiers. Uniforms. Organized. Repeating.
They were like ants, these men.
You crush ten, and twenty come screaming from the trees.
She heard Ralof mention something — a drink he used to love here, back when he was younger. The words registered only distantly.
The idea that she could eat again, drink again, rang hollow.
It didn't matter. If death came again here — fine.
She'd done her part, hadn't she?
But the thought no longer stoked the fire it used to. It wasn't defiance.
It was just… a realization. A slow truth.
"Silvia would cry for me again, wouldn't she."
The thought flickered with a strange heat — weak, but defiant — and for the first time in hours, it pushed against the cold.
One by one, the prisoners bound in cloth and rope were taken from the cart, jumping down to the stone ground.
When Artio landed, her feet met rough cobble — cold biting into bare skin. Too bare. Her legs, tinged faintly blue, felt thin.
Frail. Human.
Not paws.
Not claws.
Just… feet. And they hurt.
The stone scraped into her. Her breath curled in the cold.
Everything she once had was gone.
And then —
A pang.
Not in her heart — but deep in her chest.
Awareness. Static. Pressure. Like a distant rumble beneath the earth.
Something was coming
Two humans stood before her. One flicking through papers, the other glaring like she'd just spotted a rabid dog.
"I don't care what the list says. She's a monster."
The woman's voice was cold. Dispassionate. But beneath it… satisfaction.
The kind of satisfaction a hunter wears, when they've already drawn the arrow.
When the target has stopped moving.
When there's nothing left but the killing.
The hollow sensation within her flickered- not quite filling but illuminating. The embers of defiance stoked by her sister's tears, latched onto the kindling of spite.
Who was she? To judge Artio on claw and fang alone?
The man in rags who trembled before her visage from before- broke formation and sprinted off onto the cobbled streets of… Helgen? As Rolaf called it. He didn't get very far, before the arrows pierced his spine, and he felt to the floor- quiet, and leaking blood.
A breeze blew through the courtyard, before the woman turned back to them- to Artio.
"Does anyone else feel like running?" She spoke for all of them- but she spoke to Artio. The disdain in her eyes had said all it needed to. It wasn't 'necessary', it was 'just'. And that's all someone like her needed.
The silence was the answer she was expecting, and she pointed towards Artio herself.
"This one goes first. No name, no rights, a rabid beast gets put down." She crossed her arms, expecting her to step forward.
Artio doesn't move. Her feet- cold and scratched as they are- remain rooted to the spot. Her fists clench up- trembling as the tail at the base of her spine lashed back and forth- smacking against the cobbled stone with audible 'thumps'.
The idea of dying again didn't sit well with her… but the idea of being chained to some stone block like an animal and beheaded was even worse. Hunting was fair- in a sense.
The hunted would fight or flee, and the hunter would chase. Either you outfought, outran, or outwitted the opponent and lived, or you didn't, and you died.
But this? There was no fight, there was no challenge, and there was no chance of victory. It was a declaration- and it left her in disbelief.
Silvia? She would have been distraught at the sight, at the very notion of such things. It went against everything she had stood for.
But Artio? She wasn't her sister… she wouldn't talk and try to get them to change her minds. No… she'd get angry. Even as reduced as she was, caught in feeling too much, floundering in a body too small and too cold- that anger begun to flare.
It took a few moments for the imperial guards to work up their nerves- and they grabbed onto her bound arms- dragging Artio forward with relative ease- she wasn't a massive bear right now, was she? She was just a girl- but they only saw the horns.
Each step didn't just sting her skin with cold, but it felt like something was slipping away. A promise draining away between her fingers.
The feeling filled her lungs, as something deep within her pulsed once again. And so, being wrestled down onto a block of stone, as a man raised a pitch black axe over her head- she did what was instinct, she did what she had known since she was a cub, over two hundred and twenty years ago.
She raised her head to the sky, and she roared.
… Something answered.
Original Oneshot: Seal of the Valia
New
AzureAurora
Magic Fan and Blorbo appreciator
- Joined
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- 950
AN: I wrote this one for a uni project two years back, and I decided I may as well put it where someone can read it! ^^
Cerise was actually my inspiration for the profile picture I have now, in fact.
The sound of a kettle filled the air, as Cerise's eyes opened. She blinked blearily; her emerald gaze wandered across the room that served as home for the past two months. The wooden ceiling, a polished bright birch, met her gaze, before she slowly sat up. Then came the lavender-hued walls, shelves lined with potted plants covered the walls, ranging from simple plants of Mint and Sage, to glowing berry bushes of greens and blues, and lilies that faintly shimmered atop the windowsill, basking in the light of the afternoon sun.
Through the clearing haze of sleep, thoughts flowed, and Cerise's hands gripped the mattress lightly. She recalled that this wasn't her teacher's home, the thought followed by a slow inhale, and a heavy breath.
"Cerise, it's going to be okay." She murmured to herself, tone low and faint. Another breath and Cerise stood up, her eyes drifting over to the hairpin that rested on the side-table. She reached over and held the Hairpin up. The bright pink of the accessory had drawn her gaze, as awareness had drawn in memories.
Her mother's warm hands pressed against her cheeks. A kiss to her forehead, for good luck. The words that followed. "You'll always be my sunshine". The last words she ever heard her mother say.
Another breath, eyes pricked with heat, and she fixes the hairpin to her blonde locks. It still felt as warm as the day she received it. Taking several steps along the polished wooden flooring, she made her way to a purple curtain that served as a wall. Once she pushed the fabric to the side, she stepped into a common room of sorts.
The room was spacious, with a similar curtain open on the other side of the clinic, revealing two beds, side tables and shelves lined with books ranging from medical textbooks to grimoires on spell-craft. Cerise shuddered; the phantom aching of many sleepless nights hunched over a book. The memory invited a different sort of stinging sensation to prick at her eyes.
"There's our Mage! You doin' okay, Hun?" Cerise's attention was brought to the source of the whistling kettle, and the voice that accompanied it. Stood at the kitchenette on the right side of the room was a brown-haired woman of slim stature. Marie, healer-mage of Rostrum, gave her a faint smile before setting twin mugs down on the table in the center of the room.
"Oh, uhm- I guess so, yeah. There weren't any nightmares." The 'this time' went unsaid, and yet with the way Marie nodded slowly, she caught Cerise's meaning regardless.
"I'm glad you could have a good nap for once! Now, we're just going to be doing a routine check-up with Lorraine's flock today once I'm done taking inventory. If you're still up for tagging along, of course." Marie spoke, her voice took on a softer tone as she poured the hot water into the mugs; the tea leaves within gradually dispersed. An earthy scent filled the space with the wafting steam, alongside a hint of cinnamon.
Cerise swallowed, suddenly aware of the lump that formed in her throat, and the way her hands wrung the pink sweater she wore. Fingers clenched into the soft fabric, before she nodded.
"I completely forgot- but a healer needs to start healing at some point, right?" She responded with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, as Marie stepped over and handed her the mug of tea.
"Yes, but only when she's ready. I'm all for taking a step forward, but not if it means you will fall. Take things one step at a time, okay?" Marie ruffles Cerise's hair with one hand, as she raised her own mug with the other.
"I guess you're right, thanks Mar- Hey!" She whines, swatting at the woman's hand. The offending limb is pulled back as Marie chortles.
"There's the spark I was looking for. Mind refreshing the Vitae-berry bush while I get ready? Need to make sure the potions are all stocked up." Marie spoke between sips- not that Cerise could blame her, since she had begun sipping her own tea moments later, savoring the herbal teas earthy flavor as the heat trickled into her core.
"I can do that, yeah," came Cerise's reply shortly thereafter, as she allowed the tea's warmth to relax her tense frame. She made her way over to the pot sitting on the central table, where a berry bush sits. A bronze-colored stem rises out of the soil, with dark-green leaves covering most of the stem from view. Holding a hand against the top of the bush, Cerise breathes.
In, and out comes the breaths. Slow and repetitive, in cycles, as she felt the warmth that had lingered inside her for months. The pool of shimmering green Essence nestled within her soul. Slowly tugging at the emerald energy, she feels it curl up her arms, trickle through her fingers, and flow into the bush.
"The cycles come anew, the flowers blossom in the field. Bolstered Harvest" She intones, giving the energy the meaning to make change in the world. She felt the power leave her finger-tips, flow through the bush's branches, and swell at the ends. Her intense gaze watched as an emerald hue filled the buds, before glimmering red berries grew before her eyes.
"There we are." She uttered with a sigh of relief. Hearing Marie's applause behind her, Cerise's cheeks flushed with heat, a visible blush.
"Remarkable! Last time I was teaching you, you were still making berries into paste with that spell! I'm glad your control has improved so much!" she exclaimed, pride filling every inch of her tone before looking left, right, and holding a hand to the side of her face.
"You can totally keep these bushes restocked while you're here, right? Josephs got a full greenhouse, but he's a bit of a miser." She asks in a low voice, only to jump in place as the door swung open.
"Still on poor terms with the merchants, are we Marie?" Came a familiar voice- one that had Cerise spinning on her heel to stare at the entrance of the clinic. A man stood at the doorway, clad in in navy robes, with grey hair tied in a short ponytail, vermillion-colored eyes, and a staff of silver wood. A faintly glowing Vermillion Quartz Crystal hummed on top of the staff, bound in place by spiraling branches.
"Zaral!" Came the reply, although the happy tone of voice quickly became somewhat sour. "Here to steal Cerise away again? Just when I got my free berries? These aren't cheap." Marie asked blithely, giving a perplexed Cerise a one-armed hug.
Zaral let out a snort, as he stepped into the clinic, closing the door behind him with the butt of his staff. "Sounds like someone is still going overboard with potions. But it's nice to see you."
"Master, I thought you'd still be busy for another two weeks." Cerise's voice started to work again, allowing a question to stumble out of her mouth, as she was squeezed into Marie's side.
Zaral's gaze turned to her before he inclined his head in a nod. "You would be correct, but I've got important business to attend to, so I was able to call an old friend of mine in to take care of things."
Marie finally let go of Cerise's shoulder, regarding Zaral with a brow raised in concern. "You? Leaving the Academy early? Is everything alright?"
He shook his head. "I have some business in the capital, and I'd like to take the girl with me. It'd be good practice. Besides- your last letter had startingly little about her progress. How am I supposed to get Cerise her healer's license if she loses her touch?"
Marie's brows furrowed. "Zaral, what are you on about? She's been staying with me because Isabella's passed! I've just gotten Cerise on the mend; I couldn't throw a mountain of work at her and expect anything good to come out of it!"
A sigh left Zaral's lips as he pressed his free thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "Marie, the soft handed approach doesn't always work. If we want her to get better, we can't leave her to her thoughts."
Cerise stood still, glancing back and forth between Marie and Zaral, as they argued like she wasn't even there. She could feel her stomach tighten into a knot. "Uhm-" Cerise was cut off, as Marie spoke again.
"Do you think I've been leaving her in bed all day? We've been talking, I've been giving her tasks to do, and I've been giving her space to process!" Marie's voice grew louder, as she balled her hands into fists, trembling and tensing.
"Stop! Please!" It took Cerise a second to realize that the words left her mouth. She couldn't breathe, each inhale was shallow, and her head was pulsing with waves of nausea. She could feel the knot tightening in her stomach. Both healers' heads snapped towards Cerise.
"Cerise…." Marie started, a hand reaching up to hold her shoulder, only for Cerise to step back.
"I-I'm going to go get some air." She choked out, stepping around her master's taller frame, and forcing the door open.
"Wait." She ignored Zaral's voice as she slammed the door shut behind her, and she walked down the stone-path that guided her from the clinic and onto the main street of rostrum.
What were they thinking? This was the first time she had seen her Master in months- and they started arguing? And then they made it about her? Cerise took a deep breath and wiped her face with her sleeve.
One step after another, she walked. Passed the familiar faces of her neighbors who call Rostrum home. Passed the general store with its checker-marked sign, the forge bellowing out smoke and the chiming of a hammer on metal. Passed the kids running through the streets, and the Merchant guild that kept the trading town from collapsing.
Cerise's attention wasn't on the street, nor the levitating lights that lit up Rostrum when it grew dark. It wasn't on the Swing-set hanging under the old tree by the riverbank, or the setting sun. For her mind was a whirl of memories. When everything was simpler, learning from a man who was stingy with his apprentices, and stingier with his advice.
From one memory, came another. Learning First Aid from Marie, and her first lessons with Zaral. Reminiscing about her first healed patient, a tabby cat that just kept on squirming. Long nights curled up with a book by her mother.
Her memories made the warm afternoon air feel all the colder, more silent. The bustling of people going about their days, faint and distant in her mind, eclipsed by an ache she felt within. What did she want to do? Was she ready to leave? Did she want to spend her whole life in Rostrum? The last thing she would want is to let her mother down. Even just the thought brought a fresh, heated sting to Cerise's eyes, the familiar sensation of hot tears brimming and pricking.
Her thoughts stopped abruptly, as an echoing roar screamed through Rostrum. The windows on the buildings shuddered, as Cerise's spine pushed ramrod straight. Her eyes grew wide, skin pallid and pale, as the air grew heavy.
The town had woken up, parents rushed home to protect their families. The air was heavy with tension, a nauseous slurry of fear and magic. It only took Cerise a second to realize that the source of the power-spike came from behind her, up the footpath and towards the Clinic.
A shockwave emanated from the Clinic, visible from the hill it sat upon. Plumes of smoke erupting upwards, dying the Golden hue of the setting sun an ominous, dull red. She stumbled under the force battering at the windows, sending her hair whipping up behind her before everything grew still. The wind stopped, all Cerise could hear was the ringing in her ears and the blood pumping in her veins.
For a moment, she froze. What was even happening? Did a spell go off? A potion accident? Should she call for Taliah? And then, everything clicked, and the thought of getting Rostrum's sole soldier left her mind. The Clinic- Marie and Zaral would still be in there!
She takes a trembling step forward. Then another, and another. Step after step, she slowly moved towards the building bellowing out smoke and waves of magical energy. With each step, however, it grew harder- as if she waded into a swamp, and then quicksand, and then tar. A stroll that had felt like a blink of an eye became a marathon of will that felt like it had taken hours. Cerise's trembling form gradually making its way up the path, and to the Clinic's front door.
The clinic, a rather short building of lavender colored wood, was flanked by colorful bushes. There was a small garden behind the building, with short hedges marking out the plots. It was all smoldering ablaze. The building's front was gone, and there was a gaping hole in its place, a gap lined with jagged wood.
The harsh ring of clashing steel and wood made Cerise's hair stand on end. A figure wearing black robes and golden scripture lunged at Zaral, his robes fluttering in the wind as he closed in. A blur of crimson and black where his hand surely must be.
The scent of blood and ash was heavy on the breeze, sparks emanating from a blade grinding against the shaft of the stave. It was hard to make out, but the assailant must be using a dagger of some sort. Bursts of flame emanated from the crystalline head of the mage's staff, illuminating the crimson-hued blade in the gloom.
Master Zaral moved minutely, only taking two steps at a time, barely moving his torso out of reach of stabs, and deflecting swipes, letting the dagger catch along the grooves of the staff. And yet a gnawing terror continued to well up in Cerise's chest.
Why wasn't he fleeing? Her master wasn't a battlemage, nor a soldier from the old war.
It was then that she noticed the figure that sat on their knees behind the wizened man, the same cheerful woman that she had known her whole life. Marie, clutching a hand around her bleeding arm, the tell-tale lavender light of her essence slowly stitching together a wound spewing blood.
Why wouldn't she be here!? Stupid- Cerise took a deep breath, she can berate herself later. What can she do now? Biting her lip, Cerise glanced over at Marie, and then at her master- and the lunatic trying to disembowel him. Perhaps she could give them some cover?
"Not Bad old man, but you should've really traveled with a guard." Came the voice of a relatively young man, only slightly muffled by the cowl covering his face. Despite the gruff lilt of exertion, his voice dripped with confidence and… humor? Who would be so casual about a fight like this?
As soon as the last syllable left his lips, the figure's dagger lashed out again, locked between the grip and the spire of wood at the top of the staff.
"As if… I need to waste someone else's time with someone like you… I've lost enough already!" A grunt of exertion was followed by a glow enveloping the staff in vermillion light. Wrenching his assailant's arms upwards with a swing, the mage slammed his staff into the man's gullet, pushing him backwards a good five steps, gasping for breath.
"Guh! I guess the boss's mark was well placed, that's on me." The figure grunted out, and the pressure that filled the air gradually grew heavier.
"It's a pain, but I guess one curse won't do. Let's go for… five." The tension in the air grew sharper, the weight intensifying with it. If it was like tar before, now it felt like solid stone pushing down on Cerise's body. Her knees wobbled, and then buckled, bringing her to the ground. As a torrent of dark miasma emanated from the robed figure, he slowly straightened, twirling the dagger in his grip with a flourish.
Cerise drew in a breath, now or never. He may notice her- but it's pointless if her master's already dead! Desperately, Cerise snatched seeds from her sweater pocket, and plunged her hands into the path beneath her, fingers cut against the rock, scraping as they dug into the soil and grass peeking around it.
She prodded at the pool of essence that resided in her soul for the second time that day. It felt sluggish under the weight of the curse. Cerise gritted her teeth, her heart pounding in her ears, any moment now her mentor could be killed!
Her desperation poured into the pool, which began to churn violently, rushing into her body. A gentle emerald light that began to grow brighter. Racing down her arms, and into the soil beneath her. Her essence surged, pushed, prepared.
"Grow, I declare. Grow, I plead. Create a forest before me, fill the earth, fill the skies, boundless life shall arise! Bolstered Growth!" Cerise's voice rose with each word, the shout heaving from her lungs, a battle-cry. Words infused with intent brought forth meaning, and that meaning brought forth power. The glow suffusing her hands dove deep into the ground, sprawling out in swirling lines of energy. It wouldn't make it in time- she glanced up to see the dagger crashing down on a semi-spherical wall of essence.
The glowing vermillion barrier already cracked, hairline fractures sprawling across the shield of energy. It shrank gradually, funneling energy into that one point of contact, but her mentor's arms were trembling. Evidently, he struggled like she did.
Both of their heads snap in her direction, and Cerise almost felt her heart stop. She could clearly feel the gaze resting on her form, like that of a hungry predator. Everything grew cold, and all she could feel was Death. A promise to send her soul to the void, she couldn't think- she couldn't move. She was paralyzed with fear.
That eternity was only two seconds, but it was enough. The barrier broke, the dagger plunged into her teacher's chest. She screamed, pouring every ounce of her essence into the spell she began. The snaking lines of magic rocketed forward, growing brighter and brighter, before finally converging between the two combatants.
An emerald flash, a spray of soil, and a tree grew- no, flew out of the ground, it smashed into the assailant's gut. The force had sent him into the crumbling wall of the clinic with a sharp cough, as a wall of foliage bloomed around the injured pair.
"Ugh… again? That's just cruel." The man let out a chuckle as he slowly staggered to his feet again. "Trying to help an old man, eh? It's a shame, good girls shouldn't be out after dark."
Ragged gasps left Cerise's throat hoarse, as she began to crawl towards the barrier of foliage. The pressure weighing on her had waned, but her trembling limbs ached with each movement, cold with the absence of Essence.
She could hear the footsteps close in on her, almost in sync with her heaving breaths. "You got guts kid, but guts aren't enough."
A hand wrapped around her neck, and it squeezed. It was tight, painfully so. Firm and unyielding, like iron bands that dug into her skin. "Pops has my knife, I guess you'll need to settle for something more intimate. "
Cerise coughed, she couldn't breathe- no, worse. She could feel the way his grip crushed her windpipe, weak squeaks and rasps leaving her as he squeezed the air out of her. Her mind grew hazy with pain, sluggish with the lack of air. Her vision swam with darkness. If nothing else, at least she'll be able to see her mother soon…
And then her world exploded, heat blanketing her skin, as the hand was torn off her throat, allowing the searing hot air to fill her lungs. It hurt- but air was air. It left her heaving on the floor, whimpering as another hand gently pressed against her bruised throat as she wheezed.
"I've got you dear." Whispered Marie, pulling Cerise's shaking body over to her. That same lavender glow began to ease the pain in her throat.
"W…Wha…" Cerise rasped, voice faint as her throat burned.
"Shhh, it'll be okay." Marie spoke. Although her tone was filled with relieved, it was also… incredibly somber.
Despite the response, Cerise's attention was fixated on the figure standing in the remnants of her impromptu floral barrier. Master Zaral, surrounded in a corona of flame, sparks of various colors surrounding his body in a halo. His robe flung open by a swirling wind, which revealed a pair of baggy pants, taped to his slim frame. And a dagger-sized puncture wound, which gushed purple blood.
"Sloppy work, but I thank you." Came her master's voice, quiet, solemn, and yet unyielding. He walked towards them, dropping his stave onto her lap, and planting a hand on her head, gently ruffling her hair. Within moments, the Crystal's vermillion glow faded… and it begun pulsing in a faint, gentle green.
"You silly, silly girl. You shouldn't have come, but I should've known you would. No matter how you feel, you can't close your heart can you?"
Cerise stared up at her mentor with incomprehension, what was he saying?
"What happened with Isabelle wasn't fair, and it won't get easier. The path you are walking on will be filled with mistakes, regrets, and pain. But that isn't all you will see- the light? The joy? Clasp it tight. Protect it, and it will protect you in turn. You'll have to go on that journey without me."
Cerise was speechless, trembling, tears welling up in her eyes yet again.
"Keep that staff safe, and read the letter that's marked for you, okay? It's important."
She nodded woodenly. And yet he shook his head, kneeling- and all she could see was the hole right beside his heart. Two hands grasped her cheeks, and sparking eyes pierced her soul.
"Promise me three things. One, read the letter addressed to you, and keep the second safe. Two, keep that staff on you, it belongs to you now. Three, smile for me, okay?"
The gnawing feeling in her stomach grew worse, and the tears began to run down her cheeks. "O-Okay," she rasped, even as Marie's arms gently looped around her in a hug. A smile formed on her face, it trembled, fixed and lopsided. Her master nodded, and he turned, facing the figure that slowly staggered to his feet once again.
"You enkindled yourself!? Do you have a death-wish?" Came the voice of the figure, robes and skin burned charcoal black.
"Not many other options when I'm dealing with an 'Elder Disciple' Choking out my successor." All he got in response was a dry rasping laugh.
Zaral glanced back at Cerise and nodded. "It's time for your final lesson, Cerise Valliere." And with a step, he was gone. A vermillion streak of flame flew forward like a falling star, smashing into the robed figure, and straight through the clinic a second time. The rumbling crash, like a giant striking the earth.
"E-Enkindle?" Cerise whimpered, as Marie let out a sob.
"I-I'm so sorry Cerise... He… He set his life Ablaze."
In the distance behind them- shining through the hole in the wall, came a light, like the second coming of the dusk. As one sun set, another bloomed behind them- and yet it would be as brief as a candle in the breeze.
Silence drew on. Seconds passing into minutes as Cerise sat there. Disbelief warring with fear.
Until Rostrum's lone soldier, Taliah, approached in worn leather armor. Thick brunette hair swayed in the smoke-stained breeze. A bundle of cloth held in her arms, still steaming with fresh heat. The towering woman knelt; her steel grey eyes closed as she exhaled.
"Cerise…" The woman didn't have to say anything else. A bronze hand holding hers gently pushed the master's cloak into her arms. The familiar scent of Vitaeberry extract and Cinnamon filled her nose, at war with the acrid smoke and flame.
Sitting in a ruin, by a quiet soldier, and in the arms of a family friend. Cerise lost both her mother and her mentor, but a spark flickered among the ashes of grief. Through the tears, Cerise barely recognized the blurry shape of twin letters that appeared atop the staff in a flash of vermillion flame. Tears dripped onto the parchment, as the letters slowly came into focus. One letter bore the words 'Cerise, I'm sorry'. and the other… the Seal of the Valia, The Royal Family.
AN: To be entirely honest, I completely forgot like 90% of the elements in this one, but I think it turned out pretty well ^^
Cerise was actually my inspiration for the profile picture I have now, in fact.
Seal of the Valia
Through the clearing haze of sleep, thoughts flowed, and Cerise's hands gripped the mattress lightly. She recalled that this wasn't her teacher's home, the thought followed by a slow inhale, and a heavy breath.
"Cerise, it's going to be okay." She murmured to herself, tone low and faint. Another breath and Cerise stood up, her eyes drifting over to the hairpin that rested on the side-table. She reached over and held the Hairpin up. The bright pink of the accessory had drawn her gaze, as awareness had drawn in memories.
Her mother's warm hands pressed against her cheeks. A kiss to her forehead, for good luck. The words that followed. "You'll always be my sunshine". The last words she ever heard her mother say.
Another breath, eyes pricked with heat, and she fixes the hairpin to her blonde locks. It still felt as warm as the day she received it. Taking several steps along the polished wooden flooring, she made her way to a purple curtain that served as a wall. Once she pushed the fabric to the side, she stepped into a common room of sorts.
The room was spacious, with a similar curtain open on the other side of the clinic, revealing two beds, side tables and shelves lined with books ranging from medical textbooks to grimoires on spell-craft. Cerise shuddered; the phantom aching of many sleepless nights hunched over a book. The memory invited a different sort of stinging sensation to prick at her eyes.
"There's our Mage! You doin' okay, Hun?" Cerise's attention was brought to the source of the whistling kettle, and the voice that accompanied it. Stood at the kitchenette on the right side of the room was a brown-haired woman of slim stature. Marie, healer-mage of Rostrum, gave her a faint smile before setting twin mugs down on the table in the center of the room.
"Oh, uhm- I guess so, yeah. There weren't any nightmares." The 'this time' went unsaid, and yet with the way Marie nodded slowly, she caught Cerise's meaning regardless.
"I'm glad you could have a good nap for once! Now, we're just going to be doing a routine check-up with Lorraine's flock today once I'm done taking inventory. If you're still up for tagging along, of course." Marie spoke, her voice took on a softer tone as she poured the hot water into the mugs; the tea leaves within gradually dispersed. An earthy scent filled the space with the wafting steam, alongside a hint of cinnamon.
Cerise swallowed, suddenly aware of the lump that formed in her throat, and the way her hands wrung the pink sweater she wore. Fingers clenched into the soft fabric, before she nodded.
"I completely forgot- but a healer needs to start healing at some point, right?" She responded with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, as Marie stepped over and handed her the mug of tea.
"Yes, but only when she's ready. I'm all for taking a step forward, but not if it means you will fall. Take things one step at a time, okay?" Marie ruffles Cerise's hair with one hand, as she raised her own mug with the other.
"I guess you're right, thanks Mar- Hey!" She whines, swatting at the woman's hand. The offending limb is pulled back as Marie chortles.
"There's the spark I was looking for. Mind refreshing the Vitae-berry bush while I get ready? Need to make sure the potions are all stocked up." Marie spoke between sips- not that Cerise could blame her, since she had begun sipping her own tea moments later, savoring the herbal teas earthy flavor as the heat trickled into her core.
"I can do that, yeah," came Cerise's reply shortly thereafter, as she allowed the tea's warmth to relax her tense frame. She made her way over to the pot sitting on the central table, where a berry bush sits. A bronze-colored stem rises out of the soil, with dark-green leaves covering most of the stem from view. Holding a hand against the top of the bush, Cerise breathes.
In, and out comes the breaths. Slow and repetitive, in cycles, as she felt the warmth that had lingered inside her for months. The pool of shimmering green Essence nestled within her soul. Slowly tugging at the emerald energy, she feels it curl up her arms, trickle through her fingers, and flow into the bush.
"The cycles come anew, the flowers blossom in the field. Bolstered Harvest" She intones, giving the energy the meaning to make change in the world. She felt the power leave her finger-tips, flow through the bush's branches, and swell at the ends. Her intense gaze watched as an emerald hue filled the buds, before glimmering red berries grew before her eyes.
"There we are." She uttered with a sigh of relief. Hearing Marie's applause behind her, Cerise's cheeks flushed with heat, a visible blush.
"Remarkable! Last time I was teaching you, you were still making berries into paste with that spell! I'm glad your control has improved so much!" she exclaimed, pride filling every inch of her tone before looking left, right, and holding a hand to the side of her face.
"You can totally keep these bushes restocked while you're here, right? Josephs got a full greenhouse, but he's a bit of a miser." She asks in a low voice, only to jump in place as the door swung open.
"Still on poor terms with the merchants, are we Marie?" Came a familiar voice- one that had Cerise spinning on her heel to stare at the entrance of the clinic. A man stood at the doorway, clad in in navy robes, with grey hair tied in a short ponytail, vermillion-colored eyes, and a staff of silver wood. A faintly glowing Vermillion Quartz Crystal hummed on top of the staff, bound in place by spiraling branches.
"Zaral!" Came the reply, although the happy tone of voice quickly became somewhat sour. "Here to steal Cerise away again? Just when I got my free berries? These aren't cheap." Marie asked blithely, giving a perplexed Cerise a one-armed hug.
Zaral let out a snort, as he stepped into the clinic, closing the door behind him with the butt of his staff. "Sounds like someone is still going overboard with potions. But it's nice to see you."
"Master, I thought you'd still be busy for another two weeks." Cerise's voice started to work again, allowing a question to stumble out of her mouth, as she was squeezed into Marie's side.
Zaral's gaze turned to her before he inclined his head in a nod. "You would be correct, but I've got important business to attend to, so I was able to call an old friend of mine in to take care of things."
Marie finally let go of Cerise's shoulder, regarding Zaral with a brow raised in concern. "You? Leaving the Academy early? Is everything alright?"
He shook his head. "I have some business in the capital, and I'd like to take the girl with me. It'd be good practice. Besides- your last letter had startingly little about her progress. How am I supposed to get Cerise her healer's license if she loses her touch?"
Marie's brows furrowed. "Zaral, what are you on about? She's been staying with me because Isabella's passed! I've just gotten Cerise on the mend; I couldn't throw a mountain of work at her and expect anything good to come out of it!"
A sigh left Zaral's lips as he pressed his free thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "Marie, the soft handed approach doesn't always work. If we want her to get better, we can't leave her to her thoughts."
Cerise stood still, glancing back and forth between Marie and Zaral, as they argued like she wasn't even there. She could feel her stomach tighten into a knot. "Uhm-" Cerise was cut off, as Marie spoke again.
"Do you think I've been leaving her in bed all day? We've been talking, I've been giving her tasks to do, and I've been giving her space to process!" Marie's voice grew louder, as she balled her hands into fists, trembling and tensing.
"Stop! Please!" It took Cerise a second to realize that the words left her mouth. She couldn't breathe, each inhale was shallow, and her head was pulsing with waves of nausea. She could feel the knot tightening in her stomach. Both healers' heads snapped towards Cerise.
"Cerise…." Marie started, a hand reaching up to hold her shoulder, only for Cerise to step back.
"I-I'm going to go get some air." She choked out, stepping around her master's taller frame, and forcing the door open.
"Wait." She ignored Zaral's voice as she slammed the door shut behind her, and she walked down the stone-path that guided her from the clinic and onto the main street of rostrum.
What were they thinking? This was the first time she had seen her Master in months- and they started arguing? And then they made it about her? Cerise took a deep breath and wiped her face with her sleeve.
One step after another, she walked. Passed the familiar faces of her neighbors who call Rostrum home. Passed the general store with its checker-marked sign, the forge bellowing out smoke and the chiming of a hammer on metal. Passed the kids running through the streets, and the Merchant guild that kept the trading town from collapsing.
Cerise's attention wasn't on the street, nor the levitating lights that lit up Rostrum when it grew dark. It wasn't on the Swing-set hanging under the old tree by the riverbank, or the setting sun. For her mind was a whirl of memories. When everything was simpler, learning from a man who was stingy with his apprentices, and stingier with his advice.
From one memory, came another. Learning First Aid from Marie, and her first lessons with Zaral. Reminiscing about her first healed patient, a tabby cat that just kept on squirming. Long nights curled up with a book by her mother.
Her memories made the warm afternoon air feel all the colder, more silent. The bustling of people going about their days, faint and distant in her mind, eclipsed by an ache she felt within. What did she want to do? Was she ready to leave? Did she want to spend her whole life in Rostrum? The last thing she would want is to let her mother down. Even just the thought brought a fresh, heated sting to Cerise's eyes, the familiar sensation of hot tears brimming and pricking.
Her thoughts stopped abruptly, as an echoing roar screamed through Rostrum. The windows on the buildings shuddered, as Cerise's spine pushed ramrod straight. Her eyes grew wide, skin pallid and pale, as the air grew heavy.
The town had woken up, parents rushed home to protect their families. The air was heavy with tension, a nauseous slurry of fear and magic. It only took Cerise a second to realize that the source of the power-spike came from behind her, up the footpath and towards the Clinic.
A shockwave emanated from the Clinic, visible from the hill it sat upon. Plumes of smoke erupting upwards, dying the Golden hue of the setting sun an ominous, dull red. She stumbled under the force battering at the windows, sending her hair whipping up behind her before everything grew still. The wind stopped, all Cerise could hear was the ringing in her ears and the blood pumping in her veins.
For a moment, she froze. What was even happening? Did a spell go off? A potion accident? Should she call for Taliah? And then, everything clicked, and the thought of getting Rostrum's sole soldier left her mind. The Clinic- Marie and Zaral would still be in there!
She takes a trembling step forward. Then another, and another. Step after step, she slowly moved towards the building bellowing out smoke and waves of magical energy. With each step, however, it grew harder- as if she waded into a swamp, and then quicksand, and then tar. A stroll that had felt like a blink of an eye became a marathon of will that felt like it had taken hours. Cerise's trembling form gradually making its way up the path, and to the Clinic's front door.
The clinic, a rather short building of lavender colored wood, was flanked by colorful bushes. There was a small garden behind the building, with short hedges marking out the plots. It was all smoldering ablaze. The building's front was gone, and there was a gaping hole in its place, a gap lined with jagged wood.
The harsh ring of clashing steel and wood made Cerise's hair stand on end. A figure wearing black robes and golden scripture lunged at Zaral, his robes fluttering in the wind as he closed in. A blur of crimson and black where his hand surely must be.
The scent of blood and ash was heavy on the breeze, sparks emanating from a blade grinding against the shaft of the stave. It was hard to make out, but the assailant must be using a dagger of some sort. Bursts of flame emanated from the crystalline head of the mage's staff, illuminating the crimson-hued blade in the gloom.
Master Zaral moved minutely, only taking two steps at a time, barely moving his torso out of reach of stabs, and deflecting swipes, letting the dagger catch along the grooves of the staff. And yet a gnawing terror continued to well up in Cerise's chest.
Why wasn't he fleeing? Her master wasn't a battlemage, nor a soldier from the old war.
It was then that she noticed the figure that sat on their knees behind the wizened man, the same cheerful woman that she had known her whole life. Marie, clutching a hand around her bleeding arm, the tell-tale lavender light of her essence slowly stitching together a wound spewing blood.
Why wouldn't she be here!? Stupid- Cerise took a deep breath, she can berate herself later. What can she do now? Biting her lip, Cerise glanced over at Marie, and then at her master- and the lunatic trying to disembowel him. Perhaps she could give them some cover?
"Not Bad old man, but you should've really traveled with a guard." Came the voice of a relatively young man, only slightly muffled by the cowl covering his face. Despite the gruff lilt of exertion, his voice dripped with confidence and… humor? Who would be so casual about a fight like this?
As soon as the last syllable left his lips, the figure's dagger lashed out again, locked between the grip and the spire of wood at the top of the staff.
"As if… I need to waste someone else's time with someone like you… I've lost enough already!" A grunt of exertion was followed by a glow enveloping the staff in vermillion light. Wrenching his assailant's arms upwards with a swing, the mage slammed his staff into the man's gullet, pushing him backwards a good five steps, gasping for breath.
"Guh! I guess the boss's mark was well placed, that's on me." The figure grunted out, and the pressure that filled the air gradually grew heavier.
"It's a pain, but I guess one curse won't do. Let's go for… five." The tension in the air grew sharper, the weight intensifying with it. If it was like tar before, now it felt like solid stone pushing down on Cerise's body. Her knees wobbled, and then buckled, bringing her to the ground. As a torrent of dark miasma emanated from the robed figure, he slowly straightened, twirling the dagger in his grip with a flourish.
Cerise drew in a breath, now or never. He may notice her- but it's pointless if her master's already dead! Desperately, Cerise snatched seeds from her sweater pocket, and plunged her hands into the path beneath her, fingers cut against the rock, scraping as they dug into the soil and grass peeking around it.
She prodded at the pool of essence that resided in her soul for the second time that day. It felt sluggish under the weight of the curse. Cerise gritted her teeth, her heart pounding in her ears, any moment now her mentor could be killed!
Her desperation poured into the pool, which began to churn violently, rushing into her body. A gentle emerald light that began to grow brighter. Racing down her arms, and into the soil beneath her. Her essence surged, pushed, prepared.
"Grow, I declare. Grow, I plead. Create a forest before me, fill the earth, fill the skies, boundless life shall arise! Bolstered Growth!" Cerise's voice rose with each word, the shout heaving from her lungs, a battle-cry. Words infused with intent brought forth meaning, and that meaning brought forth power. The glow suffusing her hands dove deep into the ground, sprawling out in swirling lines of energy. It wouldn't make it in time- she glanced up to see the dagger crashing down on a semi-spherical wall of essence.
The glowing vermillion barrier already cracked, hairline fractures sprawling across the shield of energy. It shrank gradually, funneling energy into that one point of contact, but her mentor's arms were trembling. Evidently, he struggled like she did.
Both of their heads snap in her direction, and Cerise almost felt her heart stop. She could clearly feel the gaze resting on her form, like that of a hungry predator. Everything grew cold, and all she could feel was Death. A promise to send her soul to the void, she couldn't think- she couldn't move. She was paralyzed with fear.
That eternity was only two seconds, but it was enough. The barrier broke, the dagger plunged into her teacher's chest. She screamed, pouring every ounce of her essence into the spell she began. The snaking lines of magic rocketed forward, growing brighter and brighter, before finally converging between the two combatants.
An emerald flash, a spray of soil, and a tree grew- no, flew out of the ground, it smashed into the assailant's gut. The force had sent him into the crumbling wall of the clinic with a sharp cough, as a wall of foliage bloomed around the injured pair.
"Ugh… again? That's just cruel." The man let out a chuckle as he slowly staggered to his feet again. "Trying to help an old man, eh? It's a shame, good girls shouldn't be out after dark."
Ragged gasps left Cerise's throat hoarse, as she began to crawl towards the barrier of foliage. The pressure weighing on her had waned, but her trembling limbs ached with each movement, cold with the absence of Essence.
She could hear the footsteps close in on her, almost in sync with her heaving breaths. "You got guts kid, but guts aren't enough."
A hand wrapped around her neck, and it squeezed. It was tight, painfully so. Firm and unyielding, like iron bands that dug into her skin. "Pops has my knife, I guess you'll need to settle for something more intimate. "
Cerise coughed, she couldn't breathe- no, worse. She could feel the way his grip crushed her windpipe, weak squeaks and rasps leaving her as he squeezed the air out of her. Her mind grew hazy with pain, sluggish with the lack of air. Her vision swam with darkness. If nothing else, at least she'll be able to see her mother soon…
And then her world exploded, heat blanketing her skin, as the hand was torn off her throat, allowing the searing hot air to fill her lungs. It hurt- but air was air. It left her heaving on the floor, whimpering as another hand gently pressed against her bruised throat as she wheezed.
"I've got you dear." Whispered Marie, pulling Cerise's shaking body over to her. That same lavender glow began to ease the pain in her throat.
"W…Wha…" Cerise rasped, voice faint as her throat burned.
"Shhh, it'll be okay." Marie spoke. Although her tone was filled with relieved, it was also… incredibly somber.
Despite the response, Cerise's attention was fixated on the figure standing in the remnants of her impromptu floral barrier. Master Zaral, surrounded in a corona of flame, sparks of various colors surrounding his body in a halo. His robe flung open by a swirling wind, which revealed a pair of baggy pants, taped to his slim frame. And a dagger-sized puncture wound, which gushed purple blood.
"Sloppy work, but I thank you." Came her master's voice, quiet, solemn, and yet unyielding. He walked towards them, dropping his stave onto her lap, and planting a hand on her head, gently ruffling her hair. Within moments, the Crystal's vermillion glow faded… and it begun pulsing in a faint, gentle green.
"You silly, silly girl. You shouldn't have come, but I should've known you would. No matter how you feel, you can't close your heart can you?"
Cerise stared up at her mentor with incomprehension, what was he saying?
"What happened with Isabelle wasn't fair, and it won't get easier. The path you are walking on will be filled with mistakes, regrets, and pain. But that isn't all you will see- the light? The joy? Clasp it tight. Protect it, and it will protect you in turn. You'll have to go on that journey without me."
Cerise was speechless, trembling, tears welling up in her eyes yet again.
"Keep that staff safe, and read the letter that's marked for you, okay? It's important."
She nodded woodenly. And yet he shook his head, kneeling- and all she could see was the hole right beside his heart. Two hands grasped her cheeks, and sparking eyes pierced her soul.
"Promise me three things. One, read the letter addressed to you, and keep the second safe. Two, keep that staff on you, it belongs to you now. Three, smile for me, okay?"
The gnawing feeling in her stomach grew worse, and the tears began to run down her cheeks. "O-Okay," she rasped, even as Marie's arms gently looped around her in a hug. A smile formed on her face, it trembled, fixed and lopsided. Her master nodded, and he turned, facing the figure that slowly staggered to his feet once again.
"You enkindled yourself!? Do you have a death-wish?" Came the voice of the figure, robes and skin burned charcoal black.
"Not many other options when I'm dealing with an 'Elder Disciple' Choking out my successor." All he got in response was a dry rasping laugh.
Zaral glanced back at Cerise and nodded. "It's time for your final lesson, Cerise Valliere." And with a step, he was gone. A vermillion streak of flame flew forward like a falling star, smashing into the robed figure, and straight through the clinic a second time. The rumbling crash, like a giant striking the earth.
"E-Enkindle?" Cerise whimpered, as Marie let out a sob.
"I-I'm so sorry Cerise... He… He set his life Ablaze."
In the distance behind them- shining through the hole in the wall, came a light, like the second coming of the dusk. As one sun set, another bloomed behind them- and yet it would be as brief as a candle in the breeze.
Silence drew on. Seconds passing into minutes as Cerise sat there. Disbelief warring with fear.
Until Rostrum's lone soldier, Taliah, approached in worn leather armor. Thick brunette hair swayed in the smoke-stained breeze. A bundle of cloth held in her arms, still steaming with fresh heat. The towering woman knelt; her steel grey eyes closed as she exhaled.
"Cerise…" The woman didn't have to say anything else. A bronze hand holding hers gently pushed the master's cloak into her arms. The familiar scent of Vitaeberry extract and Cinnamon filled her nose, at war with the acrid smoke and flame.
Sitting in a ruin, by a quiet soldier, and in the arms of a family friend. Cerise lost both her mother and her mentor, but a spark flickered among the ashes of grief. Through the tears, Cerise barely recognized the blurry shape of twin letters that appeared atop the staff in a flash of vermillion flame. Tears dripped onto the parchment, as the letters slowly came into focus. One letter bore the words 'Cerise, I'm sorry'. and the other… the Seal of the Valia, The Royal Family.
AN: To be entirely honest, I completely forgot like 90% of the elements in this one, but I think it turned out pretty well ^^
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