Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 4:36 pm**

1st-7th of Glade, 121

Furrowed brows framed the freckled face of the ginger as her carriage door opened. It was warm. The air still smelled like the remnants of Frost, but there was a new type of chill in the air. The type of chill when you feel someone watching you from the shadows, or from an oncoming storm that taints the air with a sickly sweet musk. It was the type of chill that had stayed with her since the door locked her inside of Havershims estate. And she wanted it gone. But it wouldn't go away. It had followed her from the hospital to the palace and now home.

With a soft sigh Fawn took the hand of the palace escort and stepped down from the carriage onto the cobblestone below. Had the streets always been so uneven under her feet? She turned to thank the man briefly. He simply bowed to her, a look of worry behind his brow that she recognized as the same emotion directed at her for the past 53 days; pity. She hated it. It churned her gut as she watched him and the carriage ride off back down the pathway towards the palace.

When the sound of hooves clopping against stone could no longer be heard Fawn turned back to the shop and stared at it for a long while. A few people passed her by, and though many might have simply bumped into her some strange aura around her seemed to clue them in to her presence before they collided, and they instead rushed to avoid her with more pitiful expressions. That alone sent the girl quickly reaching for the doorknob and yanking it straight back. Much like her first day there the door was nearly slammed behind her as she rushed through the hallway and up towards the room she had been allowed to call her own. If Lyra was there she made no gesture of welcome, no noise of greeting, and trudged up the stairs without much care for her well being as she bumped clumsily into the doorframe at the top. Her ribs were healed of course, at least enough to go back to normal life, but they'd still advised her to take it easy for another few to make sure the fractures had healed completely. That, and old fractures are often easy to re-splinter.

But somehow the pain was welcomed from her. The delicate care by the palace guards had made her feel fragile. Of course, she had been, but inside she burned to feel something. Perhaps that was why she had enjoyed the baths so much- the water always just slightly too hot, and though the maids had helped her scrub dirt from her skin the memory was not so easily cleaned.
As she slipped into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, she locked it. A quick moment later and she unlocked it though. Something about that specific sound had felt like snakes in her chest and stomach, coiling and slithering through her with the memory of Havershim. With the lock of the door. With the feeling of lightening-

And now, no longer juiced up on the palace herbs to curb her anxiety, she fell onto the bed in a heap of sobs.

Seven days passed. Each day feeling longer than the last, and for most of them she did not move. The first two days were spent staring out of her window and scratching the skin on her arm where a small scar had formed. She could have prevented it, used the ointment and paste Lyra had somehow left in the palace for her to keep the scar at bay much like she'd used on the rest of her body. But no. Fawn wanted just one scar, one mark to remind her to never become that weak again.

On the third day she finally emerged for food. Though she didn't make much, a simple hunk of bread not warmed nor buttered and a glass of water that was left half finished upon her bedside table even upon the fourth day, where she thankfully ate more than just bread. Berries, if she remembered correctly, and some cheese. After the first day she hadn't been heard crying. Instead she was silent, as if made of stone.

But that changed on the seventh day. It was morning, just past 9am and she frozen to the ground of the library reading the same trilogy of books on Kalzasi's nobility that she'd been reading for the past four days. Perhaps it was some way of her finding reasoning for his actions, or maybe to laugh in spite at how far he had fallen from noble to slaughtered- but some part of her wanted to know his history. Make sense of it all. But she found nothing more than small mentions of his name in relation to barely notable events. Both him and his family were so painfully normal, at least as far as nobles go. In the end all he was was a collector of rare artifacts and inflated ego. And that fact alone made him seem so much more human than he had been before. He shouldn't be. He couldn't be. But yet he was, so painfully normal it sickened her.

Her fingers clutched the edges of the book as angry, hateful tears welled up in her eyes. With tensed, shaking arms she let out a scream loud enough it shook the window pane and threw the book across the room. It hit the floor and skidded, pages benting and ripping as it hit the back wall and knocked a few more books from their shelf. Her mind exploded and in that moment she took both other books on Kalzasi Nobility and began ripping page after page out of the book until all that remained were crumples of paper and hot tears surrounding her. She hated him. She wanted to kill him. But he wasn't alive, and she was too weak to do anything even if he was.

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 5:19 pm**

Lyra had been aware of the situation as it played out. She knew of the girl's struggle, her pain, and her recovery in the care of her student. She knew that when she returned she would be different. It simply was to be expected. So, as anyone might, Lyra gave the woman space. She said little and did little more than leave out more ointment and tea for the girl, though day after day she checked to see that neither was used. There was annoyance there, yet still, she kept her piece. The pain was a difficult emotion to control, especially for one so young, so inexperienced.

Seven days passed, and from time to time Lyra would hear her above. Moving, sometimes crying. Through the symphonies, she could hear the melodies as they churned in confusing, asynchronous rhythms. Though she thought to give what little comfort she could, Lyra did not. It was not her place, and in truth, it in some ways was a good thing. Now she would stay, locked away as Lyra desired, safe from the world and where she could keep an eye on her.

You really should say something to her. Naila said for what was perhaps the third time that day.

Lyra shrugged, eyes still focused on the mixture of herbs she was slowly grinding in the bowl in front of her, You know as well as I that there are no words to assist. We would be nothing but an addition to her discomfort.

She thought the words, even if she did not truly feel them. Naila, seeming to pick up on this, pressed further, You've gone through something similar right? Why not share your experience?

Is that what you think? Lyra asked, amused, Child, the trials of one such as I cannot be compared to the trivialities you mortals call important.

In their soul space, Naila rolled her eyes and flicked a rude gesture upward. Lyra chose to ignore her and instead began adding in a few new leaves to the concoctions. The silence stretched on as the only sound was the steady grinding of Lyra's tool in the bowl.

I do not remember. Lyra said finally, dumping the bowl into a pot of boiling water beside her.

Remember what?

I do not remember what it is like to feel pain as she does.

There was another long pause, and then Naila asked, slightly bemused, What does that mean? You may be as old as dirt, but you were still just a girl once right?

With a sigh Lyra turned and rested back against the workbench, staring at the stairs that lead up to her shop. It was... difficult to put into words, but she tried.

Once, perhaps, I was just as you, as that girl. Naila, I am older than most of your histories, older than kingdoms, older than some gods. She had not shared this with Naila before, and in truth, she didn't know why she was now, I was there when the world could be bent by the will of mortals when Gods walked the world to sire their children. I was there when the Dragons were young, and what you call 'wonders' were simply common practice. I am old, and my soul is shattered. Parts of me that might have understood, are gone from me now and what is left is what you see.

Several times Naila tried to speak but grew silent. Shaking her head Lyra glanced over her shoulder as the sound of steam alerted her that the tea was finished. She took the teapot and began to make her way steadily up the stairs.

So... are you saying you can't imagine what it is like to go through what she is?

In part. Lyra agreed as they stepped into the workshop, Though I can still empathize. The Symphonies tell me much, and the years I do recall give some perspective. But to me, things such as this feel so utterly...

Small. Naila finished with an annoyed sigh. They walked through the shop, pausing at the foot of the stairs that lead to the apartment that Fawn currently used.

I once ended an entire family line for slighting me. Lyra said as she began to slowly take the stairs step by step, I tore their family apart from the inside, filled them with my whispers until they committed such heinous acts to each other that they were ostracized and burned for their immorality. I had their youngest stand before the pyre, leading the crowds in the slaughter only to later have him executed years later by the woman he loved.

Open disgust and disbelief washed through their link, What the fuck?

As I said, Lyra smiled as she stepped out into the main room, just in time to hear Fawn scream followed by the shattering of glass. Her smile faded as she walked toward the library, I struggle to understand the ways of your kind.

The sight that greeted Lyra made her frown deepen until it was like it was etched in stone. Goldeyes stared down at the torn-out pages, glazing over the broken glass before finally locking onto Fawn. Irritation, annoyance, and several other distinct emotions fluttered through Lyra's mind as she looked at the woman. Opening herself though Lyra felt it, hate, rage, and a mixture of other emotions that were not quite so foreign to Lyra herself. She did not speak for a long moment, simply looking around at the mess. When Fawn finally paused long enough to notice her Lyra would raise the teapot, looking into Fawn's eyes where her displeasure was evident.

"I made tea." Her voice was soft, cold as she glanced at the pot before turning, "Come."

It wasn't a request. Without thought Lyra sent a powerful wave of compulsion, pulling, demanding Fawn follow. She snuffed out the anger and rage but left the rest of the emotions alone. As she passed the table she would motion to it.

"Sit." This word was laced with another dose of mesmer, a thrumming demand that pounded the mind like drums in the background. Lyra pushed aside disobedient emotions, her own irritation plain in her movements as she poured the tea into a cup and set it before Fawn. Lyra would take the seat Opposite Fawn, carefully folding her hands in her lap and crossing her legs as she stared at the girl. She would then remain quiet, looking at Fawn almost expectantly.

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 6:20 pm**

1st-7th of Glade, 121

Fawn's figure was slumped over the countless torn pages. Her hands held her body up, both planted below a mountain of papers and nails digging into the floor boards that drew blood as the splinters pierced beneath her nailbed. It hurt. She liked it. She hated it. The rush of endorphins and panic and anger coursed through her so strongly that she barely noticed when Lyra stepped into the room. When she did, her head shot up and messy, dirty curls that hadn't been brushed nor washed in an entire week bounced upon her shoulders. It was the only thing that gave a hint as to who she'd been. But she just glared at the woman, as if she'd interrupted [/i]her[/i] space. Her time.

She was about to protest to the word she knew would follow her statement, but something in her suddenly did not. Her feet moved before she could think and with each step felt the rage drain from her body, sinking behind her in the room among broken books. What was left was some grotesque monstrosity of pain and confusion and shame and guilt. It churned inside her as they entered the kitchen and she sat down as instructed. Why exactly she had done as asked she didn't know- she didn't want to do it, at least she hadn't until Lyra had spoken. And it wasn't like she wanted to now, either. But, there was some relief in moving once again. In hearing Lyra's voice, and in some ways the simple act of obeying had felt freeing. Similar to her time with Rickter, in letting him lead her into the unknown of his instruction.

But it wasn't something she was about to voice. It wasn't necessary.

As the cup was placed in front of her Fawn stared at it. The dark, herbal liquid swirled around quickly but slowed as time passed until it was so still she could see her reflection on it's surface. Something she'd avoided for weeks. What she saw sent a stab of pain through her chest like a hot knife; once luscious curls were now shining and oily, dirty, matted from a week without care and draped over her shoulders sloppily. Her skin had lost a small shine from lack of hydrating properly, and while the cut upon her cheek had left no scar thanks to the medicine in the palace and Lyra's own balm she'd snuck in there, she could still sense it. Her fingers came up to touch the skin where it would have been. It was smooth, as if he'd never touched her. But the light that once shone from inside her eyes was now gone and replaced with a cloudy, misty gaze.

She gripped the cup, letting out a scoff as her brow furrowed and brought it to her lips to drink down nearly half of the hot liquid that nearly scalded her tongue. Once more, she liked it. When she brought the cup back down onto the table she kept her eyes averted from Lyras and simply stared at the rim of the glass, not wishing to look at herself either.

"So. How's the shop been?" Her voice was cold. Laced with pain and biting back whatever tears threatened to spill from her as she spoke to another person for the first time since leaving the palace.

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 6:57 pm**

Lyra raised an eyebrow and did not immediately reply. Instead she listened, looking past the surface thoughts to what shifted like sludge beneath. Rage, anger and hate were often the first things one noticed, but they were just the surface. They were the reaction, the symptom of what lay deep within. The cold tone was used to force distance, to separate them as surely as any wall. Under all of that?

Lyra's eyes closed for a moment as she breathed in, taking in the tone, the colors that flickered through the symphonies. Pain true, but less physical. Broken, shattered and cut by the pieces as one tried to put themselves back together. A world of understanding gone in a blink, scattered to the winds like the dust of an age. Fear hidden as despair, masked by pain and encased in hate. Deeper she looked, pealing back the layers one by one by one. The thoughts muddled, rhythms chaotic and off kilter. Like the whole was played in sharp, yet the base was flat. The tempo changed radically, instability, uncertainty spurred by the fear and insecurity. Guilt? Perhaps.

"The shop is well." Lyra said as she opened her eyes, looking over Fawn's physical state with distaste, "I will be hiring a few hands soon to assist me."

Looking past Fawn toward the library Lyra's eyes scanned the entire space, "Seven days have passed since you have returned, and I have given space where it was due. Some things are difficult to come to terms with, or so I am told."

Her eyes fell back on Fawn then, and there was no trace of pity, or any emotion close to comforting. It wasn't a cold gaze, and her frown had lessened slightly, "Tell me child, why is it that I find you damaging the books I care for, in the library that has been my sanctuary since coming to this place?"

It wasn't an accusatory tone, but she spoke it with a flat voice. It was a rhetorical question, but Lyra patiently waited all the same as she continued to stare at Fawn.

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 7:35 pm**

1st-7th of Glade, 121

Why did she feel so resentful? Angry? It had been weeks since the incident. She should be over it by now, or at least able to control herself enough to not throw things. She'd never done that before, had never been the type of person to let her negative emotions win over logic and reason. But now it felt like reason and logic had all left her behind. She pushed the tea away from her with the palm of her hand and leaned back in the chair with arms crossing over her nauseous stomach.

"Oh? Can't handle it yourself?" She asked, nearly spitting the words out. No sooner had the words left her lips though did she sigh, her brows twisting and lips curling in regret as she looked down at the table. Shame. Self hatred. Hatred for the way the table was slightly off balance, how the tea steam discolored the world behind it, how the sound of her own breathing was scraping her ears. Lyra hadn't done anything to deserve her poisonous attitude. The same poison that rotted her own emotional state. She just wanted to scream, to punch something, to rip skin from flesh and cry every memory out of her mind.

Fawn's jaw clenched as fingers dug into the flesh on her arms. The scar. "I"m sorry.." These words were softer. Quieter. They carried with her regret and confusion and seemed somehow meant for both the library and her rude comment just moments ago. "I don't ken... I don't ken what's wrong with me." Her shoulders had begun to shake. "I'm so angry. All the time. I see his face when I sleep, everytime I close my eyes. I smell him in the smoke from the streets but if I close the window I can't stand the sound of the quiet room, and I still feel the knife in my skin and his hands on my throat. But it's been weeks- I thought that by learning about who he was maybe it would fix my anger. Maybe I'd found out that he'd always been terrible, or that his family was the same- but he wasn't. He was just... a guy of noble birth. Normal. His whole life, normal and without incident up until me. So why me? Why did everything change? Did I do something to make him like that? I couldn't fight him, I couldn't run fast enough, I was stupid enough to-"

She choked on a sob that had been brought forth from her throat. With each word that followed as she admitted to herself and Lyra the truth of what had happened, her body began to crumple forward until she had brought both legs up to her chest and was shaking into her own frame. Her face had contorted as anger and shame and emotional poison exuded itself from her body and into the air around them. As she bit back another sob she finally rose her gaze to meet Lyra's. She didn't linger, though, afraid of what she'd see she quickly looked away once more, this time towards the window she'd opened days ago. She'd opened all of them, really, hating to see the closed space around her.

"I'm sorry.. I will clean it up. And I will replace the books I tore up..." Fawn sniffled and with a shaky hand wiped the tears from her face.

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 8:58 pm**

The symphonies rose in pitch as Fawn spoke, and Lyra simply listened. She tilted her head, but made no move to stand or comfort the girl in any way.

It all just comes out at once. Naila said. There was a note of concern, and perhaps more than a little understanding, though Lyra could only mentally shake her head.

So it seems.

Mortals were simply bundles of emotions. Their souls were riddled with them, tearing them to pieces as they were swayed this way and that by the tides of the world. Perhaps it was her age, or who she was, but Lyra found it difficult to truly understand. When Fawn had finally finished she sighed, standing and taking the cup of tea to the counter where she refilled it.

"You will." She agreed with the woman's final statement, returning and placing the newly filled cup before Fawn, "You will work to repair the books, scribing the new pages from the scraps, and you will work the shop to repay the damages and compensate your continued stay in this place."

Returning to her seat Lyra once more crossed her legs and tapped her finger on the table top.

"The soul is a curious thing. It is adaptable, and thus it is also malleable. It may change and grow as it experiences new things, and new experiences may also cause it to warp and contort in return." What was she to say? She thought on it for a moment before continuing, "Know I not why he did what he did. Neither do I care. He did as he desired, and thus is fate was to be put down as the dog he was. I find it... difficult to comprehend, for those who have ever wronged me have long since perished."

She grew thoughtful then, "What is it that troubles you about this man, this experience? Is it that it was done to you, or that you were powerless to choose otherwise?"

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 9:53 pm**

1st-7th of Glade, 121

Actions had consequences. Both in mistake and in rage, the choices she had made whether in excitement or fits of anxiety had left her with scars on her soul and body. And, with books to fix. It was only right. She hated it though. To write his history again... would Lyra be mad if she omitted his entire existence from the books? Could she get away with it? The thought slipped into her mind, but the conviction of her truth knew she wouldn't even if she never said anything. It wasn't right. It they were Fawn's books perhaps she would, but it wasn't right to damage nor alter another's property, and she had already done both.

Fawn sighed and leaned forward once more. Her feet touched the ground softly, barely making a noise as she moved in towards the table and picked up the tea between trembling fingers. She listened as Lyra spoke. Her voice stern, but somehow soft. Did she know that perhaps that was exactly what she needed? Or was it just simply that she didn't have the ability to feel pity? It didn't matter to Fawn. The fact that the woman was acting and speaking from a place of self interest made her feel like maybe the world could be normal again. Just like the day she'd first stepped inside her shop.

With a sight, Fawn collected herself and took a sip of the tea. This time she winced briefly as the liquid scalded her tongue, though she took another sip regardless. When she finally lowered the cup she ran her finger around the rim as she thought about Lyra's question. After a few moments, she sighed and gulped down the bitter taste in her mouth that she knew would follow. "All of it. That I was foolish enough to follow a lead with a letter from someone I'd never met, who somehow ken where I lived. That he'd done it to me. But aye... most of all, that I was powerless." Fawns voice had wavered a few times but she sipped the tea again to slow her breathing.

"I hated it. I hate that now I canna even close my own eyes without his face appearing. I fear the washroom, how small it is- like the cage. I canna stay in there longer than it takes to relieve myself. I canna shut the window, and I fear the sound of feet on a staircase..." Her eyes had shifted to stare at the table, unfocused as much as could as she tried to push away each flash of memory that threatened to break her composure.

"I canna cut bread. The knives just... they remind me of him. I donna' wanna touch 'em." Fawn's voice grew still as some glade wind blew in from outside, bringing with it the smell of new year pies and briskets. For a few moments the only sound was that of her own breathing and a few people shouting from the street below, though she didn't hear them. She was instead entirely too focused on the next words to beg to be spoken.

"....I need power. I need to defend myself. Learn magic. Learn how to fight..." But her soul was crying. Every bone in her body begged to just give up and fall into despair, to be held and coddled and told everything would be okay, but at the same time knowing she'd react by flinching and not believe a word of it. Touch had become difficult. With Mino, she'd been able to get by since he was almost solely in his cat form. But even the maids at the palace had shown her pity with each flinch or tremble of her skin as their hands worked to mend and bathe her. She worried.. when she saw Rickter and Telion next, how would she react? On one hand she desperately wanted them to hold her, stroke her head and hug her tight to never let go. On the other, would she flinch? Would she allow it? Would her instincts and fear drive her to push them away before she could even be held? Those fears alone had kept her locked up. If she just waited to be better, then they'd never have to see her like this again- Rickter wouldn't feel guilty, and they could go back to how they were before.

If that was possible.

Fawn sighed and slumped forward, holding her hand in her hands as her dirty hair spilled over the table.

"I can't be this fucking powerless ever again."

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 10:34 pm**

I once knew a girl who talked like her. Naila said softly, Got heavy into powder, started a lot of fights, tried dangerous things. Ended up hanging herself outside a whorehouse one night.

This made Lyra's brows furrow. That was indeed troubling. She could hear even now how unsteady Fawn's rhythms were, how beneath the certain tone there was wavering despair, depression that sucked at the edges of her soul. This pain, this rage was all that kept her from falling deeper and deeper into the yawning pit. Was she that broken? Had she become so fragile?

"Power is... ephemeral at best." Lyra said, looking up to meet Fawn's eyes. She studied the girl, still without pity or concern, but she stared with growing intensity as if she were looking for something deep in the girl's flesh, "It comes at unexpected times and leaves you when it is most needed. Power is merely a force, and uncontrolled it shall consume you as it has many, many others."

She had seen it dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of times. Children seeking what was out of their reach, calling for 'power' without really knowing what it was they were asking for. What was power? Was it strength in the body to move boulders? Was it power in magic? Wealth to buy whatever you wished, be it goods or flesh? Perhaps it was the inability to die or to stay forever young. It was too vague for Lyra's liking, which was why she herself had never looked for power.

"There could be something done, however..." She seemed to hesitate before leaning forward slightly, "If you wish to find this 'power' then you are free to do so. If you wish to learn to fight, I can, perhaps, be of assistance."

What?

"Everything, however, comes with a price." Lyra let the silence stretch for a moment, and then sat back with a frown, "But, if all you wish is to no longer be bothered by your experiences, to forget what you have gone through... I can make this so."

Tilting her head Lyra continued, unable to stop the slight smirk that spread over her lips, "I can remove those memories from your mind, make you forget the pain, strip you of the fear, and despair you feel. I can make it as if that man never existed... if that is what you desire?"

Posted: **Mon Mar 01, 2021 11:57 pm**

1st-7th of Glade, 121

Fawn's eyes flicked to Lyra's, her head lifting from her hands as she did with a brow raised in intrigue. Ephemeral.. maybe. But she'd be damned if she didn't even try. Inside Fawn were two beasts, both entirely made of fire but one a glowing white while the other raged a brilliant gold. The golden flame of anger licked and spat it's molten hatred out, screaming for anything to grab on to and consume to leave nothing behind for it to survive on before dimming to nothing and fading to ash. The white flame of passion on the other hand burned hotter. Perhaps not as violently, but not without intensity. It swayed in the motions to dodge it's angry counterpart and fought in it's own way to find control. But neither would fade, and it left Fawn with a burning in her chest.

She didn't want it to consume her. Whether that be the power itself or her own mind. If it did, that meant that Havershim had won. And even in death he would still hold her hostage.

Fawn perked up as Lyra mentioned fighting. And even further as she let slip a delicious, enticing opportunity. Her eyes were wide, breath caught in her throat as she stared at the woman.

"Forget... everything?" She asked, nearly a whisper. Was she floating then? It was too good to be true.. could she really be rid of the memories, never to fear his name or a closed window again? She sat back then, the weight of the option hanging in the air like an anchor. For a while she simply sat and thought, her mind spinning and bouncing between what life was like now versus what it had been. She could be normal again, blissfully ignorant of what had been done to her body and mind and be rid of the horrors that plagued her mind.

But it wouldn't make her strong. One way or another, she knew, something else would happen in the future. Something else would come to torment and warp her soul and once more she would be left without power or intuition to stop her. With a sigh, Fawn shook her head. "No." She said simply, part of her regretting the decision already. "I recognize I've been lucky in life. Somehow never coming into any hardship until now, and it's because of the ease of my life that I ended up in his grasp. I need these memories, this pain. I hate it, but... without them I'll do the same damn thing again."

Fawn scooped up the tea again in delicate hands that no longer wavered. Firm in her decision, but still fearful of the memories, she let the herbal tea slip past her pink lips. It was bitter, but a necessary sort as was the decision she had made. She thought of Rickter, of Telion, of Hyoga, even Lyra. The people who had scars over their entire bodies and minds that vastly outweighed her own. If she were to protect them, then she'd have to learn to fight people and monsters far worse than Havershim. "Teach me to fight. Please."

She wondered what Lyra would think of her. Was she stupid for giving up the chance at a clear, unaltered mind? Or would she respect her for the decision to hold onto that pain? Not that it mattered, it was her decision to make, and for the first time since leaving the mansion in Frost felt in control of herself once again. Of course it may not last, that much she knew. She could feel the memories and the terror creeping in past the barriers in her mind that she'd worked hard to keep up lest they consume her entirely and send her into a spiral of panic. But if she could fight, then perhaps she wouldn't feel so powerless to the memories either.

Posted: **Tue Mar 02, 2021 11:26 am**

Lyra had hoped that she would have taken the offer. it was the simplest method, the best perhaps, for correcting the situation. She could take those painful thoughts from Fawn, and in doing so revert her back to who she was before. What's more, she would be able to slip a few more... thoughts. Connect them, bring them closer, chain her in ways that cannot be easily broken no matter the distance or time that passed. She thought these things but did not show them on her features.

Her eyes looked down at the table, at the finger that still steadily tapped the wood. Considering, weighing the options.

I didn't know you could fight. Naila said, a part of genuine interest showing through.

I can't. At least not in the ways you would consider fighting. Lyra responded as she stood, motioning for Fawn to follow.

So that means...

Yes. You will teach her.

Naila grimaced, the image clear in Lyra's mind as they made their way down the stairs, I'm not really the teaching type. She'd be better off learning from the guy with the weird smell.

It is not a matter of preference. Simply do what you must. She wishes to fight? Then show her what that means, and if she chooses to give it up... All the better.

The Mercenary knew what Lyra meant. It also wasn't a bad lesson to learn and was one Naila herself had to go through. Still, she never taught for a reason. Her skill set wasn't exactly meant for careful instruction.

Lyra lead them quietly through the shop, and into the workshop where Fawn had likely been once or twice. Lyra paused once they reached the opposite wall, standing in front of a door that Fawn would find it nearly impossible to look at. It was inscribed, runes of power running across its surface that caused the eyes to slide away, and the memory of it to steadily flicker and fade from the mind.

"As I said, everything comes with a price." Lyra looked sideways at Fawn, pulling a small key from the folds of her robes, "What I am about to show you is of a personal nature. Speak of it to no one, and when you leave pretend it does not exist." Using the key Lyra undid the lock, pushing the door to reveal a dark oak staircase leading downward into encasing shadows. Lyra looked down those stairs, contemplative before moving forward once more, "If the library is my sanctuary, this is my asylum. It's important to me is beyond words. Should you reveal its presence to others, I will strip you of your memories of this place, and leave your sanity broken."

It wasn't a threat, and the words were said with a calm and even tone. It was a promise.

Oooo scary. There was an image of Naila waving waggling fingers upwards at Lyra in a mocking gesture, but Lyra chose to ignore it.

They stepped out into a dark room, but with a snap of her fingers, the lanterns along the wall all flared to life at once. What was revealed was a large room, the walls filled with shelves with books, gems, and plants of various nature. At the center of the room was a long table with a series of vials, tubes, and other glassware. Some contained slowly bubbling liquid, others were steaming slightly, while others simply glowed with a dull light. There were three doors, one on each wall, and Lyra waked them to the one on the far left. Opening it revealed a large room with a high ceiling, made all of stone. It was empty save for a series of lines and scripts that coated the walls, floor, and ceiling.

"This is my personal lab." Lyra explained, stepping into the open room, "Here none will hear us, and none will be able to intrude."

Reaching the center of the room Lyra turned back to Fawn, folding her hands behind her back, "Are you certain you desire this? I warn you, the one who shall instruct you is not as gentle as I am."

Legend of Ransera

Seven Days Later (Lyra)

Seven Days Later (Lyra)

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Re: Seven Days Later (Lyra)

Re: Seven Days Later (Lyra)