Form
Name: Alerie Delcroix
Age: 27
Power Ability: Combat
Training // Most ill-advisedi. exit ride
Oh God this was what chaos looked like.
That was the first thought in Alerie’s head as the crowds began to swarm, as a pierce rent through the air. It had started with Nikos pulling up, saying something about threats and only humans right before the whistle started. Her mare, fortunately, did not bolt, but the madness was infectious: first came the dogs whimpering, growling, and then - they began to drop dead. Then came Anya, and -
Alerie almost slid off her horse, but Fayra was faster, quicker - the girl’s body hit Fayra’s hands, and only then did Alerie see the dark red spots in the rising morning light, staining the pavement beneath them. They were stopping now, the humans around them fleeing.
Around them, Maddox’s guild were a flurry of motion: Xanth had ran to Bryan, screaming his name; Ryuu and Luca had jumped off their horse, glowing, and something in Alerie was singing. It wasn’t fear, it was - excitement, the desperation to move, to jump into place, because this was what she needed, what she was itching for, if she could find the sonofa -
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She felt the hand on her wrist before she registered who it was. Ryuu, eyes boring into her, and for the first time in her life, she glimpsed something like… concern?
“I -” She looked around her, the fact that she was no longer on the horse and had in fact left her travelling group finally registering. When had she gotten there? But if Ryuu wanted a response, he wasn’t patient enough to hear it. Instead, his lip twisted into a scowl.
“Stay with Fayra. Luca and I have business to arrange.”
“You and -”
Ryuu looked behind him, a fixed point, and she watched his expression soften a little.
“Take her back, I can’t have her running off like a headless chicken.”
“I make for a much prettier chicken,” Alerie shot back, the adrenaline, the fear coalescing into a fury of being denied. Who was he to stop her from joining the hunt, from finding their opponent?
The fact he was more experienced than you, the rational side of her prompted. By the time she’d done arguing with herself, Ryuu had already gone off, jacket drawn, both hands glowing with a magic she could not recognise. There was a soft touch on her shoulder, and she turned to see Nikos, standing at ready.
“You don’t want to piss him off,” the man said brightly, a smile on his face.
I already have, Alerie wanted to prompt, but Nikos had turned tail, and Ryuu and Luca were nowhere to be seen. Giving the area ahead one last stare, she followed in Nikos’s wake, to two dead bodies: Anya, in Fayra’s, and Bryan in Xanth’s. Here, Bryan was turned towards Anya, a few feet away, but both of their eyes were glazed open, dead to the world.
“No,” Fayra murmured, her voice soft, broken. Only then did Alerie see what Fayra had cradled in her hand: a small, broken bauble, as if it were made of glass. Xanth’s tears were streaming down his face, and Juliette stood by, over her friend’s dead body. The area was deserted now - no humans, only the horses, and in the distance, several stray dogs, their corpses littering cobbled streets. Alerie heard gasping, titters, but that was soon replaced by white noise and the overwhelming smell of ozone and blood filling her senses.
She helped with arranging the carriage, because it was something to do. It was something she needed to learn, to watch, and Erasto and Nikos seemed happy enough to let her tag along. Fayra was - quiet. Broken, even, never letting go of the bauble. They resumed after Ryuu and Luca returned, because there was nothing else to do, except to keep going, hope they would get to safety by daybreak.
And if anyone noticed Alerie’s horse drifting a little closer to Ryuu’s, they made no mention of it.
ii. rusted apart
Reprieve was meant to come in the form of their destination, but there was little to be cheerful about. They were two down, and all Alerie could see in her mind's eye was poor, poor Anya, blood streaming down out her eyes, ears, nose, Bryan reaching for her. They were linked, she heard, joined - that faint, golden thread hanging onto each other. She had missed that, when her mind zeroed in on a fight, on getting off her horse until Ryuu stopped her. So did that mean -
She tried not to think about it. Who else wanted to die so quickly, by a cause beyond your control? And what use was a combat mage, when she could not track, she could not fight? That's what training is for, she told herself, and tried to ignore her shaking hands, how little comfort the thought gave her.
It was something akin to ten o' clock when they finally arrived, everyone worn and exhausted from the lack of sleep, the deaths, the journey. Alerie, for her part, barely registered a thing around her. Her body was still going through the motions: dismounting, retrieving the luggage she'd packed with her, then following in whatever direction she was ushered to.
Her room, apparently, was allocated on the second floor, but all she could think of was a surface to sleep on, and hopefully not be covered by insect and rats when she awoke the next time. Not even colliding heavily with desks, lamps, or on one occasion, a bookcase could rouse her - the pain almost didn't register anymore. Or perhaps she rather literally had grown a thicker skin to compensate.
Alerie got as far as shucking her boots, her gloves, her belt, and jacket before she faceplanted onto the bed. She'd deal with unpacking, exploring, whatever creepy-crawlies and bedbugs she got the next morning - she had no energy, no will left, just the worn-through feeling of being done.
Next time she awoke, it was late afternoon, the sun filtering through windows, reflecting dust motes suspended in the air. Her body was aching, but more acutely around her legs. Her hamstrings. Her glutes. Colloquially known as her butt, because it was thoroughly unused to riding a horse for this long. But her mind felt clearer, and with clarity came realisation, the events of the journey streaming into her head.
Two people were dead, and there was nothing any of them could've done about it. What was that Ryuu and Luca said about not finding any attacker in the vicinity?
She wasn't good for company, that much she knew. While the - manor? house? - was large and a welcome reprieve from the memories, the crowded bustle that was Crowhallow, it was - large. Empty. Easy to get lost in. Perfect for solitude, if she so chose. If she could find some measure of it. And she was still in her travelling outfit, wasn't she?
In theory, this place was meant to be safe. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been brought here. She wasn't planning on leaving its interior either, so she wouldn't need any of the leathers, the heavy clothes in these hallways. Maybe something easier to move around in, to find a place to... hide, really, until she felt ready to make nice with strangers. Until she could walk off all the restless energy that had magically (ha, ha) built up during her short nap.
That was how Alerie found herself in a comfortable tunic, leggings, and a pair of flats, after diving through what she'd brought. None of her electronics worked anymore, and that meant her book collection had gone from something like a few hundred digital books to... three paperbacks. Everything else though - her paints, her sketchbooks, clothes, seal plush, even the currencies from when she still wandered the world as a consultant were there.
The corridor outside seemed deserted when she left her room. Someone had lit the lights when she passed out asleep, the beige-white glow warming the area. She thought she heard conversations in the distance, perhaps from the main room, where they came in. Alerie wasn't looking to be in the main room, however. Instead, she took a deep breath, made sure she had what she needed in her small crossbody, and set off to find - quiet. Solitude.
It was easier said than done. Alerie started with the higher-up floors, only to find the doors locked. Her persistence got her to the tenth door she found, at which point she sighed, resigned herself to not being able to shunt herself away on the higher floors, and went back towards the lower floors.
As she went through the mansion, it felt... deserted. Abandoned. Dusty, and Alerie could see her own handprints if she so much pressed a light palm against the panelled walls. Even then, some part of her was screaming that she'd been here before, she'd wandered these halls and known them well. Like an eerie sense of déjà vu, except it didn't feel imagined.
Stranger still was how many things were casually put about: on one table, Alerie found a hand-scribbled note, the ink still legible. Something about a trip to town for shopping. Hung on a wall were a few coats, a pair of boots with another knocked askew. It wasn't the neat, tidied away abandonment of people moving out: it was as if the inhabitants had vanished half-way through living.
From the few still-clear windows, Alerie could see the outside of the grounds. Once, it must have had some form of order - an organised, chaotic wilderness. Now, it was overgrown, treetops uneven, dark branches stretching upward towards the sky; several walls were completely covered in creeping vines, and one looked about ready to collapse. Were those stables out there?
Alerie found the kitchen, the pantry, even what looked to be a council room. She was colliding and bumping into things all the way, but the hallways were spacious, empty enough she didn't split her head open on anything. But nowhere she could bury herself in, drown out the noise, or temper the feeling she was being followed.
Eventually, she came across a set of doors, set into a gothic-looking archway. It was at the end of the hallway, facing what must've been a part of the forest near the grounds. The door was unlocked, but it was - stuck. Alerie pushed it, feeling it give, but it wasn't opening. She pushed it again, and it opened another smidge. Her temper rising, she gave it a hard shove -
And nearly tripped through the doorway. When she steadied herself and looked up, she saw books. Walls and walls of them, some two stories high - complete with those moving ladders she'd seen some libraries have. There was even a stone stairwell leading up to a loft, fenced in with what looked like beautifully carved posts. The far end of the room had double-storey windows, giving her a view of the forest outside.
The dust made her cough, but in the dim light, she could already begin to pick out what was on offer: history references, occult, some detective fiction near the door. As she made her way in, she caught sight of more still: there was a small stack on horse riding and horse grooming, one book on horticulture, and one heavily bookmarked cookbook. She wondered what she'd find on the loft.
"There's a reading nook upstairs."
The voice was low, familiar, but it wasn't cold or angry. It sounded... warm. Affectionate. A tiny bit smug, even. It was right in her ear, and Alerie could almost feel the breath against her shoulder. When she snapped around, there was no one. Just her in a darkened library, standing amongst books, alone, bereft.
Bereft? Bereft implied she had memories here, implied someone dear to her was meant to be here with her, but she had no one. Yet, despite it all, she was imagining a warm, solid presence behind her, hands on her shoulders, steadying her, steering her. This library was a gift, a surprise. A gift long-forgotten once they...
Alerie furrowed her brow. She didn't know that. No one told her that, and she hadn't spoken to anyone since she crashed in the spare bedroom. Perhaps this was magic: emotions left by past inhabitants, strong enough they affected anyone who went in. Maybe. Magic was meant to work like that.
Pushing the melancholy aside, she made her way to the stairwell, climbing it cautiously. The steps were stonework, the banister cold under her grasp, and when she reached it, she was treated to yet more glorious views of the forest, and - well. Reading nook was underselling it a little.
There were two mahogany desks, a plush lounge chair, a fireplace. Another jacket hung on the lounge chair - this one was black, embroidered with silver. It looked a little like what Ryuu wore, but last she saw while travelling, that jacket was very firmly attached to his body. So whose was it?
Right by the windows was what could be best termed as a rather extravagant daybed, smothered in cushions and blankets. It looked upended, like someone had been reading in it and was just called away. There was even a small table next to it, complete with a lamp and a ceramic mug. And on top of the cushion pile...
Alerie blinked. From a distance, it looked like any other cushion, but on closer examination, she realised it had two tiny flaps, a tail. She scooped it up, gently patting dust off it, and came face-to-face with her seal plushie.
No, that wasn't right. Her seal plushie was sitting on the bed in her spare bedroom. This one was near identical, right down to the expression, save it was a touch smaller than hers. On closer inspection, its fur was a very pale mottled grey, not the white hers had.
"What are you doing here, all alone?" Alerie asked. Her question echoed around the room, but there was no answer. The seal just stayed there, eyes closed, as if content to be held again. She glanced around. No one seemed to be here, and this place was meant to be abandoned. But seeing an abandoned plushie like this here broke her heart, so naturally she hugged it to her chest as she sat down amongst the cushions. She didn't read - she had no energy to, but it was enough to rest in here, watch the view.
He should be here too, a voice piped up, but Alerie dismissed it. There was no one here. Even as she thought it, she felt the pang, her heart sinking. She chose to press the newfound seal plushie closer to her chest, its soft, snuggly warmth allaying the strange anguish threatening to seize her.
Alas, when the sun set, the library plunged into cold. She had no skill with the fireplace either, so it was time to retreat. Still hugging the plushie to her chest, she picked up a book from the pile, and tucked her feet back into her shoes. She was wondering if she could make it back to her room with said plushie unseen when she caught sight of a figure rounding the corridor corner towards her. He was, rather conspicuously, not wearing a jacket, instead dressed a tad more casually in a white shirt and dark brown pants.
"You left your jacket in the library," Alerie informed him, keeping her tone civil, polite. She still remembered the spectacular match they had in the Missing Loot, and did not want a repeat of that.
Ryuu's eyes went from bristling, cold, to one of mild - confusion? Shock? Whatever it was, it went, replaced by annoyance.
"What?"
"Your jacket." She gestured to the doors behind her. "There's a black-silver one like the one you wear. It's in there."
"You saw it was black and silver and naturally assumed it was mine?"
"Do you see anyone else with that sort of clothing?"
"And what do you know of other people's wardrobe?"
So much for trying to be civil then, when he seemed ready to rebut almost every other sentence. But this time, Alerie was well-rested, had spent what was essentially a lovely afternoon hiding in a comfortable, dusty nook of sorts. She was not about to let her temper problem and his temper problem ruin her day. Instead, she shrugged.
"Alright. Sorry for assuming. I'll get on then."
Saying sorry tasted like bile in her throat, but that was easier than dealing with the whispers saying she ruined it with her lovely, unrestrainable temper. Alerie turned on her heel, fully prepared to walk past him, when his voice stopped her.
"What are you holding?"
"What, this?" Alerie indicated the grey seal plushie in her arms. "It's a plushie. It's actually yours this time?"
But Ryuu's eyes were fixed on the toy in her arms, a myriad of emotions flickering on his face before he settled on the usual cold, aloof front he bore around others.
"Where did you find it?"
"Library. It was on top of a pile of cushions."
Ryuu stared at it a moment longer, then reached out.
"Give it here."
Alerie stared.
"You just said it wasn't yours."
"It's not yours either. Do you have a habit of taking things that don't belong to you?"
"It's covered in a thick layer of dust, I doubt it belongs to anyone here."
"And what if it's magically enchanted? Or trapped?"
"I thought Mansion Nyx was meant to be a safe haven."
"Safe insofar as your bedrooms and the main hall is concerned. Not this -" He paused, and Alerie watched his Adam's apple bob. " - Section. Not yet."
"It's just a plushie. If something were to go off, it would've in the past few hours I was inside."
"Just - pass it to me."
"And what, you'll just toss it out of the window?"
"If that is what you want -"
"No! She's a perfectly good plushie, don't you dare -"
"It’d save us both the trouble -"
"Only trouble is you coming around and deciding I've done something wrong for the second time in twenty-four hours -"
"You keep vanishing off to god-knows-where, worrying people -"
"I'm not about to defenestrate myself, unfortunately for you -"
"You do know you're being childish over a stuffed toy, don't you?"
"She's not just a -"
Alerie caught herself mid-sentence, interrupted by the same eerie sense of déjà vu, like she'd had this conversation before with this man. But the emotions - the feelings were all wrong, the location was off, and they were standing too far apart -
This wasn't déjà vu. This was something deeper, buried in her subconscious, something she ought to have remembered. But remembered what? When she tried to snatch at the thread, she came back empty. In its place was a hollowness, the unshakeable sense of what should have been. The same emptiness she felt when she was at the reading nook, the sense something, someone was missing.
You're being stubborn, a voice piped up, and she felt the fight drain out of her, leaving her with - what, exactly? Exhaustion? Or melancholy?
"... I'll give her to you," she said finally.
That startled Ryuu as much as it startled her. This time, there was no mistaking the lump in her throat. Her fingers were loathe to relinquish the soft, now warmed-through comfort the toy had gained, and it lingered as he tugged it from her grasp.
It also just occurred to her that he was right, that she was being utterly unreasonable over a stuffed toy that wasn't even hers.
The plushie also looked terrifyingly appropriate in Ryuu's arms as he lifted the toy - like another ghost memory of watching him do this before a thousand times. He treated it more gently than she'd expected, and in any other state, it would have made for an adorable sight. Maybe it was actually his, and he wasn't letting on.
"You won't throw it out, will you?" she asked, hating how her voice almost wavered. "If no one wants it. Or if it's not jinxed, or cursed, or magically trapped. It's not mine, but - I just thought she was lonely in there."
Ryuu's expression was still distant, but his eyes focused on her. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw his expression soften. Then it passed, and it was impassive, unreadable.
"Mm.”
Ryuu's voice was steady, flat - the calmest she'd heard him all this time. But Alerie didn't stay around for conversation after. She nodded and walked right past him, headed for her assigned room. She didn't bump or collide with anything on her way back. If there was a victory to be had, it was her acquisition of a new book to read in her room till dinnertime - if dinner was to be served at all.
iii. bundling away
The next day brought Astrid, Verena, and the remaining members of their - guild, was it? Alerie had heard their motley crew of girls being called a Guild, but Alerie wondered exactly what theyhad in common. Guilds were meant to be for people with a common aim, or for mutual aid, weren't they? But Alerie did not see an aim, just beings bonded together through -
The image of the golden orbs flashed through Alerie's mind, and her heart lurched uncomfortably in her chest. If they cut her open, would they find a goldenorb instead of a heart? Maybe that was the difference between humans and mages: they had more fragile cores, prone to breaking, even if they looked like flesh-and-blood humans.
The group had arrived in a carriage, Alerie heard. She wasn't there to see for herself, because she spent the next day or two holed up in the library, seeking quiet, daring anyone to come close. She'd noticed Ryuu shadowing her at times, but she'd not been able to find the energy in her to care - or to mind, now that she thought about it. As if he was meant to be there, as if it was how it should be, bond or no.
Yet even he did not follow her into the library if he was keeping an eye on her. Reading helped to soothe her restlessness: instead of pacing her way through the entire mansion in the quiet, she had words, thoughts, logic to distract herself with. It would have to do, until Master Tao announced he was ready to start training them.
Before training could start, there was a funeral. They had brought Bryan and Anya back, both eyes now closed, side-by-side. Verena had found an outdoor spot, and her breathing was laboured, as if she felt the pain of losing family; Astrid's face was blank, empty, staring straight ahead. And Alerie...
Numb might've been the best way to put it. Watching Anya and Bryan die was nightmarish, at best, but exhaustion had kept them out of her dreams. Now that she had more sleep under her belt, she wondered if they'd appear, if they'd haunt her, if it'd rip her heart like it seemed to be affecting everyone else.
You don't remember?
There was nothing for her to remember, she snapped to the voice in her head. Because even if this place was impacted by magic, carried the memories of its inhabitants, those memories weren't hers. She'd just been plucked from a human state, told she was a mage, then dropped here with nary an explanation except hostile, unfriendly faces.
They laid Anya and Bryan to rest on a still, clouded-over day, nothing but Verena's voice and the rustling of leaves to accompany them. This wasn't to last: the memories of the ambush were still far too fresh in their minds. After an hour, they left, ushered back to the mansion, leaving the two graves far, far behind.
iv. the dreams left behind
The funeral done, something blessedly mundane came a week later: spring cleaning. Well, as close to spring cleaning as it could get in dying autumn and the beginnings of winter, at any rate. Most of the mansion, save for the rooms, were still covered in dust and dissaray; no one knew how many pots, pans, plates there were, and it was potentially missing several things for the mansion to become livable.
They'd gained two new inhabitants too: a thin, frail-looking blonde girl called Lillith, and Isa, a little child who clung on to a girl called Sarah like a lifeline. Both had been rescued from the warehouse, Alerie was told, and would be staying here a while. Lillith would be on cooking duty - just as well. Alerie did not trust her own cooking skills in the slightest, nor of anyone else here. It would be a pity to survive the ambush only to be done in by a wayward, unruly cook.
Or maybe just Alerie. She'd pepper them to death by adding too many peppercorns into the broth.
Alerie was assigned to tidy up the library with Astrid - something that worked for her. The books desperately needed re-cataloguing, and she wanted to make sure there were no wayward creepy-crawlies hiding in said books. And Astrid - she was prickly, yes, but by the way she carried herself at the meeting, Alerie could appreciate the briskness, the decisiveness behind her words. It needed to be done - there was no point faffing about, not when it was clear the deaths were weighing on everyone's minds.
The first thing they got to doing was re-organising the books. Easier said than done, when at least three of the lights had burnt out, and when at least one of the moving ladders had apparently become stuck of their own volition. Couple that with Alerie's tendency to bump into things, the first day was... slow going.
Still, Astrid had some form of patience for her. Ever since the funeral, Astrid had gone quieter - she was still gruff, but there was less of the anger, the often raw annoyance, fury that would emerge - unvarnished, free. Alerie watched it surface at the meeting, when there was some discontent about the division of tasks, about cleaning, about the lack of answers. Alerie had questions too, but no one here seemed to have any answers. Only wary looks and trying to figure out who the other was, why the Council had chosen to put them together now, here of all times. The only other person who could answer was Fayra, and she had been called away on Council business.
Thus here they all were, cleaning up a place that Fayra said was meant to be theirs, but had all the memories of its past inhabitants bleeding into its magic, bleeding into Alerie’s emotions. Little ghost-wisps, flickering through the air, recalling happier days. She didn’t hear the voices again while she tidied up the library, dusting the floor, but there was that skin-prickle she’d forgotten something important - not just in the mansion. It was here, in the library, like she’d walked its halls -
“Alerie, you’re about to put a history book in the fiction section.”
Astrid’s voice cut through the haze, and Alerie blinked to find herself holding “Ghostland” while facing a series of book spines with titles like “Yule Be Mine”, “Emily’s Magical Bejewelled Codpiece”, and “Unc***blockable”. She blinked, bewildered. Then she had a look at the rest of the row of books on this shelf, and wondered exactly why the last owner of this library decided “The Romance of the Beaver” was a worthy addition. Gingerly, she retreated from the section, and looked for the occult history section instead. Maybe their last owner had a strange, contorted sense of humour? And maybe Alerie ought to re-organise all the books.
“You look concerned,” Astrid stated, somewhere around wiping down the library table.
“A fairly disturbing selection of books, but not much else.” She slotted Ghostland back in, and went back to the pile of books her and Astrid had gathered over the course of the day. She just about dodged slamming into the back of a chair, and winced. “You caught that fairly quickly.”
“You were staring at it for a while.” The other woman fixed Alerie with a look. “Like you were distracted.”
“I think we all are.” Alerie picked up another title, looked at its cover, and decided she would located whichever section aquarium fish belonged to later on. “But I will become used to it. Is this familiar ground for you?”
Astrid shrugged. “I met with Maddox, and we came here by carriage. Not much choice to be had.”
“You didn’t know Maddox?”
“Fayra brought him. Council’s orders, but I’m not sure why. Nor do I want him here.”
Alerie considered it. “You feel strongly about it.”
Another shrug, as Astrid turned her back to her to move onto another table. “It doesn’t matter now. We’ve been joined to the same guild, and -”
“It will be a liability if we don’t get along?”
Alerie felt the pair of eyes on her back, so she slotted another book in, and met Astrid’s gaze head on. It had been blank, unreadable for a while, but this time, the woman cracked the tiniest hint of a smile.
“Do you think so?”
“We’ve lost two people already Alerie brushed some non-existent dust from her hands. “. Whatever guild Maddox leads, it’s tied to us - well, us mages, anyway. It’s safer at least to get along.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, and Alerie kept her stance easy, relaxed, even if the smile was gone from Astrid’s face. “I don’t know much of this world, but I do know enough about risks back from my human life. Remembered or not. Same reason why I didn’t go to the rescue gig - liability. As in, I am one.”
The woman huffed, and the smile grew wider. “That is what Master Tao is for,” Astrid said finally, returning her attentions to the table. “Mansion Nyx should be safe enough - for now. Until Fayra returns with more news, at any rate.”
“What has she left for?”
“She wouldn’t say. As she usually is, but you get used to it eventually.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
Astrid snorted, but it was a harsh, angry sound. “I don’t know any more than you do. Neither does Verena. Or anyone else. Last I heard, Maddox -” And Astrid said his name like it was something distasteful to be mentioned “- has some lapses in his memory as well.”
“The only thing holding us together, you mean, is the Council.”
“Yes.” The answer was toneless, abrupt. “Maybe we’ll have answers. But for now my priorities are elsewhere.”
That Alerie could respect. But there was no vocabulary in her to express that, so she did that by doing what she did best: keeping quiet, keeping calm, staying out of Astrid’s way to focus on what she’d been assigned till she was asked otherwise. It was - an amiable silence. The sort that grew after you’d befriended person for long enough to know you didn’t have to fill silence with chatter. For a good long while, the room was filled with the occasional back-and-forth, the sound of sweeping, and on more than one occasion, Alerie’s whispered, sometimes restrained curses.
It was approaching afternoon as they finally got to wiping down the bookcase shelves, dusting the layers of grime and dust from it. It was soothing, repetitive work: dampen the cloth, wring it out, gently wipe where she could, dust off the book covers, siphoning little pieces of restless energy from her. Alerie reached in with her feather duster, swiped across a layer of books -
It caught on something. Like something jutting out from one of the shelf layers, and when Alerie peered into the dark, there was nothing except wood and dust. Frowning, she repeated the motion, and felt her feather duster catch again.
“Astrid?” she called, her voice absorbed by the wood and books. The woman was by her side in an instant.
“Did you find something?”
“Something’s catching here,” Alerie said, reaching her hand into the shelf. “But -”
Her hand felt in the dark, but there was no switch, just something that felt vaguely like an indentation. Frowning, Alerie twisted her palm upwards, fingers brushing against it. It felt like a tab, something to be pulled on - and she did. There was a click, something whirring, and then - it stopped.
Astrid and Alerie looked at each other, and Astrid’s face gave from placid calm to something - colder.
“Let me try.”
“Try -”
“We don’t know what it is. Step aside - if anything springs out, I should be better able to deal with it.”
That made sense. Alerie stepped to one side, as she watched Astrid fumble in the dark. Even with the second pull, there was nothing - just a whirring, a click, then - stopping, like something was trapping it, stopping it. Astrid’s expression was now a full-blown frown, as she peered into the shelf like it held a clue. As Alerie looked around, something caught her eye: one of the blown out lights. Had it been in that position when they left it?
She took one, two tentative steps towards the light, a few feet away from the mystery shelf, and took a closer look. The sconce didn’t look right - like it was tipping out of the wall. Not by much, but enough that it seemed noticeable. Alerie gave it an experimental tug, and felt it give - not enough, but a little. She pulled harder, and it felt like pulling a stuck pin free. It wasn’t a sconce, Alerie realised, as it swung downwards. It was a switch of sorts, and she watched it light up, first turning yellow, like an ordinary light - then a bright, brilliant green, tinged with blue.
Alerie let go, and the sconce swung back into position, except instead of it being a dead, blown light, it stayed blue-green, brighter than any shade Alerie had seen.
“Astrid, try to pull your switch again,” Alerie said, her heart racing. This was familiar. Why was it familiar? And why did it feel so close to yearning? Astrid turned to look, and saw the sconce in its position, the lit-up sconce. Lips thinning into a line, the woman reached into the shelves, repeating her motion…
The whirring began, followed by a click, and then - more clicks, like something was unlocking. The two women stood back, and watched as one of the library bookcases swung open, revealing a stone archway - and a door. It pulsed with the same green-blue the sconce was, but it didn’t seem to have any doorknobs. Astrid stepped forward, pushed it - then shook her head.
“It’s magically sealed,” she said.
“Is it?” Alerie frowned, stepping forward. “Maybe if I could give it a push -”
“Maybe. You lit up the sconce, right? It might react to you.”
Alerie reached out, fingertips brushing the flat, wooden door, and watched as a pattern etched itself into the wall. It was faint, an old, weather-worn carving, forgotten by time, memories -
“No, it’s not,” a voice murmured in her mind. “Press your palm to it.”
Her palm? What would it -
“Remember?”
Alerie was officially going mad in this mansion. She was hearing voices, doing things that normally were outside her gambit in this mad, magical world -
But she had to try, didn’t she? If there was something behind this door… no, there was. Something she knew. She knew, and didn’t know why or how she knew. So she pressed her palm flat to it, and watched as the etchings flared to life, glowing for a moment before it faded.
Seconds ticked by, and Alerie was about to write the whole thing off when it finally creaked open, giving an inch. Astrid’s frown only deepened.
“Open the door, and stay behind me.” That was a command, not a request, and Alerie was happy to let the woman take lead. She pushed open the door, and saw it turn into a spiral staircase: stone-hewn, dust motes filtering through the air, through - sunlight?
“It goes up,” Alerie observed, stepping through with Astrid. “Maybe if there is something upstairs…”
“There will be.” The woman’s voice was grim. “Stick the door open, it might -”
The door shut behind the two of them, and Alerie heard what was distinctly the noise of the bookcase creaking shut gently as well. They looked at each other, Astrid’s face now a thundercloud.
“Never mind. Let’s head up first.”
Alerie’s heart wasn’t so much filled with trepidation as it was filled with - comfort. Like coming home. Somewhere safe, like a sanctuary. Where she could forget, for a moment, the world outside, and be here with her and her sketchbook and -
Sketchbook? Why would she need her sketchbook in a stone stairwell?
She nearly collided with Astrid in her haste to go up the staircase, and what she saw took her breath away. If she thought the library was beautiful…
It must’ve been one of the higher floors in the mansion, a higher corner room. Here, she could see not only the forest, but the pathway leading to it, and a few hills - mountains? - in the distance. The windows were floor-to-ceiling, large, panelled ones that gave her an unobstructed view. There was even a small balcony outside.
But what caught Alerie’s attention were the shelves, the small sketches and paintings that hung on the walls. Landscapes, potted plants, a horse, a few cats. Then, on the other side -
“Alerie, is that you?”
Alerie was staring at it too. It was a small portrait, small enough to fit on a bedside table. The woman that stared out looked like her, almost - but her hair was loose, drawn over one shoulder, a wreath of flowers on the woman’s hair. She looked - pretty. Content. Loved, even.
“I’ve not sat for any portraits,” Alerie answered, voice faraway to herself. “I don’t recall sitting for any. Why is this here?”
But even as they went through the room, it wasn’t just of her: there were some of the mansion itself, figures standing in corridors, or what Alerie recognised as the ringlets Verena wore. There was even one that she recognised was Ryuu, miraculously smiling as he held… who was it? It was an unfinished sketch, the pencil figure still yet to be filled out. But he seemed to be holding someone close, and Alerie felt like an intruder looking at something intimate.
Something seized in her at the thought of the man holding someone else, and she crushed it ruthlessly. Those thoughts were idle, silly - even if she had felt drawn to him the first time she’d seen him. She was a liability, uncontrolled, untrained. Every time they so much spoke to each other, they’d end up trading barbs, flinging hurts. It was either that, or he followed her with a wooden, stiff expression on his face, like he’d rather be anywhere else.
If he had another he loved, someone more competent… he would not give her a second glance. He would’ve treated her with disdain, because his softer side was reserved for his lover. That set in her stomach, sinking queasily.
Another thought struck her: why was she so bothered about him loving someone else? She learnt that lesson a long time ago: how to smother crushes, and let it slip into another distant memory of regret and what-could-have-beens.
She left the portraits behind, turning instead to the shelves, the easel in the centre of the room, illuminated by the afternoon sun. There were brushes. Papers. Notebooks - countless notebooks, drafts. As she rummaged through them, she found even more sketches, little snapshots, formless figures that must have meant something to the person who had this studio.
“Well, it’s one more place to clean,” Alerie said.
“There don’t seem to be threats here.” Astrid pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “We’ll start with it once we’re done with the library.”
Alerie nodded, shutting the last drawer behind her. There was no other way out, but this time, when Alerie tried the door, it gave easily, letting them back into the library. When they shut the bookcase behind them, it was as if there had never been a painting studio to begin with.
Something in her yearned to go back, but an artist’s studio was sacred, and it did not belong to her. The same way the seal plushie did not belong to her, nor did any of the memories of this place. If she would go back, it would be with Astrid to clean it up, leave it as a shrine to whoever once painted there. She would deal with the uncomfortable, nagging twinge in her mind later, remind herself not to be foolish - there were other things to worry about now.
v. seeking within
The next week brought training with Master Tao - specifically tailored to her powers, her abilities. Just as well, because the library was beginning to look nigh spotless with Alerie working it, and she hadn’t had the heart to return to the painting studio. She liked to pretend it was because she could not be bothered to sweep each stair step, and then try to clean up a place that had clearly been abandoned for months. Sorting expired paint, for a start, would be a pain in the butt.
She’d expected Master Tao in the large, cavernous training room. She hadn’t expected Erasto to be there, arms behind his back, smiling like he knew a secret. She looked askance at the older man, who smiled.
“There is no one else in the guild at the moment who you can fight without accidentally snapping their arm - or without you being hurt,” Master Tao said. Alerie winced.
“I am not so uncontrolled, Master Tao.”
“Not in your movements, no. But moving and fighting utilise two very different skillsets. Erasto here -” And Erasto gave her a jaunty wave, one Alerie acknowledged with a nod - “Has agreed to assist. He is used to helping with training, so it should be a relatively gentle start.”
“Relatively.”
Master Tao’s smile widened at Alerie’s deadpan tone.
“You will understand soon. Your stance?”
Alerie had no idea what that meant, because she’d never fought before. She’d not even done any physical fitness classes, only watched a few action movies with loud, pounding background music. So she loosed her stance, curled her hands into fists, not particularly sure where or what she was doing -
Her body reacted before she did, and she stared in mild surprise at the fact she’d managed to catch Erasto’s fist before she’d realised he was punching her.
“We’ve started?” Alerie asked. Master Tao’s only response was a tight smile, and Alerie just about ducked under the second punch.
“I don’t wish to hurt you.”
“We will both come away with bruises, Alerie, whether you like it or not.” Erasto’s smile was still there, kind, unwavering. “Better you get a grip on this now than in the middle of a fight.”
“I’m hoping it won’t come to -”
The next sensation she could only describe. It was as if her senses were heightened, things slowing around her, and she thought she felt the ghost of a fist incoming to her abdomen. She let go of Erasto’s fist, moved - and slammed her open palm against the incoming blow, hissing.
“Control, Alerie.” Master Tao’s voice cut in over the din. “You move too quickly, and it will strain your joints. A stronger combatant will use it to cripple you - but let’s see where your baseline is for now.”
Her baseline, as it turned out, was far, far more advanced than she imagined it could be. Her body was remembering things that she didn’t ever recall knowing about: how to move, dodge, twist out of the way. As she did so, her mind was blazing along, forming connections, picking up things she hadn’t known she could spot, like how Erasto seemed a little more unsteady on his left side, how he seemed to telegraph a punch or a kick by drawing back a little too much too soon -
All that information. What was she to do with it?
That was when Erasto caught her, hooking a foot and sweeping her legs out from under her. She thudded onto the surface, breath knocked out of her, and staring up at the ceiling. Her shoulder hurt, and she just managed to suppress a yelp.
“You’re distracted.”
Erasto appeared in her sightlines as Alerie lay there, sweat beading on her forehead, dripping down. She felt like she had just run a marathon. There was no breath or air left in her to respond to that, so she blinked up at the smiling man, wondering how she must look.
“Alerie?”
“Nngh.”
She took Erasto’s pro-offered hand, and winced as her shoulder protested the movement. It did not go unnoticed: Master Tao was by her side in an instant, assessing her.
“Hm. A fall, but at the moment, nothing sprained.” He looked at her, both eyes scanning up and down, even though his other eye was clouded over. “Your body remembers what your mind does not, but you cannot rely on it to defeat your opponent.”
“I understood that,” Alerie answered. “Master Tao, when I was fighting -”
“Yes?”
“I could -” Alerie gestured to Erasto. “ - I do not mince my words.”
“As long as you don’t call me names, Alerie, I’m happy to take whatever feedback on board.”
Alerie furrowed her brow. Feedback?
“Master Tao discussed your powers with me briefly before we started,” was Erasto’s explanation. “I didn’t do this just to be kind, you know.”
The older man looked at her, frowning. “We will speak of that later. Go on - what could you do?”
“I -” Alerie took a breath, organising and cataloguing the thoughts in her head, what she had spotted. “ - Erasto favours his right. Always hiding his left, moving it further away from where I can hit him. He draws back his blows a little too much, leaving him open to be either interrupted or distracted, but one of his feet is somewhat - unbalanced, so -”
Master Tao nodded, understanding. Erasto, on the other hand, had crossed his arms, listening intently.
“You do not need to worry about those yet. For now, know that it’s part of what your powers are - to dissect, to analyse, to exploit. The main part, however, is your combat prowess, and while you will be able to adapt and master any fighting style or weapon quickly…”
Her trainer’s smile thinned. “It will mean nothing if you do not know the basics nor control your speed. Or your strength.”
“… I was unaware I had any.”
“Your version of not much strength is very different from ours.” Erasto stepped forward into the area to face her again, as Master Tao stepped back. “Every blow you were tossing out back there - I wouldn’t have guessed you were that strong.”
“Magic?” she asked, even as she fell into her stance again. Before she could strike, Master Tao spoke.
“Wider. Your feet are too narrow, Alerie, it will knock you off balance. And chin further down - you may be able to dodge it, but you do not want to leave it vulnerable for any uppercuts.”
“And I’d do one, if I had to fight a combat mage like you,” Erasto chimed in, grinning. Alerie fought the urge to roll her eyes, but did as she was told. The next time Erasto went for a strike, Alerie reacted - better. That was the only way she could describe it: better reaction time, less adrenaline, less heart-pumping. Her eyes were still very much picking up on things that she hadn’t noticed before in a fight: now Erasto had corrected his stance a little, spread his bodyweight more evenly, making it harder to throw him off balance. But he was slower now, as if he were having to think about each blow, and thinking -
Alerie could use thinking. She could exploit weaknesses, no? Erasto had to process it, mull it over. Even if he were a seasoned fighter, her words must have had an effect on him - and he was trying to mask it, change it. Thinking took time. And time meant a little more space to slow down, to consider, for her to strike.
She didn’t get much actual striking done, but by the end of the training, it was drawing close to midnight. Her body ached, strands of hair were sticking to her forehead, she would probably have multiple bruises, and her mind was on fire. In more ways than one: she kept picking up on more and more details that Erasto had when fighting, and it was all swirling in her head, refusing to let go.
“You need to talk?” Erasto asked, as he crouched down beside her. Master Tao had smiled, told Alerie it was an acceptable first training, then told her tomorrow would be focused on calming, meditation. Alerie looked up at him blearily.
“How much of your fighting stance do you want me to comment on?”
Erasto barked out a laugh, the sound bright and echoing in the darkened room.
“Not right now. You look dead on your feet - it can wait till tomorrow.”
Alerie nodded, too tired to say anything else. She gratefully accepted the bottle and the cool towel Erasto offered her, and stayed there in the training room, breathing deep, breathing hard. The cool night air was a balm, as she mopped up the sweat.
For the first time in days, she felt - clear. Clearer-headed. Calmer. The restlessness seemed to have been drained out of her, leaving her closer to what she was before she came to Atlanta. It stayed with her as she finally left the room, too tired to even care if anyone was shadowing her, to let the thoughts cloud her head over, and certainly tired enough to appreciate how good it felt as she stood under a steaming hot shower. Sleep came easily that night - and her only hope was that it would continue for at least the next week or two to come.
vi. thoughts in motion
This late in the evening, there was no one in the corridor. Which suited Alerie just fine: she'd grabbed a thermos mug, her sketchbook, her actual seal plushie, a blanket from the guest bed, and wandered out in her tunic and leggings. The least constrained and proper she'd been, but the way she was going, she wasn't expecting any company.
She could still hear laughter, see the warmth from the lower floors. Some of her guildmates had yet to disperse, and she heard Isa's laughter echoing down the hallway, warming the mansion. But Alerie wasn't looking for warmth either. Instead, she made her way back to the library, bundled up in her makeshift cape, ignoring how loud her footsteps were. The room was dark, the dimming sun casting orange rays into the beautiful, grand space.
It must've been some centre of learning when it was inhabited, Alerie thought to herself. She remembered the books that she sorted through, how every corner seemed to lead to yet another corridor of tomes and novels, endlessly spiralling in. There were places that still needed dusting, that needed to be cleaned, but for most part... it was pristine, untouched, as if it hadn't been left abandoned.
The library wasn't Alerie's goal either. Instead, her feet carried her to the blown-out sconce, where she stood outside, hesitating. If she was caught in there, she could always say she wanted to go up to clean. A feeble excuse, but it might serve the purpose, if she was lucky. But who else would go up there? Astrid? She was the only other person who knew of this place's existence beyond Alerie.
Somehow, that gave Alerie pleasure: a little hideaway, unknown to anyone and everyone in the house.
The light sconce duly lit up as she pulled it down, glowing that radiant blue-green in its setting. For a moment, the dark room was lit up, casting eerie shadows on its walls and furnishings. Alerie ignored all that, and went to pull the tab hidden in the bookcase...
Like last time, the bookcase swung open, revealing the unmarked, featureless wooden door. Alerie pressed her palm to it, watched it swing open, then dragged her and her companions through.
The painting studio was colder than she remembered it being, her breath misting as she went up the staircase. Still, she had her hot thermos of tea, her blanket, a sketchbook, and her seal plushie. It would keep her warm enough until either sleep or necessity overtook her. Last time she checked, she didn't see a bathroom or a bed in there.
Even then, when she got up to the room itself, there was a gorgeous view of the setting sun, peeking out behind the hills she could see in the distance. Here, it was complete, utter silence, just her, her blanket, and her hot drink. She contemplated sitting on the floor, then decided surely, there must be a softer surface somewhere... right?
There was, but it was tucked away underneath a large canvas covering. When she pulled it off, it revealed a two-seater, plush, grey, and a little paint-spattered. It still had its cushions in place, and aforesaid cushions looked like they were still in sitting condition. Cautiously, Alerie lowered herself into it, and was pleased to find it no softer or firmer than she’d anticipated it being. That was all the cue she needed to stretch out on the sofa, bundle her blanket around her shoulders, the seal on her lap, and rest.
Rest. That was the best way to call it. There was still enough light in the dying sun for Alerie to see her sketchbook, her pencil, to work at the view outside: the mountains, the trees, the distant fountain leading to the garden, the forests beyond. Something still, quiet, soft - even if she hadn’t left the mansion grounds for nearly a month at this point.
Crowhallow seemed so far away, she thought to herself, pencil scritching away. Was it really a month since she had arrived here? Cara Bennett and her friends seemed so, so far away, with all its pleasantries and niceties. At least here, in the mansion, Master Tao treated her with respect, and she could wander around, keep to herself, and not draw strange looks whenever she said she wanted to go back to her room.
And then there was Ryuu. Her thoughts would drift to him in quieter moments, when she had too much energy bound up and she wasn’t due for her training session. He’d been shadowing her, but she had no more fight left in her, just a quiet, simmering ache she couldn’t place. She seemed to know whenever he was nearby, whenever he was in a room with her, but they’d barely exchanged a word, only tersely-worded civilities.
Her eyes flickered to where she’d found Ryuu’s - portrait? Drawing? - when she first found this place. She almost wouldn’t have recognised him, if the artist hadn’t been so meticulous in sketching, painting him: his strong, sculpted features, the strange, pale-green eyes that had an iridescent sheen, the twist of his mouth when he -
She almost stabbed her sketchbook when she realised where her thoughts were going. She had no time, no energy left to dwell on this. There was training to worry about, the strange, sealed rooms on the upper floors, the books in the library, cleaning and organising when and where she was asked to help. There was a mansion to get to know, and certainly not enough time or energy to dwell or to pine on someone who was both thoroughly uninterested and perhaps attached to someone.
In this way, sketching did help. It narrowed her field of vision down to the trees outside, the sensations to her warmed hands, the soft white seal plush on her lap, the scritch-scratch of the pencil as she captured what she could in the dying light. She might not have the right to use this studio, stay here, but she could refine that sketch later in her own room. Or perhaps out on the front porch, match colours, even if the perspective was all wrong, all off.
She’d found the light and left it barely on as the skies turned dark red, purpling on the horizon. Her hot drink was scented with tea, honey, and cinnamon, thanks to Lilith and her frankly amazing sense of cooking. It was Alerie feeling mildly guilty that left her turning down the offered hot soup - it was dinner, and she would not take from the others. Especially when she hadn’t even been contributing to - household groceries? Was that what it was called?
Alerie was mid-sip, savouring how the warmth spread through her body when she heard - footsteps. Specifically, footsteps coming up from the stairwell. Alerie’s reaction was instantaneous - she put the cup to one side, pushed her seal further away, and curled her fingers around her pencil. She knew Astrid couldn’t come in, by virtue of the fact Astrid hadn’t been able to re-open the library door unless Alerie was the one. As far as she was concerned, she was the only one who could come in - or out. So who -
She was fully prepared to shank the newcomer when the figure finally reached the top of the stairs - and revealed themselves to be Ryuu, looking as startled as she felt. Her heart constricted in her throat, and for a minute or two, she gaped at him, pencil still grasped uselessly in her hand.
If it was of any comfort, he looked as startled to see her as she did to see him.
“… What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes fixed on her and the sofa the blanket bundle.
“I could ask you the same question.”
Now with Master Tao’s training, she could almost see the stiffness he held himself with, how he seemed to be caught between leaving and - staying?
“I saw a light,” he said, voice cool, even. “So I came. But if it’s only you…”
Something in Alerie hurt at that, how dismissive his tone was, but she hid it with a shrug, turning her back to him.
“It’s me. You don’t need to worry, I’ll be here a bit longer.”
“Why?”
Alerie had a remark ready for that, but his tone took her aback. There was a sharpness to it, one she’d not recognised or heard when they traded barbs before. Where in the past his sharpness was irritation, annoyance, this felt like she’d trespassed into somewhere quiet, sacred.
Then she remembered the portrait, the unfinished sketch, and wondered.
“It’s quiet here, and it’s too loud in the mansion,” she answered, honestly as she could. “I won’t stay long. It’s near dinnertime anyway.”
She waited for him to snap, to argue, to throw her out. But instead, she heard him sigh - a quiet, barely heard thing, if not for how silent the room was. He didn’t leave, but she didn’t invite him to sit either. She needed the focus, the quiet, and she wasn’t sure how much of that she would have between the sketch, knowing his presence was there, and the quiet, gnawing guilt that something was wrong, that she wasn’t meant to be there.
“Could I ask you something?”
Her voice rang out in the quiet. Ryuu “hmm’d”, but made no motion to stop her. Alerie soldiered on.
“Did you know who used this room?”
There was a sharp inhale, like the breath being knocked out of someone’s lungs. She kept her eyes firmly trained on the sketchpad, not wanting to see his expression. Moments ticked by, with only the sound of skritching on her notepad filling the room. Then, finally:
“It’s none of your business.”
“So you did know them.”
“And like I said - nothing you need to know.”
“Does it bother you then, for me to be sat here?”
More silence, this one heavier than the last. She could feel Ryuu’s eyes boring into her, and wondered what he made of her. Better he didn’t see her face, because she didn’t know what expression it was making: whether it was the trembling, barely-there fear that he’d kick her out, or the fact that her heart was pounding a mile a minute in her chest and fretting. Hoping. Missing him.
Missing him? Alerie paused in her sketch, looking up to the now-darkened treeline outside. Missing him? What for? He was there, wasn’t he? A perfect stranger to her.
“… No.”
His response was soft, quiet, and for a moment, Alerie thought she recognised that tone, that voice. It was gentle, soft, meant for lying in bed, facing each other in quiet morning light. But when she turned, Ryuu was scowling at her, arms crossed, watching her with his hands tucked away.
“It’s a room. What you do with it is up to you, not me.”
With that, he turned away, and Alerie took in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his shirt seemed to cling onto him, thin enough to hint at the muscle underneath. Not hers, she reminded herself firmly. Not hers, and someone who she was almost always fighting with. She watched him move from his spot, towards the stairwell - then stop, looking back up at her.
It wasn’t a scowl anymore. It was - stranger. Melancholy, even, half of his face illuminated by the golden light in the studio, and the other shadowed.
“The person who owned this room wouldn’t have minded you either.”
Before Alerie could ask him what he meant, Ryuu had vanished down the staircase, the painting studio now one person down. Her eyes lingered at where he’d stood, and found the space too empty, too hollow now. Like for a moment, a jigsaw puzzle had been completed, only for someone to take the piece away from her again.
She stayed a moment longer, but found no more heart to draw, nor to sketch. It was dinnertime soon, wasn’t it? She ought to head down, let warmth and company wash over again as she ate. But company wasn’t to last, for when she went down to the dining hall, the main doors opened - and in came Fayra…
DONE!
Last edited by Jadis (23/11/2020 at 16:25)
