Chapter One ~ Snow Embroidery
The soft, tender grass was arching below the weight of blackened crimson. Purple bodies were hazardously strewn across the bloody meadow, resting in awkward angles and often missing a limb or two. Charred flesh was all that remained before the fresh stumps, a burnt odour of decay reeking the heavy air. Dark purple fog oozed from the many cuts and bruises grimly decorating blotches of singed dead skin, only to settle dark and murky over the grounds of this recent battlefield, often even hiding a detached limb from sight.
A dark, smoky purple cloak rippled through the wind, slicing through the funeral-appropriate silence. No owl dared cry, while no howl ever did echo either on behalf of the pearly moon as well. Not only decay, but also a foul metallic stench dominated the cool breeze, proudly beckoning with it an eerie sense of paranoia. The cloaked figure huffed derisively at the sight before her with barely-contained disdain, as if not impressed in the slightest.
She elegantly twirled on the spot, heels dug into the viscous, blood-soaked grass, only to lazily make her way back the well-trodden path. She loosely held her tomes under the slopes of her cloak, wrist twisted as to better balance them. A mere few minutes had trickled by before blazing torches bled through the dense thicket. Two faces were glowing dark orange. Though she was too far away to make them out, she knew exactly who stood by the village's gate and what was inside the small leather pouch one of them kept slightly throwing in the air.
"Well?" one of the men nervously inquired of her upon her arrival. He slightly backed away as she drew closer to him.
"Only a skirmish," she drily answered, features hidden away deep inside her hood. "Though they are getting more coordinated."
"Nice work as always," another bellowed as he appreciatively nodded. He then took out a decent amount of gold from the aforementioned leather pouch, adding, "Keep at it."
The hooded girl simply hummed in acknowledgement as she curtly nodded, mechanically summing up the money that was carefully dumped into her hand. She made her way inside the rather small, but more importantly remote village, passed the two men. The deserted streets were devoid of any sound, apart for the odd mewl there and again, as she darted straight for her house. She could hardly ever call it a home.
The old, unlocked oaken door sharply whined in protest as she pushed it open, slipping the rusty key back into the dark leather pouch she had sewn onto her armour's hip years ago. She heavily sighed in relief as she pushed it back closed, though half-smiled in satisfaction as she heard the capricious automatic locking mechanism working for a change. She gingerly rested her head against the wood, eyes fluttered closed. Long ago, it might have bothered her. It might have bothered her that innocent intimidation was strictly required if she wished to be remotely respected amongst the village men.
"One of these days," she whispered to herself, softly banging her head against the door once. "One of these days, I'll be overpowered and die there on my own." Then she bitterly chuckled, a cynical smile spreading across her plump peach lips as she added, "Maybe only then the village will grow a pair of balls and fight back."
She straightened up, heading towards the meagrely-furnished living room, and plopped down on the fluffy-but-missing-half-of-its-stuffing sofa. She let the gold coins fall onto the decrepit coffee table, watching them twirl around before settling down flat on the surface. One of them fell to the floor, yet she swiftly nabbed it before it hit the crying dry floor. She expertly flicked it in the air, caught it, and repeated the gesture, though not before she also put down her tomes on that same elevated surface.
"Then again, I do need the money."
It was dark , through she honestly didn't care to waste money on something so ephemeral as candles. The human eye, as it turned out, could distinguish shapes with ease through the darkness. It took a little while, but candles selfishly devoured the gold she more rarely than often earned.
She pulled off her tailor-made cloak's hood, intricate silver embroidery depicting dragons, frost and snowflakes crumpling against her back. She undid the large hair clip that held her hair up, violet cascading past her boney shoulders in messy waves, reaching down her silver-padded elbows. She snapped the silver hair accessory on her hood for convenience's sake. Unfastening her cloak, she also grabbed all the gold coins spread across the table and stashed them into her own leather wallet. She left her prized cloak lying straight on her sofa, shed the neat light armour she sported underneath and left it on her bedroom's birch chest. The lonesome mage went back into her living room to grab the two stray books, slid tem into their rightful, prestigious places amongst her extensive collection's many tomes, and only then finally turned in for the night.
A violent awakening jolt took over her dreamless sleep on what she assumed to be the next morning, harsh frantic knocks pounding against her front door. Groggy, she clumsily slipped on decent outerwear before heading towards the impatient door, shouting 'Coming!' at irregular intervals.
"There better be a fire some-" she had started as she opened the door, only for her words to catch in her throat at the scalding orange glow that hit her face and burnt her lungs. She coughed a few times in her sleeve, tears rising to her stinging eyes as her nose painfully tickled. "The hell?!"
"Plegians, m'am!" the young kid in front of her spluttered out, obviously terrified out of his wits. The girl couldn't say if it was from her or the fire. "They attacked the town with burning arrows!" he managed to squeak out, speech riddled with profuse coughing. "I had to-" He hoarsely coughed once more. "I-I-"
"Kid, what's your name?" the girl, instead, quickly cut him off. She hunched over, gently placing both her hands on his shoulders.
"Jake, but-" he answered, albeit confusingly, only to be cut off by the mage once more.
"Good. Jake, go in the kitchen: there's a pitcher of water low enough to be within your reach. Drink some and come back here, got it?"
"But-"
"Got it?" she repeated, her insistent tone firmer this time around. The kid merely nodded and sprinted in the direction she had pointed as she had said the word 'kitchen'.
The mage ran to her couch, quickly slipping on her gorgeous cloak and ignoring the leather armour she had left in her room. She quickly put her hair up, taking the hair clip from its nesting place on the tailored cloth's hood and almost randomly placing in her hair. She told herself flames won't get the chance to touch it if it stayed on her. She then hurried up to her library, took out an Elwind tome from the shelves and also a weak, basic wind one too. Once Jake got back, she swiftly handed him the latter.
"Use it in last resort, alright? You don't have any training," she half-explained before he could say anything. "The forest beyond here should be safe," she added as she gently, yet forcefully ushered him out towards her house's back exit. "I'll be back for you once the fire's out."
"Yes m'am!" the kid then agreed, suddenly taking much pride in his quick thinking.
The girl winced, just realizing he had called her that earlier. Then she chuckled, saying, "Don't call me 'm'am'. It makes me feel old."
"Yes m'- Lady," Jake hesitated, glancing to the side in shame. How could he have forgotten her name?!
"It's Iris, sweetie," she giggled, which seemed odd to the kid since he thought she was just an intimidating, strong woman. She gently pushed him past the door, trying to convey to him that time was not their friend right now. "Go, and stay safe!"
Jake nodded and proceeded to run into the forest. Iris didn't wait for him to disappear from view; she was already gone the other way, aimlessly working her way through the blazing streets. An Elwind spellbook on hand, gusts of wind bellowing in her wake, she was a force to be reckoned with as she snuffed out the sadistically dancing flames with striking ease and accuracy. Her cloak elegantly swayed behind her, the hood kept down this time around. She wasn't shy either when Plegians that hoped to somehow cut her down from her dangerous healing spree started to eagerly show up in her path.
"Little Snowflake!" a loud, gruff voice venomously spat amongst the clamour of armed men.
Iris flinched, which earned her a rather painful sword cut along the arm, and an axe cut her leg in the continuity of its once failed blow. The sharpened metal burnt her stinging flesh, while dust, ash and smoke alike painfully brushed against the opened wounds. Her vision blurred with held tears as she stumbled down, incapable of standing anymore.
"Men, stand down!" that same malicious voice demanded. "She's mine."
The girl blinked back the salt water, only to see a burly Plegian standing right in front of her, slowly approaching her with his unsheathed sword. She figured he was the group's leader, since the others obeyed him and backed off. She conjured up another Elwind in order to stop his progression, though it only succeeded in amusing him more than anything else. She glanced behind her in hopes of an escape route, yet saw none. If only she had brought a stronger spell with her...!
The man snickered with a predatory smirk. "Did you really think your subterfuge would make any difference, Snowflake?" he sneered. He pointed his sword at her throat, while she thought he was dumb to stall her execution like that. Actually, that he was dumb, period.
Well, she did have her emergency spell on her at all times...
This could be classified as an emergency.
"To be honest, I rather think I'm impressed you know the word 'subterfuge'," she quipped, cocky. hiding the throbbing pain her fresh wounds inflicted her with each heartbeat. She needed to stall him a bit more.
"You wench," the leader spat at her, ready to swing his sword down at her.
"Celica's Gale!" she shouted, clutching an unfolded piece of paper, which immediately disintegrated into dust after the spell had been cast, in her clenched fist.
The chief was pushed back, earning himself a few painful cuts from the powerful wind spell, his lungs knocked clean out of their air. He coughed up blood and spat on the ground. Iris, on the other hand, heavily panted, immobile, as she dazedly inspected the horrifying gash on her arm. The blade must have been serrated.
"You're gonna pay for that, bitch," the leader choked out as he coughed up more blood. "Men, seize her!"
He never realized the surrounding men had all been killed by the gale, nor that the others had all fallen to the arms of a certain merry band of misfits. It was quite possible as well that he had never noticed the Killing Edge that had stolen his heart away from him in a swift deadly embrace, piercing through the tender vital muscle.
"Take it easy, I've got you," a young female voice cut through the recent silence, gently taking Iris's injured arm. Her voice was muffled, as if caught in cotton, though the cloak-clad mage had the presence of mind to know she was imagining it.
The mage was startled, though she did not jump in surprise, too weary to even muster the energy. Instead, she craned her dizzy head to see who was about to help her. It was a neat young blonde, who was wearing an expensive-looking cream dress. She held a staff in one of her hands, and she used it to heal the fresh gash from Iris' arm, not even flinching from the ugly sight of it. Iris' pink flesh stung with relief as it mended before her eyes, leaving her olive skin with caking blood. The young woman did the same for the axe wound that incapacitated her left leg, cut deep within muscle.
"What you did was awesome!" she enthusiastically added, as she tried to help the girl stand up. "It's still sensitive, so don't strain too much... Not to mention you lost a lot of blood."
"Jake..." Iris dizzily dismissed, determined to fetch the kid before he thought she had abandoned him. "I, have to," she wheezed, dark spots slowly obstructing her fading vision. "Forest..." She could feel the battle to stay conscious taking its toll on her, and she fought to barely keep her eyes open.
With that, her knees buckled and the healer struggled to keep her from hitting the ground. "Chrom! Frederik! Anyone!" the healer strained out, not nearly strong enough to hold the fully-grown woman up all on her own. "Little help please!"
A.N.
So what do you think so far?
Criticism is greatly encouraged, and have a nice day!
~SjelTheif