Vyra
Alone She remain there, sitting upon the ground, her eyes trained upon the two; a fawn cowered before a pair of fiendish wolves, as much ready to pounce. How Vyra perceived it at least. More, her eyes lay upon the two figures, one as gentle of a guardian as one may have hoped to find in Alisa, whilst in the other the woman whom, whatever apprehensiveness may have been towards Vyra, the visceral display of the life that she once lived seemed to have, if only for the moment, waned that suspicion. And to how Alisa may have perceived what she saw; it was one thing to say that one had lived within the streets, having been subjected to a difficult life. It was another thing to see firsthand, the bruises and actual trauma that came with such a lifestyle.
Perhaps it was why Vyra was so against having revealed things to Alisa. Even whilst she had lived through it herself, only in the very recent past had she ever truly seen the effects that the lifestyle had upon even her, the shower that she had taken earlier being the first time that she could truly appreciate just how vicious of a world she had been living in. When she had gazed at herself through the mirror, terror had shot through her, to come to find out that this was what was happening to her, foolishness to not appreciate or realize it as well, and just the hard reality that despite Alisa, despite the kind café owner, or the people whom had met her with positivity even moments earlier, the world still held plenty of wicked souls that think nothing against committing such pain against someone like Vyra.
There were perhaps naivety in such thinking, that the cruelty of man was only that of myths and legends. Or to even just assume that she had been immune to such fate. Destiny, or whatever one may have called it, had not been kind to her up until this point, and for as much as it had stung to see the actual effects upon her person, it was something that she needed to see, whether or not she knew it.
It did not make things hurt less, to know that beneath the smiles, the affection she could reciprocate to Alisa, all the excitement for a lifestyle, let alone a world, that she knew seldom of, it did not change beneath all of that that she held a dark secret. A gift curtesy of a world that she had finally been presented with a chance to leave, one that terrified her of returning towards.
Perhaps it was shame. Shame of being seen in such a pitiful state, especially by someone as precious to her as Alisa had become.
It left Vyra not sure just what to think as Alisa came closer. Rational thought had seemed lacking in this moment, only unwarranted feelings of panic stemming from that of a irrational fear of a fate that she had felt she escaped.
To feel Alisa’s arm drape around her, her eyes widened, not out of shock but rather out of disbelief, a welcome disbelief. Though she had lay there, the scars of what had been come and gone still present upon her body, but now she was not alone. With her, Alisa, someone who had given her everything. Hope. Happiness. Love. Stripping away the room, the fancy clothes, the food, the woman had treated Vyra like a person, someone deserving of the most basic decencies. That in that moment she had come to feel differently towards her, as much as she tried, Vyra could do only so much to hold back the tears of relief.
She was speechless. Though the feeling of saying something, even a most basic thank you, seemed beyond her. A combination no doubt of her coming off of the emotional rollercoaster that she had just ridden paired with the fatigue that had all but claimed her now. Even the simple task of taking Alisa’s hand seemed to carry with it a level of burden that she had not felt up until this point. Mustering what strength she were able, she followed Alisa’s guidance, keeping her grip upon Alisa’s hand with all the strength provided, though likely it would have felt to the other woman that it were nothing more than a ginger grasp. The pair continued on, the last few words between Alisa and the other woman being lost to Vyra as her eyes remained fixated upon the bed.
There was an absolute appeal towards it. A large, bed, one that multiple Vyra could rest within and still have no shortage of room leftover. An expansive mattress, undoubtedly of high quality if the rest of the Blue Pegasus building was any indicator, resting atop a large dark mahogany frame, similar to that of much of the rest of the furniture within the room. Elaborate and elegant sheets adorned atop, rich in the same shade of blue as much of other fabrics seen about, a lighter shade weaved in the embroidery to convey more of a design. Presentation-wise, it dwarfed anything Vyra may had once had the luxury of resting upon. To know that this was hers, there would be an appreciation for it that she may fully come to terms with, though once she was more of reasonable mind.
As Alisa helped her onto the bed, with each motion, each bit of her further resting upon the mattress, the material conforming to her body, Vyra’s strength seemed to wane more and more with every passing second. Even the motion of laying her head upon the large pillows could have as easily been attributed to her having lost the last bits of her strength, the surface by which she landed on being the best that could have been asked for. Fluffy, soft to the touch, but at the same time strong enough to support herself, it was the best that Vyra could have possibly asked for.
And to see the woman whom she had come to idolize, the one who had showed her a world outside of the hell that she had come from, Vyra could do little more than hold a smile towards Alisa, watching as the woman followed a similar sequence as Vyra had. Her smile lingered; her eyes remained upon the woman until the call of sleep eventually came to overtake her entirely. In her final moments of consciousness, she heard the words of the woman call out, wishing her a good night. As she uttered, or at least, felt that she uttered the same response, Vyra’s eyes closed as the calming feeling of rest overtook her at last, “Good night Alisa…”
To have such a rest after the long, exhaustive day that she had had, the very idea of sleep had become such a thing of luxury. It had been such a truly foreign experience that she was not sure of just how she seemed to relive it. The feeling of sleeping upon a bed like this, a true example of modern luxury that had always been denied her, as drastic of an improvement from sleeping upon the cold ground within an alleyway most of the time, a timid resting upon the floor of some establishment under the best of circumstances. But of what comfort that should have brought, it did not. At least, not in the manner that Vyra expected.
It was not the residual pain of what had taken place earlier, the display of Magic performed by her and Alisa that had gone awry. She was no stranger to sleeping through and despite pain; at one point in the past even having slept through multiple broken ribs. But as she slept, what her body registered was something different, a feeling residing throughout her subconscious as she slept. Dreams perpetually interrupted by the flashing of blue and white glows, persisting around whatever sort of peripheral her mind registered the thoughts, only to disappear and reappear again.
It was unsettling. Not painful, but certainly not what lent to a comfortable sleep. Except that it did.
For as unnerving as it may have been, whatever distraction they may have stood to be or otherwise affected her unconsciously, Vyra did not struggle to sleep, overly lost within the confines of relaxation and comfort, the combination of the luxurious bed and her body having been overly drained of any sort of energy lending to a perfect union that kept her consumed whilst the strange visions continued to hammer upon her.
If nothing else, it stood as quite an experience to reflect back upon once she awoke.
It came with the greatest of reluctance that her eyes opened, the drive and desire to remain underneath the warmth and comfort of the heavy sheets that were adorn upon her, the pillow that seemed to allow her head to forever fall within a vortex of comfort. Not for anything did she wish to tear herself from it. Only upon opening her eyes again and actually processing the empty side of the bed beside her, the spot in which she would have longed to see Alisa beside her instead empty, the sheets tossed about with the indignation of someone who had awoken too late in the morning to care about the proper tidiness of the sheets and their appearance. Vyra couldn’t help but appreciate that and smiled slightly, if only to try and salvage some sort of good that stood to come out of actually following suit and getting out of bed.
As she resigned herself to shutting her eyes once again, hoping to afford herself a few more minutes of rest, it was the faint scent in the air that seemed to draw her attention, at least enough such that she got up from the pleasure of the pillow to put a face to the smell. It rested upon the mahogany table across from the bed, just beside the box of treats that Vyra and Alisa had eaten upon the night before. A large tray, one that easily could have accompanied the entire space of the table itself, with a bevy of breakfast items spread out upon it. Pastries, meats, cheeses, numerous small saucers filled to the brim with sauces, pitchers full of various colored beverages.
A feast. A feast for the two of them.
Whatever reluctances Vyra may have had a moment before about waking up, they quickly seemed to have passed as she threw off the covers in haste, or at least whatever haste would have been afforded to someone whom had just awoken. She certainly felt that, her eyes still not fully adjusted to the brightness of the room; the Magical light in which her eyes had gotten familiar with the other night no longer active in lieu of the intense beams of early morning sunlight that penetrated through the windows. They painted the room, providing a level of clarity and a different perspective that was not present the night before. The objects within the room were more clear, the excitement that had overwhelmed Vyra the night before having been cleared, allowing her with a chance to genuinely appreciate everything that now were present here.
Here in her room.
Her room. The very idea that this was something of hers was still something that she had a hard time wrapping her head around. Every piece of furniture, now further highlighted as Vyra viewed them from an objective eye, made her more and more wonder how anything like this could have happened to her. Each piece had been hand-carved, shown the quality of a craftsman that Vyra in only her wildest dreams would ever hope to come close towards. Yet, now she had a large room, with all of this, all thanks to Alisa. It finally dawned then on Vyra that Alisa was no longer there, causing a brief moment of worry to come to her, wondering where she may have gone off to, irrational as it may have been.
The truth was that Alisa had far more responsibilities to her life than just Vyra. Although the Demi-human knew that she was the Blue Pegasus guild leader, that was the extent of it. The difficulties, the obligations that came with it, she was completely in the dark towards. Even stripping away that point, Alisa had her own life, her own friends, her own family no doubt. Though Vyra was forever grateful for the attention and affection that she had shown her up to this point, in the back of her heart – as much as she dreaded to admit it – she knew that Alisa could not watch over her every moment of the day, nor should Vyra expect such a luxury either.
But for as long as Alisa would grant Vyra the honor of her company, she would appreciate it with every capability of her person. And as she scoped the room, trying to better appreciate the little details that she had missed the first time around, the sound of running water from beyond the bathroom seemed to bring a relief to Vyra. The godmother of her fairy tale was still with her, for the time being.
Shifting her attention towards the center of the room, the remnants of Alisa’s first lesson in learning Magic unfortunately removed whatever sense of a fairy tale that this may have been. Vyra could finally see the remains, the bit of Magical residue from Alisa’s Magic that littered the floor like snow, traces of blood that otherwise lay or had co-mingled on the floor, it all contributed to a picture that she had one perspective of. To see the rest of it, to reflect back on the night before, it did send a chill down her spine, knowing that when all was said and done, she had been the cause of all of this.
Wanting to spend as little time as possible thinking back, Vyra instead turned all of her attention towards the incredible breakfast arrangement on the table just a few feet away. From her bed, it had looked impressive, but seeing it up close, Vyra was all the more impressed. Truly, from the clothes to the room to the food, Alisa never did anything halfway. The absolute best or not at all. Vyra certainly weren’t one to complain though, but she found herself in a very unique, and arguably luxurious position to find oneself in.
Not sure just where to start.
Everything seemed so good. It was all so fresh, trails of steam still resonating off of plenty of the items laid before them. Her eyes darted back and forth from one entrée to the next. The croissants that looked all just so appealing to the muffins perfectly browned with the smallest bits of fruit laid within them to the ham glazed just enough to further draw ones’ eyes towards it, but not enough to tarnish the flavor. Everything was masterfully done, and Vyra genuinely struggled to figure out just what to have, her hand reaching out towards one thing only for her to recoil it back in second thought, repeating the process a few times over with several different items.
Eventually her mind settled on one of the muffins. She reached out and grabbed perhaps while not the largest of them, appeared to be one of the more impressive ones. Perfectly bronzed, with small bits of orange and chocolate within the outer layer of the crust. With just a single bite, Vyra could not help but smile in delight. It was perfect! It tasted far better than anything that she could have imagined if she had ever found herself in a position to prepare one herself. For that matter, just looking at not just the muffin in her hand but also everything across the table, she could not help but appreciate that the cooking stood to be greater than anything she ever could hope to achieve on her own.
It made her only appreciate the meal all the more.
Another bite, another smile. Vyra could not have asked for a better way to wake up to, but she could not help but find herself a little upset. Eventually, this food would be gone. Not just that of this breakfast, but of the treats that were still in the box beside the tray. The quality of all of this, this was not just some food; it was perhaps some of the best that she would ever hope to encounter. This was the quality of food for the elite, and however much she may wanted to dream, she knew that she wasn’t one of them. This room, her room, said otherwise, but it spoke more to Alisa’s kindness than it did anything of Vyra’s credit.
Vyra’s muffin seemed to be infinite, or at least as she thought it to be. Multiple bites in and she felt like there was still so much more of it remaining, another good problem to have. She took another bite as she decided to stroll towards the balcony, sliding open the two doors and stepping out directly into the sunlight, momentarily blinded as her eyes did not expect it to be quite as bright as it actually was. While the room certainly had come alive in the sunlight than that of what Magic had provided, but even that transformation had done little to prepare her for how intense it actually was.
It took some time for her eyes to adjust to the light; the sun seeming to cast down directly upon her as she stood in the center of the open balcony. Though after a short while, it became more tolerable and as she looked out onto the widespread view of the city of Hargeon that she had marveled at the night before, she came to more and more appreciate the view. The city was magnificent, albeit having a completely different look than that of night. Prior, the lights illuminated a city that seemed lively, the lights from the taverns and other establishments which seemed to highlight the active and social Hargeon night-life seemed to be lost in favor of a more quiet, reserved, if not, more hospitable Hargeon.
Vyra looked out, resting her arms as she leaned out against the balcony’s ledge, muffin in hand. It was a beautiful sight, the yellow-orange glow that radiated out from the sun casting down upon the rooftops of the city, an almost otherworldly shine seeming to reflect off from the distant ocean that covered much of the view ahead. She smiled as she looked on, her eyes maneuvering through all of what this perspective of Hargeon had to offer in contrast to her exposure previously to the city.
Alisa had been right; she certainly did pick the room with the best view.
A few glances down towards what could only have possibly been the various alleyways and dead ends of the Hargeon streets could not help but inspire a bit of a reflective stare out of Vyra, who simply watched them with both scorn and wonder. From this vantage, they seemed to be nothing more than minor inconveniences within the maze that was Hargeon, but to her they were far more. They were as much her salvation as well as her tomb; providing her with the only sort of relief that the city had offered, but in the same right it had condemned her into a seemingly unescapable trap. To now see where those trapmasters lay within the greater scheme of the city, it made her wonder equally how she had gotten caught and how she were able to escape.
But that was her life no longer.
Now she found herself within the company of the Blue Pegasus guild, the crown jewel of Hargeon, as a guest of their guild master herself. There was a sense of pride that came with it, and more to Vyra, there was a sense of belonging, of her having found someone who actually cared towards her. If she were to have stripped away this fancy room, the fancy clothes, the food, all of that, so long as she knew that she were no longer left on her own, she would be fine. And more even, now she found herself blessed with a talent that she never knew she had, let alone knew existed.
Magic.
It should have been perceived as a blessing, but as she sauntered back into the room, the muffin in her hand reduced now to little more than a bite or two at the most, she could not help but frown slightly as her eyes connected with the aftermath or Alisa’s lesson. Vyra wish she had a better understanding of what happened last night; of what went wrong and why. She thought that she had done so well, that she had made Alisa proud, and yet she created, something. To call it a disaster would perhaps be appropriate, but it felt dirty to call it that. A monstrosity would more appropriate of a descriptor. And yet, it should not have been. Though everything about it was hazy, she still did remember a good deal of what took place and that it became so unhinged, it did not make sense as to why.
Though she was hardly even that of what one would consider a novice, or even that of someone who had even taken a few steps towards an understanding of Magic, it felt at least that she had some level of control. She recalled the statue that she tried to make of Alisa, that while it hardly had anywhere close to the level of craftsmanship that a master of Magic like Alisa would be capable of producing, at the minimum it at least had some level of similarity to that of the female figure, if nothing else. Glancing down upon the site of where she and Alisa had shared their Magical abilities, she fixated on the centerpiece of it, the area outlined by the splashing of Magical dust from Alisa’s Magic.
“I can do this,” she muttered, her eyes switching between the center of the floor and her hand, now free of the muffin but within her mind, the purple veins that protruded through her skin all too apparent even after the fact. Her focus had hardly been on it as it was happening, but the image was still seared into her mind, her arm contorted and effectively ripped apart by Magical energies, the sensation and pain having rushed through her body. And she recalled all too well the warning given by the jolly old healer.
“I can do this,” she said softly, a reassuring tone, more to convince herself than anything. Though conflicted, she looked on, fixated upon her other arm as she looked deep within, hoping to find whatever it was that she had touched before, left struggling as nothing happened.
She sighed, but tried again nonetheless, despite the potential benefit that had come with her failing to channel her Magic just then. There was no certainty that she could control her Magic, or even that she could stop it. She did before, but was it thanks to her, or was it thanks to Alisa? It didn’t matter. Vyra knew that if she ever wanted to control this Magic, she would have to be able to do it.
She closed her eyes again, focusing everything she could. Focusing upon the Magic, focusing upon what she was capable of, focusing upon what Alisa had said, the look of pride upon her face, the feeling of pride that Vyra had felt, everything.
And then it happened.
The small Magical rune which appeared upon her open palm, small, but having the same purple color that the first circle she had materialized had. From its center, it appeared. A small ball, barely the size larger than that of a chestnut, with a faint purple-like haze spreading around it. With each passing second, the haze seemed to latch upon it, covering it slightly more and more until it expanded to that of the size of a small ball, like those that a child would look to play with.
Vyra could not help but smile slightly at the progress, at the control she seemed to wield towards her usage of her Magic. Granted, the form in which she was applying was trivial, something to which likely even the most simple of active apprentices and those practicing Magic could accomplish with ease. But for her to be able to do it, a part of her wished that Alisa were not in the bathroom still to witness this. She would be proud.
But in the immediate moment where she would have clamored for pride, Vyra found only panic as the purple sphere that floated just above her hand seemed to grow out of control, the fullness of it fading into more that of a gas than a solid, small little clouds of smoke peering throughout it like ink dipped in water, the ripples spreading out and dispersing as thy reach out, forming into a faint fog that encompassed the area around her hand. Her eyes widened, shocked at how quickly and rapidly the Magic seemed to become undone. With little time to process what to do other than react, she threw her hand outwards, swatting at the Magic like that of a cloud of smoke before her.
The Magic seemed to dissolve away as her hand sliced through it, splitting the cloud briefly in two before completely dissolving away into little more than a haze that covered the same area. Vyra had expected to feel something like before, a shock of pain, or something that would indicate the damage that was done to her, but there was nothing. She did not feel the same brutal torture before, nor anything at first.
Then she couldn’t breathe.
The scent and the musk hit her at once, a choking sensation that seemed to envelop her. It hurt to breath, it hurt to see, everything stung. For every second that she remained within the miasma that lingered, she could feel the life be sucked out of her. Coughing, gagging even, Vyra covered her mouth as she backed up, tripping over one of the chairs left over, landing upon the floor hard as the sensation of being able to breath again came back with a force that was both unexpected but wholly welcome. Coughing still, trying to expel the last bit of the Magic that may have been within her, Vyra peered up, seeing the last little bit of her Magic disappearing within the air, eventually there seeming to be no trace of it whatsoever remaining.
She looked on, her face one of equal frustration and disappointment as she remained on the ground, simply looking at where the cloud had once been, then back to her hand, first the other from which she had cast the Magic, then to the one previously from the night before. She fixated on them for a moment, disappointment wholly evident within her face as she cursed aloud, “Why? Why can’t I do this!?”
Who is Real |