"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

A cold wind rippled through the air.

All too indicative of the change of season, it was all too expected, yet nonetheless cruel to experience. Less the actual cold, whatever sensation felt by that upon the flesh being but a fleeting moment. More the reality that the warm summer, the festivities and carefree sense within the air that so often resonated throughout, that was being snuffed out.

Always just too quick for anyone’s liking.

It made these moments, the brief remainder of time together all the more precious, especially for the younger generations. Children who danced about within the streets, some who sought joy within the falling leaves that one by one seemed to descend down from the trees like heavy, colorful raindrops. They littered Oak, not just the leaves but the children too. Though she would have found them distasteful, it was impossible not to find some sense of appreciation towards their presence.

If nothing else, they made the streets a bit more entertaining to walk through, if only for the hope of something going horribly wrong.

Her time in Oak Town had been brief up to this point, having arrived only a short time ago but barely having had any sufficient time to find her place within it. It was a destitute enough place away from Crocus and Magnolia where she found that she would finally be able to breath and not have to be fearful for the potential dagger to be waiting for her at any given turn. The reality of threats were all too real, especially in her travels here. Mercenaries and vested parties that sought some level of political benefit by the attempted apprehension of her; a notion that once upon a time she may have passed off as foolhardy, now having been made manifest before her very eyes.

Astrid believed that perhaps now she would have a chance to figure out what to do next. Her plan had hardly been one of clear focus or preplanned initiative, rather instead being one of hasty abandonment. It was the only option afforded to her, to venture off, lest find herself at the mercy of whatever threat and hell she would have otherwise set herself up to be within. And within the realm of Fiore in which the influence of her father held strongest, there were little doubt that she would have had to worry.

Not here though.

Oak Town was always considered the one region where the grip of the political world in Fiore could not reach; neither far enough to cast its web over the people, nor having the capability to win over the hearts and minds of its people. Though a part of the nation of Fiore, Oak Town had become as distant and isolated as one of the major cities could have ever imagined being. Even as a child, she could so vividly recall the conversations had between her father and his numerous staff, the frustration that radiated and seemed to remain constant as the years went, the unwillingness of Oak Town to become one to carry the banner of Fiore with pride.

Oak would sooner burn to the ground than find itself at the mercy of a government that never dared show care towards its people.

544/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)

"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

Oak’s resilience was something to be admired, if nothing else. Even those who chagrined the most towards the efforts by the city to remain as independently loyal as possible could not help but commend the people’s dedication towards the effort. Even Astrid found herself among such company, impressed by the people. Impressed by how free they looked at the world.

They looked unnatural.

Happy. Truly happy.

Such an odd feeling, to see hope and satisfaction within the faces of the people, making the most out of what was nothing other than a raw deal handed to them. Despite his presence within the highest perches of the government, Astrid’s father did little for the people, and though she could see the joy and hope within their faces, she could also see the pain and suffering that every single one of them were living through.

Years of oppression had left this city a shell of what Magnolia, Hargeon, and Crocus eventually became. Not quite a hovel, nor that of a ruined land, but certainly not a shining gem of the country of Fiore that like how others tended to view Magnolia or Crocus. And sadly, with the opposition to the politics of Fiore becoming all the more apparent within the city, there were little reason to think that anything other than retribution and spite would be afforded to its people.

“Extra! Extra!” A voice echoed through the streets, tearing Astrid away from her collected thoughts, her head so lost within her musings as to not immediately appreciate the origin.

“Extra! Read all about it!” The voice echoed through again, Astrid again unable to see just whom had called out, but did see the growing congregation of people hurdling together, all centering themselves around something hidden behind several waves of people. Curious, if not a little interested, Astrid proceeded forward, still finding herself looking behind her – still not acclimated to the greater sense of freedom that was now afforded her within the city – her guard rising, a hand almost instinctively reaching towards the dagger that she kept tucked within her belt, lest someone reach their hand where they should not have.

“Read all about it! Crocus politician to be named to King Reign’s court!”

Her eyes went wide as she found herself stumbling slightly as the same voice echoed once again, carrying not just a plea for attention, but rather news that left her stunned. Though the people here may not have much thought or care towards this, but for her, someone who was as much familiar with the players and significance of something like this, it was hard not to be interested, if not even worried. Crocus politician was an inherently vague term, and there were no shortage of people whom she knew that fit that bill. Some of them potentially good for Fiore, plenty who were as corrupt as what people had come to imagine Fiore politicians being. For her though, there were seldom few who could have done her much good.

Not to say that it were not impossible, but it was certainly not likely. Perhaps as likely as rolling snake eyes on a pair of dice, she reasoned.

1073/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)

"Worship me in rivers of blood"

STR: 311 | SPD: 507 | CON: 256 | END: 225 | INT: 256 | MANA: 13,550

“Hey! You’re a new face!” Astrid’s eyes looked up to the man, a young gentleman, maybe a few years her junior, the dirty face indicative of a life having navigated through these streets and roads in and out of the city all too many of a time. “Consider this a welcome gift from the Oak Town News team!”

Before she could formulate a response, the paper was thrown into her hands. Several pages with hastily printed ink written upon the pages. Weak smudges along the paper had her checking her fingers, worried that some ink would have found itself making its way onto her hands.

A sigh of relief escaped not noticing anything alien upon her fingers, the black necrotic look of her ghoul qualities being enough of a dark stain upon her skin for her liking.

Averting her eyes from her hands, barely a quarter of the way down the page had she read before her eyes widened in disbelief. A rush of emotions ran through her head. Hatred, anger, disbelief, betrayal, it was not clear quite what she should have felt, but certainly whatever feeling of relief she had coming into Oak Town, with just a few lines of written text had it all deteriorated away.

She felt paralyzed, unable to move much, save for enough of a will to regain her composure, just enough to depart through the crowd without drawing too much more of any attention towards herself. Once outside the crowd, she left out a breath of disbelief, looking again towards the paper, hoping that what she had seen were wrong, that it may have been a mistake.

Sadly, there within the page it read again. ‘Crocus Politician to Seek Place Within King Reign’s Court,’ ‘Personal Life Unraveled by Deaths of Wife, Daughter’. By themselves, not headlines that she would have thought too much of. But to see what accompanied them, the portrait of her father, the citing of her mother’s death, of her own death, her mind raced as far as how best to process this information. Certainly whatever approach she were taking was not working.

1425/1400 (-20% Censor of Dragon's Blood, -10% Zera'thul)