THE WANDERER

[esotericas 1554]

THE WANDERER

A Young Woman’s Discovery Of ‘Self’ 

 

Cecilya, aged 16, dons mens’ clothing for her journey into the unknown.

 

 

All that Cecilya Angelika left for her family was a note, placed carefully on Adele’s desk, where hopefully her cousin wouldn’t find it until she was long gone...

 

[OOC:] This information is not publicly known except to those who participated in the events in RP. Don’t metagame!

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

The wide, yawning expanse of the southern desert was unlike anything Cecilya had ever seen. Sweat dripped down her back, the thick wool of her father’s coat weighing heavily in the dry heat. Beneath her, the thudding of her horse’s hooves stirred up dust and sand, blowing into her eyes and obscuring her vision as she rode through the endless sands.

 

It was only when her horse refused to move any further, slowing to a stop in protest of its dehydration, that Cecilya finally acknowledged she was lost. When she hopped off her horse to properly get her bearings, her vision swam, and she sunk onto her knees in the sand.

 

-☖-

 

When Cecilya came to, she was slipping off the back of a hairy camel, the sandstone gates of an unfamiliar city in her view. The sun-warmed cobblestone of the streets seeped through the soles of her boots immediately, and Cecilya didn’t stop to thank whoever had rescued her, instead running through the gates of the city.

 

There, she was met by a horde of foreign tribesmen, and a young boy - perhaps eleven or twelve. Before she had time to ask what was happening (or where she was), the tribesmen were already filtering off into a large sandstone building across the street.

 

"What.. am going on, here?"

 

The boy gave her a bright smile, and reached out to offer her his hand.

 

"Want to come watch?"

 

He answered Cecilya’s question with one of his own, and ran off after the departing dignitaries before Cecilya could answer. She doggedly followed after, and the boy led her into a meeting room, and then into what looked to be a guardhouse.

 

"When I give the signal, pull this lever, alright? - Also, I’m August!" 

 

"Ea.. uh. Okay.."

 

His forwardness startled her, and Cecilya crept over to the door, watching the tribesmen filter into the room.

 

-☖-

 

"Now! Now! Do it now!" 

 

August shook Cecilya’s shoulder, and pushed her towards the lever. She could barely reach it, but with a measured jump she managed to grip onto it and pull the thing down. An ominous clank ensued, and Cecilya turned a questioning gaze on August, her brow furrowed towards her newfound friend.

 

"Why.. what does it do?"

 

"Closes the gate! The Duke told me to lock them in. It’s going to be a bloodbath."

 

The first clash of swords rang out through the stone halls, and Cecilya’s vision swam once more.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

I: WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR WORST MISTAKE?

 

"I’m a Lord of Oren. I can help you."

 

Cecilya clings to the stone wall of the Vienne Undercity, her sweat-dampened hands struggling to maintain a grip. The murky water sloshed only a few feet below her, and across the way, her gaze found the face of the so-called Lord, pale in the barely-present light of the Undercity.

 

"Ea do niet know who vy am. How can ea trust vy? How-"

 

A splash broke her focus, and Cecilya scrambled away from the water, sodden boots and dampened hands slipping on the tractionless ground. She was stumbling up the cracked stone steps before even receiving a response, her heart pounding in her chest.

 

-☖-

 

Without warning, Cecilya was fourteen again, still shuddering from her first encounter with bandits - her pockets empty and her feet bare against Vienne’s cobblestone streets. She stumbled into the city, searching for any signs of life. A shop caught her eye - its doors thrown open, and friendly voices chattering inside. Cecilya trod over, cautiously sticking her head inside.

 

"Do either of vy know where ea might find an inn?"

 

She asked, and then froze, her gaze catching upon a familiar face. Elizaveta of Alban, perhaps the strangest of the Barbanov family. Elizaveta turned, and cocked her head at Cecilya. Under her breath, Cecilya muttered prayers to whatever god felt like listening - Please don’t let her recognize me. Please don’t let her recognize me.

 

"Aren’t you Adele’s little girl?"

 

The Princess asked, and Cecilya’s stomach sunk to the floor.

 

"Nie.."

 

She wasn’t, of course. Her cousin, not her daughter. Adele wasn’t even married, everyone knew that.

 

"Yes you are! I’ve seen you two together."

 

"Please do niet make eam go back to Haense."

 

Cecilya’s voice came out far more pitiful than she wished, and she scrambled out of the shop before Elizaveta could speak again.

 

-☖-

 

"Just wait here a moment, I’ve got an errand I need to run."

 

The familiar brick walls of the housing for the Koenas’s wards slowly crept in closer, weighing onto Cecilya as if they wanted to crush her. The wooden doors closed behind Elizaveta before Cecilya could respond, and she was alone.

 

Her first attempt at running away had been thwarted. She was right back in Haense, with nothing to show for her efforts but a muddy hem on her dress and a sea of shame in her heart.

 

Next time she would do it properly.

 

WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR WORST MISTAKE?

 

Poor planning. Listening to people who think they know better. Trusting strangers. Walking barefoot. Carrying too much money. Speaking too quietly.

 

Letting people see my weakness.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

II: WHAT MOTIVATES YOU IN LIFE?

 

Once again, Cecilya was lost. This time it was on purpose. Taking only unmarked paths, not bothering to read signs as she walked. A warm summer breeze teased through her braided hair, and she could feel the cobblestones of the street through the holes in her worn boots. 

 

She was seventeen now, another year closer to being a proper adult. The world around her grew ever larger, the more places she visited. 

 

The Undercity of Vienne. Caves of murals in Norland. Empty homes and silent streets in Elvenesse. Marble columns and draping greenery in Celia’nor. Homes with grass for floors in the Vale. Deserts and mountains and oceans.

 

Today, however, she was underground. Initially, Cecilya had followed a path towards the water, fancying a dip to cool herself off, but instead she had found herself in what seemed like a village. Tiny houses on either side of a bubbling creek, weaving in and out within the hill.

 

It was charming, yes, but nothing as enchanting as the things she had found in other places. Bloody altars, shrines to unknown gods, books with voices and souls.

 

Her attention was caught, however, when she spotted a singular house with an open door. Hopping across the stones of the river, Cecilya crept inside.

 

"What do we have here?"

 

She muttered to herself, peering at the ransacked home. Belongings were strewn everywhere - a scarred sword, leather notebooks, rotting food, and ragged clothing. She paused, glancing back out of the house and around at the little neighborhood. What were the chances that anyone would notice if she took something?

 

Probably pretty slim. And besides, she likely wouldn’t be back here for a long time.

 

"Do niet mind if ea do..."

 

Cecilya slept under the stars that night, her new weapon resting soundly by her side.

 

-☖-

 

"Nobles like you shouldn’t have to sleep in places like this."

 

Cecilya couldn’t help but laugh at the young Lord Sarkozy, giving him a gentle cuff on the head.

 

"Ea do it because ea want to."

 

Franz gave her an incredulous look, swatting her hand away.

 

"But why?"

 

Cecilya pursed her lips, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. She looked around at the Undercity, with its crumbling stone walls, rushing river, and creeping vines.

 

"Ea like the way it feels down here. Like there am secrets to uncover."

 

You can’t find secrets aboveground.

 

WHAT MOTIVATES YOU IN LIFE?

 

Breaking rules, even those that exist for good reason. Finding things that nobody has found before. An unwillingness to stay still. Curiosity. Exploration.

 

The unknown.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

III: WHO DO YOU WANT TO BE?      

 

Cecilya sat atop the fountain in the main square of Vienne, tuning her newfound lute. Found was the right word, as she had pilfered the instrument from the burning wreckage of some old manor in the north, little left of the place other than smoldering embers. It was remarkably intact, save for the scuffs and stains that come from years of use.

 

"You’re going to get hurt up there, miss!"

 

A voice called from below, and she turned to look. A blonde man looked up at her from a table by the tavern.

 

"Ea sit up here all the time."

 

Cecilya called back, leaning against one of the columns, her legs dangling off the roof.

 

"Then play something!"

 

-☖-

 

"What did ea do to deserve vy?"

 

Charles paused, his gaze drifting over the ocean as he thought.

 

"Hm.."

 

"Hm?"

 

"I don't know. I'm thinking."

 

"Should ea be worried?"

 

It was a weak jest, and Cecilya squeezed her hand, clasped in his. She leaned softly against his side, watching Charles’s face with an easy smile. The ominous beating of the dragon’s wings had long since faded away, and yet still the pair remained on the beach they had escaped to.

 

"I like every part of you.. Because every part of you exists. I've never had too many answers for a question before."

 

"And yet that one was an answer to a different question, ea think."

 

"… Ah, that wasn't the answer. We would be here longer. To me, you are deserving of anything and everything."

 

A pause, and Charles spoke again.

 

"I don't want you to think that my unfettered truths are made up. It's difficult to describe you without slight discomfort you might perceive it the wrong way... I've never encountered anyone that's stolen this much of my affection."

 

Cecilya rolled her eyes, resting her head on Charles’s shoulder.

 

"Am that such a bad thing? Ea did niet grow up around much love, ea will admit, but.. Ea always got the feeling it was supposed to be that way."

 

"I lost faith in love long ago."

 

"Then what do vy call this?"

 

The waves lapped at the gravel beach only a few feet in front of them, stars just beginning to shine in the deep blue sky. Cecilya wrapped her arm around Charles, watching the ocean.

 

"Those feelings have since changed."

 

She couldn’t help but smile, gently knocking her bent knee against his.

 

"That was the right answer."

 

For once, everything was perfect.

 

WHO DO YOU WANT TO BE?

 

Calloused fingers on the strings of a stolen instrument. Juniper’s warm smile after signed conversations. Holes in leather boots, handmade trousers, papej’s coat.

 

I want to be the woman I have already become.

[Lokvank 337]

From the Seven Skies, a certain Lord Ludovar would wipe off the single tear that had left his right eye upon seeing his children grow and grow, faster than he would have ever imagined "Ea know, ea should be there..." he would comment quietly to himself before shaking his head, sighing softly "But ea was taken away early, way too early... And ea'm szam about that..." After his little monologue he looked for the nearest mirror to see if looking at himself would make him feel better

[CopOwl 1668]

The One that Got Away

 

Adele wonders each day what more she could have done. For all she knew, Cecilya had made it out onto the chill Haeseni roads and been slain by roaming bandits. But she couldn't dwell on that; her family here needed her. Matyas, Amicia, Emma, Johanna, Pyotr, Sibylla, and everyone else.

 

"I have never felt like a true part of this family." Was what she'd left Adele in her handwriting.

 

The last day that she had seen Cecilya was the day her Father died; the worst day of her life, despite everything. She couldn't give Cecilya the attention she needed, mostly because she herself was hurting. But she could never give Johanna or the Cecilya the attention that they needed or wanted - she had other, more important things to dedicate her time to... 

 

And yet.

 

Now that Ceci was gone, what was all of that more important stuff for? If they would just ... If she was gone anyway. Because Adele didn't treat her cousin right. Those poor things... Their mother was absent, and she remembered the day their father died. She had missed it, distracted by a Duma session in replace of her father. She had missed her Uncle's last moments on this plane because of a Duma bill-!

 

"Please, please don't look for me." Those begging words of her cousin forever echo through the now-Countess's mind.

 

And now Cecilya might have joined him. What was any of this for, if not to stop that? Nothing...

 

"Tell Johanna I'm sorry." Was her final wish. And Adele couldn't even do that.