[PK] THE FALLEN PRINCESS

[Apotolofo 1414]

 

“SCRISA! HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE DIED, BECAUSE OF THEM?! HOW MANY HAVE FELT THIS WAY, BECAUSE OF THEM?!”

 

“I don’t give a f*ck.”

 

Scrisa’s childhood, if you could call it that, was surrounded by chaos. And she liked it. For some cruel, twisted reason- she liked it. 

 

Her mother, Ruina Sweist, crime queen of a drug empire. Drugs and excitement entered her life before Scrisa had even left the womb. Her twin brother, Mal, equally as damaged- perhaps even more so.

 

Her father was kind when he was around. Mika Anarion. She loved him, but in the end, it was not enough. He helped her find her path, without caring what that path was. 

 

From the docks of Lubba’s Keep, to the Fennic undercity, she was taught how to steal, play dirty, kill, and at the end of it all, survive. Then, Ando Alur, the fallen city- in the wreckage, Ruina was taken into the void. 

 

Young Scrisa, plagued by nightmares of a voidal monster, dove into the voidal arts in a desperate search for answers- and for her mother. Valindra took her under her wing, teaching her all that she knew of the world. Scrisa became a voidstalker, as the horror that plagued her mind claimed to be the mother she had lost. It chided her, insulted her, degraded her- yet never once did she doubt it was Ruina. 

 

Magic, madness, murder and mayhem- they froze her heart into a block of dry ice, cold enough to burn. For some cruel, twisted reason- she liked it. She ran a successful black market, she brought terror with her name, she killed and she tortured and she smiled all the while. 

 

---

 

That was, until Juniper. 

 

This girl that she had known since her teens. . . She saw her differently, for once. Her short brown hair, fair skin, and soft doe eyes. . . Delicate hands, a fiery disposition- yet little skill or power to back it. So fragile, so broken- yet, pure. 

 

Mine. She had thought. Mine to cherish, and mine to keep. At first, it was a matter of pride- but soon, she came to realize that her embrace was one filled with thorns. So she let her go. But she never stopped loving her. 

 

She cherished the children they adopted and raised together, and mourned the death of Verena- though she waved her off as a failure. The daughter of a voidstalker, seeking druidism? She was disgraced. 

 

Then, Dasyra- and oh, how she loved Dasyra. Raised her, cared for her, gave her gifts- even passed down the arcanium sword her own mother had given her. 

 

It was these two elfesses that opened her heart fully, thawed it out. She made allies, some acquaintances- and very few, but very strong friendships. The chaos never left her life, sure- but for once, she had some sort of stability. Even as her titles of Princess of Lurin were stripped, her Anarion name torn away, and her Catacombs caved in- she had them. She had her friends. 

She had Juniper. 

 

---

 

“You have just killed EVERYONE I LOVE!”

Scrisa saw red. She tasted red. She was covered in it. 

 

The monsters and shadows that filled her vision laughing, mocking- as she could do nothing to silence them, or prevent the scene that unfolded before her. 

 

Lanre Cerusil, at first an enemy, then an ally- and a friend she cared for more than she would ever admit. Dead.

 

Yera Silveira, the closest friend she’d ever had. Dead. 

 

Juniper Rose, her one true love, despite all they had been through. Dead.

 

Even in her last moments, Scrisa’s heart sank like it did every time the Oyashi elfess entered her view. The weight of having what you so want in reach, but know better than to grab it. Knowing a butterfly’s wings are fragile, albeit beautiful. Her scarred flesh painted red, her brown hair damp with ichor, and her eyes lifeless. And her lips, calling for her son. 

 

Scrisa lay there, a sword through her shoulder, her leg shattered, and her lungs caved in. Blood splattered with every scream and sob, each word scraping through her throat, clawing out to call for those that could not reply. Her friends- no, family. The only family that had never betrayed her. 

 

And there they were. Dead on the ground, slaughtered like pigs. 

 

 

---

 

I don’t understand.

 

The words were on repeat, flowing as quickly as her blood did. She was born into crime, into chaos and war- she was bred to fight, to kill, to survive. So how did she die so easily? How did she fail? Where was the strength that she had been born and raised to wield? 

 

As the sword entered her chest, and pierced her heart, thoughts flooded through her mind. Despair. Rage. Terror. A desperate urge to stay alive- though it would matter little. 

 

A hurricane of thoughts and feelings flooded the voidstalker’s already crowded mind. Too many emotions, too many people to wish well, too many to wish death upon. Yet in the center of that storm was the singular feeling that this could not be the end. 

 

In her last breath, she trained her gaze upon he who had betrayed her. And she cursed him. 

 

There were no letters. There was no will. For the Fallen Princess did not intend to die.

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

Holy shit. Uh. I did not wake up today thinking I would PK Scrisa. 

 

Thank you to all the people that contributed to her story, as fucked up and sad as it was. And fun, though. . .

 

Anyways- this is the end of Scrisa? Or is it. . . *dramatic music plays*

 

This was kind of hurriedly written and there was just so much to fit in. Her story is so complicated and chaotic, but I tried to do it justice.

 

Sorry to all the people Scrisa murdered. . .

 

[sam33497 2794]

If the dead could express gratitude, an elf would, towards one of the only allies who had never betrayed him, who had stuck by his side at any turn she could.

 

Lanre Cerusil had been forgiving, but it is nice to have people you don't need to forgive, too.

[Cheese 2315]

Everything was going wrong.

 

In just a single Elven day, Juniper felt her world crumble. The world she had built up from ashes, and watched burn, and built up again. Everyone she loved was dying. Leaving her. Her boyfriend, her best friend, her children...

 

"I'm so sorry Scrisa. You were as good to me as you could be. I'm sorry I couldn't love you in the way you wanted me to."

 

Juniper wept again for two of her closest friends, who both lay dead.

[xo31 462]

Arthur and Scrisa never got along, though- he held high amounts of respect for her, regardless of if it was returned. Voidstalker to Voidstalker. He poured one out for her, using his Atronach arm- the prosthetic he had because of her.

[PrimnyaQuorum 1039]

That damned, weeping Watcher stared at Scrisa as she drew her last, blood-stained breath. A ward of a dear friend, and someone he himself had cherished. He tried, he so believed - to keep her away, to prevent it. He told those with him to lower their weapons, to allow her to grieve, and yet-

 

For all he was, for all his might, he could not stop it. And so another part of his Heart died with her - for he knew in the very end:

 

She was right. She did not deserve this.

 

And so he wept in private, and prayed to what he did not believe in - not for forgiveness, but mercy upon the one who deserved it above all else.

 

Spoiler

Wow I haven't felt this emotional with a PK in a long time. Wonderfully written, Scrisa will be missed!

sobbingsobbingsobbingsobbing

 

[sapphic_spidy 155]

There is pain buried deep in Kiva's heart. Pain that has always been there, that they do not acknowledge, because it is pain that will tear them apart. 

 

They were alone for so long. It was all they knew. It was all they came to expect. But people changed that. People they cared for deeply.

 

Barnabas. Dimitri. Atticus. Scrisa.

 

They never knew what Scrisa did. The murders, the crime. They just knew Scrisa was one that saw potential in them. Who offered to teach them with little hesitation.

 

"...There is a hollowness inside."

Kiva found out about Lanre and Scrisa one after the other, from one man who did not want to let them hope for a response to a letter that would never be. 

 

Dear Scrisa,

I have heard about the dangerous situation with [   ]. I truly hope for you to be safe. We have not spoken recently, but I care for you very much. You are my friend, and my mentor.

 

What else would they have written? Does it matter?

There is no body that they have seen, but they know, they know she is gone. 

 

Instead, they begin to mentally draft another letter.

 

Dear Numeon...

[TreeSmoothie 4906]

An ancient, rotting, old Imperial Captain lay deep in some dank catacomb - sunken eyes staring at the altar ahead, fanged maw twisted into a frown. She recalled Scrisa, and their gambits together; in the maleficar's better years, she regarded Juniper & Scrisa both as family. No correspondence, decades later, and the Orenian had come to forget much of their interactions. Dame Viktoriya would ebb back into eternal slumber, none the wiser of Scrisa's supposedly, true death.

[Damnit_Delmar 1109]

The distant tides of the dead clambered into the psyche of the Farscryer, clawing and wailing to be given second chance. 

 

Some where aimless, mindless in their desire to live

 

Others called from the distant realm, seeking that which had brought them deep below, a death in return. 

 

Yet all such pleas' where ignored, for only the pitiful pleas' of those that sought proper power came to be heard

 

A meeting was made, whispers upon the wind, as the Crows Court came to plan. A sole question would come to be asked, an offer granted, to the helpless and wishful. 

 

"Care to make a Deal with a Delmar?"

[SaviourMeme 694]

Jon Snowell paced the church in Lurin, his mind darting every which way as he pondered the news that had reached his ears. Wondering if there was something that could have been done, those many years ago, when her family was once whole, that would have led her from this outcome.

 

But the answers never appeared.

 

And thus he pondered, thoughts of every wrong step flashing in his mind, as the candles burnt low around him.

 

((im bad at writing))

[ɮʊռ 26]

    Being approached and told by none other than Juniper Rose, was the dark elven finally informed - informed of this death, and another. Informed of a new chapter in this book of hers, whether it be for bad or for worse. Her head carried downward in shame, with her palms raising upwards to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her expression scrunched in frustration - then sorrow - then, a mere expression of guilt. 

 

Death comes in so many ways, whether it be yourself or a friend - but why did it have to be Scrisa?

 

``I, Dasyra, should have been there.``

[DahStalker 2858]

Somewhere in peaceful retirement an aged elfess with mixed hair of ginger and silver reflected on the past. She had heard of the ker’s death three days prior, isolating herself to a strict routine of fishing in the lakes of Petra and drinking a variety of wine. 

 

However, one hopeful morning of fishing was rather quiet and she a thumb brushed along the underneathe of her eyes it was coated in moisture as evidence of her mourning. 

[Morigung-oog 2361]

Word had reached Valindra, despite the secrecy surrounding the death of Scrisa. Words echoed in her mind, a promise made to Scrisa's mother, her best friend Ruina before her soul was torn asunder by the Voidal Hollow of Ando Alur.

 

"I will watch over your children. I swear it."

 

There came a sharp twitch of her frame, a choir of sobs quietly erupting from the fennic renegade's lips. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks in quite possibly the first show of genuine sorrow in decades. At first, she'd blame herself, undoubtedly, for in her mind Scrisa was still a helpless child in need of protecting.  She had failed. 

 

"... You've forced my hand, girl." 

 

That mali hissed out with a slow shake of her head. Her words carrying a cold bite seldom used against those she truly cared for.

 

"All you had to do... was let her die."