The Lady Helvets.

[Metamancy 1772]

 

TRIGGER WARNING: 

Spoiler

Themes of self-harm, suicide, and major depression are prevalent throughout this post. If any of the above topics are sensitive or triggering for you, I advise you to approach with caution or stop reading.

 

OOC: 

Spoiler

I’ve been having a lot of fun writing these narrative posts for one of my all-time favorite characters Avaline, and wanted to make a post exploring her past rather than an event that occurred in-roleplay. This post aims to go more in-depth into Avaline’s mind, past, childhood, and current major depression. As always, none of this information is public and should not be metagamed! Thanks, and enjoy reading!

 

Avaline had never been much of a drinker.

 

Of course, the occasional wine at formal events, the rare shot of whiskey with friends.

 

That was a lie. She didn’t have friends, nor had she ever tried whiskey.

 

Avaline sat down at the counter of the tavern once more. She raised a hand to the barkeep in greeting, who, in her mind, was slowly becoming a familiar face. She could feel some emotion somewhere within her heart – regret, perhaps? – though, she could not quite reach it, and the rest remained hollow and empty, as it always was. 

 

“The usual, please,”

 

She murmured as she settled heavily into the stool. The barkeep eyed her somewhat cautiously in silence, before reaching for a bottle on the shelf. 

 

Avaline had worn one of her new dresses; deep blue, with gold laces. She had even taken the care to put on makeup, which she had not done in a while, and had fastened a large, matching blue bow to her sharply-cut short hair. 

 

She wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps she had wanted to look pretty. For what? Pretty, to go drink? 

 

Come on, Avaline. 

 

She swiftly drowned the thoughts in her first swig of mulled wine, which had been slid over to her somewhere in between the time she had been lost in her mind. She tossed a few coins that she knew would be enough to cover the cost over the counter. She had apparently paid more than necessary, for the barkeep’s eyes widened, and he offered her a grateful smile before going back to doing whatever barkeeps did while they watched helpless people drink.

 

Avaline raised the bottle to inspect it, though it didn’t mean anything. She was, however, able to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the glass, and found herself taken aback by the woman staring back at her. Her eyes were red and puffy, and a terrible blush took over the bridge of her nose. She had never handled her alcohol well; despite being less than a bottle in, her pained eyes blinked back at her drunkenly, and her lips were thinned out into a strained line. 

 

Avaline, is this really you?

 

She could not bear the answer to that question, so she could do nothing else but drink some more.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

Avaline had just turned six.

 

“Father, must I really go?”

 

Asked the small girl, looking back at Leopold, who had accompanied her to see her off.

 

“You will be better off here,” 

 

Leopold promised to his daughter with a smile. In later years, Avaline would come to learn that he had lied.

 

Alas, seeing her father smile was the greatest pleasure for the little Avaline, and the sight of that soft expression on his lips lifted her innocent heart. Despite this fact, she pouted.

 

“How come Leonardo does not have to go to school?”

 

She whined.

 

“Leonardo has his own future ahead of him,”

 

Leopold explained. How ironic. 

 

“What about Theodora?”

 

“Quiet, now,” 

 

Avaline’s father chided her as she continued to grumble on. 

 

“One of the first lessons you will learn here is that ladies must not complain.” 

 

Resigned, the little Avaline’s shoulders slumped, and she looked up at her father for, though she did not know it, the last time.

 

“Will you come to visit during the holidays?”

 

“Of course,”

 

Leopold lied. 

 

“You are my beautiful daughter.”

 

And with that, he pushed her away, to disappear – forever – into the gates of the institution. 

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

Just drink.

 

Avaline took another shot.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

Dear Father, 

 

It has been four years since you left me here in boarding school. At times, I wonder how Leonardo and Theodora are doing – I had assumed that Theodora would join me in a few years, though that does not appear to be the case.

I have recently caught wind of the birth of the young Eugenie – how I wish you would visit me and bring me home so that I might see my baby sister.

I have also recently turned ten. It is a strange sensation, to know that my age is in the double-digits, now. I feel older than I ever have been – and I suppose that I am – and my only birthday wish is that my family would visit me here. 

I apologize if that is too much to ask. I have found it difficult to make acquaintances with the students here during my years, and find it excruciatingly lonely still.

On the bright side, the new dormitories are quite nice! I am forever grateful to you for the opportunity to be able to study abroad, nurture my skills and grow as a lady here at school. I think of you every day.

Please do come visit – I recall that you said you would.

 

With love,

Avaline Marie Helvets

 

P.S. Please do not look at my grades. They are quite shameful.

 

Satisfied, the young Avaline left her room to head to the aviary, attached the letter to the foot of a bird, and watched it fly away happily.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“Ugh,”

 

Avaline involuntarily sounded out, somewhere through her fifth glass down. She clutched her stomach as she slammed the glass down on the countertop; she felt just about ready to vomit. 

 

The barkeep eyed her nervously. It was a sight that he was all-too-familiar with. 

 

“...another, please.”

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“...Lady Helvets?”

 

The insistent voice of Professor Mirelle called out from the front of the classroom.

 

Avaline’s eyes shot open at the sound of her name, and she sat up quickly, taking her head off of the desk. 

 

Sleepy. Had she fallen asleep in class again?

 

She rubbed at her eyes, blinking ahead at the Professor. 

 

“...could you tell us what the slope of the line three-ex plus two is?”

 

Avaline felt her voice catch in her throat.

 

“...the slope, ma’am?” 

 

Professor Mirelle sighed. 

 

“Yes, Lady Helvets. The slope. The em in em-ex plus bee – you do remember, yes?”

 

Avaline swallowed, hard.

 

“Um – of course, ma’am.”

 

“Then could you please tell us the answer? Come, now, it is quite the simple problem.”

 

Avaline felt her entire body begin to shake. 

 

“I… I am not sure,”

 

She spoke honestly, her voice trembling. 

 

“Though, if I recall correctly, you said that you remember,”

 

The Professor spoke impatiently, sighing. A low chuckle began to murmur through the classroom as the students all turned in their seats to face her – some grinning, some with expressions of pity. 

 

Avaline lowered her head in resignation. 

 

“Very well. We can see that here, the slope of the line is three…”

 

The sounds of the classroom faded away as Avaline caught the gaze of a single boy, who was still staring at her, despite the rest of the class having already started facing ahead again. 

 

As they locked eyes, he offered her a smile.

 

She felt her face flush, and looked away.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“...and I wonder where he is now,” 

 

Avaline spoke drunkenly to a barkeep that did not care, slurring her words together.

 

“Oh, all men are the same, you see. Another round,”

 

She declared, sliding more coins over the counter.

 

The barkeep only eyed her pitifully, though passed her another drink without objection.

 

Drink.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“Lady Helvets,”

 

An unfamiliar male voice called out to the now fifteen-year-old Avaline.

 

She looked back in the hallway, only to find the very same boy who had smiled at her back in the mathematics classroom the week prior. He had black, slightly tousled hair, strikingly green eyes, and wore the very same uniform that all the boys wore; a black jacket over a white shirt, with black pants to match. Devastatingly handsome. 

 

“Oh – um – hello,” 

 

Avaline stammered, turning fully to face him. She felt her cheeks begin to warm.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

The boy grinned.

 

“You seemed to be struggling with math,”

 

He offered. Avaline felt her face heat up even more.

 

“Well, quite frankly, that is none of your business,”

 

She spoke curtly, turning to leave. 

 

“So quick to flee?”

 

The boy laughed, causing Avaline to turn around once more. 

 

“I have never spoken to you before,”

 

Avaline frowned, her hands finding a comfortable place upon her hips. 

 

“Just what is your problem?”

 

The boy raised his hands in mock surrender, raising his brows and taking a step back. 

 

“Woah, woah. I did not mean to offend,"

 

He quickly rectified, before extending a hand to shake.

 

“My name is Laurent Bellrose,”

 

The boy introduced, his grin sobering into a polite smile. 

 

“And, if my memory serves me correctly, you are the good lady Avaline Helvets?”

 

Avaline scoffed, glancing away as she felt herself blush. What a mockery. 

 

Alas, she extended her own hand and gave his hand a gentle shake. His grip was much firmer than her own. 

 

“That would be me, yes,” 

 

Avaline confirmed, finally allowing herself to meet Laurent’s eyes. 

 

“I could not help but notice that I always catch you on your own,”

 

Laurent spoke smoothly, his smile now widening to a mischievous grin once more. 

 

“Such a waste of such a natural beauty.”

 

Avaline’s lips thinned and her face flushed in embarrassment. 

 

“What are you trying to say?”

 

She demanded of him, crossing her arms over her chest. At last, the boy moved in for the kill, taking only the tiniest of steps closer to her. 

 

“I thought I could change that,” 

 

He grinned,

 

“And invite you, perhaps, to the Midwinter Ball.”

 

Avaline felt her eyes widen. 

 

She did not know this boy. She had never spoken to him before. By the looks of it, he also appeared older than her – at least sixteen, if not seventeen. And yet, something stirred within her heart at being seen. Never had anyone come to speak to her before out of their own free will; she had always been the strange girl from Alba, the one that everyone could rely on to point to and say – “at least I am better than her!” And suddenly, there was Laurent, this strange, mysterious boy, offering himself to be–

 

A friend? 

 

The prospect of it seemed impossible.

 

The Midwinter Ball?

 

And yet…

 

“Alright, why not?”

 

Avaline found herself saying, before she could even really think about it. 

 

Laurent’s eyes flashed, and he smiled once more.

 

“Wonderful. I shall see you after class.”

 

And with that, he turned and began to stroll down the corridor. 

 

After class? She had only ever agreed to go to the ball with him.

 

Oh, whatever.

 

She found herself staring holes into his back, clutching her backpack which was slung over her shoulders, until he rounded a corner and was gone.

 

The bell rang, and Avaline was broken out of her stupor, rushing to class.

 

She was late.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“I think you best leave,”

 

The barkeep finally told the drunken, thirty-four year old Avaline as she called for another drink. She splayed herself across the countertop, tapping her empty glass upon it demandingly. 

 

“Just one more,”

 

She insisted, groaning.

 

“You best go home, Lady Helvets,” 

 

The barkeep said once more, sighing heavily. The rest of the bar was empty, at this point.

 

“Allow me to see you out. I have a family to get to as well, you know.”

 

Avaline soon found herself left to the cold streets of Saint Godwinsburg, the tavern behind her closing down for the night.

 

She found herself habitually walking to the Aldor estate. It was always Rothwin, or Roswyn, that could offer her comfort.

 

Alas.

 

She made it to the door before remembering all that had occurred prior to her drinking.

 

She turned, clutching her chest, and made to walk back to the Helvets estate.

 

I am going to die alone,

 

She figured as she had to run to the side of the road to vomit, retching out what little she had eaten. It felt as though her very insides left her through her mouth. 

 

She trembled, cold in the winter chill, the whole way back home.

 

All alone.

 

“I have never kissed a man before,”

 

Avaline had lied to Rothwin. 

 

She thought of Rothwin as the doors to the Helvets estate flew open and she stumbled drunkenly to her room, collapsing in bed. 

 

It was then that the tears began to fall.

 

Avaline cried into her pillow, all alone, with no alcohol to keep her company. She cried and she cried, sloppily and messily, pulling the sheets tightly around herself. 

 

All alone.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“Lady Helvets,”

 

Avaline heard the voice of Professor Mirelle speak out from behind the Headmistress’ desk. Though she was her math teacher, Professor Mirelle was also the Headmistress of the school.

 

“Do you know why I have called you here today?”

 

The now seventeen-year-old Avaline shook her head.

 

Professor Mirelle took a deep breath, before leaning over the desk slightly.

 

“It is not often I must have this talk with students,”

 

She sighed regrettably, 

 

“Though it is a talk that must be had.” 

 

Something was wrong. Avaline felt something in her chest twist horribly.

 

“Lady Helvets, we both know that your academic standing has not been… stellar,”

 

The Headmistress spoke. 

 

“However, you are not alone in this. Many students struggle academically.”

 

Avaline swallowed, hard.

 

“Alas… at this rate, it is nearly impossible for you to meet your graduation requirements,” 

 

Professor Mirelle spoke, adjusting her glasses as she looked over some forms that apparently detailed Avaline’s work at school. 

 

“We have granted you additional instruction and tutoring and leniency in deadlines,”

 

The Headmistress continued,

 

“But your progress remains… limited.” 

 

“So I will not be able to graduate?”

 

Avaline asked with a small voice. 

 

“At this point in the term,”

 

Professor Mirelle sighed matter-of-factly, 

 

“Even if you were to get a perfect score on every one of your exams leading up until graduation, you would still not meet the requirements.”

 

Avaline’s eyes began to quake.

 

Eleven years. Eleven years of schooling at this accursed school, only to be told she could not graduate.

 

And not for lack of trying. She had worked so, so hard, to catch up with the concepts she did not understand, to be a lady, to make her family proud.

 

Alas, she was a failure.

 

“And so, this is my proposal for you,”

 

The Headmistress offered, making an attempt at some form of mercy with a small smile. 

 

“We may offer you formal withdrawal from the school before final exams, with a certificate of attendance rather than graduation. A letter written personally to your wonderful parents affirming that you completed your education to the best of your ability can also be arranged.”

 

This could not be happening. No, no; she had worked too hard for this, suffered too much.

 

“Of course, if you wish to finish up the year without graduating, we can–”

 

“I will go home,”

 

Avaline decided, her voice heavy.

 

“I have not been home in eleven years. It will be good to return home early.”

 

Professor Mirelle gave her a small, weak smile.

 

“That’s my girl,”

 

The aged headmistress sighed, emotion catching in her own throat. After all, she had watched Avaline grow from six to seventeen years old.

 

“It has been the utmost pleasure being your headmistress, Lady Helvets. I wish you only the best of luck in life. A carriage will be arranged to take you back to the Empire.” 

 

Avaline dipped her head in mock thanks, before leaving the office to go pack.

 

It was time to go back home.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

“But you said Father does not love me,”

 

The now eighteen-year-old Avaline, back home in the Empire, bawled before her brother, Leonardo. The words tore from her chest before she could stop them, pained and tortured at her brother’s incessant pestering previously. 

 

Leonardo froze, realizing the gravity of what he had said. 

 

“I was lying, goddammit! Stop crying!” 

 

Leonardo frantically placed his hands upon her shoulders and shook her, looking into her teary eyes. Shortly after, he pulled her into a deep hug that only the closest of twins could possibly share. He smelled of travel and blood and the wilderness. 

 

Avaline stiffened, at first, though eventually relaxed, sagging into her brother as her sobs stuttered, hesitant as to whether or not they were allowed to stop. 

 

“You were?”

 

She whispered. 

 

“Yes!”

 

Leonardo huffed, breathless and exasperated.

 

“I shouldn’t have said it.”

 

Her head bobbed against his shoulder, for she could not trust her voice in the present moment. For the first time in forever, she allowed herself to believe that maybe – just maybe – she was not alone. 

 

“Now, come. Let me show you my home, mm?”

 

He helped her to her feet. 

 

It was good to see her brother grown, after so long. 

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

Avaline, suddenly thirty-four again, awoke in bed with a sharp breath, the sheets twisted around and in between her legs. 

 

The dream clung to her terribly – the sound of steel, her own voice screaming, the shock, the reversal of roles.

 

She lay there, in bed, for a few long moments, reliving Leonardo’s expression as he stabbed her in the dream. She stared at the ceiling, waiting for the beating of her heart to slow.

 

It did not.

 

When she sat up, her head ached terribly, pulsing in time with her thoughts; a constant, horrible reminder of her illness.

 

In fact, the situation felt all-too-familiar; waking up with a headache, her head pounding, her room suffocating around her. 

 

She rolled out of bed, groaning and clutching her head. She glanced about at the room, gathering her bearings.

 

Her eyes landed upon her desk, where a bloodied knife lay.

 

She stumbled over, being puppeted by some invisible hand that forced her limbs.

 

She felt nothing as she rolled up her sleeve, revealing a myriad of terrible scars. 

 

“You have been different since your recovery, Av,”

 

She heard Rothwin’s voice speak, somewhere in the back of her mind. 

 

She felt nothing as she picked up the bloodied knife.

 

“You were dead to the world.”

 

She felt nothing as the knife dug into skin, splitting flesh apart and spattering blood all over her desk. 

 

“You were gone. And I am supposed to already be married, and–”

 

She drew in sharp, pained breaths as her right arm came down to cut, and cut, and cut her left. It felt like hours before she felt satisfied with herself, dropping the knife back onto the desk as she clutched her stinging, bleeding, numb arm. 

 

She looked down at the knife, and for a moment, she could see herself driving the knife deep into her gut, or her chest perhaps, to render her heart and guts from her body. 

 

Alas, she could not bring herself to do it.

 

She only moved to a basin and washed her arm so that it did not infect.

 

And she pulled down her sleeve once more, returning to bed. 

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•
 

Avaline awoke in bed, her forehead burning.

 

Her skin felt as though it was on fire and her breaths were all wrong.

 

She was thirty-two.

 

She coughed furiously as she drew in her first breath of the day, her lungs burning as she did so. She coughed until her vision began to blur at the edges and she felt ready to pass out. 

 

She settled back onto her pillow, groaning to herself as she lay completely still, looking at the wall beside her as the room came back into focus. 

 

She listened.

 

For footsteps.

 

For voices.

 

For anything – anything – to prove that she had not been entirely forgotten by the world.

 

No one came. 

 

By midday, the light had shifted across the floor, streaming through the window, and by nightfall, it was gone again. 

 

There was no one in the room but her.

 

No one had come to visit her.

 

No one had come to see if she was alive.

 

No one cared.

 

Her illness festered.

 

•───────────────────•°•❀•°•───────────────────•

 

The years truly had flown by. Since her return to the Empire, she found herself aging rapidly; first, eighteen, then twenty, then twenty-five. 

 

Somewhere during that time, the end of the world had come. The battle with the Mountain had left Aevos scarred and ruined.

 

At first, she thought it was a normal day; simply a quiet, boring Sunday in which no one came out.

 

Then, she noticed the closed shutters.

 

The stillness in the air.

 

The absolute silence.

 

She recalled something someone had told her a while ago – something about a Great Migration.

 

Did I miss it?

 

She could still remember that feeling of panic in her chest as she ran to the docks. By the time she arrived, her breath was ragged, her chest tight with the fear of being left behind.

 

Fortunately, a few ferrymen remained, looking up at her as though she was a ghost.

 

“I thought ye all left!”

 

One of them exclaimed. 

 

“I need you to take me after those ships that left,” 

 

She gasped almost immediately, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. She could not be left behind; she could not be left behind. She would die here, on her own. The thought of it was incomprehensible.

 

“I need your most skilled ferryman, to make sure I arrive in the same place as the Imperial ships.”

 

The ferrymen all looked at one another, grinning to themselves at the prospect of the amount of coin they could make off of this job.

 

One of them, supposedly the leader, emerged from the small hubbub. 

 

“And who’re ye, lass?”

 

Avaline took a deep breath, drawing herself up to her full height, despite the fear clawing at her ribs.

 

“I am the Lady Helvets.”