mmjinae

"The flag of Oren is prelude to war," wrote Viviana in her super-private, totally-not-public diary entry. "I did not spend my childhood in bloodshed to see the signs of another in my city walls. Oren will not be forged out of pen and parchment, but from blood. I've grown tired of the sight of blood." Viviana finished writing her entry, put out her candle, and went to sleep. Dreams and nightmares of a dead empire haunted her slumbering mind.

Viviana Ximena Vilac read over the letter in her hand one more time, before tying it to the foot of a pigeon and letting it fly to Ser Sterling. Another soul joins the Silver Crusade.

Whenever I cast voidal magic on one of my character's, I like to emote that the aura and the air around her starts to smell like pungent ozone, or cloying salt, or something along those lines, depending on what she's casting specifically. Smell makes the magic seem all the more unnatural and cool!

Viviana Ximena Vilac stood before the Vuiller manor, its silhouette heralded by the setting sun. Just a few weeks prior, Marjorie had been laughing here without a care in the world. She had friends, family, and dreams of her own - beautiful, resplendent dreams, like budding flowers at spring's first breath. The manor had seemed so full of life, then. Today, the manor was dead. The last rays of the setting sun died away, withering behind the steep shadow of the mountaintop. Marjorie - sweet, gentle Marjorie - was gone forever. No more would her laughter linger in the courtyard of Portoregne; it was taken away by the monster who robbed her of her future. No more would she greet Viviana with a smile on her face; that, too, was seized by the vermin who ended her life. The truth of the matter was that, despite all of Viviana's hopeless protestations, Marjorie was dead. She was dead and gone and all they had left of her was a single lock of hair to bury away. Eleven years of life and love, and all they had was a single ******* lock of hair. Marjorie's voice haunted the inside of Viviana's mind. Marjorie was dead. But the murderer was not. Not yet, at least. "One year, five years, ten years from now - it doesn't matter. You will be brought to justice. I will see you rot."

A paper note, a lock of hair, and a splatter of blood; that was all that Viviana Ximena Vilac could find left of Marjorie. Who would hurt her cousin? Who would even dare? Marjorie was the sweetest girl that Viviana had ever known. She loved fashion, her fish, her family most of all - who would ever think to hurt her, let alone take her away? Viviana's memories flitted back to the party Marjorie had held just months prior; of the unforeseen guests, of the strangers she had never seen before that night. Her memories recalled the words and promises on the note left behind; of the people named therein who were her only clues to her cousin's disappearance. With these memories, with these clues, Viviana began to write a list. "I should have been there," hissed the scion of House Vilac. "I should have saved you. The least I can do is find the ones who took you away." She held up her list of suspects, and pinned it against the wall with a dagger. "All will be held to account, even the world. If I find it wanting, it too shall burn. I will bring you home, this I swear."

A lone librarian stared at the missive in her hand, the words lit up by flickering candlelight. Old memories flickered through her mind's eye: the screaming citizenry of Portoregne, slaughtered by remorseless Ferrymen; horror stories of kidnappings and maiming committed against her friends, her people, her Royal Majesty; the air of terror that loomed over the Marchlands and beyond. The missive crinkled under her tightened fist. "You shall fight for pride," she murmured, "and you shall die for pride. So be it. So will I." Asya Carmesía got up from her chair, and set the crumpled paper down on her desk. She marched to her armoire and threw open the doors, revealing her armors, her sword, and her bow. "I will help see this war reach its end. I will put your brigands to the sword. I will see Winburgh burn."