EtHR related: My Dark Haven, Kaori Koga Backstory

Title: My Dark Haven, Kaori Koga Backstory
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Background brief
Word Count: 1577.

"My mom and dad fight at home. He cuts her sometimes. And then she gets mad and sends him flying across the room."

"Miss Koga, please stop telling lies about your parents. I cannot for the life of me imagine them disagreeing on anything, much less fighting. Now, does anyone have a true story to share with the class?"

"But Ms Eviteen, they do fight. And then they get mad at me when when I try to stop them. I'm not lying. I have bruises to prove it."

"That will be enough Miss Koga, see me after the meeting."

Ms Eviteen ended the meeting there and for the rest of the period the kids sat around and played cards. They were all there because they thought they could use peer discussion about their personal or social issues.

When Ms Eviteen wasn't looking, she said again, "My parents really do fight though. I just need help. I'd like somewhere to go, where I won't have to deal with my parents beating each other up and yelling at me for no reason."

"Listen," one of the card players said, folding his hand. "It isn't anywhere near Avril, so don't be pulling jokes on us, ok?"

"Technically," another said, adjusting his glasses, "It doesn't need to be the Month of Comedy for someone to be funny. I mean, "The Aidapak" is a year-long show. I raise ten."

"Well, fine. And anyways Kaori? I live right next  to you. I never hear them shouting. I never hear anyone from your house shouting."

Kaori shook her head, sending the brown-black mass that was only tied up by a few red ribbons flying into a mess. "The walls are soundproof, don't you know?"

The person with the glasses smiled, delighted he had won the round. Putting the cards away, he said, "Yes, but it doesn't seem very like either of them to quarrel with anyone or anything. And I'm sure your parents would never hurt each other. They're always very cordial and sweet."

"In public," Kaori protested, but the hour had ended and the occupants began leaving the classroom to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Kaori sighed in defeat and retied her hair more securely.

"Miss Koga, you are very convinced that your parents are violent at home."

"Yes, Ms Eviteen."

"I have sent word to your father asking to join your family for dinner. I do not think what you say is true, but if you are so insistent, then I would not mind spending a night in investigation."

"Thank you Ms Eviteen!" Kaori said. The counselor only nodded and waved her out the door. "I'll see you at dinner!"
---

"KAORI KOGA. You dare to shame your name and complain to outsiders about a family issue?"

"But mother--!"

Kaori ducked as the couch hurtled towards her. It landed a few feet away, caught between the stair rail that led up to the one-room loft and the other wall. Kaori flung out her hands and concentrated on a mental picture of her as a baby. Her mother was caught aback for but a moment though and soon a lamp shot itself at Kaori, shattering and scratching her arms and cheek. Kaori yelped and staggered backwards and was saved by the sound of the doorbell. "Go change," her mother ordered, sending the lamp shards into the trash receptacle and the couch back to its original place with a few swipes of her hand. She looked into the mirror by the door, smiled pleasantly, and opened the door, "Ms Eviteen, how kind of you to join us. Dinner is almost ready. Please, do come in." Mr. Koga appeared from his workroom and shook Ms Eviteen's hand amicably. "Yes, please. Would you care for some drink?"

Seeing Kaori still standing defiantly on the stairs, her father stepped out of view of the door and under the guise of fetching a cup, sent a few magical bolts at his daughter. Kaori jumped and the bolts only tore her dress, slightly and silently. Kaori slipped upstairs before anything else happened to her.

"Forgive me," she said, entering the dining room, where the adults were already eating. "I overslept," she lied, seeing the expressions her parents were throwing her over Ms Eviteen's head. She had not decently covered the cut on her cheeck and Ms. Eviteen noted this.

"She tripped and broke the lamp," Mrs. Koga explained politely, offering to treat the wound as she poured some soup for Kaori. "Are you sure you don't want me to look at it dear? You're sure you feel fine?"

Kaori suppressed a grimace and nodded stiffly. "Yes mother, it is perfectly fine. Although you are quite wrong about the detail. The lamp flew at me and was intentionally shattered."

Her mother put on a confused expression and Mr. Koga stepped in. "It is all my fault really," he said, setting the spoon down. "I accidentally left lamp in a bad location and when she came home, she accidentally triggered the catapult I was building, sending the badly-placed lamp at her. But enough of this. I apologize--to everyone--for my negligence. Kaori, could I make it up to you by offering you your favorite dessert tonight? Ms. Eviteen, I hope you do not mind strawberry shortcake."

"But I hat--" Kaori started but capitulated at the dagger-like look she saw on both her parent's faces. "Thank you father."

Dinner proceeded quietly for Kaori, though the adults chatted amiably on quite a range of topics. Not once did her Mr. or Mrs. Koga say a cross word or indicate any sign of disapproval with each other, their daughter or their guest.

Ms. Eviteen stayed for a few hours after dinner to continue her examination and was then offered a tour of the house by Mr. Koga, who apologized profusely for neglecting to do so until so late. With the eye of a teacher, Ms Eviteen examined the furnishings. The one-story house was very neatly decorated, with nothing that so much hinted as to damage or wear. Since both Mr. and Mrs. Koga did not rely on weaponry in their careers, there were not even the most basic weapons lying around. The kitchen knives were securely contained and showed no signs of being thrown or used as anything but a tool for chopping vegetables. Up rickety stairs in Kaori's bedroom loft was the only sign of disturbance:

Kaori's room was not messy--no, it was clean and orderly--but the color scheme was quite disturbing. The entire of the room was painted black, with a few stripes of a creamy pink here and there, showing where the black desk, the black bed, the black-framed mirror, the black closet, the black door to the black bathroom. The light from the room came from five pink lamps. Bottles of sand, both colored and not colored and corkboard-size sand-painting canvases were tucked in a corner but loomed dangerously in the room.  Kaori's main weapon, a dagger the length of her forearm, was resting conspicuously on her dresser.
---

"Kaori, don't be upset, but I think it isn't your parent's fault that you are feeling these emotions. I think your powers are occasionally slipping from your grasp, causing you to see things that aren't real. Illusion imposition is a difficult skill and power to master, so do not be deterred. I'm sure you will one day master it perfectly well."
---

Kaori Koga, fifteen, pinned her hair up neatly in two curled loops. She combed her bangs to the now-normal cute style and the two long strands at either side so that they would not bother her vision. Finally, she set a scarlet ribbon in her hair, a strikingly elegant look. Her dress was pretty, but also somewhat practical and her dagger was strung inconspicuously on the inside of the coat. She washed off any traces of blood, bandaged the cuts she could and arranged her dress so it would cover the scars. The ones on her face she cleaned quickly but throughly and then expertly applied makeup around the area to conceal it as much as possible. Only then did she dare leave the comfort of her black room.

"Good morning, Miss Koga," her teachers greeted. "Good morning," she replied.

"Such a nice little girl now," her teachers commented. "that Ms Eviteen sure knows her stuff. Why only last Fril Arg she was freaking out and telling foolish stories about her parents. And now--a mere week and a half later--it seems she has drastically improved her life. How fortunate."

The students seemed to think the same. "Hey, Kaori. I was wondering--would you go to the dance with me?"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"We broke up."

"Oh." Kaori smiled pleasantly and locked her scarlet-hazel eyes on the boy's. Subtly, Kaori moved her hand. There was no indication that anything unusual was happening; the first sign came from the boy, who staggered backwards and howled silently

"Why'd you show me that?!" he demanded, shaking his head to keep the images that plagued him.

 Kaori laughed as if he had said a joke and then continued her way for a few steps.  Her polite little smile turned upwards in a knowing smirk and she turned back to the poor boy. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Curses returned her words. Kaori set a comforting hand on her new victim and a channeled more images to the person, some true, some imagined, all haunting. She leaned towards him and whispered, "I know what you fear. But be comforted. Reality exists within the mind, and I have your secret locked up in my dark haven."

Artist's Note: I wrote this in 88 minutes, as a part of a quickwrite. 


The main character is one of the minor characters in my to-be NaNoWriMo 2010 project, "Edge: the Heart Reincarnation". Hopefully everything makes sense?
(Yes, I know book titles are supposed to be underlined or italicized. But since it's still in plan-form right now, I think quotation marks will do XP)


Please rate! On a scale of 1-5, how soon in the story should she die? (6 if she should not be killed at all). For any reason you'd like; for example, Lewis said one of my mean characters should not die just because it would be so ironic if the mean one lived. :)


~SilverInk


P.S. I was going to post the second and probably final (really because I just don't feel like writing it much longer) part of Tsiyone's character background, but obviously didn't XD Maybe next week?
P.P.S I have a few drawings of her! I'll submit it once I'm done scanning and editing them :) So check back on this post sometime later on! :) :)

Tsiyone Karmiti Character Background part1

Title: The Introduction
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1182

There seems to be an unwritten law governing the state of the human creatures that allows for other two- legged, two- armed, one-headed, tailless organisms of their planet to walk more freely than other creatures. And it seems that the verdant, static life forms previously so abundant on the planet are degraded as all but nonliving; it is pointless to further express the treatment of said static objects, of those with or without luster. 

The Natives of the forest have a life that is almost directly against this way of life. We live as peaceably as we can bear with the nature around us, with the innate life of the planet. We do not claim to be more “advanced” in any aspect of the human lifestyle except in the area of morality—generally—by the planet’s definition. Yet that is not to say we are completely without their “modern technology”. We have our own methods of technology, ones deemed more “one” with the environment. 

And it is not to say we loathe the non-natives that have come to populate the land. We are careful to keep our relations at a friendly minimum, extending a heart equal to that which is extended to us. 

Of course, I speak only with the experience known to the tribe of Karmiti, and with information only known to the chief’s daughter.

--- 

The first chief of Karmiti was known as Adoeete (ah-do-EE-tay), Big Tree. It is said that his devotion to the land—particularly the trees—was so great that he was born when two rivaling trees entwined roots and created him from the overlapping area; when he was killed, he returned to the land as a great tree. But his teachings were much like the ones of times before, with a slight change to accommodate the farming people of the tribe. 

His great-grandson, Adahy (ah-da-HAY), Timber, later became chief and wed Kemete (key-MEH-teh), Secret. I—Tsiyone (tsi-YO-ne)— am the product of that marriage. I will not however, be the next chief; our chiefs are selected by the presiding chief, along with a few of the elders, when the child is very young. The child, of course, must also consent to this role before it is official.

I am, and always will be, Tazanna, daughter of the chief. I hold no special rank or authority, and no distinction but the title is made. It is no great loss; I prefer to be simply Tsiyone Karmiti, Flying Trees, and not someone that must lead a tribe. I was born this way, and am consent with always being this. My role is to guide the little saplings in our ways, that they might learn the values of the earth and the power of the ancient language.  

--- 

Enough with the dull history. My story begins with the attack of the Nochime (no-shim) tribe on the Karmiti tribe. It was my ninth winter on the land, and I remember I was taking a break from sewing spare moccasins for the men and practicing archery when a cry went up from one of the residents on the perimeter of the camp. It was a late notice, since no one was on the farmlands. A messenger had run from an outlying tent through the familiar forest path to the main camp and reported that hostiles were approaching. Already there were two dead. 

Father gathered the warriors immediately and the non-fighters quickly took down the hangings in the paths in camp to clear the way and to protect their goods. I, along with a few of my wihe—sisters—were expected to keep guard of the camp as the others greeted the hostiles. 

We waited in calm trepidation, and occasionally a fearful mother muttered a prayer, which would be followed by the unanimous “Deus Ioyna” that is, “Deus has mercy.” 

The pahan—non-native born—of the tribe were few—Nem Suis had not joined us yet—and most knew their task; my friend and wihe Evangeline stood by me, her chubby fingers resting on a small set of dark colored stones that I knew were laced with her witchcraft and would do anything from explode to send confusion through those unfamiliar to her—given the alternative, and the proximity of the nearby tents, I silently hoped she would employ the latter. 

--- 

In our language, Nochime means “heartless”. The first leader had named his tribe such because they were a band of outcasts from either native or non-native society and had sworn revenge on the individuals who had banished them. Conflict arose though, when children appeared. Some suggested making pacts with peaceful tribes and leaving the children with them, but some feared that the children would be mistreated, as the adults had been. Some wanted to keep their children and raise them as part of the band. Some killed the babies when they were young. Some sold them as slaves to the non-natives. Some waited until the child could work before selling it—they were an “it” to the members of the Nochime—for more money.

This last one was the case of Eluan (EH-lu-an) Nochime.

--- 

We waited, and finally heard fighting in the distance. This was soon replaced by loud quarreling with soon faded to quiet mumbling. At the time I had not yet advanced my connection to the trees so much as to be able to hear through them and thus did not hear the entire conversation, only snippets of it: “friend…winter…food…pahan…temp--…shila…ahia…”

I stopped listening to the conversation when I picked up footsteps running towards us from a different direction. Telling Evangeline to keep order, I darted towards the sound of these step to meet the newcomer. 

When the person got closer, I drew my bow and readied to shoot. Instead, a boy around my age rushed towards me, brandishing a long dagger. He balked when he saw my arrow pointed at his heart and collapsed. “Wihe, extrsazan okie neigah; Lepaz eun iem!*” His accent in the ancient language was harsh, and it was plain he did not learn it from his own people—the Nochime were not known for their dedication to the ancient customs and language. 

But nevertheless he had spoken in the ancient language and could not lie. “Lepaz, shila.**” I said—he was no brother of mine, but he had called me a sister and I did not wish to be disrespectful— and lowered my weapon. In Common, I asked, “You are of the Nochime clan, are you not? Are you lost?”

“No, I ran away. Don’t let them find me! ”

“Lepaz, shila.** Peace, peace. Where will you go?”

“Anywhere,” he said, “Anywhere.”

I thought hard for a moment. Father would not approve of what I was about to do—maybe no one would—but I could not kill him now, and to abandon him would be worse. 

"What is your name, shila iem?"

*Sister, do not attack me; I come in peace!

**Peace, brother.

Artist's Note: Hi! I haven't been online for a long while because my computer fried for a few days . I've got everything to work except Microsoft Office now though; and I just figured out a way to use TextEdit to write :) (Take that Microsoft! You just got pwned!)

And...this is part one of Tsiyone's background...which isn't going to be about her that much :/

In all honesty I think I'll try to finish this background story series (as in the entire thing) asap so I can try writing...actual stories. Background stories are betatesters! >.<

Please read and review! Thank you in advance! <3 :D

~SilverInk

P.S. Final Fantasy XIII is awesome. <3

Vera Suis Background part 6.

Title: Return to the Past
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Backround Story
Word Count: 1815 (

I froze. Damn obedience curse! I thought, irritated again. With irritation, I glanced backwards, without taking my eyes off the escapee.

“Are you so clouded as to not see who she is?” the voice of Jane Exina chided again. “Can you not recognize your friend?”

“Who’s side are you on?” I retorted, but caught myself from any insults, remembering our respective ranks. I may have been a Guardian, but Jane had also risen in rank, and was now known as a Shadow. She had power beyond that of most in the Cordelian heiarchy, and had only to report to the King himself.

“Do you not recognize your old friend?” she repeated.

“I have no friends.”

Jane moved around so she was standing between the escapee and me. “You used to,” she murmured. “Have you forgotten?”

Her cold tone had returned and I felt her presence slip out of my mind. “You have not forgotten.” She walked to the escapee and set her clock on the shivering lady’s shoulders before moving aside and I stared at the escapee more carefully.

We had been separated for a decade, and were hardly recognizable. But at Jane’s prodding, I recognized a few familiar features—that, and there were not many people in my past that were of much significance. And at that moment, I almost wished that reunions were as simple and easy as a “It’s been too long,” or “Don’t you remember?”

I felt Jane Exina’s hand touch my shoulder and send a wave of calm though me. The rock-hands vanished, and I mellowed a little. Still, no words were exchanged. Finally, Jane broke the silence, voicing my thoughts. “What do you do now?”

Akeisa pleaded with me silently, holding the baby as if it were the only thing that mattered. But I knew that failure would not be accepted. I had my own life to worry about, and I was expected to be recruited when the Lord of the land came to find a guardian to the land’s Shade team.

“Let her go,” someone said, but it was not Jane this time. “And I’ll be the next Shade.”

Bus Kandler—predictably, I supposed. A passing Shade had pitied his statue and brought him out of it—he quickly proved his worth in repaying the debt. “Go ahead. Save your—friend,” he spat the last word, and laughed.

“You are not to speak that way to a superior,” Jane admonished, testing him. He had yet to know of her new rank, and obviously could not tell by her cloak, as it had been given to Akeisa momentarily. Yet if he had any memory he would remember that she was the one that had permitted the Shade that had saved him to save him, put two and two together, and see that we were not acting.

He failed that test. “She is no superior,” he laughed, and attacked, uprooting trees and other debris of the forest to launch at me. With unsurpassable speed, I retaliated, merging the flying matter into a single entity and shooting it back at him. They bounced off him and did as much impact as a grain of sand does an ocean.

“Shadevow,” he said smugly, pointing at the dull gray jewel on a brooch. “You can’t hurt me.”

Through this encounter, Akeisa had slipped further from us, but now paused. She, as well as Jane, seemed to know that the next move depended on me.

My childhood resurfaced for a brief moment, flashing images of my triumphs and failures first as a Revelin, then as a Cordelian. Now that I had a choice, where would I stand?

My next words came from the Guardian-trained side of my brain; in a near monotone, I said, “Master Shadow?”

Bus looked around wildly searching for a Shadow. Akeisa had left the cloak hanging inconspicuously in a branch, and peered at us, looking for a way to escape. “Certainly,” replied Jane.

Incredulity plainly crossed Bus’s face and he smirked. “Nice try,” he muttered, and resumed the attack.

I dodged his attacks, manipulating the projectiles only when necessary to protect Akeisa. No one noticed Jane, who seemed to have vanished. Projectiles and blasts of pure psychic energy flew at me, colliding mercilessly with the environment. Finally, I tired of this game and –Shadevow or no—returned the onslaught.

Without fear, I threw my entire entity into a great tree that had been slashed in the battle; my body crumpled behind me, protected by a boulder. Inside the tree, I at first pushed, like Souls were trained to do, then decided to abandon those lessons and instead just asked to share the space for awhile. It relented hesitatingly, and I felt control of the massive being flood into my control. It was not like standing with my feet glued together and my arms stuck out stupidly; it was just being. The roots did not feel like feet—they were roots, not feet; the branches were branches, and each twig a separate being. I had given it a temporary nervous system, but it was still itself and did not mold itself to any animal shape. I was a tree. I was not a person inside the tree; I was a tree.

I lunged a branch forward using the whisperings of the wind to find him, and propelled a few roots around him, caging the fellow without harming him.

“You can’t hurt me!” he proclaimed again, doing nothing but confirming his location. Magic coursed though my vascular tissue and secondary growth of the plant ensured, making branches sprouting leaves curl around the guy, securing him tightly in a complex web.

I thanked the tree for sharing, and asked it to maintain the position before slipping away and reclaiming my own body.

“You still can’t hurt me,” Bus laughed, spitting out a mouthful of leaves. “You can trap, but not harm.”

I was about to speak, but Jane appeared above him, sitting calmly on a branch. “Arrogant much?” She peered at him and then leapt down, instantly at my side. “Your call,” she muttered pointlessly.

I had made my choice. I would not return with Akeisa to the Revelin—in any case she had escaped in the midst of the battle—but neither would I return with Bus to the Cordelian Empire. I glanced at Jane, knowing she was reading my intentions as I formulated them.

“Why?” I asked, taking the cloak I wore off. She swung it over an arm and said, “As a Shadow, I have privileges; among them, the right to pursue personal interests. This particular one is called, ‘the better path of an individual,’.

“Veraline,” she said, smiling interestedly. “I can’t make you braid your hair, but I can call you as much, can’t I?”

Vera—now Veraline again—smiled and hugged Jane Exina one last time before turning and leaping off into the woods, calling out to the forest for directions.

--- Fin---

Tsiyone Karmiti, fourteen years of age and the daughter of the chief, looked up from her work for a rare moment. The boy sitting on her right stopped as well, setting aside the basket he was helping her weave and stared at her. “What is it, Tazanna Tsiyone?”

“The trees are telling me…” she paused. “Shila Tasuke—oh, banish the thought—Wihe Evangeline! Please go find Pahan Nemonni and tell him to stand at the southeast border. The trees tell me someone is searching for him.

Tasuke grimaced as Evangeline, purple haired and pale skinned, darted off, fast despite her seemingly plump figure, before returning to work on his basket. He was an oddity, a child with no feeling in his legs. But the tribe was good, and did not see this as a drawback or a shame. He was to work with the women then, and work as they did. His arms were not damaged, and his brain was keen; he would work what he could with his conditions.

Within a few minutes, Evangeline returned with a man that stood out among the others: his skin was not quite as tanned as theirs, and his hair was a strange orange color; but the tribes people did not see him as a bad person, and he did not feel his awkwardness; these people were his closest family, and he knew their ways as well as any adult of the tribe. “Tazanna, he said, placing his left palm around his right fist in the native’s way of bowing, “My daughter told me I am expected at the south-east border? Am I looking for someone particular?”

“I know not, Pahan Nemonni. I was merely told that someone who can apparently communicate with the forest is searching for someone of your name. They come this way.”

The man bowed again, a move which Tsiyone mirrored as well, and then left for the south-east part of camp. He selected a place where he could see and looked around him, looking for whoever was looking for him. A few hours passed, and Nemonni was tempted to return, when a voice called, “Nem?”

“Vera?”

A very thin figure made her way towards him and Nem ran forward to help her. “Did you walk all this way from Shalenfear? However did you get enough to eat?”

“Hello uncle,” Vera said, smiling. Her hair was messy but presentable, Estallos still set in them, fluttering their wings with the wind. Her uniform was tattered and torn and her boots were hopelessly worn, but Vera Suis herself was very much fine. “Veraline now,” she corrected, accepting a drink of water from a flask Nem offered.

“I learned a lot in Shalenfear,” she started, “and I figured out how to use my abilities to keep myself alive. I talked to the trees to find out where you were. How did you know I was coming?”

He led her past the last tree before the camp and she gasped. “You’re living with natives?”

“Yes. This is the Karmiti Tribe; the chief’s daughter talks to trees and told me someone was looking for me.”

They continued through the camp, sharing tidbits of news.

They had arrived where Tsiyone was working with Tasuke and Evangeline. “Veraline, this is Tazanna Tsiyone, the daughter of the chief, whom I told you about.”

Tsiyone stood and bowed, the traditional hand-over-fist sign of respect. Vera started to salute, as she had been trained to do as a Cordelian, but stopped and remembered the native salute Nem had taught her so long ago. “Pahan Veraline, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Evangeline and Tasuke also bowed, the latter from his sitting position since he could not stand. “Tasuke,” Nem said, indicating the sitting boy. The two glanced at each other and smiled politely.

“Evangeline,” Nem introduced, but the indicated girl had come over to shake Vera’s hand personally. “I’ve heard a lot about you cousin. Welcome.”

Artist's Note: Yea...Finally done :) Sorry for the late update :P

I dunno what to do about Tsiyone's part, but that's the next major thread for me... unless I get tired of writing character profiles sometime and throw in a random non-character-background thing XD

The following should be defined in Tsiyone's part, but for clarity, this is the translation of the words in native (NOTE: I made these up; they aren't actual native indian words and aren't supposed to be the same as any other author's terminology)

Tazanna--Title for the daughter of the chief

Pahan--Non-native-born brother or sister (I realize this Pahan is also "mage" in Street Magic by Tamora Pierce. This was not intentional.)

Shila--Brother

Wihe--Sister

@Minsat--thank you for the compliment you wrote on a comment for "Point of an Eraser". <3

~Silver Ink

Vera Suis Background part 5

Title: Reestablishment
Author: Silver Ink
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1230

Jane Exina was right.

Life at Shalenfear Academy was much like I had always envisioned life for a student to be: School, chores, homework, and leisure time. In addition to language and math and science and history and magic, Souls were also drilled in soul-work and possessing objects or people. A few of us were selected to work for the Shalenfear Guard, a prestigious station of office. Chores consisted of keeping our dorms neat and cleaning the school every weekend. There were other positions, but Souls were exempted so they could train their abilities.

I was new, and a Soul.

Despite my lessons and Jane’s persuasive skills—using examples from my personal past as academic examples—my conversion was rather slow. Gradually though, I understood and embraced the principles of Cordelian life. By the end my first year in Shalenfear—and my admittance into the actual Academy—I was a successful convert.

I wandered, sometime soon after my arrival to Shalenfear Academy—after the conversion— to the main courtyard just in time to hear the following conversation about me.

“The new girl, you know. Suis.”

“Vera,” another supplied.

“Bright orange hair with the funny winged hair ornaments?” I recognized this boy—he was the top Soul in the class, known only as Bus Kandler. “Yes, her.”

“What’s so weird about her?”
“Don’t you know?” A pause. Someone must have shaken their head.

“She used to be part of the Revelin. Jane Exina found her living with a Native in the forest nearby. Rumor is that she’s a Revelin spy.”

“But Bus, she’s a Soul!”

“She grew up around the Revelin; an oddity.”

“Huh. I can see. Her powers too, did you see?”

“Soul-sending and Biological Control. Absolute possession. Scary.”
“I think she’s here to destroy the Cordelian government from the inside.”

“I am a Cordelian!” I shrieked, stepping into sight, enraged. “And not a spy!”

“You eavesdrop though, said Bus Kandler.

I clenched my fists threatening him silently. The group of students around him backed away quickly—the Academy had no policy against fighting. The weakest fell because of their inability to protect themselves. Unnecessary violent was prohibited, but this was provoked. The law of the school was on my side. Only Bus remained unfazed. “Go ahead, stupid ornament-hair girl. Give it your best shot.”

I knew I could not outmatch him in a battle of power. His telekinetic power was well honed, and would react faster than I could act; nevertheless, I attacked, sending the soul of my whole body—but not me—into a nearby boulder and attacking with the stone-concrete statue I now controlled. A few of the others charged at me, and I spun some of my soul-self back, letting the parts drop from the concrete body as I hit the closest with my fingers. Haphazardly, I hit under his ribs, and was whisked into an area I thought to be his diaphragm. It was a short journey to the lungs to pop a few alveoli and transfer a bolus from the esophagus to one of the bronchi, which is what I did. I cut the muscles of two more attackers, plummeted a third with a concrete foot, and drove two of them headfirst into the mud of a nearby planter with a friendly, “Enjoy” to the tree.

This time there was no Akeisa to stop me.

Bus was gone though, by the end of this. I saw him the next day in class, and we passed with a simple curt nod each—our battle had become academic.

I spent my leisure hours alone, honing my skills in the smaller courtyard outside my dormitory hall. No one bothered me there. Jane Exina came a few times, and only she would dare trespass on the territory that was clearly marked “Vera Suis and her only.” I did my homework alone too, for all of the four years I was at the Shalenfear Academy. But Jane Exina was still right: it was a home.

Graduation Day. I had turned out at the top of the Soul class that year, and had a grant to being working directly with the district Guardians. Graduations at Shalenfear Academy were not to be made a great deal of. There was no long speech; only the presentation of badges and other necessitated dignitaries. I passed on my role as one of the head Souls in the Shalenfear Guard and accepted the title of Guardian without much ceremony.

Beside me, graduating second in the class, was Bus Kandler. He accepted his gold medal—mine was made of Soul-steel—with a bitter expression of defeat and accepted the title of Head of the Shalenfear Guard. I clapped politely, my smugness thoroughly concealed.

In the end though, at the party, Bus tracked me down. We were standing about three yards from each other, me talking to a the sole Guardian that had attended and he glaring loathingly at me. He shrugged and pulled off the medal and tossed it at me, intending to ruin my moment talking to the esteemed Guardian. I reacted instinctually, sending a hand of my soul into the gold and putting up a blocking the disc with a shield the shape of a hand in the same material.

“You dropped your medal,” I said, picking it up with the large gold hand. The Guardian had stopped talking, and many people were staring. Bus looked at the small golden disc in golden palm and shook his head.

“You err, Guardian Vera. I meant to hit you. Preferably in the eye.”

A gasp sounded from those watching who understood—a Soul’s weakest point was generally his or her eyes. The Guardian present gave Bus an irritated stare. “Vera, show this insolent what those who reckon with us are treated to.”

And order. I really didn’t want to hurt him, but the order—and my knowledge of the punishment asked for—compelled me to do so. I nodded a single swift jerk of my head in acceptance of the orders.

Bus obviously knew the punishment as well and blasted the medal telekinetically at my eyes. Too slow. I had long since improved my skills: with lightning speed I transferred the soul of in the gold hand back into the medal to stop the path of the disc; the new, tiny, golden hand streaked towards Bus and tapped him lightly on the leg. In a flash, the muscles in both legs had been moved to his stomach and rear end, which provided good cushioning as he collapsed.

 He seemed surprised but any pit for him was replaced by irritation at his scowl. “Stupid hairband girl,” he muttered so quietly that only the Guardian at my side and I heard.

I reached my hand into the my hair for a moment, pulling the winged hairbands out of my hair in an innocent move. “They have a name.”

I tossed them lightly at him, muttering so he would know—and not make the same mistake again—“Estallos.”

If Bus Kandler wanted to get out of the stone prison that encased him—and he was lucky it was only a stone prison and not instant death-- he would need a few very good spellcasters who were willing to suffer the same fate as him.

The Guardian nodded a tacit approval as Estallos fluttered back to me and set themselves in my hair.

Artist's Note: I lied again! >_< But I promise the next one is the last part for Vera. I'm trying to figure out how to tie in the ending of hers into the beginning of the next character's. The next one will start off where the excerpt in the beginning of part I-- so long ago! :/ >.<-- left off. 

Cookies for whoever can guess who the two people in the beginning are, now that all major characters relevant to Vera's story have been mentioned. More cookies to whoever can guess the next OC in this to-be never-ending thread of background stories.

Regarding the post itself though, I am rather pleased. I discovered that I write best at midnight >_< I am throughly tired now, and my fingers are heavy from typing nearly non-stop for the last 3 hours (work and then the story) and I'm sleepy. So goodnight! Please read and review!

~Silver Ink

Vera Suis Background part 4

Title: Conversion
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 1152

I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember much about that day when once again my life was altered. The Cordelians had no reason to suspect a man with his niece--living peacefully in the forest and paying taxes to the Cordelian government in the form of potato, grain or other surplus material—as supporters of the Revelin. I know not to this day why they came after us.

They had a strong mind-reader with them; her name, as I later learned, was Jane Exina, and she had been a part of the Revelin before being captured.

It was nothing like the army assembled at the village five years before. This time, only a few people were there, a few fighters, and a familiar face or two, from the trading in the city. We were caught unawares at night—they arrested Nem swiftly and threatened his life if I should attack. A soldier caught me from behind and held a knife at my own throat. He was close, very close—I could feel his breath breathing down on my neck, and his arm holding me flush against him. One of my hands was close enough to his leg; if I could only get the other close as well, I could get into his body via the leg; from there it was a short trip up to the brain to paralyze him.

The only Soul that had come with them—there was always a Soul or a pair of Souls supervising the Cordelian missions—examined the two of us, as if deciding with body to take over. Nem had just recovered from a cold, and was still looking quite sickly; he turned towards me.

It felt like my body was suddenly too small—like being in clothes that were too tight—and the world had gotten smaller. I could physically feel the other Soul wrenching his way in, pushing my soul out; like trying to squish into an already occupied seat—or in my case, being squished out. He succeeded, of course—he was much more advanced than I was—and it felt like I popped free of my body. It was nothing like what I was accustomed to doing in soul-sending and more like being shoved out a door than the usual launching-into-the-sky sensation. But I was still in my body, and could still feel my limbs. I tried moving them, but they were not mine to command, only mine to feel.

The Soul was experimenting with my body, lifting my arms and legs and shaking them as if to rid himself of a cramp. I was trapped in my own body, suppressed into a the size of a erythrocyte. But if anything, this red-blood-cell that was now me had a lot of mental power, which was at the moment fueled by indignation and anger. He began prowling through my brain, searching for indications of my power. Frequently I speculate what would have happened if I were not a Soul myself and what would have happened if Jane had not chosen that moment to intrude—she, being a mind-reader –a slight derivative of a soul-sender—blasted her conscious into my mind as well, and shifted through my mind even as I hurtled nasty insults at them both with my mind—which still had some control over my brain.

At this point I realize that for anyone but me, this moment is very strange and confusing. There is no way I can express each distinct feeling as it happened and as I felt it because so many were simultaneously. To compensate, I will call it a blur of action.

After this blur, I found myself—in the next distinguishable feeling—back in my own body, as I had been prior to the Soul’s intrusion. There was a faint dizziness, and I could not feel myself, but essentially I was fine. The girl mage—Jane—was chastising the boy about something in hushed tones and he was glaring at her as if her were superior. I glanced diagonally behind me at Nem, who had been tranquilized and left on the doorstep of his hut.

The Soul left, leaving me with my escort and the girl mage. He had a bitter expression and muttered something about getting her killed.

“Vera Suis,” she greeted, extending a hand. I didn’t take it. “I apologize for my companion’s intrusion. He is a novitiate, and has yet to learn the proper procedure. Come with me. I will ensure you are well.”

I didn’t want to believe her, but she took my hand and a feeling of calm washed over me. Weary, I followed.

---

When I next awoke, I was in a small dormitory, with a tray of food on a desk next to the bed I was laying on. As I dressed in the uniform lying on the chair, I inspected the broth for poison. Determining there was none, I ate greedily. The taste of the food was different, but not unpleasant, as was the feel of the clothes and the look of the room. A knock sounded on the door briefly and I whirled as the girl mage from the day before stepped in. She introduced herself, and my new surroundings, which she called Shalenfear.

Jane Exina was a partial Soul. She did not have the ability to completely take over a creature, but she could “throw” herself into the mind of another and search through their memories like a Soul. She had the ability of telepathy, as well as mind-reading.

And she, like me, was a Revelin convert, which was, as she put, “partially why [she] had the other Soul spare [me]”.

Jane Exina introduced me to Shalenfear Academy, where she lived as well, and assured me I would have a home there. I requested to return to my uncle’s hut in the forest, claiming the place did not suit well with me, and for some reason she agreed. We left immediately, Jane hushing stares with her death-cold glare.

“Your uncle left after the attack,” she said as we neared, and indeed the place was abandoned by the time we got there. I searched through the hut to find nothing, not even my glass figurines in their pretty wood/metal case.

“You will have a home at Shalenfear, Vera…they took me in when my parents were killed.”

“Why would I work for them? Why would I help the people who eradicated my family?” I spun on her, tears at the brink of falling.

“You can leave now if you want. I won’t stop you,” she said and returned to the front. I was in the bedroom now, facing the back door.

I hunted around the place, for any sign of something left behind—nothing. I thought I had been abandoned, again.

I stood up and walked out the front. “You’ll have a home at Shalenfear. I promise.”

Artist's Note: Technically, I posted twice last last week, so there was no missed update. Either way, this post is twice as long as the usual 500. But it's horrible. I'm going to blame it on writer's block and laziness and other stuff. 

But this is part 4, which is super-confusing and just a bunch of fluff in my opinion. Hopefully the last part will be better. Maybe starting another character would help too :/

Anyways, sorry for the lousy update this time -.-

~SilverInk

Vera Suis Background part 3

Title: Nem
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Character Background Story
Word Count: 972

I was tired beyond belief. Given my power, I could feel every drop of lactic acid stinging my muscles. My head hurt. I had scratches running along my arms where stray branches had struck me.

Still I pressed on.

The curse ensured it. Akeisa’s “Go west,” continued to press me westward. Even when I was struggling to stand, the curse urged west. It took a giant effort just to stop at a fountain and drink. I was staggering, slowly, but as long as I continued west, the complaints didn’t start. Still, no relief.

“Stop!” a voice called. I halted, glad for the order, almost uncaring who it was that stopped me. A figure made its way towards me, and I could tell through my blurry, spotted vision that it was a man with orange-brown hair, only slightly darker than my orange. “Come with me.”

I didn’t complain and submitted to the order. He led me to a hut in the forest, next to the river I had been following west. Staggering through the doorway, I watched as he set me down on a soft mat, and then heard running water. He handed me a glass, and I drank. When I had downed the glass, he gave me another, along with a crust of fresh bread. “Eat,” he commanded needlessly. When I was finished with that as well, he led me to another room, and left me alone. Too tired to complain or suspect, I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, the man was gone, and I crept up, intending to leave. I was on my way out the front when a photo caught my eye.

I scrutinized the photo and determined it was indeed my dead mother, arm in arm with the man who had rescued me. On her other side was Father, who was also surely dead as well now.

“You’re up,” a voice noted and I whirled from the photo. “Eat,” he said, pointing at food on the table. I sat in the seat he indicated and ate.

“Thank you,” I said when I was done. “Sorry, but who are you and why are you helping me?”

“My name is Nem Suis,” he said. “I’m your uncle. Your father is my older brother, and Cora was my friend when we were little. What did they name you?”

“Veraline,” I replied, watching him and wondering how he knew about me. Father had occasionally mentioned a brother, but I had always thought him captured or dead.

“I’ll have to call you Vera then,” he said after a moment.

“Why?”

“The ‘-line’ part would identify you as a part of the Revelin.”

I asked him how. He gave me a long explanation I had no interest in and to save time I consented. “You joined the Cordelians,” I accused.

He shook his head but did not answer. I was about to bolt out the door but stopped when he called me offered a pile of clothing. “We’ll need to wash what you have on, Vera,” he said. “Go change.” I started to argue, but he said, “Don’t argue, go change.”

It was like he knew I was obedient.

I changed into the tan dress and returned with my old clothes. He taught me first how to wash the clothes, then how to dry them, and then we headed in for lunch. After lunch he worked in the garden as I watched and learned, occasionally helping with familiar plants. When the sun went down, we headed back into the house and he lit a lamp. I helped with dinner and over rice and vegetables we swapped stories. He sent me off to take a shower as he cleaned up the dishes, and I wiped down the counter and table when I was finished. I unpacked my glass figurines under his scrutiny, and he promised we could build a case for them. Before blowing out the light, he laid down a few blankets and mats for me to sleep on. For privacy, he even hung a thick blanket through the bedroom for me.

By the end of my first day in Nem’s cottage, I felt like I had been living there all my life.

The next morning proceeded as if it were only normal I was there. We went over plans for the area as if we had lived together for more than the day we actually had. Plans were set to build a case for my figurines, to remodel the bathroom with a shower, and to harvest the grain in the back fields. I was to sew myself a cot and more clothes, and weave a proper dividing mat for the bedroom.

Nem worked in the fields in the morning, leaving me by myself. There wasn’t much to see in the three-room hut: the front was divided into a kitchen on the right and a living room on the left. The kitchen featured a small pantry, sink, and box that I figured was supposed to be a refridgerator. On the living room side was a deep woven chair sitting by a fireplace, and storage boxes with anything from cloth to knives in them. Past these two rooms was a small empty room with a privy and the foundations of a shower. The rest of the back of the hut was bedroom and food storage. I found a hammock chair on the back porch and settled there as I worked, thinking about what could have happened to Father and Akeisa.

I cooked lunch and dinner with a little trouble from the foreign ingredients, but as I was a quick learner and Nem a good teacher, I was soon working with the materials confidently. After dinner each night we played chess with a handmade set and discussed plans.

Once a month or so we trekked down to the nearby town and purchased materials we couldn’t make ourselves and sold our wares—wood carvings, woven crafts, and surplus food. It was my only times in cordelian society and I learned to deal with it. Nem was ambivalent to the conflict, and I accepted his views easily and happily.

In spare time, we worked on strengthening my magic and developing my abilities as a Soul; for a non-Soul, he knew remarkably much. Ironically, the only living things readily near us were plants, which were supposedly the hardest for Souls to possess; nevertheless, with Nem’s guidance I learned the complexities of my abilities.

There were times in the five years I lived with Nem that I longed for more company than my uncle, but they were ephemeral thoughts that were soon forgotten. Life was good, and I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, my life had a strange sense of humor and again decided to meddle.

Artist's Note: I lied >.< The conversion is next time I guess then. I decided to add this post because it's significant in the overall series. 

@Lyra--Thank you for your reviews in the last post :) To clarify:

The belief is that every being or object or whatever has a soul of their own. Vera's ability it sending her soul out of her body to take the quality of another's (Soul-sending). She can also "enter" the physical body of another living soul and adjust system's manually. 

A Soul is someone who possesses living things and takes over the original soul's task in thinking and controlling. They take on the strengths, weaknesses and abilities of the "host body" and govern it. The body's original resident soul is not pushed out, only suppressed. 

Somewhat clearer?

@Minsat-- :) <3

There were only two Souls in the attacking group, but there were other, non-Soul attackers as well that were not mentioned.

Yes. Vera's father stabbed the substance (which was the Soul escaping the dying body) but didn't manage to kill it, and was then possessed. 

>_< Sorry about all the errors, to everyone. I'll edit! :D Hopefully this post is better ;) Thanks for the reviews! 

~SilverInk