11-06-2019, 08:18 PM
Twenty two years had passed since the Lagallan Revolution ended. Following the descent of the floating island city, and the country of Lagalla’s subsequent shift from a magistrate system to that of a senate, the former capital that had once been known as Upper Arcanon had all but been abandoned. The short war that had ravaged the city had done much to dissuade the nobility that once called it home to stay there, as well as the added factor that the city was dangerous and at any point could resume flight. Only the most stubborn of the Lagallan nobility remained living in this derelict city.
So naturally, Alstroemeria Locksley thought, her brother was one of the few who continued to call this place home. Thus, this would be the best place for the two of them to talk about discrete topics without fear of being overheard.
In these twenty two years, Alstroemeria’s appearance had barely changed at all. Her dawn-colored hair, which she now wore freely instead of braiding, had grown even longer. The vibrant clothes of a revolutionary had been traded for a feminine pale yellow dress and an ivory cloak with subtle touches of gold to match her eyes. At her side was a wooden staff, decorated at it’s top with three golden flowers and two gilded vines that wove their way down to where her hand rested upon it.
Contrasted to the seemingly timeless woman, the former lavish streets of Old Arcanon she walked upon now bore more resemblance to a path through the woods. It hadn’t taken much on her part to convince the Senate that the country’s diminished coffers were best spent elsewhere, and the most practical course of action would be to let nature reclaim what had been abandoned. The subsequent two decades of growth had begun to revert parts of Arcanon back into its primal state. Perhaps several decades more and it would be much as it had been during the time of her ancestors, Arlen and Drystan. As the “goddess” Aisling had left it nearly a millennium ago. She found this thought strangely comforting. And as she walked, tangles of young trees and tall grasses gave way to the better maintained grounds of Haventree Palace and its gardens. Crossing this threshold, her reflections of the past likewise gave way to thoughts of the future.
Her siblings Piper, Connor, and Delphine had all begun families of their own. Families that in one way or another would carry on the Haventree legacy, and in turn begin a legacy of their own. Perhaps this next generation would forge a different path than that of their parents. Or mayhap history would repeat itself in its own way. Only time would be able to tell such things, Alstroe had mused to herself. However, that history could repeat itself for one of these children in particular proved to be deeply concerning.
Adrian Haventree. A child her brother had woven from the first magics using Gleipnir and his and his husband’s own lifeforce. A child whom Connor then adopted, then kept in the dark about this truth. A child approaching his fifthteenth birthday, knowing none the wiser. A child who was beginning to ask many, many dangerous questions. A child whose fathers were woefully reluctant to provide him any answers. A child who could potentially inherit those answers after his fathers’ deaths. A child who would be justifiably angry at such revelations, while she would be the remaining person to bear the consequences of that anger.
A situation all too familiar to Alstroemeria. She would not have her nephew make the same mistakes she had if she could help it. Not to mention the information Adrian could inherit, and the potential volatility of the situation that he could inherit it in, would not just put her life at risk.
Yet another topic she, reluctantly, wished to discuss. One she had left alone since the war. There was another damning secret her brother knew about her, and one his son could potentially inherit. Likely one Connor would want his son to inherit.
He knew of Byrintus, the man… the manakete... she loved. At least, Connor knew of his presence, his powers, and that she was protecting his anonymity. Alstroe had been vague as to why, and reluctant to share more than what he already knew. Thus it was long overdue for her to explain to him. Less the amalgamation of all variables at play converge in an unmitigated disaster.
Alstroemeria finally reached one of the courtyards in Haventree Castle, spotting an aged statue of what humans had thought to be the likeness of Aisling. A blood-red alstroemeria resting at the statue’s feet indicated that her brother had already made his way inside. No need to wait for him, then.
Wasting no time, the woman channeled her magics. Though she had no need to, habit and practice had her taking the staff in her hand and tapping it on the ground. Sparkling golden vines gently grew from where it touched and swiftly enveloped her. She closed her eyes, willed herself to shift, and reopened her eyes to see the pure white chambers that only a moment ago had laid deep below her feet. The magical vines dissipated as quickly as they had materialized.
“Well met, brother! I see you received my message.” She called out into the echoing halls, seeking to summon him out of whichever chamber he was in.
So naturally, Alstroemeria Locksley thought, her brother was one of the few who continued to call this place home. Thus, this would be the best place for the two of them to talk about discrete topics without fear of being overheard.
In these twenty two years, Alstroemeria’s appearance had barely changed at all. Her dawn-colored hair, which she now wore freely instead of braiding, had grown even longer. The vibrant clothes of a revolutionary had been traded for a feminine pale yellow dress and an ivory cloak with subtle touches of gold to match her eyes. At her side was a wooden staff, decorated at it’s top with three golden flowers and two gilded vines that wove their way down to where her hand rested upon it.
Contrasted to the seemingly timeless woman, the former lavish streets of Old Arcanon she walked upon now bore more resemblance to a path through the woods. It hadn’t taken much on her part to convince the Senate that the country’s diminished coffers were best spent elsewhere, and the most practical course of action would be to let nature reclaim what had been abandoned. The subsequent two decades of growth had begun to revert parts of Arcanon back into its primal state. Perhaps several decades more and it would be much as it had been during the time of her ancestors, Arlen and Drystan. As the “goddess” Aisling had left it nearly a millennium ago. She found this thought strangely comforting. And as she walked, tangles of young trees and tall grasses gave way to the better maintained grounds of Haventree Palace and its gardens. Crossing this threshold, her reflections of the past likewise gave way to thoughts of the future.
Her siblings Piper, Connor, and Delphine had all begun families of their own. Families that in one way or another would carry on the Haventree legacy, and in turn begin a legacy of their own. Perhaps this next generation would forge a different path than that of their parents. Or mayhap history would repeat itself in its own way. Only time would be able to tell such things, Alstroe had mused to herself. However, that history could repeat itself for one of these children in particular proved to be deeply concerning.
Adrian Haventree. A child her brother had woven from the first magics using Gleipnir and his and his husband’s own lifeforce. A child whom Connor then adopted, then kept in the dark about this truth. A child approaching his fifthteenth birthday, knowing none the wiser. A child who was beginning to ask many, many dangerous questions. A child whose fathers were woefully reluctant to provide him any answers. A child who could potentially inherit those answers after his fathers’ deaths. A child who would be justifiably angry at such revelations, while she would be the remaining person to bear the consequences of that anger.
A situation all too familiar to Alstroemeria. She would not have her nephew make the same mistakes she had if she could help it. Not to mention the information Adrian could inherit, and the potential volatility of the situation that he could inherit it in, would not just put her life at risk.
Yet another topic she, reluctantly, wished to discuss. One she had left alone since the war. There was another damning secret her brother knew about her, and one his son could potentially inherit. Likely one Connor would want his son to inherit.
He knew of Byrintus, the man… the manakete... she loved. At least, Connor knew of his presence, his powers, and that she was protecting his anonymity. Alstroe had been vague as to why, and reluctant to share more than what he already knew. Thus it was long overdue for her to explain to him. Less the amalgamation of all variables at play converge in an unmitigated disaster.
Alstroemeria finally reached one of the courtyards in Haventree Castle, spotting an aged statue of what humans had thought to be the likeness of Aisling. A blood-red alstroemeria resting at the statue’s feet indicated that her brother had already made his way inside. No need to wait for him, then.
Wasting no time, the woman channeled her magics. Though she had no need to, habit and practice had her taking the staff in her hand and tapping it on the ground. Sparkling golden vines gently grew from where it touched and swiftly enveloped her. She closed her eyes, willed herself to shift, and reopened her eyes to see the pure white chambers that only a moment ago had laid deep below her feet. The magical vines dissipated as quickly as they had materialized.
“Well met, brother! I see you received my message.” She called out into the echoing halls, seeking to summon him out of whichever chamber he was in.