• When posting, please be aware that artistic nudity is still nudity and not allowed under RpNation rules. Please edit your pictures accordingly!

    Remember to credit artists when using work not your own.

Quiet Return

Mojique

NINEBALL
The lone Annelouice slowly climbed the steepest, grassiest hill of the residential area of city of Lat.


She was returning from a very long time out of the city, a couple centuries out of the Latin community. Clerics who reasoned that her cause was greater than theirs gave the rest of their years to her, giving her a lifetime spanning generations. Her adventure, one full of trial, hardship, and loss, was one that shaped the world; however, none had known. There was no imminent, worldly threat that she was sent forth to conquer, there was no lulling threat of god-slaying which she snuffed out. She was not revered as a heroine. Hell, the people these days did not even recognize the child of the greatest innovators of channeling and alchemy in the age, Annelouice Sinyer. The only looks she noticed were that which one gives a stranger in a gated community. Even to the elders, she was not one of much importance; not only had her ventures been private, but she always said to be a prude deadbeat in comparison to both her prodigal parents.


Suddenly, Ann felt a stare upon her. She turned and saw a little girl sitting in her lawn, looking at the sorcerer alchemist through the gaps in the fence with her thumb in her mouth. She was a light-skinned girl with curly brown hair and a bright yellow dress and cap. As the adventurer looked at her, she slowly dragged her hand to the side of her face, opening the sticky lips with her thumb from the center of her mouth to the very corner, and it made a pop as she pulled her thumb out.


Uninterested, Ann looked upward at the house at the top of the hill. Here, the grass had grown the tallest, and the vines grew upon the large mansion. The Sinyer residence was a mighty building still, although hidden by greenery surrounding the walls of the tall, striking structure. The large wooden doors, stretching to about seventeen and a half feet tall and seven feet wide were just as imposing as the rest of the residence.


The handle was rusty, and the keyhole was the current residence of a particularly large bug. As Ann withdrew the key and pushed it closer, it crawled out and flew away before the key could slide in and turn the lock's insides.


As the key opened the lock, a blue wave went across the building's surface, creating sparkling ethereal flakes as it progressed. As permanent property bequeathed to the Sinyers for their advancements on the magical world and society, the house was enchanted with a warding magic, preventing all life from entering when the Sinyers were away. With the key turned, the enchantment dissipated.


Just before Annelouice heaved open the large doors, she thought for a moment. She was home. She hasn't been here in decades, centuries even. For her trials, she has received no fame, no fortune, but within these walls, she was guaranteed a good night's sleep. She can't remember the last time she even laid down. With satisfaction in her heart, she opened the door.


A dark, cold, lifeless foyer welcomed her. She didn't mind it, though. A couple lit candles, a week or two, and its atmosphere will seem much better. To the left was the dining hall and kitchen, the right was a den and a study, and straight ahead was the hall that led to the labs, and next to it and the stairs going up to the rooms.


Without any hesitation, she went upstairs. She was going sleep, ending her life as an adventurer, and with the next day, beginning anew. What would she do? She'll find out when she gets there. Certainly something magician-friendly and not boring. The life of a shopkeep is not for her. She navigated her house, her mind drawing the layout from memory as slowly as she traversed it. As she crept, she sometimes heard another set of footsteps, but after lighting the halls she discovered it was herself hearing things. But yet even as she convinced herself nothing was there, a hushed voice crying out her full name as she snuck around her house caused her to jump and turn just as she would have all those years ago, but only this time instead of her annoyed mother looking back at her, Ann saw nothing but the empty halls.


Having finally found her room, she opened her door, to find it odd. It was just as she left it. Not to say that having it another way would be less odd, but the feeling of being in it after so long was jarring. The window overlooking the tall Latin towers, the mural of the Gods basking in a glorious light, the painting of Annelouice and her parents.


Annelouice examined the painting. The cinnamon skin and smooth black hair was one of the very distinct traits of the world renowned Sinyer couple, and it passed onto their daughter very well. Ann had her mothers sharp facial features, and her father's luscious green eyes. The artist represented the two successful magicworkers very well, but their depiction of Ann was certainly not what she'd call a masterpiece. Her chin was too sharp, and her brows were scrunched together. Come to think of it, her face wasn't even. It was very visibly lopsided. With a look of disgust, she turned her head away from the painting framed and on the wall.


She dropped her bags onto the floor, and climbed into bed. The bed was not particularly welcoming. It didn't bite, but she was not at ease. Her eyes were open, staring off into the dark, unlit room. She had just trekked miles upon miles to return to her home, and here she was, in all of its unfulfilling luxury, basking in her nonexistent glory. Never shall she be called hero, for no one knows of what she's done, but nevermore shall she be called a disgrace, for no one left knows that the Sinyer name ever had a grace.


And she laid there, in her bed, in a worrisome lull, wondering if it was worth it. Would she had rather have died long ago, leaving her quest undone? Would she had rather having faced the criticisms placed against her and reunited with her loving parents, instead of the unknown fate she had ahead of herself? Would it had mattered all that much? The world has changed at her hand, but what did she really change?


A stomach growl interrupted her unspoken grief. Unable to sleep, she rose, thinking food was what she needed.





“Your job, in short, is to perform the actions we tell you to under our supervision, in order to see if it has any channeling properties.” The elder explained to the man. “Because channeling is essentially an alphabet which magicians use to cast spells without materials, it can be very repetitive and boring at times, but when a key piece of the code is discovered, the work becomes much more entertaining, and even if you don't unveil a new application of magic, you shall be paid forty Lods per hour. Five days of work pays the monthly taxes on your house. Does this sound enticing so far?”


The large, goateed man contemplated the offer with crossed arms, looking at the hairless old man. “This sounds good, but I'm concerned about the lethality of the work. How likely could it be for me to find something that would kill me?”


The government working elder looked at the papers in his hand. “The casualty rate is very low. The common trend of victims is they channeled something dangerous and handled the situation badly. As a result, we've taken measures to offer courses on reacting to those situations properly. Additionally, if your division finds something groundbreaking, you shall receive a bonus payment of ten thousand Lods, and your taxes shall be suspended for three months.”


Without many other options, the man nodded. “Sure, I'll take it.”


“Now, if you would sign on the paper there...”


The father looked at the paper in front of him. It was an intimidating piece of paper, and rightfully so. The tiny words went on to describe how the job was a game of roulette. The giant dotted line was obviously the primary part of the document. After a deep breath, he signed his name along that scary line.


The elder laughed, joyed. “Welcome, to Lux Lucis Magicales, Rickaby! You may not believe me, but your effort speeds up the process of knowing all there is to know about magic very much.”


“Thank you, Eldar Soren.” Rickaby said humbly.


“No, thank you! You always had a choice, from writing your name on the paper to letting me through your door. I thank you for both, and hope I hadn't been a bother to you and your family with my sudden visit.” Soren replied, grateful.


“No, it's fine. You were always one of the more lively of the Elders.”


“Good, good. I must be off now.” Soren stated, rising from the table with the papers and staff. “It's getting dark, and I must wake early tomorrow. Rickaby, you begin your work on the first next month. Have a good night.”


“Good night, Elder Soren.” Rickaby bid.


Soren slowly strode through the commoner's house, and out into the yard. He looked at the setting sun cast over the city of Lat. Through the tall ivory towers, the light was limited, chopped by the black lines piercing the sky. He liked the view of the city from afar. It was something he never got to experience as much as he would have liked to, despite his enlongated life.


Before he could return to his horse, Rickaby's daughter ran up to him. He could tell from her manners that she had some question to ask. He returned the look of interest, smiling a gentle smile.


“Mister! Mister!” The little girl called out.


“Yes, little one?” The elder responded. “You have a question about your father's work? I'm sorry, but you're a bit too young to join him.”


“No, no. I don't want a job. I want to know something!” The daughter retorted. “Who's the girl next door, living in the haunted mansion?”


“Hahaha, what?”


“That mansion!” The girl bounced and pointed at the grim, old, unkempt building atop the hill, obscured by trees and foliage. “Who's living in it?”


Soren looked at the mansion. He recognized it, as he does with most of the city, by heart. It was the Sinyer residence. A married couple of esteemed magicians lived there, and invited spectators to witness experiments and findings. It was a shame they both died so young.


“No one,” Soren answered honestly. However, he detected that answer was too boring to satiate the little girl, so he looked at the girl again with wide eyes as he spiced it up. “No one but ghosts.”


“But mister, I saw a girl walk into it!”


The smile from Soren's face evaporated. “What.” This word came out as a statement of disbelief, rather than a question, because he knew the circumstances that would have to be met for someone to enter the house.


“A girl with long hair and a golden stick with a pretty sapphire in it walked up the road, made the house all blue, and walked in!”


He looked back at the mansion. Upon further examination, he saw a small light coming from inside. Someone was in fact in the mansion. With growing curiosity, he shifted looks between the house, the girl, and his horse.


“I... am going to find out.”





Annelouice sat alone at the dinner table, staring at the food on her plate. Her hands lay not on the utensils, but in each other, between her knees. Having noticed a shadow upon the table, telling her to eat, she looked over at the others eating with her, to quickly realize she was alone.


With a pause, she rose her fork to the unevenly cut slices of ham. She pierced the meat, and dug into more slices than she intended, and they slid off as she rose it. More carefully, Ann folded a slice over and tried again, successful at making her food leave her plate. She rose it to her lips, smelling the food she was about to eat. It did not smell sweet as she had remembered it to be. Swallowing her anxiety, she took a bite into the ham. It was dry, and not cooked properly. It wasn't tasty, nor all that filling. It didn't have the fine black, hard rim around the slice, and it did not have the same meaning as father's deliciously cooked food. In utter disappointment, her hand dropped, her eyes following it as the silverware slamming against the exquisitely crafted plate.


“Annie, what's wrong?” A voice would ask, if one were there. “Not hungry?”


“I am, it's just, not filling...” She would respond.


A man's voice would have said, “Oh, I'm sorry. I could make some mashed potatoes and spinach, if you want.”


A woman's voice would chime in. “Please, Annie. We want you to be happy. Tell us what you want.”


“No matter what the pompous wizards and scholars tell everyone, you're still our daughter.”


“Sorcery at your level is hard enough, our skill level is not a standard you should be compared to.”


“You also do high-tier alchemy. Your amount in knowledge in two of the three schools of magic surpasses half of the people who criticize you.”


“Compared to those ignorant nobles, you're royalty. A princess.”


“You're our princess, Annie.”


Her spirits renewed, Annelouice would look at both her mother and father, smile, and humbly say “Thank you.”


This would have happened, if it weren't for the fact that it was centuries ago when her parents passed. Instead, Annelouice sat alone at the dinner table, staring at the food on her plate.


Suddenly, a boisterous knock upon the front door tore her from a trance. Someone noticed? She thought to herself, almost joyed. It's probably just that little girl's family, though. She got up, regardless. Her food wasn't going to get any less cold, anyway. She walked through the foyer, lit only by the candle opposite of the door. With no high expectations, she opened the door.


And before her, stood one of the men who was guilty of her underachievement.


And before him, stood a woman with soul-starved eyes, hungry for more than just father's food.


“... Elder Soren.” The sorcress addressed.


“God... Annelouice?!” The old man exclaimed. “I didn't think- you're alive? What have you been doing all this time?”


Oh, how she wished she hadn't been feeling so terrible. Oh, how she wished she had been in the mood for some verbal vengeance. With over two hundred years of experience under her belt, Annelouice would have tore into Soren's every last flaw, every mistake, and exposed him for the bigot he was. If she had been in the mood, a wily grin would have signaled the beginning of his doom. But alas, this was no time for petty revenge. Her growling stomach left her weak, her stature was not nearly one of a proud noblewoman, and the look in her eyes displayed years of weariness. It was time


“I'm sorry,” Annelouice replied. “Please leave me alone.”


As Ann tried to shut the door, the old man stuck his boot in. “I'm sorry, if his isn't the right time, may I come by tomorrow?” Soren asked politely. “If your business is one that you'd like to share, that is...”


The sorcress stared at the elder, with a disarming look. When Soren retrieved his foot from the crack, Annelouice shut the door, put her back against it, and held it shut.


“... Perhaps you can come by us?" Soren asked in the quiet moment. "We haven't moved an inch...”


Silence made the long cease in action painful. Ann caved in first. “Fine...”


Even though he got his answer, Soren didn't leave immediately. His mind drifted where he stood, wondering what the story was with this now century-old sorcress. After realizing he was just standing there looking at the door, Soren returned to his horse, and slowly rode off.


Although the council had high hopes for the child of the Sinyers which weren't met and he shared the disappointment, Soren himself could help but feel bad for the poor child.


He recalled the day Annelouice's father died. It seemed he and his late spouse were working on something together when she died, so he had to take up Channeling, and that was his weakness. At the same time, one of the council members would have contracted a deathly illness, and asked a venerable cleric on his last legs to relieve him of the blight.


When the cleric had arrived into Lat, a hurried Annelouice ran up to him, explaining that her father had just lost his arm in a freak accident and he needs help. The cleric explained that he already had a job to do, and he would surely die before he could get to help the Elder. She begged, saying that she'd carry him, but he said that such ideas were false hopes. The cleric went on to say that the elder was more important than her father.


She lost her temper, shouting at him, telling him how he was a bastard who didn't respect a man's life. The cleric retorted, saying that he was a man with naught but his life left to give, she has no power over whom or what he dies for and how dare she assume she does. Just before Ann could knock the cleric to the ground with her trembling fist, she stopped herself, and ran off. The cleric told the elders about this while with them, and when he passed, taking the lethal disease with him, the elders felt sadness for Mister Sinyer. But for Annelouice Sinyer, his beloved daughter? None but Soren gave a damn about her. Some pointed her out and berated her for trying to sabotage the elders by taking their cleric.


Not much came from that house afterward. Annelouice never hosted any public experiments, no parties, she hadn't found anyone to love, nothing. Just her in her house, and hundreds of her parent's old books. She was left with a life of a hermit. Then one day she up and left. Rumor had it that she had spent a fortune on supplies before heading out, including a bejeweled staff and an eccentric suit of armor, but talk of that died quickly.


Perhaps she was busy, trying to prove us wrong? Perhaps she had mastered her schools of magics through her parent's books, and went to finish their last endeavors? The city of Lat hadn't been nice to her, so Soren saw no reason she would have been open with her quest to redeem herself. She had two hundred years of absence from her home, she had to have been doing something! With all the rage and sorrow this woman had for the world she grew up in, and after that incident with the cleric, his harsh, demeaning, but true words, Annelouice absolutely had to have been trying to prove them wrong. Soren wanted to see Annelouice grow into someone important, and he loves a good underdog story much more than the other elders.


Soren looked back at the intimidating mansion with a smile on his face. A single light shone through a lone window in the night, a familiar image Soren recognized as one of the symptoms of a dedicated scholar. With a chuckle, he turned to face the road ahead.


“Make them proud,” The elder said under his breath.


__________________________________________________________________________


This is an old piece, but I'm still interested in getting some constructive critique for it.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top