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Knights of the Empire



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Fri Jun 17, 2016 2:34 am
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Lael says...



What would you do if you were invited to the most prestigious academy in the empire? What happens when you must fight to avoid being last? Being last place means only one thing: you die.

***

Daria Empire: A highly civilized and populated, technologically advanced country known for its large, successful Imperial Knight Academy. It is the largest nation on the continent and characterized by its lively, modern look and many cameras, monitor droids, and soldiers on its busy streets. Its capital, Solange, the largest city and where the Academy is located, is surrounded by tall, heavily fortified walls, and the Academy is under a large dome. Within the empire, weapons and medicine are heavily controlled by the government, though if you are one of the elite getting things is not too hard. Another big city is Azora. It is the only place on the continent with people with special powers except for the Outlands. (Some believe that the Darians are descended from both Outlanders and Abrielans, though most regard this rumor as false.)

The Outlands: The empire classifies all lands outside of its own with no large central government Outlands, and its people barbarians, though most are as civilized as the cities of the empire itself. The only disadvantage is that the people are not as technologically advanced, as all of the technology is centered in the sovereign nations. There are many large, village-like settlements isolated from their nearby civilizations, with notable ones being Nechama, Gael, and Kiva. The Outlands are separated from all other sovereign states by Daria's land. Some say that the Knights' powers originated in Outlander bloodlines, as the Outlanders were already living on the continent before the Abrielans arrived.

Other Lands: (There are never any Knights from these nations, as none of their people have been found to possess powers. Besides, Daria wouldn't want its enemies to enter the country to defend it, anyways. All of these nations are modernized and have technology, though not as much as Daria.)
Abriel: Abriel was a formerly large empire, and the first nation on the continent. The first people arrived by ship from a faraway land after going off course and getting lost. Most of the people on the continent are descended from these first settlers, who formed this kingdom. All of the other nations on the continent won their independence from Abriel.

Evania: A small, peaceful country that remains mostly isolated from outside affairs. It is on a set of islands off the Abrielan coast. It is the only country that is a republic.

Noor: A kingdom that is rather war-minded. It often attacks the Abrielan and Darian borders, though the bigger two countries do not find these skirmishes to be much of a threat.


Each year, the Daria Empire accepts 150 entrants into the Imperial Knight Academy, the renowned school for training young people with rare special powers. 10 of these are from the Outlands. For 6 years, these entrants will train to hone their skills and become Knights, the defenders of the empire. There are many freedoms to being a trainee at the Imperial Academy, but don't be tricked: there is intense training and studies every day.

When Outlanders are given the opportunity to go to Daria to become Knights, they are thrilled. However, some, especially the ones closer to the empire, curse their misfortune when this happens. The entrants soon find that they are forced to give up their past lives, and not allowed to ever return to their homes; they are also often the subject of ridicule by the Darian students.

Darians who happen to have these special abilities compete with each other fiercely to be accepted into the Imperial Academy, as it is considered the highest honor. Most of them, however, happen to be the elite: the rich, connected, and privileged. Sometimes, though, a few of the poorer people manage to get in. But despite their status in the empire, most of them despise the Outlanders and blame them if they are not able to enter the Academy.


You are a First Year trainee at the Academy this year, a part of what will become the 49th Generation of Knights. No matter whether you are an Outlander or Darian, you all have one shared goal: to be the best trainee in your generation. Each year, there are 5 big Exams that determine your future. If you are in the two last place ranks, you will be eliminated. In all, 10 trainees are weeded out each year by these tests, 60 in the six years of training. All of these students die.

And if you are an Outlander, you may be secretly trying to find a way to escape and return to the Outlands because you have realized that this is not the life you expected and want. But it will be very challenging. The empire is watching each trainee's every move, and if they suspect you, they won't hesitate to kill you.

But no matter who you are, if you break the rules, there will be consequences that you will not want to face. They very well may ruin your future.


The Knight Classes: Each entrant is put in a Class based on their ability.
Elemental: Everyone in this class have powers of nature, like fire, water, light, wind, earth, and more.

Psychic: The name is rather self-explanatory. :wink: Powers like telepathy, telekinesis, mind-reading, illusions, and anything to do with the mind falls under this class.

Supernatural: This class applies to those who can enhance their personal abilities (such as speed and sound) and any power that does not fit under the other two Classes. This is usually the smallest Class.


Excited yet? :smt003 But before we begin, here are some rules:
Spoiler! :
1. ABSOLUTELY NO cussing.
2. No explicit romance. Nothing more than holding hands, hugging, or kissing allowed. This means no inappropriate jokes either. Also, romance is to be kept 'traditional'.
3. Don't let your character overpower the others. Yes, this is an academy for people with powerful abilities, but they should all be about a match for each other, though there will be some stronger than others.
4. No killing other people's characters without their permission.
5. No substance use. Don't even mention drugs, smoking, or alcohol.
6. Let me know in the DT if you aren't going to post in a round.


And now the character template: (Please delete the things in parentheses.)
Spoiler! :
Code: Select all
[b]Name:[/b]

[b]Age:[/b] (keep it between 16-18)

[b]Gender:[/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b]

[b]Class:[/b] (Elemental, Psychic, or Supernatural)

[b]From:[/b]

[b]Power:[/b]

[b]History:[/b]

[b]Family:[/b]

[b]Personality:[/b]

[b]Habits:[/b]

[b]Up for love?:[/b] (romance is 'traditional')

[b]Fears:[/b]

[b]Strengths:[/b]

[b]Weaknesses:[/b]

[b]Other:[/b]
Spots are limited. I'm planning on only accepting 8-10 characters, so join quickly!

Fight to win. Don't die.
Last edited by Lael on Fri Jul 08, 2016 3:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:7
  





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Lael says...



Tamsin Haar|Nechama, Outlands

In the dimness before dawn, all was peaceful, with the crashing of waves on the beach acting as a continual lullaby. Most of the people of Nechama would still be asleep until the sun rose, while craftsmen like me were already up, needing to work long before. (But my twin sister, Mollie, would probably be in bed till late morning, or even noon. That spoiled, lazy girl.)

As I walked down the streets, a brightly lit shop and the sound of metal hitting metal caught my attention. I frowned. Who was already in the blacksmith shop, even at this hour? I hurried forward and took a step in.

"Jaron?"

He lifted his head to look at me with his sapphire blue eyes, and a lock of his golden hair fell over his face. I couldn't stifle a laugh. Jaron smiled at me as he wiped sweat from his forehead and pushed back his hair.

"G'morning, Tamsin."

"Good morning," I barely managed, unable to stop smiling for some reason.

"So what's with you today?" he asked, placing the piece of metal he had been hammering into water, where it hissed and steamed. "You seem awfully happy. In fact, you're being quite . . . girly."

My smile was gone in an instant. I lifted my chin. "When did I ever do that? I'm not like Mollie."

Jaron laughed and shook his head, placing the now cooled metal back into the furnace to be heated again. "I never said you were acting like Mollie. You just seemed really amused, that's all."

"It must be the shock of seeing you here first," I stammered. "You're never the first one here."

"I'm sorry," said Jaron, coming over to me with his hands behind his back.

"What? Jaron--"

"I'm sorry for teasing you and catching you off guard. But I wanted to tell you something before Master gets here." Jaron looked down, shuffling a foot.

"Okay," I said, looking up at his face carefully. He had never seemed as nervous as now. But why?

"It's been eight years since we met," he said finally, meeting my eyes. "The eight best years of my life."

"Uh-huh," I said, spying his Adam's apple bobbing. "Jaron, is there--"

"What I want to say is," he rushed on, "I was really happy three years ago when I told you how I felt . . . and you said that you liked me back. But . . ."

My heart froze on that word. But? Is he--

"But now, I think it's--it's time for a new chapter of life," he said, his expression shooting panic through me. I couldn't read it, what was he implying, did he want to stop being with me, what--

Jaron got down on his knees in front of me, pulling a shining, silvery ring from behind his back. "Tamsin Haar, will you marry me?"

I covered my mouth as tears of relief came unbidden to my eyes. I nodded, for fear that I would start blubbering and seem even more like Mollie if I tried to speak.

Jaron slipped the ring on my finger. It was a little loose, but I didn't care. I pulled Jaron to his feet and wrapped my arms around him, doing my best to keep from suddenly igniting us both on fire; I knew that I'd be fine since it was my own flames, but Jaron would not.

We jumped in the next moment as the loudest trumpets we had ever heard blared through the air. Both of us sighed as we heard the tune that was playing.

"What does Daria want this time?" muttered Jaron, just as I said, "They're really tooting their own horns."

We both walked out of the blacksmith shop and towards the central square, where all of the sleepy Nechamans seemed to be heading. As we joined the crowd, I spied a tall boy with his long arm wrapped around a girl, whose arms were wrapped protectively around her swollen belly. My lip curled in disgust.

But it wasn't Angelica Trent I scowled at. It was her husband, Alexander Venastes, with his ever haughty expressions. Everyone except his love-blinded wife and perhaps his parents-in-law knew that he was such a power-hungry leech. How he had managed to trick Angelica, I had no idea.

A man in a crisp, stiff navy uniform stepped forward and cleared his throat. Murmurs arose from the Nechamans at the appearance of the Darian Knight.

"Outlanders of Nechama," he began in a loud voice. "His Majesty, the great and most noble Emperor Raoul Daria, has extended his favor to you. He has sent me here because we have watched you. There are some here with the ability and skill to be a part of the 49th Generation of Imperial Knights."

Now the people were in an uproar. Everyone glanced at one another, wondering who was chosen.

"Do you think you're going to be chosen?" asked Jaron, holding my hand tightly, and I shook my head.

The Knight held his hand up for silence, and after a few minutes, my people quieted down. He glanced down at a screen he was holding briefly before looking back up again.

"Alexander Venastes and Tamsin Haar, please come forward."

I was chosen? With that leech, of all people?

***

After the crowd dispersed and many people patted me on the back, I stormed up to the leech, despite the fact that we'd never spoken before.

"How were you chosen?" I demanded. How did he, of all people, have a special power?

Venastes looked down his nose at me. "Child, I have a power over life and death. How would I not be chosen?"

I glared. "Who are you calling a child? We must be the same age." I rolled my eyes. There would be no getting to him "No wonder my blood pressure goes up every time I see you," I muttered.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my dear," said Venastes, flashing a smug smile. "I don't believe I've spoken with you before."

"Of course someone so high and mighty like you would never have bothered to speak with a lowly blacksmith like me," I scoffed, then muttered, "even if that blacksmith is one of the best." I set my right hand on fire, in hopes of intimidating him.

"Ah," the leech said. "I remember now. I've heard of you. I just didn't think that someone with skills like you would be so young."

"Really? You should really have a chat with my master then. He was even better than I am now at the age of fifteen. Now, if you'll excuse me, my fiancé is waiting." I turned my heel on him and stalked away, the sound of his barely concealed laughter ringing in my ears. That stupid, arrogant . . . Ugh!

"Are you all right?" asked Jaron, taking my hand as we walked away.

I sighed. "Don't even ask."

"Tamsin!!!" A squeal went up in the air, and a second later, my twin Mollie jumped on me. "My dear sister Tamsin! I'm so proud of you!"

Yeah, right. You're probably just happy that you'll be even more popular after I leave, I thought irritably, and I pushed Mollie away.

"Tamsin," other voices said. I looked up to see my parents, and I nodded at them.

"Are you happy to be going?" my mother asked.

I frowned. "No. I don't want to go."

Jaron's expression mirrored my own. "Why not?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean, 'why not'? I thought you wanted to get married!"

My family's mouths dropped open.

"You two have decided to marry?" asked father, and he glanced between us with concern. "Will that be all right, with Tamsin leaving?"

"I told you, I don't want to go!" I snapped, and stalked off.

Jaron yelled, "Tamsin, wait!" He ran after me and caught me by the hand.

"What? Are you going to tell me to go too?"

He sighed. "Tamsin. This is a great opportunity for you and all of Nechama. You're the first to be chosen from here to go to the Academy!"

"Jaron, how could you, of all people, say this? Don't you want us to be together?"

"I'll wait for you," he said. "No matter how long it takes for you to come back, I'll wait for you. Let's get married when we get back. Go for my sake," he said quickly as I opened my mouth to protest. "Please."

After what seemed like a lifetime staring contest between us, I sighed. "Fine. But you'd better be there when I come back."

Jaron smiled. "Where would I go without you?"

"Yeah, I guess." I tried to summon up a smile, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was making a big mistake to go.
"And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:7
  





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Desdemona says...



Thiora Varicius -- Durasta High School, Daria


At the end of each school year, officials from various colleges and academies would stop by the Durasta High School, looking at grade reports, special talents etc., choosing students from several hundreds. None of these schools, a gross majority of which had called upon Thiora, interested her. She had her eyes on one, and only one representative.

Of course, it was the one from the Imperial Knight Academy.

She knew they had quotas. The quota for her medium sized school was only 2, if any special students existed at all. All around her, she could see the ones with powers, just about 10 or so of them, fidget and squirm nervously. One had actually set fire to the seat in front of him.

She smiled. There was yet a way she could win this if she wasn’t picked.

Finally, after the entire ordeal was over, the students were ushered into the conference hall, with the representatives from the three biggest, most prestigious schools on the stage.

Number one, and Thiora’s second choice, was the Aurora Healer’s Academy. The representative went into a very lengthy discourse about the importance of healers, and the prestige of their academy. The representatives changed but their speeches never did. Thiora could swear last year’s rep used the same words. She then called upon two girls who’d been accepted, with a third girl, Thiora herself, in reserve.

The next representative to take the floor was from Zabbuni Technical College. Thiora, almost jittery with excitement, couldn’t even listen to the speech. Even if she wasn’t so excited, she wouldn’t have. Building robots and whatever just did not appeal to her.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the final representative took the stage. A collective silence fell over the audience as she took the stage and introduced herself as the headmistress of the Imperial Knight Academy, Mira Golden. After another lengthy speech which never changed, the headmistress took out a piece of paper in an envelope on which the names of the two students were written down.

“We’ve been watching you, all of you very carefully and I’m very pleased to say that I’ve found two of you who can make excellent knights here in Durasta. Well done!” She finally said in a voice Thiora could only describe as “motherly” and started to clap.
Finally, after the applause dimmed, she read the names.

“First, from class 12B, Madeira Boris!”

Of course. Madeira would go. Madeira had one of the most cliché, but most useful powers; super speed. She’d be one of the best knights. Even as she clapped, Thiora could feel her insides coil. It wasn’t her only, people up and down the hall were pacing. A fire popped up again on one of the seats behind her. One more student left.
“And our final student, from class 11A, is Thiora Varicius!”

Thiora screamed as she ran onto the stage, shaking hands with the headmistress amidst applause.

She smiled and ushered her into the backstage, where some official looking people were waiting. They handed her and Madeira envelopes they said contained information, the rule book and the course catalog. They also handed them duffel bags containing their uniforms. After informing them that they would be arriving within two days to pick them up, the officers and headmistress Golden who congratulated and hugged them both with a melancholy expression left.

Thiora then went over to her parents, who were seated nearby. Her mother was crying.
She sat next to her and hugged her sideways.

“Hey, mama, I’ll be okay.”

“I know, it’s just that… You’re so young to be doing all that.”

Thiora didn’t comment. She felt like the happiest girl in the world at the moment. She’d be the queen of that academy with her powers.

Her dad spoke instead.

“Come on, now, let’s head home. We’ve got people to invite and backpacks to pack.”
All three of them got up and headed outside.

They packed bags, invited relatives for a farewell party the next day, went shopping and went through piles of paperwork.

Finally, on the last night, her parents asked her a final time.

“Do you want to go through with this?”

“Yes.”

Her parents nodded, holding back tears. Maybe they wouldn’t even see her again after tomorrow…

That night, Thiora was unable to sleep. She tossed and turned, but just couldn’t get comfortable. Her ambivalence was overwhelming; one moment, she was elated to the point of explosion, in the other, terrified to the point of death.

Finally, she got up, downed a sleeping pill and slammed her head on the couch.

The next morning, her parents woke her up early, before dawn. The coach would arrive at 6AM sharp. So she waited with her parents at the door, clutching onto them, thinking she may never see them again. The brave girl from yesterday was gone; she was on the point of turning back when a coach hovered onto the road in front of them. A bunch of kids from Daria were already in it, so was Madeira, who ignored her. It was probably because Madeira’s boyfriend, fire boy, had to remain behind and attend a technical college, while Thiora tagged along instead. Thiora couldn’t care less.

She hugged her parents a last time, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and hopped into the bus.

She waved at her parents until the coach was out of the neighborhood. She would have sent them a final illusion, but to her amazement her powers just wouldn’t work. Another kid, upon seeing her so concentrated, told her “Burnell. It blocks your powers.” as she gestured to the floor of the bus, which was streaked various colors of grey and black like some sort of alloy. "They mix it with iron and copper to make strong stuff, like buses."

She cried, and so it began.
Last edited by Desdemona on Tue Jul 05, 2016 1:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Excuse you, I'm your friggin' queen!

Don't take it too hard when you lose to me, I always win.


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August 1, 2015 - April 21, 2016: BlackCatXx
April 21, 2016 -- Desdemona
  





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SpiritedWolfe says...



Gabrielle Norria | Kiva Jail, Outlands


She'd already lost track of the time. It had to have been hours since she arrived here and hours she'd been sitting on this iron bench strung to the gray wall with chains while she twisted her wrists in her own, special handcuffs. The metal bit into her already raw skin every time she twitched and burned whenever she imaged the darkness in her veins, but she refused to let madness take over in this empty cell of hers. So she kept doing it, letting every little spark of pain tell her "this is reality."

Her eyes scanned the rest of the hall as she fidgeted. They showed her the same things they had an hour ago: the new guard in his pristine, black uniform perched in front of her cell, a burly man with a scruffy beard passed out on his bench in the cell across, and the streak of dusty footprints down the center of the narrow, concrete hall. Basically, nothing of interest as usual.

She flicked her gaze back to her guard. While he’d been here just as long as she had, he’d never been much for answers to questions like why her cell was the only one with extra security before it or why her hands were still restrained while the other criminals all appeared free or even why she still wore the same dusty jeans and stained, white shirt she came in with. No, he’d just stood with his back squared with the back of her cell, parked right in front of the door of iron bars. Still, it had been a few long hours for him too and she could already see his shoulders had dropped down from where they were the hour before.

This would be much easier if she could just see his face.

The tiny chains linking her cuffs continued to click as her mind started to move. Maybe a response would be easier to give now and his rationale easier molded. It couldn’t be too unreasonable to release this weak, starving girl, especially with a guard so capable. She thought about throwing in a pitiful, pained look and tousling her hair so it fell over her face.

Before she could even open her mouth, a loud clang cracked the silence of the hall. She kept her head down, training her eyes on the ground in front of her as she listened to the gears of the iron entrance whirl. Some other officers were coming into the holding area? She assumed she had company.

“She’s psychotic,” the head officer’s voice spat. “Killed two men before any could get close enough with the right cuffs.” His footsteps and the sounds of several others echoed as they advanced down towards her.

Another, far deeper voice joined his. “I’m aware of the details.”

The guard in front of her cell stepped aside as the footsteps approached, but he moved almost robotically. She noticed the gray cap he wore was pulled down so that she couldn’t see his eyes in the quick glace she had of the side of his face. No matter, she didn’t have a use for him anymore.

The head officer must have thought so too, since her guard was dismissed as the small group came into view of her cell. The guard nodded respectfully at the men and marched without saying a word. Next, the officer moved over to her cell door, jingled some keys, and popped it open with ease. Of course, the door didn’t go without protest since its hinges screeched when it moved.

She didn’t bother to get up from her bench. Whatever these new men wanted, they’d come to her for it.

“That’s her,” the officer said, giving her a nasty look as he spoke.

There were three other men in front of the cell, all dressed in a similar navy uniform coat, black shirt and tie. Not to mention their pants and boots. The one that stood closest to the officer, however, had a few extra pins adorning his chest as well as an air of authority that signified he was in charge. He had a swirl of dark brown hair that was neatly combed on his head and guarded, blue eyes that moved as he examined her.

He was the man who spoke after the pause, also the second voice she heard before. “Gabrielle Norria?” It was said as a statement but posed as a question.

She decided to answer it as such, adding a smooth smile as she said, “Gabe.”

The man nodded before he slipped past the officer and hovered in the entrance of her tiny cell. He watched her some more, probably scrutinizing her tiny form and wondering the same question some other prisoners had asked earlier. (‘How could you cause so much damage?’)

She broke the silence with another comment. “If I’d known I’d have company, I would’ve cleaned up a little better. I can’t imagine dusty stains being the most appealing.”

He ignored her. “So … Gabe,” he began, her name causing an unnatural hiccup in his sentence before he continued, “I hear you have a fascinating power.”

“Fascinating to some. Terrifying to others,” she said with a shrug. “That’s what I’ve been told anyway.” Though she’d momentarily paused in her ritual hand movements, she began again straining against her binds, slightly more exaggerated now to signal to this new man her situation.

“Show it to me,” the man commanded.

“Love to, but I haven’t been able to touch it since I was put in these here handcuffs. It’s strange how they seem to just… block my power.” She dawned a befuddled expression on her face, mixing a bit of pitiful in her eyes as she gazed, almost begged, at the man.

The man pursed his lips and turned to the spectating officer. “That’s the only source of burnell around?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Get them off her, then.”

What?” the officer snapped. “Haven’t you heard a word I told you? The girl’s crazy! She’s just lookin’ for an opportunity to burn your limbs off.”

The authority man was not amused and he turned hard towards the officer, and though he was on the other side of the cell, the officer visible flinched. He scrambled for his loop of keys and fumbled for the right one before scurrying into the cell. She didn’t bother to move for him, only doing him the service of holding her hands out for him as he unlocked them.

They fell to the floor with a loud clank. Her first action was to rub her red wrists and feel the small cuts where the metal won out in a battle against her skin.

As the officer exited with the bindings, the man in her cell turned to her again, commanding, “Now show me your power.”

“Gladly.”

Gabe’s eyes locked with the man and she tilted her head ever so slightly to the right, but after a second, her mind receded and it left her stare lingering nowhere. As she ventured deeper into her head, she reached her hands out for memories. Even with the chains gone, she could only just brush the edges of said memories and it took her ages just to get a firm hold on one. From there, she took whatever memory it was – she hardly cared if it was even hers – and crumpled it up in between her hands.

She imagined the dark essence gelling in her hands. She imagined its sludge running down her fingers. She imagined the heat of the burning memory and that darkness dripping down its figure until all that remained was its black goo.

It took a minute as she waited for her hands to scorch and her head to throb while she made that essence. Far longer than she would have wanted at this moment, so she cut the process and settled for some lower quality. It was just a demonstration after all.

As she drifted back into her body, she felt the familiar heat in her palms as well as the stickiness that accompanied it. She broke eye contact with the man, counting to herself six seconds that she was away. Perhaps she didn’t do too badly this time.

Her one hand still dripped the other wrist so when she removed it, a big glob of essence completely covered the pink skin. Still, there was a sizable amount in the other hand, so she moved the rest she’d made up her wrist, eventually cupping her creation in both hands. Her face remained stoic as she concentrated on manipulating every last drop. Once she’d finished, she looked up at the man studying.

His eyebrows were pushed together and an expression of puzzlement showed on his face. “What is it?”

“Darkness,” she replied simply. “It’s my own little creation.”

“And what does it do?”

She pulled up a smug smile as she explained its toxic tendencies as well as demonstrating some of the manipulation. She first made it hover a few inches above her hands before stretching a small glob of it into a fine smoke that she swirled around her wrist. Then she pulled another small piece out and turned it into a fine liquid that slipped between her fingers and seeping into the cracks of the concrete. She ended her demonstration by showing how she stored the essence in her skin.

At first, the man appeared skeptical, but she began by holding one hand out, palm faced up, as if to offer him a taste. Then she felt her own pores opening up to invite the sludge in as if it were just water. Sure enough, the mass faded until none was left on her hand, yet it left a solid black imprint on her hand. For a second or two, her hand looked dead, a sickly gray colored hand print above peachy skin. Then, the gray crept up her arm until it disappeared behind her shoulder and her hand returned to normal.

To this, the man had no reaction. “Where does this come from?” His voice had an edge to it at the question.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said, gazing down at her palm. “See, I’ve always had the power, even when I was young. I thought about it and it just came, simple as that.”

She gazed out the iron bars of her cell at the three other men. The officer looked absolutely horrified, as she’d expected. The other two, hid their subtle discomfort well. They appeared even more stoic than the man in her cell did when he first came, standing waiting, just like her guard.

She turned back to the man and cocked her head at him. He seemed to be deep in thought but not entirely convinced at the story. Perhaps she’d have to work on its delivery in the future if she’d wish to fool people. But oh well, he wouldn’t have another explanation for it, anyway.

Finally, the man said, “If you’d excuse me, officer, I’d like to speak with Gabrielle alone for a moment.”

The officer looked startled at first, but wasn’t foolish enough to protest this time. He bolted for the iron door at the end of the hallway and the two other men that accompanied the first followed. That only left her and the man in her cell.

She felt compelled to stand for the first time since he’d arrived.

“I have a proposal for you,” he said.

“I like proposals,” she said.

He paused a moment, taking her in one more time. “I am Colonel Daemon of the Imperial Knights and the Academy is interested in your potential.”

“My potential?” she echoed. He nodded.

She hadn’t heard of these Imperial Knights but the sound of it was official. If she was being proposed to join them, it may be an interesting challenge. Definitely a different sort of stimuli and a new environment to test herself on.

Without thinking about it, she took another step forward.

Daemon suddenly lunged at her, snapping a silvery-brass colored bracelet across her wrist. (And just as she was freed from the handcuffs too.) Her reaction was to summon the darkness she’d just made, but her skin started to burn again. Really? This burnell crap again?

A light spark of anger flashed inside her, but Daemon did not let go, his face turning suddenly dark. She decided now would not be the best time to face a – probably trained – full grown man, so she pushed the spark deep down.

His already deep voice became even lower as he hunched in close and said to her in a threatening tone, “You have two options. Join us, or die, because, let’s face it. You’re a murderer in the Outlands and Daria won’t want to deal with your powers. The only other option is death row.”

“I feel like I have more to lose if I join you,” she said in her strangely calm voice.

“Well, we can’t have you going around attacking everyone at the Academy, can we? No, you have six months to prove to us you’re worth it, and then the rest of your training to behave yourself.”

“Otherwise, you’ll just kill me right?” she finished. The complete lack of emotion in her voice sounded foreign in the small space between them. “I’m not scared of death, nor am I of you, so I’ll just take your ‘clever’ deal.”

Daemon dropped her wrist, but left the bracelet in place. He didn’t bother to say a word as he walked out of the cell. She half expected him to close the door on her and seal her fate. For a moment, she watched him, debating what her next move should be.

Impatience crawled on his face as he waited until he snapped, “If you’re in, come quick. I won't wait long.”
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Auxiira says...



Zeph Vadja | Daria - Azoran slums


Zephyr already wandered the streets at dawn, the bite of the morning wind having crept under his blankets during the night. By the time the sun scraped the rooftops, he had made his way to the edges of the slums, avoiding the drones patrolling the streets closer to the main city. Here the lines blurred; here it was still safe for the rich city dwellers to mingle with those who had less than them. For some it had become a pass-time. The bars were cheaper here anyway.

He settled on the side of the road, metal bowl cupped in his hands. This had been his spot for the last few weeks. The drones rarely passed down this street, and even when they they did, the flurry of activity to conceal illegal goings on gave him enough time to lose himself in the maze of streets beyond. This particular street gave good pickings - the people here were drunk and rich - the drunker they were, the more money he got. There were always a few people leaving the bars at this time of the morning, and sure enough a few credit chips clattered into his bowl.

As the day trundled on, Zeph transferred the chips from his bowl to anyone of his plethora of pockets, always maintaining the image of only having a few chips in his bowl. If he was mugged, there was less chance of them killing him if they found a few fast. It had taken the woman sleeping across from him being murdered for her stash of credit chips for him to understand that. He had spent his meagre savings on her cremation.

Once the sun seared his eyes, he travelled to the other side of the road. he had the choreography memorised, knowing that he couldn't sit on that corner, but rather just off of the edge of the step if he didn't want to be kicked by the owner; that if he sat one metre further to the left, the owner of the café across the road sometimes gave him the remnants of lunch. He watched carefully as the man swung the bins out into the side alley, then glanced across the road to Zeph. Ducking back into the store, he re-emerged a few seconds later, a small parcel in hand. Zeph's heart skipped. He would have enough food today.

He grovelled gratefully as the man handed him the parcel, then waited until he had returned to his café before carefully opening the package and picking through the scraps of chicken, setting some aside for the evening. As he sucked the grease from his fingers, a murmur rippled down the street. Zeph bolted to his feet, expecting drones.

What showed itself was worse. Two knights strode into view, vague expressions of disdain settled upon their faces. Glancing around, one nodded to the other and they split, one on either side of the road. The trim of their navy jackets was red. Zeph remembered it as being for the Supernatural class from his books. For a second, he wondered what exactly their powers were, his curiosity overriding his apprehension.

As he watched, the man took out a holocaster and showed it to the person closest to him. They shook their head and the knight moved on, showing the holo to the next person. The other knight did the same on her side of the street. Halfway down the street, the female knight got a nod. As if in slow motion, Zeph watched one of the store owners point toward him. The knight on his side of the road glanced at her, then narrowed his eyes toward Zeph. It took exactly two seconds and a step in his direction for him to turn heel and blot down the street.

He could lose them. Surely they didn't know their way around the slums. Even if they did, they couldn't possibly navigate them as well as he did. I he just turned here, then down this street, through this arch and he'd could disappear into -- his heart dropped so fast he thought he would be sick.

The man lounged against the wall next the entrance of the market, eyes alert, watching for him. Zeph scraped to a halt, stumbling. Behind him he could hear the woman panting. Every sight, every sound, the feel of the wind on his skin -- it was all too much. He felt a snap resonate through his bones.

The wares on the nearest table rattles. Zeph tried to suck in a breath. This would be bad. He could feel his veins singing, power coursing through them unbound. He wanted to scream, to warn them to leave, but the words to do so were ripped from his mind,

The wares of the market hovered a foot in the air, followed by the tables they sat on. A second pulsed in the air, then everything moved, flying in haphazard directions. Zeph's chest wouldn't rise. He knew, if it would just open for one breath, he could maybe stop this. Everything sailed around him before starting to circle. He dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest, his ear, his skin, trying to stop all the feeling.

Stop this, Zephyr. The voice, stern and feminine, cut through the noise in his brain. He didn't know how to reply, but opened his mind to her, letting her be battered by the noise and helplessness.
Right, so you can't. He felt her attention flicker as he curled into a ball, lead seeping into his joints.

I've got a barrier around you, no one's been hurt. Relief unfurled in his stomach. The market spun faster, ferocious and glinting.

Kid! Hey, kid! I can only hold this up for so long. You want to control this, right? Somehow, through the maelstrom of objects, he managed to focus on her face, strained, grey eyes framed by white lashes, glaring at him. He nodded.

The Academy can help. He was too exhausted for the mention to scare him. He knew that it wasn't an offer. No matter how tired he was, he could tell - it was accept, or be dealt with. He was dangerous whenever this happened.

The earth sucked at his bones. Okay... The word was barely a whisper, fading as unconsciousness rushed him.

The air filled with the sound of objects clattering to the ground. Once it stopped, footsteps approached cautiously.

"Well that was some hell of a display."

"No control whatsoever, Manuel. None. I'm surprised we haven't had to deal with him before now." Zeph strained to catch their voices as the darkness swallowed him.

"Yeah, well we've got him now. Let's get him to the Academy."

Zeph was unconscious before the man could pick him up, dreams of looming figures and uprooted buildings haunting him.
You read faster than Usaine Bolt sprints xD - Deanie 2014

I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. - Cathy, Wuthering Heights
  





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Craz says...



| Castile Alistair |


Castile stood in front of the mirror with his arms held lightly in the air at his sides, and delicate violin music floated to him from the musician that played in the corner of his dressing room. Through his reflection, he saw the maids flit their small hands over minuscule imperfections in his pristine suit of white, black, and gold; which, correlated subtly enough with the mansion's pastels of flaxen white and rose gold to compliment him, yet distinguished himself pleasantly enough with the suit's bolder contrast to draw the eye.

A polished white marble fireplace was his backdrop, immaculately clean (as it had always been, since its function was more solely for decoration). Sparkling golden trinkets and candelabras had been charmingly placed on the mantle some years ago and had yet to show age. An impression painting hung at his back.

The two maids stepped back and folded their hands in unison. They smiled courteously but avoided eye contact with their young master through the mirror.

Castile stepped down from the small cushioned step and examined himself more closely. Distilling the precise placement of his jacket, he loosed it along with the first button of his collared shirt. He rolled his shoulders and carefully brushed them and the front of his jacket. Finally, his hands reached his hair, which had been combed, styled, and gelled in such a way to highlight its honeyed color and waves. He plucked at it and ran his fingers through it until it was better to his liking. The maids did not react to his modifying of their morning work.

Still scrutinizing himself in the mirror, he stated, "My luggage?"

The younger one that stood to the right of him through the mirror bowed her head and replied, "Ready for departure, sir."

He stared at himself long and hard in the mirror, then gestured toward the door without saying anything else. The maids and the musician dipped their heads and exited quickly, their clothes a quiet rustle of movement.

When the door slid closed with a gentle swoosh of air and hydraulics, Castile's face flickered and collapsed as his nerves got the best of him.

His pale, peachier skin absorbed into a more yellowish pallor (Castile was rarely let outdoors for long periods of time, thanks to his past scare with illness, and so his natural bronzed skin tone suffered) and his golden hair sighed away until what was left was hair akin to charcoal, shining with oils meant for blondes. His mouth widened and darkened, yet maintained the same taught line. And Castile's warm, chestnut eyes sharpened to the cutting hue of a greenish sea.

Ahsan stared at himself in the mirror, noting how differently a face can change the demeanor of an entire room. He found his eyes tracing every line he saw that had been hidden under years of being in the same guise. He could hardly call his own features familiar.

He didn't like how exposed he felt. The lighting in the room that grazed against his skin looked too unsettling; it seemed to point out how out of place he really was. Castile's skin was much more suited for such balmy light.

In a fit of aggravation he threw the illusion back onto himself, and as if he were never there Ahsan disappeared to be replaced by Castile once again. They both shared the same anxious and panicked look, him and his reflection. Castile sighed and the tightness of his face dissipated to something slightly less extreme.

Castile was somewhat anxious, but invigorated enough to look sheepish about it. He smiled giddily in the mirror, then plucked at his hair again, then tried his best to appear more humble about himself. Just in time, there was a knock at the door. Castile adjusted his jacket and turned his back to his reflection. He did not look back.

It was the young servant again, and she bowed and said, "You have visitors, sir."

Castile's smile widened until he reminded himself that he's supposed to be dignified. "Lead the way," he said, his voice pitched a bit lower than usual.

The servant bowed again and began to walk towards the main hall, down the main stairs, to the grand front entrance, where servants waited at their predisposed stations and where his parents beamed. He nodded towards them. Castile descended the staircase and approached the three strangers that stood in his home.

"Castile Alistair?" The oldest one said. He was tanned underneath his peppery grey and white hair, and his black eyes were heavy and watching. His deep blue and black uniform was crisp and decorated with a few ornaments. The trim was a dark green.

"Yes? How may I help you, sir?" His voice was light and amiable. Castile was, technically, supposed to be completely ignorant of why they were here in the first place. He played the part well.

"Mr. Alistair, I and my associates are representatives of the Imperial Knights Academy. Your potential has caught our interest."

Castile knew that it wasn't his potential. It was his father's ties that had brought them to their doorstep.

Still, Castile's smile grew, even as Ahsan recoiled.
"we'll fasten it with some safety pins and tape and a dream, and you're good to go, honey."
  





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Europa says...



Alexander Venastes

We walked together, hand in hand, to where the Darian officials were waiting.

"I wish they'd let you stay just a little longer." Angelica murmured.. I squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"You know how the empire can be. I'll be back as soon as possible. I promise." Angelica stared up at me, her brown eyes brimming with tears.

"But...if you fail..."

"I won't. We'll see each other again."

"Hey! Hurry it up over there! We're on a schedule!" One of the officials shouted impatiently. I bent down and gave my wife a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"I'll make you proud."

And with that, I let go of her hand, heading toward the officials, the transport, and the academy. The little blacksmith was already standing between the two men.

"Nice acting." She sniffed. I smirked, holing out my wrist to one of the officials.

"One of my many talents."

The official snapped a heavy metal bracelet onto my arm. I could feel t he power in me being forced down as soon as it touched my skin. Burnell. I chuckled.

"What. Don't you trust me?" The official scowled. I suppose that answered my question. The two officials escorted us onto the transport, which lifted off the ground and began moving as soon as we boarded. I peered out the open window. Angelica was on the platform where I had left her. Our eyes locked. She lifted her hand and I leaned a little farther out the window, doing the same. I heard one of the officials mutter something, but paid it no mind. I stayed that way, leaning out the window with my harm outstretched, until she eventually faded from view.
  





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megsug says...



|Naki Zher


He sat with his mother the morning he was to leave. They watched the sun rise as his father got the truck ready. Though he was probably too old, he rested his head on his mother's shoulder.

She pet his forearm gently. "You've made me proud already, darling. You've already proved you're more than anyone I used to call family, but... Well..." Her eyes wandered from the red sky to the silhouette of his father. "I would love to have a place to live away from this... Desolation." Her hands were calloused against his skin from gardening and keeping the surrounding land and house.

She cleared her throat, ran her fingers through his hair, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His father was signalling that he was ready to go. "I'm excited for you, love. Just do your best and..." She bit her lip. "Just make sure you can come home and visit your mother no matter what." Her voice shook a little towards the end.

Naki nodded and stood, returning his mother's kiss with one of his own on her windburned cheek. "I will, and I'll try to send letters."

"Make sure you do."

He ran to his father because he felt tears threatening and the seconds of pure speed made his eyes water anyways.

His father was leaning on the truck. "In you go." He climbed in and started the truck, glancing back at the boxes of goods for one last check. "You're lucky I was headed toward Daria anyway."

Naki looked out his window and watched his mom waving.

"If you ask me, it's good you're getting away from your mother now. She's made you soft."

Naki rolled his eyes, having heard this lecture multiple times. Just because he didn't want to waste his talent on trading didn't make him weak. He hunched in his seat and slipped an earpiece in his ear - a gift from his mother. Closing his eyes, he listened to a recording of classic literature, favorites of his mother's. The gadget was from her days in the Empire.

It would be a long ride, and he couldn't wait to prove to everyone that he was more an Outlander git, more than a disgraced child conceived out of wedlock. The moment he had been made aware that he'd been chosen to attend Imperial Knight Academy, he'd been ready to go, despite having to leave his mother, despite the fact that he hated Darian scum as much as Outlander idiots, if not more.

Yes. The sooner he got to the Imperial Knight Academy the better.
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Lael says...



Sothe Emihir|Imperial Gardens, Solange, Daria

I'd never meant for it to happen.

But looking at his eyes, I knew that things had gotten much more dangerous.

***

"Would you pass the salt please, Sothe?"

"Yes, Daddy." I picked up the salt shaker and handed it to him. Others probably would have laughed at my family if they saw that we used a salt shaker in this day and age, but for some reason, there was something strangely satisfying in sprinkling the white crystals over the food on my own, like Outlanders would.

But to the world, who was I anyways? A normal Darian citizen, like everyone else? Was I the daughter of an illegitimate Darian princess, subject to either scorn or bootlickers for this? Or was I the daughter of an Outlander, considered an Outlander myself and probably seen as the lowest of the low in Daria?

It's true that my mom, Eliza Reyson, was rumored to be an illegitimate daughter of the late Emperor Derek and the former Head Gardener of the Imperial Gardens. It's also true that my beautiful, very sought-after mom married Shinon Emihir, who became the most brilliant and successful Outlander Knight the empire has ever seen despite all hardships he faced. The thought brings a smile to my face every time it comes to mind. But it also meant something else: in favor of Daddy, Mom had rejected many others, but one of those rejected suitors was someone who had seemed to be the much more favorable option, as a 'true' Darian and someone who was--slightly, I say--more skilled and superior to my dad. Someone who was extremely dangerous and kept his eyes on us like a hawk watches its prey.

"Sothe!" Mom's voice shook me back into reality. "Eat your food before it gets cold."

"Is there something wrong, Sothe?" asked Daddy, his hazel eyes full of concern.

I shook my head, both to reassure him and to clear away my nervous thoughts. "No, I'm . . . I'm okay."

He didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded. "Okay. But don't overdo it today though, all right?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"That's my girl," he said, smiling and patting my shoulder.

"Shinon, hasn't the Academy started recruiting for this past week?" asked Mom as she put her fork down.

Daddy's eyebrows drew together as he sighed and pushed back the hair that didn't fit into his short ponytail. "Yes," he finally said. "And I have been really worried about that. There's a week left before the Academy begins its next year."

"Daddy?" I said softly. "Are you worried that I've inherited your power?"

My dad met my eyes with pain in his. "Yes, Sothe, I am. If it's inevitable that you inherit my power, hopefully it's only until after you turn eighteen and the Academy's school year has begun. I don't want you to have to go through everything I had to. And . . . I don't want you to attract any more attention from him if possible."

None of us had to specify who he was. We all knew too well who it was.

"Well, I hope I'm not interrupting something here," a voice said from the edge of the small garden surrounding our home.

We all stiffened, and Daddy stood after taking a long drink from his water glass and carefully wiping his mouth. He pasted on a hospitable smile, though I knew what he was really thinking.

"Argus," he said, walking over to the man. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Of course, there was no need to ask that. Kal Argus showed up at our house at the strangest times, mostly just on a whim.

The corner of Argus' mouth went up, and his eyes wandered over to where Mom and I sat at the patio table. "Nothing much," he replied. "Just . . . passing by. I went out real early to collect a boy from the Outlands."

It was then that I noticed the small boy with almost scruffy black hair standing behind Argus. His green eyes seemed absolutely terrified as they met mine. I tried to give him as friendly of a smile as possible with my family's greatest enemy nearby.

Daddy glanced at the Outlander, but his expression was guarded. "You went yourself to find him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Argus smirked. "Why not, Emihir? This one's valuable. Has foresight, this one." He brushed past my dad and sat himself down at the table. "Eliza," he said, nodding civilly.

Mom returned the gesture with an equally unattached feeling. "Kal."

Argus looked at me next. "Hello, Sothe. You look well today."

I swallowed. "Hello, Uncle Kal." (Daddy had always instructed me to address the Marshal as such.)

Daddy quickly sat himself back down between us. The boy hovered uncertainly several feet away.

"Sothe, go get this young man a chair," ordered Mom. I could sense the hidden intent behind it: she wanted to get me away from Argus, if only for a while.

I could feel eyes boring into my back all the way until I slipped into the house. I clenched my fists as I realized that my hands were shaking.

No, it wasn't just my hands shaking. The pots and knickknacks on the shelves rattled violently, and there was a loud whistling in my ears. I squinted as my hair whipped in my face. What was going on?

My nerves must be playing with me, I thought to myself. But why now, of all times?

"Focus," I whispered, and grabbed the nearest chair. But to my surprise, the chair shot out of my grip and out the doorway. A scream erupted from my lips as things inside our house began to lift and whirl around the room like a tornado.

"Sothe!" yelled Daddy, gripping the door frame, knuckles whitened.

"Daddy," I whimpered, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"Don't move!" He closed his eyes tightly and lowered his head in concentration. The strange forces seemed to take on a form, glowing brightly, winding together in a close ring. The ring's spinning slowed to a gentle whirl, then dissipated in a disappearing glimmer of lights. The cyclone of household items dropped gently down.

Daddy knelt down and enveloped me in his warm, comforting arms. I buried my face in his shoulder, trying to fight back the shocked tears.

"It's okay, baby," he whispered, rocking gently back and forth. "I'm here. You're okay."

"How can it be okay?" I choked out. "This happening, now of all times?"

"Sothe!" Mom ran in, kneeling beside us. Her eyes were wide and full of an unusual fear. "What happened?"

"My, my," said Argus. We looked up to see him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a strange, crooked smirk on his face. "Well, Colonel, I suppose I should say 'Congratulations' to you. Like father, like daughter."

Daddy narrowed his eyes, and he faced the Marshal. At that moment, I painfully realized how much taller Argus seemed than my father. "Sir," Daddy began, "perhaps we could--"

Argus pointed at me. "You're in," he said. "I look forward to seeing what you can do, trainee."

His smile had never before seemed like such a death sentence.
"And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:7
  





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Europa says...



Cayden Hughes

I had left my family's farm only a few hours ago. The cart rumbled down the gravel road, jostling me around in my seat as it took me farther and farther from the moorlands of Kiva. Away from home. I kept my eyes fixed on my lap. I couldn't look back, and I wouldn't dare look up at the man sitting next to me. I didn't need to see his eyes to remember the flinty glare when I'd refused. His words echoed over and over in my head, reminding me of what he held over me. I shuddered.

"Cold, boy?" His voice was that odd mixture of pleasant and forceful. The tone sent chills down my spine. I shook my head, still not looking up. I could almost hear his scowl as he spoke again.
"Look at me when I speak to you." He growled. I shrank at the snap in his voice, and lifted my eyes to meet his. Instantly, they lost their hard glint. The Marshal nodded. "Better."

"Only a few more hours until we reach Daria, sir." The coach driver called back. "Shall I drop you off at the school?" The Marshal looked thoughtful.

"No. There's someone I'd like to visit first."
...

The coach stopped at the gates of a beautiful garden. I felt a pang in my gut as I thought of my mother's own garden. It wasn't nearly as big as this, but I recognized some of the flowers from there. "Hurry up!" The Marshal grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the coach. I half climbed, half fell down the steps, and followed him into the house, careful to stay three steps behind him. This place sure is big. Maybe a lot of people live there. The Marshal stopped so abruptly I had to take a few steps back to keep myself from running into him. Three people were there, just outside the house on the patio. Only the three of them? Then why would they need such a big house? Maybe...they have a lot of pets...or something? No, that's stupid.
"This one's special." The Marshal's voice brought me out of my thoughts. I straightened a little. "Has foresight, this one." He finished. Slowly, I leaned around to look around his legs, and my eyes met the gaze of a young girl. Her hair was dark, like her father's, and brushed neatly away from her face. She gave me a small smile and wave.Argus strode over to the table and seated himself next to an older woman. Most likely the dark haired girl's mother. Or aunt. Or maybe grandmother--gosh. Glad I didn't say that out loud. I took a few steps forward, then stopped. These people didn't want me just barging in on their breakfast.

"Sothe, get this young man a chair." The older woman said. The dark haired girl shot off. I noticed the pots in a shelf begin to rattle. That...isn't normal. I blinked, focusing my mind. Let's go with...six seconds. the world in front of me disappeared in a flash. I saw the vision as clear as if it was really happening. I saw the chair shoot through the air. Saw it crack against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, I also saw the Marshal ducking. The vision faded and I staggered a little. My vision blurred. I couldn't have overdone it. It was only six seconds ahead. I blinked and my vision cleared.

"Duck and cover!" I yowled, scampering for the nearest piece of furniture--a cupboard--and shutting myself in.

"What in the world...?" The woman's question was cut short by a crash. The doors to my cupboard began to rattle. There was a gusty sort of howling. Wind. I slowly poked my head out. The wind whipped my hair in every direction and tore at my shirt. I sighed, closing my eyes. The feeling of the wind on my skin was exactly like the constant gust in Kiva. The ones that flatteded the grass against the ground and filled me with a perfect calm and contentment.
And then the wind scooped me from my cabinet and tossed me around like a dead leaf. That was a lot less pleasant. The man who had greeted the Marshal was staggering towards the doorway, somehow able to keep his feet on the ground. Meanwhile, I was still being blown around in circles, and feeling a little sick.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Slow...Down!" The wind slowed down, and gently set me back on the ground. I scratched the back of my head. "Well...didn't see that coming."
  





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Lael says...



Tamsin Haar|Daria

I knew from the first moment that those shady Darians slapped those metal bracelets on our wrists that it was a mistake to come. I couldn't feel the usual warm, humming tingle of unborn flames in my hands.

The only satisfaction that I found in this was Alexander Venastes' reaction, obviously because he was trying to cover up how infuriating and uncomfortable it was without his powers.

But I rolled my eyes when I saw him sticking nearly half his body out a window to 'say goodbye' to Angelica, for probably until we couldn't see the spot we'd left. Those acting skills . . .

We sat silently in the hovercar. I glanced about, at the world flying by outside, and at the interior of the vehicle. I thought to myself that this hovercar was much too big for just a few passengers, as 'important' as we may be.

"Scared, little blacksmith?" said the leech. I glanced up to find that he had recovered from the shock of no powers, and was smirking his ego-inflated head off.

"No," I said, crossing my arms, though I honestly was . . . a little. But I was being separated from my family and my now-fiancé, for the first time ever and going off into enemy territory. Without access to my power. Who wouldn't be afraid? "Why? You trying to hide how scared you really are?"

"Of course not, my dear," he said with an oily smile.

"My dear." I pronounced it slowly and put sarcastic emphasis into it. "Would your wife be very happy hearing you call another girl her age that?"

"She would never misunderstand me," he said simply. I scoffed.

Yeah right. Their marriage is a living testimony to that.

One of the Darians came over to us. His eyes flicked over us once before began to speak.

"When we arrive in the capital, Solange, you will each receive identification alike to Darian citizens," he began in a haughty tone.

"We're not Darian citizens." I studied him suspiciously.

"Wrong," he said, looking down his nose at me. "From the moment you stepped into this vehicle, you became a citizen of Daria. You no longer have a place in the Outlands, as you will never return as one of its people."

"What?" I shouted, leaping to my feet. "I never agreed to this!"

(At least the leech started to look a little off too.)

"Actually, you did. When you put yourself at the mercy of the mighty Darian Empire, this is what you have accepted." The man looked smug. "As I said, when we arrive in Solange, you will receive identification and then the final stop will be the Imperial Knight Academy."

I dropped back down into a seat, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. I turned my head towards the window, to hide my face from the others, as I twisted the engagement ring Jaron had made me round and round on my finger. I tried to see as far as I could, wishing I could catch a last glimpse of what had been my life.

But it was too late. I would never go home again.

***

I gritted my teeth as a thin, sharp scalpel cut into the soft underside of my left wrist. I wanted to look away but I forced myself to watch as blood welled up from the wound and rolled off onto the table. Remember everything they do to me. I must get strong from this, and only then will I have hope to escape this prison.

As though the doctor heard my thoughts, she said, "These ID chips are self-destructive. If you try to take them out without the proper method, I'm afraid you will be eliminated."

I kicked myself inwardly as I realized that the doctor was probably also a Knight, and a mind reader at that. Just my luck.

She produced a metal chip, no bigger than my thumbnail, and pushed it into the slit.

I couldn't hold back a scream this time.

***

My fingers brushing over the bandage on my wrist sent a jolt of pain up my arm each time, but I kept doing it. Let them think they subdued me. I will survive if I lie low. I just need to keep remembering.

Although I wanted to hide my true feelings from now on, I allowed myself a little gasp as we stopped in front of the Academy.

The dome was colossal, seeming to glow with sunlight against the clear blue sky. And there seemed to be so many people, many more than I had ever seen before. There seemed to be excitement abuzz as boys and girls crowded around the building, socializing as they waited for the doors to open.

"What marvelous architecture," said Alexander. I scowled at the sound of his voice. I had nearly forgotten about him entirely.

"I see you have a good eye," said the snobby official. It was obvious which of us he liked better. At least I wouldn't have to see him anymore. "This is your home now. You will eat, sleep, and train here until you are eliminated or graduate as a Darian Knight."

"Eliminated? What happens if you get eliminated?" I asked.

The Darian smiled as he--somehow--unfastened our burnell bracelets. "You will soon find out. Enjoy your last few days before the Opening Ceremony."

As the door opened, I jumped out quickly, grabbing the small bag of things I had brought from home, and headed for the entrance to the Academy. My eyes scanned the people not dressed in the uniforms, to see if any of them looked like they could be from the Outlands.

"Is those Outlanders?" People began to murmur as I and, undoubtedly, Venastes passed by. "Their clothing is so weird."

I looked around again, this time more warily. The Darians' clothing was different from ours.

"You don't even have to look at their clothes to see where they came from. Did you see how that girl's eyes were popping out just now?"

I ignored the voices. But Leech Venastes seemed to be employing his 'talents' and turning people's opinions of him around.

It doesn't matter, I told myself. I'll show them who doesn't deserve to be here. Just wait and see who kicks their butts and graduates at the top in four years.

To my relief, the many doors opened, and I moved with the crowd into the large atrium, where there were many small booths lined up. I listened to the instructional voice recordings playing over an intercom system and watched as others held out their wrists to scanners, and a paper shot out of one slot and a small card was spat out of another. They exited and walked deeper into the school, where there were droids giving directions.

I pushed past some people to get to a booth and stuck my arm under the red light. I found that the paper was an information page that told me stuff like my 'Knight Class' and the name of someone (Gray Saibara) who was my 'counselor' (whatever that meant), and my roommate's name (Gabrielle Norria), as well as telling me when I would receive my 'new wardrobe' (tomorrow, consisting not only of a few sets of uniforms, but Darian clothes--I supposed they thought I would need them) and about recreation and a few other random things. The card had a room number and the Academy's emblem on it. A key card.

I pushed my way out of the throng of people, and tried to look for Venastes. Though I didn't care about seeing him, he was from Nechama. It was like I had felt an obligation to . . . look out for my people . . . even if that was the leech.

When I saw him, I felt reassured, and walked down the hall.

"Dormitories are up these stairs," beeped a droid.

I climbed the stairs and followed the people who were already on their way. I saw entrances to hallways with labels like 'Year 4' and 'Year 3'. I heard other droids bleeping, "Boys on the left, girls on the right."

I found the right entrance, with a sign that said 'Year 1', and I walked into a lobby to be greeted by the same monotonous spiel the other halls' droids had been reciting. I turned right into a narrower hallway, and pitied the girls who would have the doors closest to the lobby. They would really enjoy all of the noise coming from outside if they tried to go to bed early.

My key card said '37'. I counted the doors down, turned a corner, and there it was. I glanced down at the door handle, and found a little slot where the card fit, and I slipped inside.

I let out a sigh as the door clicked shut. I was the first one into the room, as I had hoped. I flung my bag onto one of the beds and threw myself down beside it, then sat up again.

I couldn't let my guard down, especially not around my roommate, who could try to sabotage me. From now on, I had to be unbreakable.
"And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:7
  





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SpiritedWolfe says...



Gabrielle Norria | Daria, the Border


They walked her down a dimly lit hallway in the back of a border checkpoint building. It was an empty sort of place, the sort that looked abandoned at first but held small signs of life in its depths. Boxes of supplies and carts with equipment sat pushed away from the center of the hall in haphazard stacks and rows, guarding now dark rooms. But not one showed a layer of dust overtop its contents, even the windows in the door still clean. The floor was clean and polished, and the walls still pristine in their dark gray shade of paint.

All the while, the only sound that followed them was their own dulled footsteps. Gabe heaved a sigh, wondering how the desolate place would react to the noise. She expected something to stir, but the place remained quiet, the only sign that it’d even occurred a withering look from Daemon beside her. The rhythm of boots against tile continued alone.

She felt as if she was being marched off to her death – who’s to say that she wasn’t – and the Knights around her reminded her of the policemen leading her to her cell. (Was that just this morning?) After all, she was still a criminal, and a fancy title of Knight-in-Training wouldn’t change that. That fact alone might have comforted her, had she needed to be comforted in the first place.

Eventually, the lighting changed as bright light streamed into the hall from a branching pathway. Daemon’s grip on her arm tightened. Down the alternate path was one isolated room, none of the clutter from the main hall spilling into this branch. The door was left wide open, as if expecting their company and welcoming them inside. Thought Daemon did not hesitate, the other two Knights accompanying them did not follow, stopping right outside the door, as they had before when they’d visited her cell.

That left Gabe alone in the white, sterile room with him.

It was largely empty with the exception of a metal chair and beside that a table to match. She’s expected there to be doctors or other medical personnel, just from the clinic feel to the even abandoned area.

“This is where you’ll be receiving your identification chip,” Daemon said, motioning towards the chair. “Get yourself settled.”

“Should I be alarmed?” she asked, not even bothering to hide the bored expression on her face. The blunt sound of her rugged tennis shoes on the polished floor accompanied the subtle echo of her voice in the room. If only every noise wasn’t exaggerated in the emptiness.

“It won’t be long,” he said and cast an annoyed gaze towards the door. “They’ll simply cut your wrist open and insert the chip. Then we’ll be on our way.” He said ‘they’ as if he expected someone else to show any minute.

She slid into the chair, leaning back to feel its smooth metal chill her skin. “Lovely.” The natural silence of the building took over once more as Gabe’s thoughts drifted to the room. It hardly felt like a place used solely for implanting chips – the task was simply too mundane. Just the location and how well tucked away it was from the rest of the checkpoint gave her the vibe that metal restraints might snap around her wrists resting on the arms at any second. The thought made her hands tingle.

A slow, meticulous whine of wheels sounded from the hall. It started off slight, quiet, almost drowned out by the roaring silence, but grew louder as it crawled towards the room. Before long, a stout, bald man dressed in a lab coat appeared in the doorway, wheeling a pushcart along with him.

“Good to see you again, Daemon,” the man said with an amiable smile. His age started to show in the creases on his face from the familiar expression. He then turned to Gabe. “This is… Norria?”

Daemon nodded. “That’s the one.”

A heart laugh came from his throat as he walked over to her. “Excellent! Now, if you’d just place your wrist up on this here table … thank you!” The old man pulled out a scalpel from the cart, as well as a damp cloth and a tiny chip the size of her fingernail. From there, he rubbed the cloth against her wrist thoroughly, the liquid stinging her skin just slightly.

She looked over to Daemon, who was studying her with those blue eyes of his, probably wondering how she would react to the procedure. Her response was to pull a big grin on her face as the first sharp pain ran up her wrist and hot blood oozed out onto her skin.

~ * ~

She clenched her tiny sheet of paper and the keycard in her right hand, still flexing her left to get over the pain. Each time it jabs at her like a dull stick, not sharp enough to truly hurt but never truly gone. She almost liked it.

After her few escapades in buildings around Daria, Gabe had begun to notice a pattern. Most, if not all, the walls were stoic and plain as if to stifle any pleasantness that wandered into these desolate halls. She couldn’t complain, though, since she wouldn’t find any pleasure in them even if they were decorated in aesthetic colors with masterful murals sprawling across them like graffiti.

Around her, the constant sounds of robotic noises whirled, accompanied by the more human noise of mindless chatter between students. She honestly preferred the silence, if tense, between her and the other Knights in the car here. She wondered if she’d ever see Daemon again, though she would not be disappointed if she didn’t. Perhaps he’d show up now and again to assess her rehabilitation in society.

She continued to wander down the halls, only half paying attention to the signs and directions being thrown at her. She had a number in her head and a room assigned directly to her and her roommate, whose name she hadn’t bothered to read, but she took her time to explore the other branches the Academy had to offer.

Eventually, though, she found herself at the door dryly labeled “37” in her section of first years. As expected, the door handle jiggled when she tried it but didn’t move. The room key was still smothered in her other hand.

Just like everything else in this place, the door beeped as she inserted the keycard into its slot. From there, the door succumbed to her fingertips, the once rigid handle much more cooperative to the force she pressed upon it. She opened the door quickly and almost banged it against the wall to its right. She noted its proximity for future entrance.

Inside, the room held a similarly plain look, with the walls glossy white with a perfect sheen, no dents or otherwise to be seen. Her gaze scanned the rest of what she could see in the hallway of an entrance and rested upon two desks immediately before her, both pressed up closely to the wall. A girl sat at the closest one, her long, red hair falling over the back of the chair she sat at, despite being hunched over a handbook of sorts.

Her fingers gently touched the pages, almost anxiously, and her eyes seemed to be fixated on the text. She didn’t appear to be absorbing anything, though – perhaps she wasn’t reading at all.

Gabe let go of the door, which she’d been holding against the wall when she entered. It didn’t slam as she’d hoped it would, instead slowing before it fitted into its frame and the lock clicked back into place. The sound was enough to disturb the other girl, who glanced up at Gabe with a look of slight disinterest.

“You’re Gabrielle Norria, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes flicking back to the page.

“Gabe.” Her first encounter with Daemon resurfaced in her mind. It seemed she’d have to answer the same question to everyone else she’d meet.

The girl looked at her again and raised an eyebrow. “Gabe it is, then. I’m Tamsin Haar.”

“You like last names,” Gabe said. She began her slow entrance into the room, noticing that Tamsin, as she’d said, had also claimed the bed closest to the door. The bed had a plain, green comforter overtop, freshly made, while the other was a darker shade of red.

Tamsin shrugged. “This is our first meeting, isn’t it?”

Gabe hadn’t forgotten the small sack thrown atop the first bed, nothing like the luxurious suitcases and bags of the rest of the students outside. Her first clenched again. “Possibly. Unless our similar roots meant meeting before we each can remember.”

Tamsin didn’t even ask if Gabe was an Outlander; she didn’t have to. “Where did you come from? Your accent says you’re a northerner.”

“Everywhere.”

“Hmm,” she said, standing and pushing the book away. She didn’t bother to mark her page, signaling once again she hadn’t been actually reading. “If you say so.” She walked over to her bed and began to pull things out of her sack. Then, a pause as she adjusted a dull metal ring on her left finger.

Gabe sat down on her own bed, spreading her hand across the comforter. The fact that it was this shade interested her, making her think of the color of dried blood. Could it be a reason Tamsin chose the first bed? For color or convenience? So far, Tamsin remained generally unresponsive. The ring still stood out in Gabe’s mind.

Gabe looked back at her roommate, deciding to take a different approach. “A ring? It wouldn’t happen to be magic-hindering, would it?”

Tamsin sent Gabe a dark look, a change from her attitude before. “The ring doesn’t have any special abilities.”

“Then why would you keep it?”

“Because my fiancé made it for me!” Tamsin snapped, anger flashing in her hazel eyes. “It’s my engagement ring, okay?”

A slight smirk pushed its way onto Gabe’s lips, but she cocked her head to the side and smothered it. She kicked off her muddied shoes and lay back on the bed, crossing her legs with her arms back behind her head. That was exactly what she needed to know. Push the right buttons and this girl’s act faded away.

They were both silent for a few moments, then Tamsin let out a long breath and said, almost calmly, “That was rude of me. I apologize for my … outburst.” She collected her few items and placed them in the wardrobe stationed beside her bed. When she closed the doors once more, she said, “I think I’ll go step out for a while.”

Gabe let her go, hardly vocalizing a slight “mmk” before closing her eyes as if to drift off to sleep. A few seconds later, the door had closed, leaving Gabe on her own for the first time since her cell however long ago it was. She wasn’t tired, and the way her mind began to buzz signaled that, but there was peace in closing her eyes, a sort of finality for the time being that this was where she was heading.

She wondered what else would await her.
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Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place.
— Captain Raymond Holt