"You’re almost there, my Larkula," said an open-faced woman with willowy limbs and the palest eyes beyond silver. She clapped her hands excitedly as a slightly pudgy ash blonde child dropped her arms in exhaustion.
"So close! I want you to try once again, Lark. I know you can do it," the statuesque female implored the girl, shaking her shoulder slightly.
"Mother, I cannot, I am… I am too tired," Lark protested as she lifted her eyes from the ground to meet those of the draconic woman. Whatever she saw in the bottomless platinum pools apparently changed her opinion in a few seconds, for the magelet sealed her disbelief in herself and shoved her tiredness out of mind. "For you, mother." Her arms rose slowly above her waist, and they quivered visibly with the effort of just doing so.
The dragon Atarapa chose wisely not to comment; at least, she did until the child began to speak in a half-hearted mutter. "No, Lark!" the girl's name flew from her lips without an affectionate diminutive form. Gone was the sweet mother, replaced by the dragon whose wrath set cities ablaze and was a pure promise of death. "Do you want to get killed by the shadows? By the dark dragons that will... will snatch out your sweet little breath and steal your soul?" The woman wanted to screech it at the thick skulled kid, but instead she only punctuated her remarks with a small shake of her shoulder on every syllable and then a set of cold fingers that reached slowly and surely towards the little girl’s throat. Lark stumbled backwards a good six meters until her back hit a table with a painful thud.
Her eyes flew open wide, and they burned a liquid copper color. Cheeks ruddy with shame and anger at the mistreatment, no matter how unintentional (or intentional, by the woman's ire) she cried out her feelings.
"Fremitus Draconis Lucis!" Lark howled in a pure cry of fury and frusturation. "Atarapa, I hate you! I hate you!" Words haggard as raw emotion almost leaked from her body, so did light itself. Exploding from what seemed to be her every pore and rushing towards the monster disguised in human shape, a great torrent of waves and beams and who knows what, all erupting like she was the pot of gold that couldn’t hold the rainbow. Choking on her rage, the girl stared at the flow in brief horror before Atarapa shook her head and swept it up between her arms like a piece of... of tangible silk fabric. The world seemed dim as almost all of the brightness disappeared from the room as the dragon stood with her hands spread wide and smiled lightly at Lark, as if expecting something.
"Aieeee! It- It burns, Mother!" Her skin glimmered slightly and it hurt, and the golden haired girl clutched at the shimmering flesh that seemed ready to peel away from her bones. "Mother, the light- ...?" She began to speak before noticing that the white dragon had fallen silent and was simply regarding the patches of glittering skin left over from the magelet's not so graceful attempt at magic.
"… your roar is more like a spew from everywhere," said the dragon mildly, showing no sign of the displeasure she had before. Chastised, Lark encircled herself inside her arms.
"But it is good. Go rest now," the stately female said, bestowing a thin smile upon her protegee and dismissing Lark with a shooing motion towards the hallway. The girl's apartments now comprised a wing on the other side of the palace, so she didn't sleep quite as near to the immortal's chambers as she had in the past.
"Y-Yes Mother!" The atmosphere dictated that she should salute, but that was a thoroughly bad idea since the dragon hated to be reminded of the fact that she was the mistress here (considering their relationship to be more of a familial bond). Instead thinking of the change in her situation from the past and particularly how Atarapa hadn't been so demanding while she had been a child, Lark slipped out of the room. She did pause at the threshold to glance back and wave shyly to the immortal who was both her teacher and parent all at once. Her lips parted in an attempt to force out a word of thanks, but the best she could do was a soft, "Th-thank you,” as pleasure still colored her voice from the earlier praise. Scrambling to leave, Lark made it safely out of the vicinity of the volatile dragoness and rushed towards her own room. Having had her energy restored by the brief word of acknowledgement she had received, no matter how convoluted the wording had been originally (was her hate being like a roar a good thing?), the magelet felt motivated to practice. Bed time would have to wait.
"Where are we going, mater?" a plaintive voice asked as a pale faced woman wrapped the speaker, a child, in a soft furred blanket. Her silver hair limp and dull, the dragon picked up the large bundle of flesh and fabric as easily as if it were a basket of fruit on the dining room table.
"Shh..." Atarapa murmured as her eyes darted around the foyer of the palace nervously. It was a pity they had to leave, yet the hunters… they wouldn’t be able to find Lark if she was gone. "Be silent, my Larkula. Not everyone in this world is good, as you know. I must go," she said regretfully, switching to the common tongue.
"Mother? What are you saying? What are you doing?" Her voice rose with panic, for Lark had not heard it outside of language lessons before.
"Speak like this, dearest one. Listen closely. You are the child I never had, and I have taught you as much as I can for now. I will find you again if it's possible, and I regret leaving you so early, but... it must be done." With that, the two disappeared in a bright flash of light. Behind them, the palace and lavish scene winked out of existence as the energy left the makeshift world Atarapa had created. Lark was rendered unconscious with magic, because the girl was frightened of leaving the castle and still could not understand what was happening. It didn't help that the female refused to use their language anymore. And in the end, the sleeping form of the child was left on the doorstep of a kindly old couple in Magnolia Town, whom the dragon had deemed appropriate to finish raising her. Leaving Lark was... not the option that the woman would have chosen for someone she loved so, but it had to be done, didn't it?
"YOU ABANDONED ME! Left me with these... people... who said I was their daughter? You have no right to say to stop. To say that I... that I am yours or that you love me. Your fault, Mother. I cannot speak the language beyond simple words, for I never learned them. Why? Because you abandoned me. You left me behind. But I'll keep you with me forever, Atarapa. Mother. I will, I promise... and I don't break my promises, just like you taught me to. You've become who you told me to hate, but I could never hate you. Instead, I'll purify you! And you won't be a liar anymore. The forsworn will become the avenger, do you see? Do you see, mater? And of course I'll love you. I love you still. That's why I'll keep you forever, you see."
The slim blonde smiled with genuine sweetness at the woman, whose aquamarine dress was ripped from the mage's attacks. Dragons were powerful, of course, but a certain kind of magic seemed to be twice as effective against her. Or alternatively, perhaps it was only her thirst for vengeance, to serve the immortal a retribution equal to what she had put the girl through, that had made Lark so dominating in this fight. It didn't matter in the end. Long lasting as they were, everything can be killed...
And Atarapa didn't mind too much meeting her end at the hands of the one she considered to be her own daughter. As the woman opened her mouth to say "I lo-" the world was suddenly spinning, and something hurt. Everything hurt. And then? Nothing.
Lark leaned down to brush a stray lock of hair away from her mother's eyes, which still gaped open, not in surprise but with a benevolent, hopeful sort of expression. Smiling softly, the girl kissed the dead female's forehead. Picking up the severed head without any sign of distaste, she placed it next to the corpse and sighed lightly. Whenever she had considered her plans for righting the wrongs that had been committed by Atarapa, all of them had involved keeping something of the beautiful dragon within her. The real question was what to take...? Wrinkling her nose, the girl reluctantly sat down next to the still form, ignoring the blood that seeped into the skirt of her robe and dyed the embellishments, blue flowers, more of an indigo purple. There really was only one thing to take, wasn't there? Her essence, her magic, her power. Not her heart, but something that the woman never would have given up. It was a fitting punishment, even if the dead could do no wrong.
Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, tasting the tang of iron in the air, Lark wondered where exactly the lacrima was in the body.
"So close! I want you to try once again, Lark. I know you can do it," the statuesque female implored the girl, shaking her shoulder slightly.
"Mother, I cannot, I am… I am too tired," Lark protested as she lifted her eyes from the ground to meet those of the draconic woman. Whatever she saw in the bottomless platinum pools apparently changed her opinion in a few seconds, for the magelet sealed her disbelief in herself and shoved her tiredness out of mind. "For you, mother." Her arms rose slowly above her waist, and they quivered visibly with the effort of just doing so.
The dragon Atarapa chose wisely not to comment; at least, she did until the child began to speak in a half-hearted mutter. "No, Lark!" the girl's name flew from her lips without an affectionate diminutive form. Gone was the sweet mother, replaced by the dragon whose wrath set cities ablaze and was a pure promise of death. "Do you want to get killed by the shadows? By the dark dragons that will... will snatch out your sweet little breath and steal your soul?" The woman wanted to screech it at the thick skulled kid, but instead she only punctuated her remarks with a small shake of her shoulder on every syllable and then a set of cold fingers that reached slowly and surely towards the little girl’s throat. Lark stumbled backwards a good six meters until her back hit a table with a painful thud.
Her eyes flew open wide, and they burned a liquid copper color. Cheeks ruddy with shame and anger at the mistreatment, no matter how unintentional (or intentional, by the woman's ire) she cried out her feelings.
"Fremitus Draconis Lucis!" Lark howled in a pure cry of fury and frusturation. "Atarapa, I hate you! I hate you!" Words haggard as raw emotion almost leaked from her body, so did light itself. Exploding from what seemed to be her every pore and rushing towards the monster disguised in human shape, a great torrent of waves and beams and who knows what, all erupting like she was the pot of gold that couldn’t hold the rainbow. Choking on her rage, the girl stared at the flow in brief horror before Atarapa shook her head and swept it up between her arms like a piece of... of tangible silk fabric. The world seemed dim as almost all of the brightness disappeared from the room as the dragon stood with her hands spread wide and smiled lightly at Lark, as if expecting something.
"Aieeee! It- It burns, Mother!" Her skin glimmered slightly and it hurt, and the golden haired girl clutched at the shimmering flesh that seemed ready to peel away from her bones. "Mother, the light- ...?" She began to speak before noticing that the white dragon had fallen silent and was simply regarding the patches of glittering skin left over from the magelet's not so graceful attempt at magic.
"… your roar is more like a spew from everywhere," said the dragon mildly, showing no sign of the displeasure she had before. Chastised, Lark encircled herself inside her arms.
"But it is good. Go rest now," the stately female said, bestowing a thin smile upon her protegee and dismissing Lark with a shooing motion towards the hallway. The girl's apartments now comprised a wing on the other side of the palace, so she didn't sleep quite as near to the immortal's chambers as she had in the past.
"Y-Yes Mother!" The atmosphere dictated that she should salute, but that was a thoroughly bad idea since the dragon hated to be reminded of the fact that she was the mistress here (considering their relationship to be more of a familial bond). Instead thinking of the change in her situation from the past and particularly how Atarapa hadn't been so demanding while she had been a child, Lark slipped out of the room. She did pause at the threshold to glance back and wave shyly to the immortal who was both her teacher and parent all at once. Her lips parted in an attempt to force out a word of thanks, but the best she could do was a soft, "Th-thank you,” as pleasure still colored her voice from the earlier praise. Scrambling to leave, Lark made it safely out of the vicinity of the volatile dragoness and rushed towards her own room. Having had her energy restored by the brief word of acknowledgement she had received, no matter how convoluted the wording had been originally (was her hate being like a roar a good thing?), the magelet felt motivated to practice. Bed time would have to wait.
-----------------------
"Where are we going, mater?" a plaintive voice asked as a pale faced woman wrapped the speaker, a child, in a soft furred blanket. Her silver hair limp and dull, the dragon picked up the large bundle of flesh and fabric as easily as if it were a basket of fruit on the dining room table.
"Shh..." Atarapa murmured as her eyes darted around the foyer of the palace nervously. It was a pity they had to leave, yet the hunters… they wouldn’t be able to find Lark if she was gone. "Be silent, my Larkula. Not everyone in this world is good, as you know. I must go," she said regretfully, switching to the common tongue.
"Mother? What are you saying? What are you doing?" Her voice rose with panic, for Lark had not heard it outside of language lessons before.
"Speak like this, dearest one. Listen closely. You are the child I never had, and I have taught you as much as I can for now. I will find you again if it's possible, and I regret leaving you so early, but... it must be done." With that, the two disappeared in a bright flash of light. Behind them, the palace and lavish scene winked out of existence as the energy left the makeshift world Atarapa had created. Lark was rendered unconscious with magic, because the girl was frightened of leaving the castle and still could not understand what was happening. It didn't help that the female refused to use their language anymore. And in the end, the sleeping form of the child was left on the doorstep of a kindly old couple in Magnolia Town, whom the dragon had deemed appropriate to finish raising her. Leaving Lark was... not the option that the woman would have chosen for someone she loved so, but it had to be done, didn't it?
-----------------------
"YOU ABANDONED ME! Left me with these... people... who said I was their daughter? You have no right to say to stop. To say that I... that I am yours or that you love me. Your fault, Mother. I cannot speak the language beyond simple words, for I never learned them. Why? Because you abandoned me. You left me behind. But I'll keep you with me forever, Atarapa. Mother. I will, I promise... and I don't break my promises, just like you taught me to. You've become who you told me to hate, but I could never hate you. Instead, I'll purify you! And you won't be a liar anymore. The forsworn will become the avenger, do you see? Do you see, mater? And of course I'll love you. I love you still. That's why I'll keep you forever, you see."
The slim blonde smiled with genuine sweetness at the woman, whose aquamarine dress was ripped from the mage's attacks. Dragons were powerful, of course, but a certain kind of magic seemed to be twice as effective against her. Or alternatively, perhaps it was only her thirst for vengeance, to serve the immortal a retribution equal to what she had put the girl through, that had made Lark so dominating in this fight. It didn't matter in the end. Long lasting as they were, everything can be killed...
And Atarapa didn't mind too much meeting her end at the hands of the one she considered to be her own daughter. As the woman opened her mouth to say "I lo-" the world was suddenly spinning, and something hurt. Everything hurt. And then? Nothing.
Lark leaned down to brush a stray lock of hair away from her mother's eyes, which still gaped open, not in surprise but with a benevolent, hopeful sort of expression. Smiling softly, the girl kissed the dead female's forehead. Picking up the severed head without any sign of distaste, she placed it next to the corpse and sighed lightly. Whenever she had considered her plans for righting the wrongs that had been committed by Atarapa, all of them had involved keeping something of the beautiful dragon within her. The real question was what to take...? Wrinkling her nose, the girl reluctantly sat down next to the still form, ignoring the blood that seeped into the skirt of her robe and dyed the embellishments, blue flowers, more of an indigo purple. There really was only one thing to take, wasn't there? Her essence, her magic, her power. Not her heart, but something that the woman never would have given up. It was a fitting punishment, even if the dead could do no wrong.
Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, tasting the tang of iron in the air, Lark wondered where exactly the lacrima was in the body.
