I CREATED THE SOUND OF MADNESS WROTE THE BOOK ON PAIN SOMEHOW I'M STILL HERE TO EXPLAIN --- THAT THE DARKEST HOUR NEVER COMES IN THE NIGHT --- |
Life had been extremely busy for Aeron for the better part of the last year. Her sudden separation from Thana and Trinity – or Calliope, as she was calling herself now – as well as the subsequent realization that her entire life up until that point had been one big, delusional lie, had left the poor woman reeling for some time. A lot of truths had become apparent to her, many of them painful, but none more so than the knowledge that she wasn’t even a real person, merely a fraction of another woman’s psychosis that was strong enough to be ripped apart to form its own being, if she could truly call herself that.
It had taken some time to adjust and regain some sense of normalcy, not that any part of her existence had ever been normal. She’d struggled for a while to grasp some idea of self, but over time, and with plenty of encouragement from Mythal and the others she’d suddenly found in her life, found the strength to press forward instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She still didn’t really know who she was, but at the very least she’d decided not to let that ruin the opportunity she’d been given. So eventually, she’d enlisted with the Rune Knights.
The military life wasn’t an easy one, but in comparison to the environment she’d been raised in, it was the healthiest and most stable life she’d ever had. Not to say it was perfect, of course. There were plenty that knew who she was. Given the number of guards that had been present for everything with Thana, it was no secret that she was connected to the Warlord, and it had not taken long for word to spread. Most people were at least respectful toward her, and there were plenty that chose not to judge her, but for all of Mythal and Serilda’s efforts the Rune Knight leaders could never fully eradicate their soldiers of prejudice, and there were still plenty that didn’t hide their suspicions and mistrust of the former dark mage.
While Aeron had made many strides in branching out, socially, she still had a habit of keeping to herself most of the time. Truthfully, the words and looks of those that alienated her weren’t all that bothersome. From time to time, maybe, but for the most part she could block them out, uncaring about their thoughts. The only one whose opinion she cared about at the end of the day was Mythal’s, and anyone else that Mythal liked and trusted. Determined, she had simply put her head down and focused on her own path and training, enduring everything else without complaint or comment.
She’d made some decent progress as a result. It had been rough adjusting to a life without any magic. Or well, mostly without any magic. She could still shape shift, but her access to her former take over and nightmare magics was long since lost, Thana having retained both those magics for the brief period of time that she’d lived before Vandrad snuffed her life away. Not that Aeron had been conscious during that time, but she’d seen the aftermath of it. Try as she might – and she’d pushed herself to the point of exhaustion several times trying – she’d eventually had to accept the simple fact that she was no longer a mage. Yet that still hadn’t stopped her. There were plenty of soldiers in the Rune Knights that weren’t mages, or at least not conventional ones. She could learn to utilize magic weapons to help provide some sense of self sufficiency, and that’s exactly what she’d done, the brunette experimenting with many different styles of weaponry until she’d settled on a couple that she liked enough to put her focus on.
Not that she’d stopped trying to regain some magic, though that was more Mythal’s doing than her own. The director was convinced that he could help her become a mage again, and had taken to trying to coach her in Darkness magic, an element that he was most comfortable trying to teach since he’d been using it practically all of his life. Aeron had yet to succeed in wielding any darkness spells, which made it hard for her to find purpose in the exercises… but if Mythal believed in her, she refused to give up, if for his sake more than her own. As far as she was concerned, she owed it to him. She owed him everything. They had even discussed the implementation of a lacrima of some kind, which Aeron wasn’t necessarily opposed to, but that was a big decision, and one that she wasn’t quite ready to make just yet. So on they worked, the woman slowly shaping herself to a reliable, if inexperienced knight.
But today she was not operating as a knight. Mythal had asked her to join him on a mission, but had made it clear it was a personal venture. As such, she’d been instructed to be combat ready, but in civilian dress, not in her uniform. With only a small gulp, and surprisingly little hesitation, she knocked on the door to Mythal’s office at headquarters. “Mythal..?” When others were present she was always sure to address him appropriately, but the director had made it very clear that she was only to follow decorum when absolutely necessary, and at all other times was to be informal with him. The man hated formalities enough with most people, but he insisted that Aeron was his friend and she was to interact with him as such. “It’s me.”
Presuming he called her in, she’d swing the door open enough to step inside. Aeron was dressed in comfortable civilian tactical gear. A pair of bright orange pants were tucked into a white and black armored bodysuit that sported some new and glowing device on her chest and back that Mythal would never have seen her wear before. She wore a cropped orange and white jacket with a popped collar, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows where her hands were covered with a sleek set of black gloves. A tactical harness was strapped on either thigh, sporting a holster on each side that both carried a matching set of pistols she’d become proficient with. A stylish pair of orange glasses – more like goggles, really – were set up on her head, pushing back the lengths of her hair that, while still kept short, had grown out a bit since she’d started her new life.
It was only time and consistent exposure that prevented her stomach from breaking out into butterflies at seeing him, the brunette quite comfortable in his presence these days – even if she was painfully aware of the unrequited torch she carried for him. Aeron approached the desk. “What’s the plan? Your message was… almost ominously vague. Is everything okay?”
It had taken some time to adjust and regain some sense of normalcy, not that any part of her existence had ever been normal. She’d struggled for a while to grasp some idea of self, but over time, and with plenty of encouragement from Mythal and the others she’d suddenly found in her life, found the strength to press forward instead of just sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She still didn’t really know who she was, but at the very least she’d decided not to let that ruin the opportunity she’d been given. So eventually, she’d enlisted with the Rune Knights.
The military life wasn’t an easy one, but in comparison to the environment she’d been raised in, it was the healthiest and most stable life she’d ever had. Not to say it was perfect, of course. There were plenty that knew who she was. Given the number of guards that had been present for everything with Thana, it was no secret that she was connected to the Warlord, and it had not taken long for word to spread. Most people were at least respectful toward her, and there were plenty that chose not to judge her, but for all of Mythal and Serilda’s efforts the Rune Knight leaders could never fully eradicate their soldiers of prejudice, and there were still plenty that didn’t hide their suspicions and mistrust of the former dark mage.
While Aeron had made many strides in branching out, socially, she still had a habit of keeping to herself most of the time. Truthfully, the words and looks of those that alienated her weren’t all that bothersome. From time to time, maybe, but for the most part she could block them out, uncaring about their thoughts. The only one whose opinion she cared about at the end of the day was Mythal’s, and anyone else that Mythal liked and trusted. Determined, she had simply put her head down and focused on her own path and training, enduring everything else without complaint or comment.
She’d made some decent progress as a result. It had been rough adjusting to a life without any magic. Or well, mostly without any magic. She could still shape shift, but her access to her former take over and nightmare magics was long since lost, Thana having retained both those magics for the brief period of time that she’d lived before Vandrad snuffed her life away. Not that Aeron had been conscious during that time, but she’d seen the aftermath of it. Try as she might – and she’d pushed herself to the point of exhaustion several times trying – she’d eventually had to accept the simple fact that she was no longer a mage. Yet that still hadn’t stopped her. There were plenty of soldiers in the Rune Knights that weren’t mages, or at least not conventional ones. She could learn to utilize magic weapons to help provide some sense of self sufficiency, and that’s exactly what she’d done, the brunette experimenting with many different styles of weaponry until she’d settled on a couple that she liked enough to put her focus on.
Not that she’d stopped trying to regain some magic, though that was more Mythal’s doing than her own. The director was convinced that he could help her become a mage again, and had taken to trying to coach her in Darkness magic, an element that he was most comfortable trying to teach since he’d been using it practically all of his life. Aeron had yet to succeed in wielding any darkness spells, which made it hard for her to find purpose in the exercises… but if Mythal believed in her, she refused to give up, if for his sake more than her own. As far as she was concerned, she owed it to him. She owed him everything. They had even discussed the implementation of a lacrima of some kind, which Aeron wasn’t necessarily opposed to, but that was a big decision, and one that she wasn’t quite ready to make just yet. So on they worked, the woman slowly shaping herself to a reliable, if inexperienced knight.
But today she was not operating as a knight. Mythal had asked her to join him on a mission, but had made it clear it was a personal venture. As such, she’d been instructed to be combat ready, but in civilian dress, not in her uniform. With only a small gulp, and surprisingly little hesitation, she knocked on the door to Mythal’s office at headquarters. “Mythal..?” When others were present she was always sure to address him appropriately, but the director had made it very clear that she was only to follow decorum when absolutely necessary, and at all other times was to be informal with him. The man hated formalities enough with most people, but he insisted that Aeron was his friend and she was to interact with him as such. “It’s me.”
Presuming he called her in, she’d swing the door open enough to step inside. Aeron was dressed in comfortable civilian tactical gear. A pair of bright orange pants were tucked into a white and black armored bodysuit that sported some new and glowing device on her chest and back that Mythal would never have seen her wear before. She wore a cropped orange and white jacket with a popped collar, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows where her hands were covered with a sleek set of black gloves. A tactical harness was strapped on either thigh, sporting a holster on each side that both carried a matching set of pistols she’d become proficient with. A stylish pair of orange glasses – more like goggles, really – were set up on her head, pushing back the lengths of her hair that, while still kept short, had grown out a bit since she’d started her new life.
It was only time and consistent exposure that prevented her stomach from breaking out into butterflies at seeing him, the brunette quite comfortable in his presence these days – even if she was painfully aware of the unrequited torch she carried for him. Aeron approached the desk. “What’s the plan? Your message was… almost ominously vague. Is everything okay?”
deltra of gangnam style
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