#phael backstory

[5ilent5cience]

Teenage Mutant Knitted Turtles Fact

Fun fact: One of the Au "Teenage mutant Knitted turtles" are actual meant for almost christian-related analog horror which is similar to "The Mandela catalogue" as it's also a christian-related analog horror where Sheeps represents the goods one as when it comes to wolf which is meant for being the fallen angel.

SPOILER ALERT: DONNIE'S/DONATELL-WOOL BACKSTORY

||In this picture, we can see Donnie is actually praying for something he really wants: To be praised by his own brothers and think he can be the lead someday but sadly it was replaced by Ram-phael(Raphael) due to being oldest siblings and has huge protective instinct which matches to the average leader's behavior.

Donnie was commonly known for "The precious gem" of the group due to his cuteness and ability of beautiness, Just like that, he wanted to be praised by others.

But in reality, Raph and Leo disagreed with Donnie's dream which upsets him, so he began to attack Leo first in the barn, then Raph. That's when April, who is remain to be the only shepherd, caught Donnie in horrible Sin as he sented away to far-from-nowhere place which is his new home of cementary, That's where the sin of the fallen sheep begins. And that's when Mikey was born and being adopted to be replaced of Donnie's role.

[phael-the-trash-bin]

Backstory: the Incident part 2

Warning: mentions of torture and character death

A meaty fist slammed against my face, waking me with a start. Oh gods, everything hurt so much. One of the guards started to unshackle me from the wall, and soon I was being dragged up the stairs to the top deck of the ship. “Where’s Jules?” I gasped, trying desperately to catch my breath. The guard wouldn’t answer, and I tried my hardest to squirm out of his grasp. The guard only gripped me tighter and forced me back to the office of Captain Nyx. I was shoved into a chair, my hands bound with rope once again, and Nyx came into the office, shaking his head at me.

“What am I going to do with you?” Nyx paced for a little bit before finally sitting at the desk.

“Where is Jules?” I demanded. Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“I don't exactly think you’re in a position to be asking questions,” He scoffed before folding his hands in front of him. “We will be sailing into Zonfranian waters tomorrow. You have one day to live if you continue to not cooperate with me. So I ask you, where will your ship go, what is your next smuggling shipment?”

I remembered what Jules had said about Nyx killing us no matter what we gave him, so I said only one thing: “Where. Is. Jules?”

Nyx sighed and got up from the desk, walking behind me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Boy, believe it or not, I don’t get any pleasure from watching suffering, even of the likes of you.”

I scoffed. “Eat shit Nyx.”

“I ought to shoot the two of you here out on the sea and leave your bodies for your captain to find. But I find myself in the position of needing to make an example of you, by showing my people that actions have consequences.” Nyx gestured over to a guard who grabbed me roughly by my bound wrists and forced me up.

“Remember, one more day to cooperate.”

And with that, the guard whirled me around towards the exit and marched me back to the brig. A strong shove left me sprawled back in the confines of the brig cell, and as I lifted my head, I saw a silhouette of a sleeping figure in the cell next to mine. “Jules…” I breathed out. The figure lifted its head and I gasped at the sight before me. The entire left side of Jules’ face was filled with slashes looking like they came from a whip, and the same marks littered his chest and back. “Jules, what have they done to you?”

I crept as close to the metal bars separating us as I could, and Jules did the same until our foreheads were touching, nuzzling in the comfort of one another. “They said if I cooperated they would let you go, but I tried to tell them… look what they’ve already done, they should just kill us already. At least you’d be free of this,” Jules rambled on.

“At least we’re together,” I whispered. “At least we’ll always have each other.”

I don’t know how long we sat there, just savoring the heat of each other. Hours, maybe. It wasn’t until I turned around to try and reposition myself that I realized we may have hope after all. I scratched the palm of my hand after accidentally swiping it against a nail pointing diagonally out of the side of the ship, and realized that if it was sharp enough to scratch, it may be sharp enough to cut. I began rubbing the ropes binding my hands against the nail, and I prayed. Please let this work, please let this work.

After what felt like hours, I could feel the ropes start to loosen and give, until I was able to wriggle my hands out of the remaining rope. Wincing at the burns on my wrists, I turned to Jules and motioned to let me untie his rope. The ropes gave way after a great deal of effort on my part, and Jules began rubbing his sore wrists before reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Phäel , how are we going to get out of here? We’re unbound, but that doesn’t do much for us unless…” he trailed off, reaching to my head and plucking out a pin that had been holding my hair back. “Maybe we could use this to pick the locks!” Excitement crept into his whispers. And with that, he began to pick at the lock to his cell door.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lock to the door popped open and the cell door swung open with a quiet creak. Jules rushed out of his cell and immediately began working to open the door to my cell. Finally, we were both free! I grabbed his hand and motioned for him to follow me as we crept up the stairs of the brig. We were actually doing this, we were going to get out! I could feel Jules shivering from the night breeze, and gripped his hand tighter. Now we just had to find a lifeboat to escape on. We seemed to have lucked out, nobody was guarding the ship. Most of the navy men must have been asleep by now.

We snuck quietly along the deck, and almost made it to the lifeboat when a deep voice sent icy daggers of panic through my body.

“I’m disappointed to see you leaving so soon.”

It was Nyx.

I stood frozen in fear as Nyx raised his gun and pointed it directly at me. I couldn’t move. I felt Jules tugging on my arm but my feet stayed in place. Then everything seemed to move in slow motion. Nyx pulled the trigger and I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact. Waiting for death. But it never came. My eyes shot open as I felt a warm splattering of a sticky liquid hit my face and saw…

I saw…

Jules. No. No no no no no no no NO.

Jules’ eyes locked with mine before rolling back as his body crumpled to the floor.

Nyx reloaded his gun, but not before I let out a guttural scream and ran forward, slamming my body into Nyx and tackling him to the ground. I began punching as hard as I could, aiming for his nose, his eyes, anything. When Nyx seemed stunned enough to not react, I scampered back to Jules and began dragging his body to the lifeboat. I could hear Nyx calling for reinforcements, but all I could focus on untying the ropes holding the boat up. I could hear shots being fired as more navy men swarmed onto the top deck, but none of them hit their targets as the lifeboat began falling into the water.

I rowed for my life.

My arms were burning as I tried to escape. I saw in the distance the crew starting to arm one of the cannons, and I stopped trying to row. There was no point, there was no way we could escape, we…

We!

I turned and looked down desperately at Jules just in time to see him struggle to open his eyes. Thank Helm above he was alive!

“Jules, Jules, I’m here! It’s okay, we’ll get you to safety, you’ll be alright!”

Tears were streaming down Jules’ cheeks, mixing with the blood matting his hair and sticking along his face. Oh gods, there was so much blood. I held his head in my lap and grasped one of his trembling hands in my own. He weakly lifted his other hand to wipe away tears I hadn’t even noticed had started falling.

I lowered my head closer to his until our foreheads were touching, and I began to hear the sound of cannonballs crashing in the water around us. But I didn’t care. Because I was going to be with Jules forever after this. We would be okay, I tried to tell myself.

“Do you know my dear”, Jules sputtered, barely able to keep his eyes open. “I do believe I was a little in love with you”

And with that, he leaned forward and our lips met for only a second before his head fell back, eyes half open but lightless. He was gone, he was gone. But it was okay, I decided as I watched the cannonball soar closer and closer. I held Jules close to me and closed my eyes as I heard an ear splitting crack and felt a sharp pain, and then nothing.

Everything seemed to happen at once. I gasped for air, lungs heaving and trying to spit out the saltwater collected in them. I couldn’t open my eyes, all I could do was try to breathe. I felt bile coming up through my throat and I turned over just in time for my insides to start spewing out. As soon as I tried to move, I cried out in pain at the piercing sensation in my abdomen. I finally started to open my eyes only to find that I was alone. Alone but… alive. Oh no, please no no no no no no NO! I whirled my head around trying to find Jules, to see where he had gone, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, he had left me behind. I began to scream. We were supposed to be together, we were supposed to go together, and he left me behind. I screamed and screamed until I felt like my throat would bleed any minute. Then I just layed there. On a piece of jagged driftwood. Alone.

A piece of wood from the shattered boat had embedded itself in my abdomen, and I couldn’t figure out how to remove it. I thought, maybe if I removed it I would bleed out faster... then I could see Jules again. I layed on my back and closed my eyes, the sun baking my skin as I waited for the inevitable, hoping, even, for the inevitable. But the inevitable never came.

Instead, I woke up in an infirmary. Except, it felt familiar. My eyes crept open only to find… I was on the scarlet spell. I was alive, on the ship. Maybe this all was a fever dream. I tried to sit up but the pain came from my abdomen again. I looked down to see blood seeping from a bandage wrapped around my stomach and chest. If that was real, then I was alive. Oh gods I was alive…. no, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this! I began to scream again, gasping for air as my lungs started to spasm. The familiar face of captain Daisi immediately came into view as she put her hands on the sides on my face and tried to calm me down but nothing would work. I couldn’t be alive, I shouldn’t be alive. “Where is Jules?!” I gasped, Daisi hanging her head for a moment. “No, no no no no, why did you save me, why couldn’t you have let me die?!” I was sobbing now, and Daisi leaned forward, wrapping her strong arms around me to try and steady my trembling form.

I cried and cried for what felt like hours, I shouldn’t have survived. I didn’t want to survive! I felt anger and betrayal and terror and so many emotions I couldn’t comprehend. Eventually the doctor on board forced a potion down my throat, and my eyes immediately felt heavy. Daisi let go of me and laid me back on the cot, my limbs felt too heavy to try to fight it. I drifted back off to darkness, praying, for the first time in a long time, for the strength to keep moving, even without him, even with the memories of what had happened. I prayed, and I slept. And I lived.

[sheabutterskyes]

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Scarlette looked up at him as he turned to meet her eyes; his hazel eyes glinting with interest.

“You trust that I will not run?”

The ghost of a smile passed over his lips, “I do not trust you at all.”

The horse threw its head and stamped the ground impatiently, “the best chance we have at passing through successfully is by splitting up.”

Phael reached down and patted the horse’s neck with a gloved hand, and then tilted his head back to watch the distant, dark, mass of clouds. 

He took off his coat with careful movements, wincing as he held out his coat to her, his arm wavering slightly. 

He needed the crystal. Perhaps now more than ever. She couldn’t ignore the biting worry she felt each time he collapsed from exhaustion after using magic. She especially could not forget the other night, when he had noticed her tense with fear and had stayed awake for hours speaking to her with gentle words and offering concerned glances. 

The leader of Arishore had far more compassion than she had ever expected, and that truth haunted her every night when she closed her eyes and recalled the countless times she had listened to others wish for Arishore’s destruction and for the death and torture of their leader.

“There’s going to be a storm. It would be a pity to freeze to death after coming all this way. Besides, if you attempt to run, you would not make it far in what you are wearing.”

Scarlette stared at the coat, and then glanced back at Phael.

She walked up to the horse’s shoulder and little by little reached her hand out to take the coat. As her cold fingers touched the fur-lined cuff he only moved his hand further towards her. As she grasped the coat, he swiftly retracted his hand.

Feeling something heavy and solid in a pocket, Scarlette gave the coat a swift shake. With a soft crunch, the doctor’s leather medicine pouch fell into the snow at her feet. Scarlette hastily retrieved it and held it up for Phael to take.

“Keep it with you,” he said, urging his horse onward. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

She watched Phael’s horse trot through the freshly fallen snow. A silver pin sparkled in the wizard’s light hair, catching her eye as he suddenly glanced over his shoulder.

Scarlette hugged the coat closer, wondering if he knew that she no longer had any desire to run.

Phael flashed a smile before turning away.

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COA Taglist: @etjwrites​ , @alwolfesblog​ ,

[phael-the-trash-bin]

Phäel’s character backstory, as approved by our DM:

Phäel was born the second youngest of 7 children to a human mother, Francis Vermir, and an elven father, Gailier Neer, in the village of Hilthron in the northern region of Gadra. Phäel never got to know his father after he abandoned the family when Phäel was only 3. His mother suffered a breakdown when Gailier left, and was distant as the siblings grew up, finally leaving her children when the oldest, Mikhäl, turned 18, and Phäel was only 10. In a fit of anger over the loss of their mother and the strict ruling of their oldest sister, Phäel and his brother Larceir, who was the 4th child, ran away from their home and found themselves as wanderers along the open road. They survived by doing odd jobs in the many villages they visited.

When passing through the coastal village of Mothras one day, Phäel and Larceir were taken captive by a band of pirates and managed to bargain their lives for Larceir’s skills as a swordsman, which he had been teaching to Phäel. Seeing the potential in the 2 siblings, the ship’s captain Asari Daisi decided to keep them on board the ‘Scarlet Spell’ as powder monkeys with a promise of promotion if they could survive the year.

Phäel had a strong moral code from growing up in a religious household that Larceir had abandoned, and therefore did not approve of being a part of a pirate’s crew, but his loyalty to his brother and fear of being alone kept him aboard the ship. Soon after joining the pirate crew, Phäel met a human boy, Jules Ilyak, who would become his best friend. Jules was also a powder monkey, although with much more experience, and was given the task of showing the half elf brothers the ropes around the ship. Taking an immediate liking to Phäel , the two after only a couple of weeks became inseparable. After Phäel’s first year on the ship, he was promoted to artilleryman along with his brother.

Although tempted many times to abandon the ‘Scarlet Spell’, Phäel one day witnessed the execution of a man who had attempted to leave during a raid, and a fear of Captain Daisi was instilled in him that would never leave him and would ultimately keep him on the ship for the next 10 years of his life.

Under Jules’ suggestion, Daisi began to give Phäel private sword fighting lessons in hopes of developing his skills. Larceir, who had originally taught Phäel how to fight, did not receive the same special treatment by the captain and grew jealous of his brother and his skills, although he was careful not to show his growing resentment. That same year, Larceir was promoted to gunner on the ship.

On a chilly fall day when Phäel was 16, the ‘Scarlet Spell’ was intercepted by a Zofranian Royal Naval ship, and a battle between the two ships commenced. Phäel, who was attempting to help Jules fight off the Royal Navymen trying to board the ship, was captured along with Jules and taken prisoner. Captain Nyx of the Zofranian Navy tortured the two boys for information on a smuggling ring taking supplies out of Zofrana, but the boys couldn’t tell Nyx anything because they didn’t know any information. Nyx, in torturing Phäel, made a deep gash along his face that would create a long jagged scar marking Phäel for the rest of his life. Nyx told the boys that they would be docking in Zofrana within the next day and that they would be hung for their crimes. The night after having the brand of piracy burned onto his chest, just before arriving in Zofrana, Phäel managed to pick the lock on his and Jules’ cells, making their escape into the night. Nyx caught them however, and tried to shoot Phäel, but not before Jules jumped in the way, taking a bullet to the head and saving his best friend. Phäel grabbed Jules’ body and managed to cut a lifeboat loose and escape from the ship. Phäel held Jules as he was dying, and Jules managed to stay alive long enough to tell Phäel that he loved him, then died in Phäel’s arms. The Zofranian ship shot down the lifeboat, knocking Phäel unconscious. When he woke up, Jules’ body was gone and Phäel was floating upon a splintered piece of driftwood. After floating for about 2 days, he was picked back up by the ‘Scarlet Spell’ by complete coincidence, starving and dehydrated, but very much alive.

Larceir was secretly bitter that his brother had survived, and began ignoring him on the ship, which Phäel noticed amidst the trauma of the incident aboard the Zofranian ship. A couple of months later, Phäel was made a junior officer while Larceir is already boatswain of the ship. Phäel has nightmares almost every night about what Nyx had done, and Daisi takes pity on him and teaches him how to control his emotions and channel those into his fighting. Phäel feels for the first time that he has something akin to a motherly figure.

One unsuspecting day after the grueling years progressing through the ranks, Phäel was conducting his crewmates as boatswain of the ship when his brother, who had taken the role of quartermaster, announced that the captain had fallen ill and that he would be in charge of the ship until her recovery.

Phäel had his concerns that his brother was not fit to be in the captain’s position because of the changes he had seen since they were kids. Larceir was no longer the loving brother he once had, but now felt cruel, with no regard for other lives. He had no idea if the life as a pirate or the contained anger he had since he was young was the culprit, but Phäel had a feeling things were about to take a turn for the worse with his brother in charge. If only he wasn’t such a coward, Phäel thought, he would escape on the next trip to shore. If only it were so easy.

Normally sailing courses were voted on as a crew, but as Phäel awoke one morning, he found the ship sailing unannounced to the coastal village of Wrunstead, cannons at the ready, and he realized with horror what his brother was about to do. Wrunstead had been the village that their mother grew up in, and Larceir had come to take his revenge on their absent mother. As the ship docked in the harbor, Larceir came to his Phäel and handed him his sword, slender and sharp. “Take this and fight with me, help me destroyed them the way she destroyed what we could have been.”

Phäel was hit with an unusual stroke of bravery and decided that he couldn’t let this happen, and as the crew swam to shore, Phäel broke off and hurried to help the citizens of the village who were trying to escape. Then he realized as he saw a group of children escaping a small building that the village had an orphanage, and knew he had to help them. There was no way he would allow his brother to harm children.

As Phäel hurried the children out of the building, he could hear a cannonball hit the floor above and began to feel the heat on his skin: the floor above had caught on fire. Panicked, he ran up the stairs and searched for any children that may have been left behind when a fiery beam fell on top of Phäel, rendering him unconscious.

A bright light hit Phäel’s eyes as he opened them slowly and saw a bright, glowing, many-winged figure floating in front of him, telling him that he had already begun to see his purpose, that he must be a protector to those who cannot protect themselves.

Phäel woke up in a daze in a medical center of the now singed and burning village of Wrunstead, which had managed to fight off the band of pirates. Still in shock from the fire, Phäel had lifted his left arm to run it through his hair, when he realised that he had no left arm, only a stump ending just above where his elbow had been. The lead healer told Phäel that his arm had been caught under a pile of wood and rubble and had to be amputated in order for the rest of him to escape the fire. Phäel was thanked by the village leader but was generally mistrusted by a majority of the village’s citizens because of his status as a once-pirate. He stayed in the village during his recovery from his injuries, and while staying there discovered a temple dedicated to the same god of the religion he grew up learning about and practicing, Helm. Here he was able to reconnect with parts of his old life and rekindle the faith that had been wavering during his years upon the sea. In this temple he swore his oath of devotion to Helm, and promised to become the protector that the world needed.

Once fully recovered Phäel set off on the road again, truly alone for the first time in his life, but also for the first time with a purpose: finding the mysterious glowing entity that had appeared before him and told him of his destiny. With his dominant arm still intact, Phäel began to start offering his services as a swordsman for hire to protect shipments travelling from port to port. In these ports he would ask around about any religious orders that worshiped a multi-winged being. Phäel found that port taverns were excellent places to find out secrets, so he hung around many a tavern out of hopes of finding out any information he could. On one special occasion in the city of Arkalai in eastern Penrith, he found more than just information, he found a friend.

The tiny gnome had approached him and offered to buy him a drink. Suspicious, Phäel accepted and took a seat next to the gnome, who’s name he found out to be Nima Nungel. Nima was a tinkerer who specialized in electric mechanics, and told Phäel that she could make him an arm to replace the one he had lost. Phäel knew nothing comes for free, so he asked what her price would be, and Nima responded that she needed help on a hunt. She had heard from some of the sailors Phäel had just been working with about his exceptional skills as a swordsman, and wanted his help with hunting a rogue giant which had been terrorizing the smaller towns around Arkalai. Phäel accepted her offer, wanting to help the town but worried also about the type of tinkerer Nima was. He had heard about the dangers of trying to harness electricity, and, although Nima seemed like a genuinely nice person, he wasn’t sure about her practices. However, he was even more unsure about whether he could live the rest of his life as a paladin without his arm.

They set off for the hunt, and Phäel, for the first time in a long time, felt the comfort of having something like a friend. Nima was enjoyable to be around, and after 3 days of travel around woods and forests, they were able to find and slay the giant. True to her word, Nima started immediately to work on the mechanical arm. Phäel decided to stay in town for a week or so while Nima worked, and took up a few odd jobs on the docks to try to earn some gold to be able to pay Nima back, although she had insisted that his help on the hunt had been enough.

When the arm was completed, Phäel was shocked at the complexity of the whirling gears and intricate pieces that he could control just by moving the muscles in the top of his arm the slightest bit. Small bits of stretched metal wired their way throughout the curving edges of the forearm and, although he couldn’t quite understand it, the arm worked perfectly. Phäel, out of his thankfulness, tried to give Nima the gold pieces he had earned, but Nima told him to use the money to buy some proper armor instead to hide the arm, not wanting Phäel to be attacked by those who did not trust that sort of technology. With hopes of seeing each other again some day, Phäel and Nima went their separate ways, and Phäel continued on his journey to search for the creature of his vision.

While in the port of Uasha in Southern Raclax, he heard of worshippers of a similar entity to the one from his vision with a small tribe in a forest area just north of a place called the Invisible Tides in Zofrana. Phäel felt hesitation going back to Zofranian waters, but knew he couldn’t avoid an entire country because of one person. He secured passage on a cargo ship, offering protective services, and set off to find this religious band. Phäel heard from some of the sailors he was sailing with that there was a festival taking place on the day they would be docking into the Invisible Tides, so he decided he would stay in town for a day or two to enjoy the festivities before setting off.

And thus began the adventure....

[phael-the-trash-bin]

Backstory time:

Here is Jules Ilyak, Phäel’s best friend and would be boyfriend if the two of them were brave enough to tell the other that they love them. Phäel and Jules grew up on the same ship and helped each other out through a lot of tough situations. Unfortunately, however, Jules met an untimely end at the hands of the Captain of the Royal Navy of Zofrana when he was only 17.

[phael-the-trash-bin]

Happy Valentine’s Day from Jules and Phäel! 💕💕💕

[sheabutterskyes]

Your Antagonist’s Backstory | Becoming

Week 2

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Content Warning: Violence, blood,

✧☾.·:·.*

Vjeran stood in the corridor with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He’d walked out of the meeting when he realized it wasn’t so much of a meeting as it was a designated time to give audience to Jeren’s latest bad decisions.

Bad was an understatement, really. With every passing year things seemed to be falling apart faster, Arishore’s actions becoming riskier, the war becoming deadlier. He knew it wouldn’t be long before it was too late to fix things. And it was all thanks to his brother and his selfish, anger-driven decisions. 

Mathias walked into sight, Phael not far behind him, likely silently protesting whatever it was he had decided to hate today.

“Are you waiting for winter?” Asked the doctor as they passed, a twinkle in his eye.

“Waiting for my brother to stop being an idiot,” Vjeran spat out.

“Me too,” Phael replied.

Vjeran chuckled, watching them walk off and go about the rest of their day. Together, no doubt, and he was glad of it. Mathias was a good influence and seemed to be the only one capable of controlling the fiery rage that Phael had surely inherited from his parents.

When the doors opened slowly, Vjeran stepped back out of the way, not wanting to look open to conversation with the others. Watching the Council members walk out, Alek and Cyran were the first to appear side by side, both looking irritated. Behind them Elaria grinned at him, muttering something about how he should have let his brother have it instead of walking out. She was probably right.

Meira and Gabriele walked out next, and behind them Adrian, who slowed down to say something.

“You’re right, you know. Everything you said in there.”

Vjeran scoffed, “My words fall on deaf ears. Besides, I didn’t hear you say anything.”

He looked him in the eye, “I say things in my own way.”

And with that said, he too walked away. Vjeran stared after him, his head beginning to ache.

“We’re celebrating Moonsayde tonight, Vjeran, the least you can do is stop glowering.”

He snapped his head the other direction, ready to stop glowering and ready to begin a fight. His body was instantly hot with anger. 

“I’m sorry, celebrating what, exactly?” Vjeran let his voice rise to just below a shout. “The utter chaos you’re about to bring to our region? Or the hundreds of people that are going to be killed because of you?”

Jeren adjusted his vest, the glittering crescent shaped buttons were loose, hanging dangerously by thin threads, just like his temper these days. And just like Vjeran’s patience these days.

He began to walk away, his expression utterly unbothered. “That too, it’s all the same.”

Vjeran lunged forward, grabbing him by the arm, his nails digging in, “Don’t walk away from me!”

Turning slowly, Jeren glanced at the hand that had gripped him and raised a brow. They stood there a long moment, both of them unsure of how to proceed – this was the first time Vjeran had allowed himself to be this aggressive with Jeren. He was tired of being reasonable, of being the calm and friendly brother.

In the corner of his vision he could see Adrian hesitating after noticing the conflict. He was a ways down the corridor, but had clearly been paying attention. Jeren either took no notice or didn’t care. He ripped Vjeran’s hand off of him and smoothed out his sleeve.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Vjeran opened his mouth, only to be slammed backwards by a rush of magic, his head slamming against the window with enough force to cause his vision to flicker. He willed his anger to flow through magic of his own, but his brother had already seized him by the neck, his skin burning like fire.

He yelped, attempting to surround his attacker with threads of magic to at least get him away. But the pain was already taking its toll on his ability to do anything but cry out and grab at the hands nearly strangling him. Jeren’s magic was too strong – and this was only the start of what he was capable of.

“If you’d like to continue to be able to run around Blackwater pretending that you have a place here, then you need to keep your mouth in check.” Jeren dropped him, “I know you fancy thinking that leading the Council is a collaborative effort, but it’s not. I’m the oldest, you are not. I have the crystal, you do not. I am the head of the Council, and you are not.”

Vjeran held his shaking hands to his neck, hot blood sticking to his skin and dripping down, soaking into his shirt.

He coughed, gasping for air when he attempted to speak, quickly giving up and allowing himself to slump into the floor, his forehead pressed against the cold stone. He couldn’t do anything more as Jeren turned and began walking away. A heavy feeling of dread began to grow within him as he realized, perhaps the first time, just how far his brother was willing to go to stay in total control.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.* *.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

COA Taglist: @etjwrites​ , @alwolfesblog​ , @project-nightshade​ , @bexminx​ , @ruth-lund​ ,

Written for Your Antagonist’s Backstory ( @yourocsbackstory​ )

Week 1 can be found here! (The introduction scene takes place years after what we have happening in this post)

[sheabutterskyes]

Your Antagonist’s Backstory | Introduction

Week 1

  *.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.* *.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

Leaning back into the old chair wasn’t quite as comfortable tonight. Outside, flurries of snow swirled around the lantern hanging above the small window, adding to the feeling of coziness within the small space.

Turning his head from the window, he cleared his throat.

“This is the last time you’re going to see me.”

Across from him, Warren didn’t even glance up from the book in his lap, “How long this time?”

He waited, not willing to say more if the man wasn’t going to listen.

A few moments later, after he’d finished reading that page and had turned to a new one, Warren pulled a frayed ribbon into place and closed the book, looking up expectantly.

“So what’s going on?”

“There’s been important business I’ve been… putting off.” He fought back a smile as the human rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid the situation has become too dire, and I need to take care of it.”

“You slacker,” Warren cracked, his voice rising with suppressed laughter.

He pushed on, sorry to have to do this tonight. Sorry that this couldn’t have been another unimportant chat.

“Warren, I won’t be back again.”

His smile faded, dark Haladavarian eyes widening with concern.

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, he shook his head. Not that long ago he’d considered leaving without saying anything, not wanting to deal with this.

“It’s for the best, I assure you,” he began slowly. “I wouldn’t be saying this unless I felt I didn’t have another choice.”

He was staring at him now, unnervingly quiet. Though he seemed to be slowly understanding what was happening, he certainly didn’t deserve it. but perhaps it wouldn’t all truly hit him until it was all said and done. It couldn’t be that simple to accept the fact that your friend of many years was going to leave to take care of something that was a complete mystery, and had no intentions of seeing you again.

It didn’t sit well with him; there was a low, rumbling anger within him, threatening to rise up and lash out the longer the silence stretched on.

“But I want you to know that your friendship has meant a great deal to me.”

Warren nodded slowly, “Do you plan on being killed then? Is that it?”

He threw out his hands when he didn’t receive an answer, his book sliding from his lap and landing with a loud slap on the floor.

“Regardless of whether I live or die, I won’t be returning here again,” he answered quickly. “I don’t know how many times you want me to repeat that.”

“Wh-.”

“Please, do not make me say it again.” His voice faltered, and it took everything in him not to shout. “This isn’t easy for me.”

The room was getting noticeably darker as the fire began to dwindle, having not been tended to in a while. He took the opportunity to get out of the chair, moving to the fireplace. Reaching down and pressing his fingers briefly against the wood, he had to settle his energy with a deep sigh before allowing his magic to bring the fire back to life. He certainly didn’t need his magic flaring along with his anger.

“I was never sent to this region as a messenger for Arishore,” he said as he turned back to face his friend. “I’m not who I said I was.”

Warren nodded thoughtfully, “Alright then. So who are you?” He gave a short, nervous laugh. “You’re not about to tell me that you’re actually Phael Elaéyadar, are you?”

“Kind of you to assume I’m that young,” he retorted, giving himself a moment more before giving him the truth.

“My name is Vjeran Elaéyadar.”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.* *.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

COA Taglist: @etjwrites​ , @alwolfesblog​ , @project-nightshade​ , @bexminx​ , @ruth-lund​ ,

Written for Your Antagonist’s Backstory ( @yourocsbackstory​) 

For this event, I will be writing about Vjeran, a character in COA 2, aka, The Coast of Arishore: The Crystal Guardian. 

Ten points if you can guess how Phael and Vjeran are related!

[sheabutterskyes]

OC Backstory | Ziel | III

Intro | Parents | Friends 

Having a best friend who is next in line to lead the region isn’t always easy…

TW: Implied physical abuse

                                                            ...

Ziel stared at the ground, taking a deep breath and folding his arms. A bee was traversing small stones, still slick from last night’s rainfall; he watched it in silence until it took off, circling him briefly before disappearing.

“Does Mathias know?” He finally spoke, but his voice shook as he pushed back the urge to hurl a torrent of magic towards the manor. Somewhere inside, the wizard responsible for this was likely going about the day as usual. Doing nothing to help the region, and –

He looked up at Phael.

And hurting his friend.

“If Mathias knew, it would only cause more problems. Could I stay with you for a while?”

He looked back down, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Upon receiving no reply after several long moments, and finding nothing to focus on at his feet, Ziel looked back up. The redness around Phael’s jaw, and the fresh burns on his neck looked even worse now. But it all didn’t look as bad as the expression on his friend’s face.

“You’re afraid of being seen with me.”

Ziel shook his head, his heart beginning to race, “No, that isn’t it.”

“Then what is it?”

“When my village was attacked, the Council did nothing. They could have helped – could have stopped it from happening even. I -,”

“I’m not the Council.” His words were low, and suspiciously void of anger.

“I know that. I just don’t think my village would be a…” the rest of his words died in his throat as Phael turned his back on him.

“That doesn’t mean you need to go back in there, there are other places you can stay!”

And just like that, Phael turned back around, his glare piercing Ziel.

“I know there are other places I can stay.”

He regretted having ever said anything at all, so he said nothing as Phael walked back towards the manor. But as he neared the door, Ziel outstretched his hand, reaching for Phael with a torrent of magic – far stronger than what he had intended. What was meant to have been a gentle resistance, gained strength from his anger and fear, hurling into Phael.

He fell – hard.

And when he didn’t move beyond sitting himself up, Ziel froze.

But there was no fiery eruption of anger. Hardly even a reaction. Not even a glance in his direction. It nearly took the air from his lungs.

Ziel warily began to approach, his steps gaining speed as he began to realize there would be no retaliation. He fell to his knees in front of Phael, attempting to look at him through the silvery strands of hair that had fallen across his face.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, glancing down at Phael’s trembling hands.

They were scraped up from colliding with the stone steps.

Slowly, he raised his head, his hazel eyes unfocused and his lip split and bleeding.

There was nothing but silence between them for several long moments. He leaned away when Phael slowly stood, wiping the blood dripping down his chin.

“Let’s leave,” Ziel said, his throat dry.

“Where?”

Phael’s voice was too quiet, too small.

“We can go to my village.”

Averting his gaze, Phael shook his head.

“You don’t have to.”

“I…” Ziel sucked in sharply, “I’m not afraid of being seen with you. I’m afraid of how they will treat you. If I take you to my home and they look at you the way they look at your father… if they do something to you…”

“I know. I never asked to stay in your village. I asked to stay with you.”

Ziel searched his face - looking for a hint, a glint of amusement in his eyes. But he was quite serious.

He carefully placed his arm on Phael’s. “Let’s leave.”

Something in his tired smile told Ziel that he understood him. That he understood he didn’t have to ask. Because he was Ziel’s friend - his best friend. And wherever he went, whatever trouble he got into, he’d be right there with him. 

Even if it was his village. Even if it was in the manor standing before the head of the Council.

No matter where. No matter what.

                                                         ...

COA Taglist: @etjwrites​ @alwolfesblog​ @project-nightshade​ @bexminx​ @ruth-lund​

Written for: @yourocsbackstory​

[sheabutterskyes]

OC Backstory | Ziel | VI

Ziel | The Coast of Arishore

Intro | Parents | Friends | Education | Siblings | Rivals

When Phael became head of the Council of Arishore, he dismissed all members under his father and picked new members.

Aside from Ziel, there were eventually five other members chosen to fill the seven spaces. He had already been acquainted with Ceja and Xander, had heard good things of Lyre, but had not met Ren or Haryk until they arrived at Blackwater. Ren was the youngest, and Haryk was the oldest. They were very different. In other words, Ren was inquisitive and seemed to have no weight on his shoulders, and Haryk was much more hardened and less willing to form close bonds with the others.  Especially Ziel.

                                                             ...

Haryk stepped to the left, and then the right, effectively blocking Ziel’s path forward.

He had felt this was bound to happen, that Haryk would sooner or later attempt to corner him and tell him exactly how much he didn’t like him. From the beginning, he could see the distaste glinting in his crystalline eyes.

“Where’re you off to at this hour?” 

“I’ll be spending the next several days at home.”

Haryk offered a feigned look of confusion in response, his dark brows furrowing. But Ziel wasn’t about to become frustrated with him, if anything, he wanted to appear oblivious to Haryk’s disregard for him as long as possible. The Council was no place for feuds of any kind – especially these days.

“I’ll be meeting with my brother,” Ziel added.

“The messenger, right?”

He nodded, “Yes, Viern.”

“I see… you’ve been visiting often recently, haven’t you? Family’s important, but as a Council member, you shouldn’t be running off so often. Have you suggested to your brother that he come to Blackwater? I doubt Phael would mind.”

Ziel clenched his teeth. There was nothing wrong with that he said. It was true. Ziel wasn’t upset at all by what he was getting at. What did bother him, was the way Haryk mirrored his movements like a predator after prey. The way he laced his words with unspoken warning.

Despite his mindful intentions, his foot slid back nervously, hitting the base of the stairs he had just descended.

“It’s more suitable to meet elsewhere.”

“Why is that?” Haryk asked without missing a beat.

“He prefers to keep a respectable distance from Council matters.”

“It seems you both have that in common.”

Ziel didn’t even blink. Haryk’s mouth was tight, his eyes watching him – waiting for a reaction. He wasn’t sure he could even give him one. Instead, he spoke the only words that would form in his mouth.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

It seemed his apology had little effect, as Haryk hardly took a breath before going on, “I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

Something in Ziel’s stomach twisted, his expression surely betraying his discomfort now. Haryk was a lot of things, but he was no liar. So... how many of the others didn’t think he belonged in the Council?

“Sometimes I have to wonder if you’re here for the right reasons. If your heart isn’t in this, then you’ll end up causing harm to not only Arishore,” he paused, tilting his head thoughtfully, “but Phael as well.”

At this, Ziel couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. Of course he would use Phael’s name against him.

But Haryk was wrong. If he had attempted to get to know him, he would understand that Ziel wasn’t only in the Council because Phael had wanted him to be. He meant to try his best as a region leader – he wanted to see Arishore healed.

He wasn’t going to say he was wrong, however. Haryk could make Ziel his adversary for as long as he wanted, but Ziel refused to make Haryk his. Waiting quietly, he wondered what else he would have to say before finally letting him leave.

“Well, perhaps it’s your heart that’s the problem.”

Ziel’s throat was dry as he answered, “What would you say is wrong with my heart?”

Haryk finally stepped aside, “It’s too soft.”

And to that, Ziel nodded as if he hadn’t heard that before.

                                                              ...

Written for: @yourocsbackstory​

COA taglist: @etjwrites​ @alwolfesblog​ @project-nightshade​ @bexminx​ @ruth-lund​

[sheabutterskyes]

OC Backstory | Ziel | I

This round of backstory posts will feature Ziel!

Before he was a Council member, and before he was the leader of a region, he wasn’t anyone of great importance. The quiet and soft wizard was content with taking life one day at a time alongside his best friend. That’s not to say he didn’t expect anything extraordinary to happen in the future. Not when his best friend was the future head of the Council.

Ah, to go back to the good old days…

 “My name is Ziel, and I’m – ,”

The guard sidestepped as an irate Phael appeared behind him.

“You should know who he is by now, let him through.”

Ziel smiled, though unable to feel relieved by Phael’s presence – no matter his intentions, nothing good ever came from him exchanging words with the Blackwater guards.

“Just because he’s your friend, doesn’t mean he can come and go from here as he pleases,” the guard replied evenly. It seemed today his patience with Phael wouldn’t be so easily shaken. Even as Phael closed in on the guard and narrowed his eyes, he only shook his head slowly.

“It’s your father’s orders, Phael. I’m not saying I don’t welcome Ziel here.”

“I’m sorry to be causing any trouble,” Ziel offered, lowering his gaze.

“Don’t be, we all know who’s to blame here,” was the guard’s reply, his words now tinged with frustration.

“Oof!” Ziel nearly fell backwards as Phael pushed passed the guard and linked his arm with his, spinning him around and yanking him along.

“He may be just a friend of mine today,” Phael shouted back, “But when my father is no longer head of the Council, Ziel will be right there beside me in the Council. And I’ll make sure you’re still around to bow your head in respect to him each time he arrives at the door.”

And with that, Ziel stumbled along after him, still being pulled along by the arm. He said nothing and gave no resistance until they were out of view of the manor, only then removing himself from Phael’s vicious grasp and stepping into a deep puddle, cringing as the cold water soaked through his pants.

The trees around them were still dripping with rainwater from last night’s storm, the air heavy with an earthy, musty scent. Still near to Blackwater, he could hear horses nickering, and considered suggesting to Phael that they take horses if he planned on travelling very far today. But instead, he stood there, his foot still in the water, the ripples fading away as he chose to say nothing. Instead, he was thinking of what Phael had said.

He’d never mentioned his plans when it came time to take his place as head of the Council. And he’d certainly never mentioned Ziel’s involvement.

“Any reason why you’re standing in a puddle gawking at me?”

Ziel blinked, “what you said back there…”

Phael’s silvery hair was barely held back from his face with a pin, his eyes glinting with something a little too feral for Ziel’s liking.

“I don’t want to talk about what I said back there.”

“But -,”

“Don’t make me repeat myself!”

Ziel stepped out of the puddle. Truthfully, Ziel didn’t want to think too much about the future circumstances either. But things would eventually change – dramatically. And he only knew that he couldn’t allow himself to become passive.

He sighed, “I won’t make you repeat yourself. But you might want to talk about it when you become head of the Council.”

Phael muttered something and began to walk away.

“But when the time comes, don’t think you have to ask me to join you in the Council. I’m telling you now, that I’d be honored.”

Phael had stopped, and was half-turned around now.

Ziel only smiled, “Any reason why you’re standing there gawking at me?”

                                                          ...

COA taglist peeps: @etjwrites​ @alwolfesblog​ @project-nightshade​ @bexminx​

Written for: @yourocsbackstory​

[sheabutterskyes]

OC BACKSTORY: HOLIDAY EDITION

 Shortly after Phael took over the Council and before he had selected new members, he spent time traveling around the region – forming relationships and assessing the damage done while his father had control. In one humble and small village, Phael takes the time to speak with each member of the community after they save the life of his favorite horse. What can I do for you? He asked them all. But there had been one wizard who he had approached last. It was the tall and graceful fellow who always seemed to be perched on an old wooden fence when Phael entered the village.

When he finally asks, it’s on the eve of Moonsayde, and he receives a very unexpected answer.

                                                           ***

Lyre first saw him enter his village on a cold spring evening.

He walked along at a weary pace, his tall black horse walking alongside him with a noticeable limp. The horse’s legs were caked with mud, it’s kind eyes regarding Lyre with curiosity as they passed.

He watched him leave several days later with a different horse.

The second time he saw him enter his village, it was a humid morning.

He rode in on a strawberry roan with strong legs, another wizard bouncing along beside him on an anxious chestnut. Lyre smiled and returned to reading his book.

He wasn’t there to see them leave his village.

The third time he entered his village, it wasn’t long after the second visit.

He stopped beside the wooden fence, and had waited silently for Lyre to look up from his book.

“Left this out in the rain,” he had said, holding out a familiar journal stitched with blue thread.

The fourth time he entered his village, he walked up to the fence again, looking at Lyre expectantly.

“I was told you were the one who nearly exhausted your magic caring for my horse a few nights ago.”

Lyre smiled, “I love animals.”

The wizard before him smiled faintly, “I see. Is there a way I can repay you?”

Allowing silence to settle between them, Lyre looked at the journal sitting in his lap. The pages were all nearly filled now, a few thin strips of silvery ribbon marking the pages he had yet to fill. Scraping the bottom of his shoe on the fence post, he raised his gaze to meet the other wizard’s.

“I’m sure I can manage any request you may have, as long as it isn’t nonsensical,” he tilted his head, “You do know who I am…?”

Lyre nodded, jumping off the fence and setting his journal aside.

“Yes, I know who you are. But you’ve already done so much for us here, Phael. I couldn’t ask anything else of you. Especially not when Moonsayde is tomorrow.”

Crossing his arms in front of himself, Arishore’s leader didn’t appear amused.

Lyre fell silent again. Tonight, he would exchange trade stones with friends and family, watch threads of magic light up the darkness, and settle in front of the fire with his journal filled completely with messily inked words. And where would Phael be? Running an errand for a stranger? Upset that his offer to help had been turned down? Either way, Lyre didn’t feel good about it.

“You don’t have somewhere to be tonight?”

Phael replied easily, “Nowhere particular, unless you tell me otherwise.”

“Would you care to spend the night here?”

Raising a brow, Phael waited to hear more, his hazel eyes glinting with curiosity.

“It’d be an honor to have you join us-,”

“You’re asking me to celebrate with you and your village?”

“Yes.”

                                                           ...

In all honesty, Lyre wasn’t sure if Phael would make an appearance that night. His reaction to Lyre’s request had been difficult to read; his steadily spoken words and strong presence never seemed to waver.

But as a young girl set a glistening trade stone in his hand, he caught sight of someone wearing the unmistakable attire of a Council member. Around him, everyone carried on as if this wizard was simply an old friend, and Lyre firmly decided that Phael was not at all like his father – a wizard who would have never wasted his time visiting with anyone outside of the Council, and left only damage and grief in his wake.

He had to get through several children before making it to Lyre, wearing only a faint smile and still causing squeals of delight among them as they interacted with the leader of their region.

“I don’t have a trade stone for you,” Phael said as he stood before him.

Lyre opened his mouth but said nothing when Phael pulled out a journal and held it out to him.

“It’s much more durable than your other one, so when you inevitably leave it out in the rain it won’t be ruined.”

Carefully taking the journal, he turned it over in his hands. It was heavy and thick, a small golden crescent moon sparkling in the center. He looked to Phael as his finger traced the small moon.

“Being here with us tonight was enough,” Lyre said softly.

“I didn’t bring this along as repayment. After coming across your other one, I decided you could use this more than me.”

“Why?”

“Your other one is nearly full.”

“You read it?”

“I looked at it. I didn’t read it. I’m not particularly interested in your deepest thoughts and secrets.”

“It’s a book – a story.”

Phael paused, and then offered a smile before turning to leave, “Best let you finish that story then.”

“It’s finished, and I’d like you to have it.”

Turning back around, Phael shook his head, “Why?”

“You inadvertently helped me finish it,” Lyre placed fished the worn journal from his inner coat pocket, “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for us.”

“I thought I was supposed to be doing something for you?”

“I believe the best thing you could do for me, is to continue on doing what you’re already doing. This is the first time we’ve had a peaceable visit from the head of the Council, and possibly the first time we’ve had hope for a better future.”

Phael gave a small laugh, “Whatever you say.”

                                                         ...

Lyre lost track of him for the remainder of the night’s festivities and assumed he had taken his leave while everyone was too busy to notice.

In the morning, as loyal as ever to his usual post, and carrying his new journal, he walked in the fresh morning air, the bottom of his pants becoming saturated by the dew-covered flora lacing the path.

His steps slowed as he noticed someone sitting on the fence, a large black horse grazing calmly beside them. The wizard didn’t turn to look when Lyre positioned himself beside the horse, petting its neck as he waited.

“I thought you’d left already,” Lyre smiled as he noticed a familiar journal in Phael’s hands.

Swinging his leg over the fence, Phael turned to face him.

“This belongs with you,” he said, handing the journal back. “I hope you don’t mind that I added something of my own... on the inside of the back cover you’ll find the necessary information should you be needing to contact anybody at Blackwater.”

Lyre’s hands tightened around the journal, “Even you?”

“Anytime.”

                                                           ...

The start of Phael and Lyre’s friendship was also the start of a new holiday tradition. Even when Lyre became a Council member, the two of them continued to take time on the eve of Moonsayde to do a journal exchange. 

                                                          ...

COA Taglist: @etjwrites​ @alwolfesblog​ @project-nightshade​ @bexminx​

Written for: @yourocsbackstory​

[sheabutterskyes]

OC Backstory | Ziel |VIII

Ziel | The Coast of Arishore

Intro | Parents | Friends | Education | Siblings | Rivals | Friends II | Skills

Sometimes you can tell a lot about a wizard’s magic by observing their personality. And sometimes you can tell a lot about a wizard’s personality by observing how they use magic.

If you were to find Ziel among children, you would be able to tell he is a rather self-controlled wizard. You would be able to also pick up on the fact that he is likely soft and gentle and kind. And you would most certainly think that his display of magic could count as a work of art.

                                                            ...

Ziel’s fingertips tingled with energy and warmth as he held up his splayed hands, directing visible threads of magic skyward. The colors always appeared as a soft blue, sometimes tinged with violet. The true “color” of his magic – a striking difference from Phael’s deep, dark colors. A young girl set her chin on his shoulder as she stood behind him, her soft laugh emanating through him as the winding ribbons of color began to form familiar shapes. There were now a quite a few young wizards surrounding him, though there were also two older members of his small audience.

The threads of magic appeared almost to be made of mist as they would dissolve into the air and reappear within moments. It wasn’t difficult to use his magic like this, nor was it draining, but it did take concentration and a certain amount of control to keep the images alive.

Butterflies, moving their wings and gliding through the air, shimmered in the afternoon sunshine. Ziel would feel a little lighter each time he maneuvered one to dive down towards someone and disappear as it landed on their nose or head, causing fits of laughter and enormous grins. Butterflies were popular – and something Ziel thought was an important detail in his demonstrations. Too often wizards showed off their magic while alluding to the violent capabilities magic held. Ziel much preferred to show how gentle and beautiful magic could be. He also liked how it made him feel. Focused, warm, and happy. While if he were in combat throwing silent and unseen forces, or setting fire to the world around him, it not only made his physical body weary, but his soul weary. Weary, upset, and violent. And that wasn’t who he was.

He prompted flowers to bloom, birds to fly, and hopefully, he prompted happiness within the small gathering. When he had stopped and waited for everyone to go about the rest of their day, he looked up to see that one wizard had lingered.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before… that was beautiful,” he looked over Ziel thoughtfully, “You’re a Council member?”

“I am,” Ziel stood, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No…” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I suppose I just didn’t expect to see a Council member sitting on the ground in my village… I suppose I didn’t expect to hear laughter like that so soon after what happened the other day… thank you.”

After taking a moment to take in the wizard’s words, Ziel smiled and nodded.

“I think I speak on behalf of the other members when I say that it’s our responsibility to try to leave those in Arishore better than we found them. Even if we’re only passing through, and even if all we can do is make someone smile.”

“You’ve certainly done that -,”

“Ziel.”

“Ziel, you’ve certainly left those young ones happier than they were before you came along. You have a gift; you should use it wherever you go.”

He had never thought of it as a gift. But he’d certainly have to do this more often. If only to make a few people forget their troubles for a while.

...

Written for: @yourocsbackstory​

COA taglist: @etjwrites​ @alwolfesblog​ @project-nightshade​ @bexminx​ @ruth-lund​

[sheabutterskyes]

OC Backstory | Ziel | V

Ziel | The Coast of Arishore

Intro | Parents | Friends | Education | Siblings

Viern never had much to say about his brother’s life decisions. Not until he learned what the future would hold for him. . . 

                                                             ...

“I was talking with Phael the other day.”

Ziel looked up from the book he had been reading, “The other day?”

Viern nodded, staring down at his feet as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to scrape his boots off or not.

“While you were helping Elion’s boy with his writing.”

Strange, but not unheard of. Phael and his brother were not exactly friends, nor were they only acquaintances. He knew they sometimes met with one another on their own accord. But Ziel usually knew about it.

He nodded again, leaning back in the chair and rearranging his grip on the book in his lap.

Viern moved away from the door and took off his coat, “He told me he asked you to join him in the Council when the time comes.”

Ziel only had time to close the book before it slid from his lap and landed with a quick thwack on the floor. He stared at Viern, who in turn stared back with his coat hanging off one hand.

Phael had told Viern. After he had promised Ziel he wouldn’t mention it to his brother and allow him to tell Viern on his own time – with no interference.

This was certainly interference.

He looked down at the book at his feet, half tempted to kick it across the room. Instead, he scooped it up and attempted to find his voice.

“I told him –,”

“I know.”

Quickly hanging his coat, Viern walked over to gently take the book from Ziel’s tight grasp.

“Don’t be angry with him, he knows he broke his promise. But… he knows something is coming, and it will end with him taking up his place as head of the Council. Soon.”

And that meant Ziel would take a place among the Council. Soon.

He pushed his hands into the chair

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“You may be sorry, but do you have any idea what it will be like?”

There it was. The anger that Viern never cared to disguise – leaving his words as sharp as a blade.

“You’re going to have a lot more enemies, you’re going to be walking around with a target on your back. At that point, it won’t matter how strong your magic is, or if your best friend is head of the Council.”

“I’m so-,”

“I know you’re sorry, you don’t need to say it.”

He hadn’t expected this.

Or had he? Is this why he had put off telling him for so long?

He had never said anything against Viern becoming a messenger – had never lectured him on the dangers that came with such a position. Even after the attack.

He looked at his brother, the scar that trailed from the corner of his jaw to the bridge of his crooked nose, the uneven, formerly torn corner of his mouth.

So Ziel hadn’t spoken up about any of that. But... Viern knew more than he did about walking around with a target on his back.

“You need to promise me something.”

Ziel shut his eyes. Even though his voice had softened, he could already tell where this was going.

“I don’t expect to be aware of all Council matters. But I do expect you to come to me if you feel something is wrong. Anything.”

Ziel’s eyes opened, “What?”

Viern’s soft brown eyes were on him, “You heard me. I know I can’t promise that I can always help you, but I’d like you to promise me you’ll at least let me try.”

He nodded, and Viern smiled gently.

“I’d never be able to continue on being a messenger without your constant support… the least I can do is do the same for you.”

He wasn’t sure when he had started crying, but as he buried his face into his hand, his cheeks were wet with tears and his attempt to take a deep breath was unsteady. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t you say sorry,” Viern said, a smile in his voice.

Ziel bit back a strangled laugh.

“Sorry.”

                                                          ...

Written for: @yourocsbackstory

COA taglist: @etjwrites @alwolfesblog @project-nightshade @bexminx​ @ruth-lund​

[sheabutterskyes]

OC Backstory | Ziel | II

Intro post |

War takes things greedily.

It takes homes. The spaces that hold shared memories and the feeling of safety. It takes the familiar and transforms it into disfigured nightmares. It takes loved ones - helpful neighbors, pets, teachers, community leaders, friends, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers...

It takes.

And it took from Ziel.

Trigger Warnings: Death 

Ziel turned from the coast, a harsh wind tearing at his back.

It had been a long time since it felt this good to stand on the black stone and look out at the dark sea stretching into the horizon.

Years ago, nothing grounded him quite as much as the view from the Coast of Arishore did. Now, it was something he now often avoided. For fear of hearing the thundering of horse hooves disrupt the crashing of water.

He didn’t want to relive the memories of turning to see Phael and being practically pulled him onto the horse behind him.

         “There’s been another attack,”

                                                           “Your village.”

Ziel breathed in deeply. Brine, salt, seaweed.

If there had been anything else pervading the air, he’d smell it. Like he had inhaled the Velridrun that day, hypersensitive to the scent and pressing his forehead to the ground.

                        “Breathe!”

Ziel exhaled and began to walk away from the coast. Glancing up at the overcast sky, his heart dropped for a brief moment.

                 “Ziel, look – look at me. Look at me.”

He knew what he would have seen had he not listened that day. Not only death, but the brutal result of resentment and fear. It wouldn’t have been enough to see the enemy die from overexertion. There was no blood beneath his parents’ noses – or so he had been told. They had been defenseless under the influence of Velridrun, their reality hazy as they were slaughtered.

“Ziel?”

Viern was leaning against a tree, his brows raised with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Ziel looked back at the coast, up at the sky, and then to Viern. His mind was clear, his senses sharp.

“Yes… I’m alright.”

And he was.

                                                          ...

Though it scared him to face the memories, Ziel felt a great need to continue to visit the coast until he had reclaimed it. Made it a special place once more. Make peace with the memories that seemed to spring to life and whisper to him.

After all, his parents would have wanted that for him. 

                                                           ...

COA taglist: @etjwrites​ @alwolfesblog​ @project-nightshade​ @bexminx​ @ruth-lund​

Written for: @yourocsbackstory​

[sheabutterskyes]

Your OC’s Backstory | Week 4 | Friends – Beginnings

For @yourocsbackstory ~

Your OC’s Backstory | Week 4 | Friends – Beginnings 

My OC is Scarlette Lassruvon, from The Coast of Arishore. 

Introduction | Family | Education | 

Despite Scarlette’s hardships and travels, she has been able to form sincere friendships with others. At the castle, she found a friend in Roy, the King’s son. During her darkest times, Thaine found her and not only stayed by her side but ensured she would always have a safe and welcoming place to return to at the end of each day. When she faced challenges while seeking out the crystal, Aiden and Sascha risked their lives to help her. But one of the most unexpected and significant friendships, was the one that developed between her and Phael. During book one, Scarlette is captured by the wizards in Arishore, and later captured by Phael, the head of the Council of Arishore; when he discovers she knows the location of the crystal. Needless to say, that would make forming a friendship with him rather difficult. Though, little by little, Scarlette and Phael see past facades and their prejudiced beliefs to find that perhaps they are not so different after all. 

This scene takes place during the time Scarlette is being forced to lead Phael into Haladavar, where the crystal is located. Although, around this stage of the journey, it has become more of a joint effort to retrieve the crystal, as Scarlette learns the truth about Arishore, Phael, and the crystal. 

Scarlette looked up at him as he turned to meet her eyes; his hazel eyes glinting with interest.

“You trust that I will not run?”

The ghost of a smile passed over his lips, “I do not trust you at all.”

The horse threw its head and stamped the ground impatiently, “the best chance we have at passing through successfully is by splitting up.”

Phael reached down and patted the horse’s neck with a gloved hand, and then tilted his head back to watch the distant, dark, mass of clouds. He took off his coat with careful movements, wincing as he held out his coat to her, his arm wavering slightly. He needed the crystal. Perhaps now more than ever. She could not ignore the biting worry she felt each time he collapsed from exhaustion after protecting her or helping a traveler along the way. Especially the other night when he had noticed her tense with fear and had stayed awake for hours speaking to her with gentle words and offering concerned glances. The leader of Arishore had far more compassion than she ever expected, and that truth haunted her every night when she closed her eyes and recalled the countless times she had listened to others wish for Arishore’s destruction and for the death and torture of their leader.

“There’s going to be a storm. It would be a pity to freeze to death after coming all this way. Besides, if you attempt to run, you would not make it far in what you are wearing.”

Scarlette stared at the coat, and then glanced back at Phael.

She walked up to the horse’s shoulder and little by little reached her hand out to take the coat. As her cold fingers touched the fur-lined cuff he only moved his hand further towards her. As she grasped the coat, he swiftly retracted his hand.

Feeling something heavy and solid in a pocket, Scarlette gave the coat a swift shake. With a soft crunch, the doctor’s leather medicine pouch fell into the snow at her feet. Scarlette hastily retrieved it and held it up for Phael to take.

“Keep it with you,” he said, urging his horse onward. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

She watched Phael’s horse trot through the freshly fallen snow. A silver pin sparkled in the wizard’s light hair, catching her eye as he suddenly glanced over his shoulder. 

Scarlette hugged the coat closer, wondering if he knew that she no longer had any desire to run. 

Phael flashed a smile before turning away.

Tagging: @etjwrites ~