One week earlierā¦
Beneath the chirping birds. Amidst the rustling leaves. A glint of orange rose within the blue-purple the sky as dawn rose upon a lonely forest. Pine trees stretched as far as the eyes could see, boundless in their beauty, the foliage dancing ever so slightly as the morning wind swept over them.
Beneath the shadow of one tree, tucked amidst the shrubbery, laid a figure cloaked in maroon. A ragged, woolen cloak, heavy and warm enough to shield oneself from the elements. A ray of sun shone upon the figure, and it stirred. Two tails of red-orange braids cascaded from within the hood.
āAh..ā
And then, a distinctly feminine gasp, exhaled from within fair, quivering lips.
While the sun swept away the night, another kind of light ignited within this fair
maidenās mind.
Bright. Hot. Flailing wild like a nest of serpents.
Fire.
It began as a spark. Then it spreads.The flames raged before her, devouring the grass, the trees, the big red tent. Even amidst the crackling, the rustling, and the crumbling, she could hear it. Screams echoing through the air as flesh disintegrated and smoke choked out life. She walked through the darkness, panting, eyes wide and shaking, with the murderous flames lighting her way.
She ran into the tent. The flames grew greater in brightness and amount, until it was almost blinding. There, she looked into the center stage. Five silhouettes stood still as they were ravaged by flames. She coughed, and coughed, shielding her face as she rushed forth. āWhat are you doing?ā she shouted, approaching the closest of the five shadows, their back turned against her. āThis tent is going to collapse at any secondā She placed one hand upon the figureās shoulder, and twisted her around. āWe need to-ā
She froze. A paralyzing chill flooded her blood. She looked into those olive green eyes, cold as ice despite the fire around them, glaring her way while her flesh gave way to muscle and bone, cooked under the raging flames. She took one step back. But not another. Meeting those eyes with her own beryl gaze, she could only shout her name.
āQ-QUINN!ā
The maroon-cloaked figure catapulted forward, tossing her hood back in the process. She woke in cold sweat, arms shaking beneath her covers. Her heart drummed against her chest, gradually slowing down as she realized...āJust a dreamā¦ā
Splash!
It had been weeks since the girl known as Jeanne Rhamnus had left the Red-Eyed Demonās company. Weeks since she parted ways with her partner Marcus, fleeing deep into the forests of Veilbrand, while he fled into the city. She knelt over the riverside, washing her face awake. Her short hair bounced against the water, as she looked upon her reflection in the water. No longer covered in their mahogany dye, they took on their true color: a red orange hue, resembling the fire in her dreams, with a pair of small braids hanging in front of her ears, and framing her face.
Having discarded her colorful jesterās outfit for a more practical rangerās ensemble, an earthen-colored short jacket took the place of her poofy sleeves, padded and reinforced with studs upon their surface, with various belts and pouches across her waist, filled with supplies, a flask of water, and a section on the back to hook her quiver of arrows. A new recurve bow, custom-fitted with a scope of her own making, propped up against a rock nearby, a weapon better suited at hunting for sustenance in the forest.
Jeanne crouched over the water, her beryl gaze wavering.
It was just a dream.
She convinced herself.
Maybe it was.
Maybe it really was.
But thenā¦
Jeanne laid a leather-gloved hand against her chest.
Even soā¦ what is this heaviness... in her heart?ā
Their faces flashed before her eyes. Marcel, with his snow-white grin. Linde, her fearless wink. Miriam. Cocky and fearless. And Quinn, that irresistibly endearing pout, adorned with her rosy red cheeks. Even the Red-Eyed Demon, whose crimson gaze was strangelyā¦ captivating...
Her hand trembled. She couldnāt go back. She mustnāt go back. She turned her back on them. She didnāt deserve them.
ā...ā
Even soā¦.
A single tear drop fell into the water.
Even if she would just be a burdenā¦
Jeanne bowed her head.
Even if it started out with liesā¦They were stillā¦.
āM...my friendsā¦.ā
The wind blew over the thief girl. Her hair danced against the wind, like fire. Before she realized it, without their companionship, the jesterā¦ had stopped laughing.
āI must find them.ā She stood, planting one foot atop a rock as she fastened the straps on her thigh boots, her beryl eyes reflecting the rising sun above. āI must find themā¦ And beg for forgiveness!ā