Snippet #2783419

located in Sevaecia, a part of The Knights of Artorias, one of the many universes on RPG.

Sevaecia

A beautiful place with history forgotten.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vysella Celgari Character Portrait: Khilith Hruind
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It was, perhaps, humorous as this lithe frail woman in gently flowing violet robes was seeking Knighthood. However, as she scurries toward the gate in hopes of catching up with Khilith, since she had not been far behind at all, she radiates a sort of confidence that only a small thing could have with such seemingly impossible task set out before her. Vysella hopes to hide behind the other man, but she soon caught the eye of one of the sentries that had a hard time believing what was before them now.

"Oh, hello, she begins, offering up a small and cheerful wave. "I am here to become a real Knight," she beams with pride. Sure, she's small and unseeming, but the underdog in every novel eventually becomes the top dog. Not that her story would end so fruitfully, but she could at least be optimistic about where she was headed.

A slight laughter slipped from the lips of one of them, and they murmur something. She already knows that she'll be the laughing stock of all of the Knight potentials; physically inept, svelte, a tad timid of nature. But she had other things to offer; things that others often missed in the fray of being the big bad meat shield.

They grant her entry, and her swift heeled feet take her through the gates. Just as she thought about going ahead and dismissing the fact that she was being made fun of, she turns around swiftly and sticks her index finger out at the both of them. "I was hand chosen by the King! You'll really regret picking on me," she promises them both. It would have been threatening coming from anyone else but the meek redhead.

Regardless of whether they say anything back to her or not, she pivots back to face the courtyard and looks up at this new place. Hand chosen by the king! What a fateful thing, really. It must be destiny. She admired him so much because in him she saw a sort of kinship that only gentle souls could have in this dark times. It was a relief to have him on the throne, and she couldn't wait to meet him face-to-face.

Alas, there was an hour to go and Vysella had nothing to do and nowhere else to be. Instead, she just idles around. She's a bit nervous coupled with a whole lot of lost. She has to remind herself that she trained for this. She was one of the chosen. Even if she wasn't exactly physically intimidating, she had a place somewhere in all of this chaos.

She had proven herself to be a great healer and an even better alchemist. She had a knack for putting herself in harms way to offer someone else a way out, and to make sure that the warriors of the unit were in a position to fight when needed. Healers are often the unsung heroes of war, and it was no different for her. She loved it - the ability to seal a wound or inspire others to bring their best to the battlefield. Everyone could train to be a fighter, but only a few have the patience and the willpower to use their abilities to woundmend. It was a dangerous job out in the field, but so long as the others have her back, she has theirs indefinitely.