Description
My name is RĆ”nĆ«wĆ©n Ireth Adonnenniel, but you can call me Violet. I am not from this time or this place, yet this is my home. I am of the race of the people of Eralind, the Domirahva, and those of the Earth called humans. A hybrid in one sense, damnation in another. A past love turned me into an ungodly creature of too many mixed bloods. My former life created me into a state of chaos, afektrĆ¼gimine, and led me here.
My mother, Jessenya, was a seamstress and a healer. She was not wealthy but had the beauty of a modest goddess, there was no shortage of men attracted to her. My mother wanted not one of them, as she had her heart set on one she could not have: the human prince.
His name was Dominic Eruheran, meaning led by the gods in human tongues, and he was a part of the human royals that were battling the nation of Eralind to overtake the land. He stood tall and proud, and his outspoken demeanor challenged her silent nature. They were in love before they could blink, but it was far from a fairytale.
The Domirahva do not like humans, they never have and most likely never will, and so there are very few hybrids. Those of us who are of mixed blood are frowned upon, especially when the human has procreated with a lesser status Domirahvan, and generally hidden as best as possible from the public.
My family was different.
My father was prideful of his love for my mother, though it was borderline forbidden for him to be with her at all, especially in such a flamboyant manner, but he didnāt care. He called her Piimaroos, white rose, and showered her with gifts every moment he could manage. His father, my grandfather, was displeased with the relationship but went on with his own business for the beginning years.
My father was entirely human, there was not a drop of Domirahva in his blood; likewise my mother was fully Domirahvam, not a drop of human in her blood. The Domirahva are cousins to the Elven, but not nearly as great in number, nor as diverse in character. Our name means something you might say as āthe people who ruleā, or have dominion, control. The humans interpreted this as a more aggressive name than it shouldāve been taken to be; they wanted our lands, but they refused to negotiate. They wanted war. They did not understand our name or our purpose.
Then again maybe they didnāt want to.
My father was at the head of the Great War, a series of bloody battles that lasted for eons. The Domirahva age slowly. Even at 300 we are youngā¦ Not old until weāve lived for a thousand winters, and almost always go past that point. Still, our lives are finite. They have a beginning and they have an end, though it is significantly lengthy compared to those of the humans, only living a fraction of the life we can. The humans looked at us as if we were immortal, and expendable, turning some of the Domirahvas against Eralind in an effort to strengthen their own army.
They didnāt understand that we were not meant to fight with guns or swords or weapons. We were meant to use nature to our advantage. The young men that my father enlisted in the War were sent to their slaughter, along with his own men, because they were not trained nearly as well in weaponry as the Domirahvas were in the forces of the wind, earth, and fire. My father quickly realized his folly.
My mother was tormented with the fate of her husband, while her love for him was greater than could have been measured he was killing her people, trying to take her land. They snuck away during the night, when the battles were quiet, and they spoke of leaving. Of running away and being happy, just the two of them. My father couldnāt imagine spending a life without my mother, and my mother couldnāt help but want him in whatever portion of hers his own life could fill.
There were secrets, though, that came out in the worst ways. When my mother was nearly my age, only beginning her true adult years by the standards of the Domirahva, my father asked her hand in marriage. Her parents gave their blessing, they only wanted their daughter, their Jessenya, to be happy. To everyoneās surprise, my fatherās father, my grandfather, was content with the union himself. No one thought of the rouse he might have been playing.
The humans were cunning creatures, in a way that we had never seen before. We lived in our own land, and we stayed in our own land, only meeting the beings and things that passed through from one place to another. We were secluded. These humans were foreign to us, and even though there was a distrust in them, every Domirahvam longed to know of them. Children would take the soldiers food, on either side of the camps, and listen to stories from the humans. Tales of men that slept for a hundred years, star-crossed lovers who were damned from the day they lay eyes on one another, holy men walking the earthāit was all fascinating to us. For them, though, it was a plan.
My father and my mother were married in the cool of the autumn season, among much joy from the humans and the Domirahva alike. It signified a unity, a sign that there would no longer be war. The beloved Jessenya was princess, for now, and held some modicum of power. Surely she wouldnāt let her land fall to death as the humans had. And so she didnāt, for many years. Humans and Domirahva did not procreate much more often than they had before, if only for fear of some terrible fate of the child, but there was a peace and friendship between them for many years.
When my grandfather was nearing his end, he still stood tall and proud as he had taught my father to. He was gruff, as Iāve been told, and heartless. The many years of war took what humanity heād been born with, though I cannot fathom it was very much to begin with. He brought to my father a Domirahva from the inner woods, a region called Coellan, in the country of Eralind only by location, ruled by the darker Domirahva. My home, Afesien, was a waterfront leading to these woods. We never entered them, nor did the Coella enter our home. The Coella were as much Domirahva as Domirahva could be, but they regarded themselves as ultimate rulers of nature, they did not live in coexistence with nature as we did. They abused their powers, and long ago, before even the elders of my time were birthed, we created borders to separate them from us. They birthed children who controlled fire, rock, electricityāthey taught them to destroy.
My grandfather knew this, and he had a plan, the plan heād had all along. He forced my father to accept this second wife, a Domirahva named Havsieva, woman of chaos. He ordered that before he take his final breath, there must be a child born to his legacy, raised in the ways of the Domirahva of Coellan. My father hated Havsieva, and my mother Jessenya had sorrow for the fate of their lives. Even a blind man could see the destruction that was to come of this.
What they could not see was the budding child that Jessenya would birth, too distracted by the demon in the womb of Havsieva.
It soon became too late to ignore the signs of pregnancy in my mother, and my father was overwhelmed with the prospect of two offspring so soon together, though my grandfather delighted in the possibility. Slowly, though, my fatherās heart was being filled with the honey of hate and bitter dews of cruelty. My mother knew this. It was inevitable. It filled her heart with sorrow, and her spirit with worry, and she fell ill nearing the months of my birth.
It was decided that Jessenya would leave the castle for a time, living again with her parents until she was well. Slowly Havsieva began to overtake the affection of my father in a cruel manner, not with wooing or love, but with promises of power and delusions of wealth. My father had an odd love for her that was not truly for her but for what she could bring him. A child of immense power.
On the first eve of winter, my mother went into labor. It was sooner than she should have, the proper date having been expected weeks later, but there was nothing they could do to stop it. My birth was painful and long, drawing into the waning hours of the day; my father joined my mother nearing the end, he comforted her as best he could, and there I was born. To two former lovers, united for moments in my presence, the last time theyād look at one another with affections or care. My mother named me for a reason I no longer remember, aside from the shade of my eyes.
Soon after my birth another girl was born, Scarlet, to Havsieva. There was an evil about her from the day she was born, her mother falling deathly ill shortly after her birth was complete. My mother was placed in the castle again, but in her own wing where anyone but the nurses seldom went. Havsieva soon recovered, and unleashed her wrath yet again. She drove, almost singlehandedly, the nation of Eralind into a state of bloody warfare between the humans and the Coellan Domirahva. Sheād promised her people prosperity from the lands of the Afesian Domirahva, much to the chagrin of my father.
I lived in the midst of this for all of my childhood, being taught to destroy anything and everything in my presence. Unlike many Domirahva, my sister and I were different. We could control many things with ease, not being limited to one or another. She favored fire, like the Coellan Domirahva, while I favored the water and earth as my Afesian Domirahva would. My powers, though, were stronger than her own. We sparred and every time, I outwitted her, even as a child. Physically she could overpower me, my size being smaller than hers, but skills she lacked to match mine.
I was only allowed to see my mother occasionally, and every time she told me stories of her childhood, the peace and prosperity. She told me of her love for my father, as I grew older, cautioning me to judge him mercifully. He was not always this way, she said, he was a kind boy, and gentle man, it was Havsieva and my grandfather who turned him into this bloodthirsty tyrant. I couldnāt believe her; no man of the gods would be so easily deterred. So willing to kill, destroy, and to harm for personal gains that would mean nothing in his death.
Havsieva envied my success, the love my father had for me. Though he was cruel, he was not yet heartless. He taught me diligently the way of the sword, since he did not wield the power to train me in elements. I stayed by his right side at all times, my mother absent, while Havsieva and Scarlet remained to his left. So much hate had filled their hearts, I was ignorant to it. I didnāt understand the extent of their cruelty.
When I was not even two hundred moons, a child in every sense of the word, I was barred from speaking to my mother. Torn from her side in a fury of tears by Havsieva herself, I could not control myself. I burned her harshly with the heat of my own skin, something no one had ever seen done before. She took joy in this, though, because she could punish me. And she did. She covered my left side in a vibrant marking, a dragon, a sign of havoc and terror to the Afesien Domirahva. The ink was enchanted with a spell Iād never heard of, one of an emotional plague. When those I loved hurt, I would hurt infinitely worse, sending me into illness often as a child, letting Scarlet take my place as the favored one. I felt, I cared, and I was weak. Silently I raged with myself, I had no love from my mother, no attention from my father, I was worthless.
In the height of this war, a boy was brought to my father for enlistment in his army against the Coellan Domirahva. This boy was hybrid as my sister and I, skilled more in the sword than in the elements, and he was special. Grey, for the stormy shade of his eyes, found favor with my father. He was taken in as one of our own, though we shared no blood, and trained with my sister. Her cruelty disgusted him, his only wish for fighting to bring peace to the land again, hers for the satisfaction of causing suffering. I learned of this boy from the servants, and my intrigue was too strong to ignore.
I was ill, still, but I learned to become numb to it. I regained my position at my fatherās right side, my resilience outweighing the mere substitution that Scarlet possessed. Soon I trained with Grey, our powers equal in sword, but mine greater in elements. I trained him with fire and water, and slowly my numbness to emotions wore away. There was a way that he spoke to me like no one else had and a look in his eyes of admiration and tenderness. We cared for each other more than a brother and sister would, and I found myself often distracted by thoughts of him when we were apart. I was in love, and it was only the beginning of my end.
Grey and I grew closer over the years, fighting alongside each other in the war. I was one of the first women of my age to fight, and I was one of the strongest. I returned to our castle after only a week of fighting, my motherās illness falling deeper when she learned I was in war. Her only daughter, she said, would not be a warrior, not of that sort. Scarlet was infuriated, and her mother likewise boiled with anger. They did not understand how my father could care for me or my mother, because they did not understand love, or compassion, or even humanity. Still they sought to rid themselves of me.
Grey was my only love. I watched him fight, I cared for him when he was hurt, and we grew together from ignorant children to strong adults. My motherās health waxed and waned through these years, and she taught me how to heal others, and heal myself. With the spell from Havsieva, the only gift she gave me, I could take the pain from others and onto myself. Seemingly useless, but with learning how to heal myself quickly, it was a powerful tool during the times of war.
I coaxed my father into bringing peace back to my home, the war only ravaging our lands, impoverishing our people, and ruining our legacy. The Coellan Domirahva were allowed so many miles of the shore in Afesien in return for their withdrawal from the war, and this pleased the Coellan, but angered Havsieva. War was her sole purpose, distraught and death pleased her. She would do anything to have it, and she employed Scarlet again against my family.
On a summer between the end of the war and my leave from Eralind, Grey and I made love. He asked for my hand in marriage, and my parents gave their blessing. We were in love, and there was nothing we wanted more than each other; yet history was due to repeat itself as it had with my parents. I found I was pregnant, a child of two hybrids was unheard of and I feared the worst. Still, Grey promised to stay by my side, and with the support of both my parents, I was comforted. My father fell from his delusions of happiness with Havsieva, and removed her and Scarlet from the kingdom. They were forced to return to Coellan, where they were treated as traitors.
I gave birth to a lovely boy, Darren Eruheran, with grey eyes like his father. For only a few months we lived together peacefully, a family. Grey grew distant, though, and I worried for him. Iād thought the war had scarred him, but there was something else growing in him; the same kind of hate Iād felt. I couldnāt understand why, until now. Grey longed for the wars, he longed to be a soldier, to be in power. He spoke to Scarlet frequently without my knowing, and she weaseled her way into the cracks of his resolve.
Soon she filled him with ideas of grandeur as Havsieva had done to my father, and he demanded to be able to take her as a second wife. My father was appalled, but too feeble now to object; he lived on borrowed time from the magics of the Elders, keeping him alive as a Domirahvam. I was angered, and hurt. I refused to keep his hand if he were to take another, but was forced to accept it.
Havsieva returned and her wrath was strengthened. Having taken Grey from me and restoring Scarlet to a portion of her former glory, her hate for me rekindled. Darren was but a babe when I left him, in the care of my mother and her parents, too put out to stay any longer. I couldnāt live in another world of war, and I sought to find peace, to bring my loved ones with me.
I found Wing City on a fluke chance and made myself a home here. Never have I seen so many creatures, races, and beings all in one place. From a love I found, I was turned into a vampire. NaĆÆve folly. By fate I found a daughter, alone in the woods, and Iāve taken her as my own. Iāve yet to return to my home to reclaim my son, but the time is coming.
Until then I wait in patience.
So begins...
Violet sat silently in a dying patch of grass, her legs crossed with her feet resting on the opposite thigh. The Glen was usually silent, and she enjoyed the serenity of sitting alone, just breathing in the nature around her. It was reminiscent of her home. Her breaths were in a steady beat of in - - out - - in - - out. To any passerby she probably looked as if she were asleep.
She had blocked out her surroundings quite effectively, focusing solely on the sound of the wind and the smell of the earth around her. The sudden commotion from behind her was startling and she choked momentarily on one of those steady breaths. She turned quickly to see what the noises were, and it took her a few moments to notice the now-standing man.
āAre you all right?ā She questioned. She would wait until he responded to make any advances towards him, but stood up in preparation nonetheless. He was definitely bleeding, that much she could smell.
Violet tilted her head at him, holding out her hands to her sides. āIām not going to hurt you, if thatās what youāre worried about. Let me help you.ā His mannerisms reminded her of a kitten, almost, though she wasnāt going to say that aloud. Last time she compared someone to a small animal they just about beheaded her. She took slow steps and kept her hands where he could see them until she was a few feet away from him. She stopped.
āI can heal you, if youād like. I wonāt hurt you.ā Though the smell of the blood was temptingā¦ She had enough self control by now to ignore itā¦ It was only a nick, after all. āIām a friend, promise.ā
Violet let her hands down to her sides, āIf you insist.ā She stood still for a moment and glanced over him, it looked a little deeper than a scrape, but not deep enough to cause him any serious damage if it were left alone for a whileā¦ It wasnāt really her business anyway, she wasnāt his mother nor his caretaker. Some people just didnāt like being bothered.
āIām Violet Adonnenniel.ā The words rolled off of her tongue like thick honey. She was getting used to saying them again, instead of just āViā or āVivā. It was different. She curtsied, the flow of her skirt falling just below her ankle, the gold rings on her toes glinting in the sunlight. āAnd who are you?ā
āKaden? Thatās a lovely name. I used to know someone with a similar one.ā Aiden, that was, but she assumed that wouldnāt have mattered to him very much either way. She yawned, stretching her arms out at length. āNature is harmless when you donāt offend it, and if need be I have my own ways of getting away from things.ā
She giggled at his suggestion of running from a wolf, casually sweeping her hands down and out, a burst of wind flinging a cloud of dirt between them. When it cleared, she was not standing there anymore. She poked his shoulder from behind, and took an immediate step back to ensure she didnāt get swung at, or anything. āIt always helps to have a head start, wouldnāt you say?ā
Violet smiled, her extended canines inching just past the rest of her teeth. āSorry, I couldnāt resist.ā She clasped her hands together in front of herself. āIām a Domirahvam, we control elements. Water, fire, wind, earth, electricityā¦ Nearly everything. Almost like the Elven, bare differences. Iām not afraid of any wolf or bear.ā
She looked back towards where she had been sitting, her bag was still there, it wasnāt as if there were many creatures about to come take it anyway. Still, it was worth paying attention to. āBut then this begs the question, Kaden, of what youāre doing here if it is so unsafe?ā
āAs far as I know, Iām the first to come hereā¦ We rarely leave our own home, Eralind, but I wasā¦ forced to, extenuating circumstances.ā She looked back at her bag and caused the wind to push it in her direction, catching it in her hand. She was just showing off, now, but she felt no shame in it. She didnāt get to show people outside of her family very often.
Violet sat down again, as she was sitting before Kadenās fall, in front of him. āSo are you some sort of animal then?ā She inhaled, āYou donāt smell quiteā¦ unusual, yourself. What is your story?ā She looked genuinely interested, like a child during storytime. She was not a child though, and she kicked herself for acting like one. āIf you donāt mind my asking, anyhow.ā
Violet listened to his words attentively. A nomad, obviously, maybe an orphan since he hadn't mentioned any parents or family. That was rather sad, she thought. Even if her parents were chaotically disadvantaged, she couldn't have really imagined living without them in her youth. That was beside the point, at any rate. She nodded at him, "On the whole scale it does not matter, but it does not hurt to know. Every race and species has something interesting about it."
She sat silently for a moment, looking back up at the sky. "Are you sure you don't want me to fix that? It'd be very easily done away with."
"My home was beautiful, for a very long time. My people are akin to the Elven, by many standards, so we lived in harmony with nature for the most part. Our different regions bred different tendencies, the Coallen were more destructive than anything else. By the time I was in my adolescence I'd already seen full-fledged wars, fough tin battles. It's amazing how greed can drive a species into madness. It's why I left."
She smiled plainly at him, "Before the wars, though, it was paradise. I am a part of the region closest to the Western Shore of Eralind. We were most skilled in water, though I learned all the elements I could manage, and every day there was some advetnure to be found at sea. Beautiful creatures, water splashing wars, storms. It was lovely. Animals are fine friends."
Violet nodded, "A different place, a different time." She rocked back and forth slowly, "I just like to come and relax. I stay in Wing City, have a house there with my daughter... Sometimes I need to get away from all the technology and cars and people and things, the Glen has always been a nice place to do that. Quiet and beautiful."
All right that was it, she'd had enough of his evasive whining. She leaned forward and moved his jacket enough to properly inspect the cut, "Either you tell me why you're all bandaged up or I'll take it off and find out myself." She was using her best mother voice, which was primarily reserved for getting Demi to behave properly. She'd learned it worked just the same on adults if they weren't expecting it. "That is not just a cut, so what is it?"
The rustle of plastic bags could be heard on the street, a woman in a long multicolored dress enjoying her stroll. Violet wasnāt much for getting into othersā business, but she couldnāt help but notice the small song and dance between the panther and the girlā¦ It was Wing City, so it wasnāt too odd of a thing to see, but still. Not everyone was nice, were they? She watched from a distance for a few minutes, debating whether or not there was any need for her to intervene. After all, she was supposed to be getting home for supper. When the girl reacted to the panther, though, she was taken aback. That certainly didnāt seem like the reaction of one helpless little girl. She didnāt approach them immediately, but stood a little closer than she had been. At the least, she supposed her bag of meats could provide a good distraction if need beā¦
Violetās eyes flickered between the panther and the girl, though they stayed mostly trained on the latterā¦ She didnāt like shape shifters. They were too unpredictable, and often too unstable for her to consider them friendly at any point in time. The situation seemed to have diffused itself, at any rate, and she resumed her strollā¦ The shadowed figure that moved caught her attention for a moment, but she didnāt focus on it too much; probably just seeing things. It didnāt take a very sharp eye to notice the increased speed in her walk.
At the sound of the manās voice, Violet paused for a moment. Her hands tightened absently on the bags she heldā¦ Surely, that wasnātā¦ No, it couldnāt have been. She was sure it had been years since sheād seen either of them, itād be much too odd to run into one now. Birdie. She couldnāt ignore it, as much as her brain screamed at her to do so, and she turned on her heels to face him. āWhat did you say?ā Her voice was more meek than it generally wouldāve been in this situation. A little ironic sheād run into the brothers now, of all times, but that seemed to be her life story.
Thought she noticed the womanās change in appearance, she decided not to react to it immediately. There was plenty ofā¦ material, for her to use in her own defense, if it came down to it, but there was no reason to throw the first stone. She was more preoccupied with the hidden character than anything.
Violet glared at him, her eyes shimmering with a slight caution. She couldāve handled seeing Adenā¦ maybe. She couldāve walked away from him, but Cole of all people, she didnāt trust him as far as she could roll him. āIām not the little girl I was then, Cole, and youād be foolish to assume otherwise. Iām not afraid of you.ā That was the truthā¦ mostly. She looked at the woman again, her brow raising, āSeems like youāve made another enemy already, darling, not very surprising with your drunken attitude.ā
Violet remained calm, giving a nonchalant shrug as a cobblestone flew from some other direction, smashing into the light post nearest the trio. Her eyes shaded to a bright gold for a moment, āDid you forget what he made me, or are you really that stupid? I suppose I should thank you for making me so much stronger.ā She gave him a sarcastic smile, the two had been a part of her history whether she liked it or not, but that didnāt mean she had any obligations to themā¦ At least, not to himā¦ Aden was a different story. Her eye twitched slightly at the thought, āAs for youā¦ā She turned her head to the woman again, āIād warn you of his drinking habit, I find alcoholicsā blood isnāt nearly as good. Especially one that feeds on whatever whore he can get his hands on.ā
She wished he would stop calling her that. It was irritating. She wasnāt a child, and for him to insinuate that she was didnāt very much put him on her good side. Violet had moved past all this, or at the very least buried it in a lockbox of with the rest of the unsuitable memories of her pastā¦ she wasnāt going to let him prod at feelings she didnāt wish to experience. āI donāt much care for whatever umbrageous, neanderthalish business you run yourself in, but I have a family to attend to if you donāt mind.ā
Her voice was stern as she spoke now, and she only looked at him for another moment before she turned around. She couldāve sworn the lowest beats of her heart had paused for just a minute when she saw him, before the organ sank into the pits of her stomach. Part of her stillā¦ No, it was pointless. āYouād put a price on me, of all people, I have to say Iām surprised.ā
āYou left, Aden. And I waited for you for some time, but thereās only so long you can let your heart be tied to another that isnātā in the same place.ā The last time she saw himā¦ it pained her to even think about his demeanor then. Anguish, was all she could describe it as, and even that was mild. There was a sharpness to her voice that was different from the indifference to Cole, āAt the moment Iām on my way home, to my daughter. Your good-for-nothing brother thought he was more important, apparently.ā
She refused to ask where he had gone, or how he was, or why he was even associating himself with the excuse of a living being that he called a brotherāShe was not supposed to care. Violet had spent months upon months making herself forget him, and forget the feelings she had for him, they werenāt robbing her of that stability like this, not again. āI should be getting to her.ā
Violet stood motionless for a moment. She didnāt think sheād ever have to look at him again after that day, but seeing him like thisā¦ She couldnāt help but feel for himāwhether pity or worry she wasnāt sureāand that made her angry. He didnāt deserve her pity or her care, but she had it for him anyway, and that she could not help. She sniffed, clearing her head with the fresh air, letting out an exhale as she walked to him. Violet only looked at him, and for a moment she looked as young as she had then, and there was maybe the faintest glint of trust in her eyes. Something she had looked at him with previously. āIt is never too late to find yourself, Aden, Iād think I should know that as well as anyone. I donāt care for seeing you like this. Not with him.ā After another moment she turned to go in the direction sheād intended on walking, āI canāt enjoy the luxurious frivolities I did before I was a motherā¦ but maybe we can talk again, some time.ā
Violetās eyes wandered over him, āWhat has he done to you, Aden?ā Against her better judgment she stood in front of him, a hand dropping the bags at her feet and instead running his stray hairs behind his ear. āYou never were good at hiding things from me, you know.ā She gave him a slight smile as she considered their earlier beginnings, he wasnāt a good liar. Even though she had been young, naĆÆve, and too in love to see that he was as troubled as he had beenā¦ she knew he was good at heart. Or at the very least that he wanted to be. Cole just poisoned the water. Still, he was a man and he could speak for himself, she wouldnāt excuse everything just for the sake of bad influence. Everyone had battles they had to fight, and if she could guess sheād say heād lost one too many against his own tempters. It was too soon to let him into her home, let alone into her heart, but a few minutes couldnāt hurt more than seeing him already had.
Violetās eyes changed for a moment, but she controlled it. There were few people she felt hate for, and Cole was near the top of the list. Even when she was younger he seemed worthless, and now it seemed heād just gotten better at it. When Aden looked up at her she sighed, letting her thumb wipe away his tears. She let the other bags go, hugging him to her. āAden, shh.ā She knew as well as anyone how horrible it was, evil magic that tied people together against their will, āDonāt let him see you cry, kallike, knowing him he only enjoys it. Iām here, all right?ā She let her hands stroke through his hair, her eyes staring blankly at the pavement beneath him. Violet knew sheād most likely regret thisā¦ just as she regretted so many other things, but she couldnāt deny herself the comfort of holding him, much less the opportunity to help him. As much as she resented him, she still cared for him. āWe will find some way to put him back in his place, but for now you should go.ā