Description

Cecilia Anne Tamer

The Proud Owner of the Ashweld Art Collective

Gender/Role
Female

Occupation
Artist/Curator

Age
24

Birthday
December 3rd, 1990

Power
She can control water, or really any liquid, though the less 'water-like' it is, the harder time she has controlling it. She can also alter the states of water, meaning freezing or boiling it at will, however she's still practicing this aspect and can only successfully change the state when experiencing intense emotions. She mostly uses her powers to paint, able to move oils and acrylics and ink around the canvas unlike someone who can only push pigment around with a paintbrush.

Appearance
Tall, with dark skin and large brown eyes. Her hair is thick and curly, and the same dark brown as her eyes. She's very beautiful in an organic sort of way, but rarely bothers to wear much makeup aside from bright red lipstick. Her hair is a different story, though; that is changed almost every week between curly, straight, weaved or natural. She's often covered in paint and her clothes are usually littered with spots of colourful paint.

Sexual Orientation
Pansexual, but labels are such an archaic and unneeded form of measurement, aren't they?

Personality
Cecilia has always been full of sharp edges. She likes to call herself 'direct'; no bullshit, straight-to-the-point. Beating around the bush is unneeded, and she tends to get frustrated when things take too long. She's been called pessimistic, but Cecilia prefers the term 'realistic'. She just doesn't appreciate the idea of idealization. To most people she comes off as a bit of a bitch, and to strangers she is cold and isolated. She doesn't make friends easily, taking a long time to open up.
On the other hand, she is a genuinely nice person; she always goes the extra mile to make sure everyone is taken care of, and will give you the shirt off your back if you need it...however if you don't need it, she is not afraid of chewing you out to make sure you know how terrible of a person you are. She is very into art, having been doodling since she could hold a pencil, and for this reason she tends to daydream, drifting off into thought even mid sentence sometimes. It's hard to pay attention when so many beautiful and captivating things are happening all around you! She gives to the poor, and trolls the comment section on youtube and 4chan to antagonize helpless 14-year-old boys on why their sexist, racist comment was the worst thing they've ever done to make sure they don't do it again, just for laughs. Maybe this makes her a bad person, but she enjoys it.

Fears/Dreams
Dreams:
-to one day sell a piece of art for thousands of dollars.
-to perfect the mix of her coffee. Two sugar and three cream just isn't creamy enough but four cream is too much. Two-and-a-half cream?
-to get married. Maybe. One day? Apparently it happens eventually.
-to own and operate a successful business.
-to perfect her magic.

Fears:
-birds.
-large groups of small children.
-losing her building and having to move back home with her parents.
-never finding love and growing into an old shriveled spinster without any children.
-having a 'normal' person find out about her powers.

Hobbies
-Painting
-drawing
-drinking
-she likes to go onto forums and chew people out in a much bitchier, meaner alternate and anonymous version of herself
-spending money on online shopping
-candy crush

Bio
Cecilia grew up in Ashweld, having been born there a rainy December morning in 1990. Her childhood was stable and loving, but things with her parents got rocky when Cecilia was about 10. She moved in with her grandparents when she was 13, and lived with them until she was 17, when she moved out of state to attend Ringling College in Sarasota, Florida. She received her Bachelor's Degree in Fine Arts when she was 21, and completed her Master's at 23. Since then she has moved back to Ashweld, which is the same small, sleepy town she left six years prior. Cecilia had no intentions of coming back to Ashweld; though she felt a certain loyalty to the community, and a shared secrecy with her powers, she always had dreamed big of owning a large scale gallery one day. However her grandmother passed away, and had left her the old hardware store downtown. Cecilia moved back to Ashweld because she saw it as an opportunity; if she couldn't make it big in New York or France right out of university, surely converting the dusty old space into an art gallery was a good first step.

So begins...

Cecilia Anne Tamer's Story

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#2015-01-20 23:10:22, as written by Braysl

It was Cecilia's day off.

As the owner of the Ashweld Art Collective--the sleepy town's only currently active art gallery--it meant she was heading down to the gallery anyways, but the idea of having a day off was still a nice one. At least she wouldn't have to deal with any collectors, or exhibitionists, or make any plans for the upcoming open house...no, she could hide in the back and paint and forget she even owned the place for at least a few hours.

Her morning was spent sleeping, which was, aside from painting, her favourite activity. It was nearly 10:00 am by the time she pulled herself out of bed and downed a cup of coffee. She was halfway through her second by 10:30, nestled with her cat, General Meow, against the big bay window in her living room still in her pyjamas.

Of course she loved the Art Gallery but it was a lot of work, and with two employees under her, it was perhaps a little more work than she had planned to take on right out of school, right after moving back home...god sometimes she missed Sarasota, and her Grandparents, and her simpler life before she had all this responsibility and a whole lot of free time--

She had done it again, lost in thought and losing track of time. She had to get going if she was going to get anything done today, it was already nearly 11:30.

Pushing General Meow out of the way (must to his displeasure, the tabby cat was grumpier than an old man), Cecilia got up and danced into her bedroom, quickly pulling on some old paint-splattered jeans and a well-worn college sweater with her name on the back. She tied her unruly hair back into a ponytail, grabbed her toolbox full of paints and other supplies, and ran out the door.

It was at least a gorgeous day out. She had a car, but left it in in her apartment's parking lot and opted instead to walk to the gallery; nothing in Ashweld was too far to walk to, mostly, and it felt a shame to have to pay for parking all the time.

By the time she was strolling past downtown it was just past noon, and the main street was starting to get busy. Cecilia found her thoughts once again wandering to the Art Gallery. Mimi was supposed to be working, in fact she would have opened this morning. They had some important calls to be making with a collector. Cecilia was trying to get her hands on a Jean-Michel Basquiat piece in time for the city BBQ. She figured Ashweld needed some New York culture, and more than some dusty old Van Gogh re-prints and a few local artists renditions of the city's scenery. But the collector was being very stodgy and marking the price high, even for a one-week rental, and Cecilia was hoping Mimi's charm and bargaining this morning would bring him down a...wait.

She was just passing the local cafe--well, the only cafe, really--and happened to glance through the storefront window while in deep thought, when she noticed a familiar face. Seeing someone familiar wasn't too uncommon in such a small town, but this familiar face was supposed to be manning the front desk at her art gallery.

Too busy thinking of the Basquiat piece slipping through their fingers she completely forgot that it was 12:36 pm and that all her workers got an hour lunch and two fifteen minute breaks per shift. She was already pressed up against the glass (which was smudged slightly brown with what looked like the reminants of some sort of liquid) tapping loudly behind Mimi's slender figure.

"Mimi! What the hell are you doing! You're supposed to be working!" Of course a message is very rarely effective when yelled through a thick pane of glass, but Cecilia could feel the panic and fear and anger already starting to bubble to the surface, and she was not quite thinking clearly.

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#2015-01-21 09:22:40, as written by MaliceInWonderland

Tessa had wandered out back, taking out the trash and she sighed to herself. She loved working here but she knew she needed a higher paying job. The bills were not coming down, it was basically like she was paying two sets of rent. The place she was in was cheap, but her landlord was kind of a dick, and by kind of, meant a total butt wipe. Mattie was doing all he could for her, bless his heart so she didn't have the heart to ask him for a raise He'd probably give her one, but still. It just seemed wrong. She needed another job. She could do both...right?

She circled around front to clean the mess that Matt and Mimi made when she saw a dark skin woman at the window fussing at Mimi. Tessa walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. "Um, Miss, You know you could just go in?" She told her and when the woman turned to her, Tessa blinked. This woman looked oddly. Familiar? Was she knew? Tessa cocked her head, in her typical fashion. " Sorry for starting but uh...You look...Do I know you?" She inquired. It was then she caught her glimpse in the reflection of the window. No wonder she looked familiar...They looked alike. The woman was a tad older, but same warm caramel skin, dark curly hair, thought the woman's was neatly tucked behind her head, looking like a woman and not like a girl, much like Tessa's own reflection betrayed. Same dark eyes...it was almost scary.

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#2015-01-21 16:55:41, as written by Braysl

Cecilia turned, pulled out of her own world of anxiety and fuss by a few simple words and a tap on the shoulder.

"Um, Miss, You know you could just go in?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, you're right I--" She turned and was suddenly looking in the mirror. She stared back at the woman before her, and for a moment she was confused, her brain refusing to make sense of what she was seeing. What? I thought I put my hair up? Am I seeing things?

It wasn't until this other woman tilted her head and spoke that Cecilia realized it wasn't her reflection, but rather a woman who looked just like her. That's so strange, I've never seen someone with such similar eyes...

" Sorry for starting but uh...You look...Do I know you?"

"I was going to ask you the same question." Cecilia smiled, but her eyes still poured over the girl, pointing out the similarities and the difference. She definitely wasn't a direct reflection, but the two did look very similar. The woman was a bit younger, maybe by a few years, and she was a bit skinnier all around. Her hair was dark and curly, just like Cecilia's, though it longer and not currently stuffed into a ponytail, and their skin was exactly the same colour, and their eyes...

"My name is Cecilia Tamer...are you from around here? Maybe we're second cousins or something, my family traces back to this town for centuries almost." She found herself looking away, back through the window, focusing on the back of Mimi's head, feeling slightly awkward with this strangely similar woman staring at her. "Do you work here? Do you know how long she's been here? She's supposed to be working down at the Art Gallery today--I'm the Gallery owner, by the way, not just some nosy bitch, heh..." The conversation wasn't getting any better, so Ceci trailed off with a half-hearted laugh and looked between Mimi, the girl, and the ground, floundering.

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#2015-01-21 17:30:38, as written by Mataulvr

Mimi was agreeing to Matts terms and he found himself smiling. Fantastic, he thought to himself. He could use a night out. When she asked him if Damien was coming He felt a small flush enter his cheeks and he took the paper towels she handed back to him and bunched them all tightly together. She sat down, and he felt the urge to take the seat opposite to her so he slide the metal chair back and then eased himself into it.
"Damien will most likely be attending. He had to first clear his throat before he spoke again. "I suppose its only fair that you can bring a friend or two if you like as well."
""Mimi! What the hell are you doing! You're supposed to be working!" Matt jumped at the sudden yell and tap on the glass. Looking up he noticed a woman, she looked familiar but he couldn't quite place where she was at the moment. Frowning he was about to stand and investgate when he noticed Tessa seemed to have appeared to save the day. Still he felt worried, and wondered if the woman was voletile.
So instead he turned to Mimi and asked "A friend of yours?"

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#2015-01-21 18:19:34, as written by MoonlightWraith

Mimi beamed at Matty when he flushed and gave him a playful slap on his forearm and bit her lip, after he sat in front of her.
"Damien will most likely be attending." Mimi smiled and stifled a giggle as he cleared his throat. "I suppose its only fair that you can bring a friend or two if you like as well."
"You make it sound as if we're going to war and need an army to face each other." She teased before taking a finger scoop of frosting. "I'll probably see what Clay is doing. No doubt, he'll go, anyway." Mimi was slightly shocked by the loud sound of the banging and the muffled shouts.

Whipping her head around, she recognised her boss and her shoulders sagged and her slightly frightened expression turned into an amused one. "A friend of yours?" Matthew asked and Mimi turned her head to look at him.
"My boss." She stated with a simple yet amused tone. "And she seems to have lost track of time." Mimi told him before she whipped her head back to mouth her reply, but she was already engaged in a conversation with Tessa. "Huh, I didn't know her and Tessa were related." She said as she turned back to Matthew, pointing out the similarities, and rolled her eyes. "They're probably just distant cousins." She concluded and shrugged her shoulders, not thinking anymore on it. "I should probably go anyway." She lifted her cupcake in one hand and placed her phone in her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. "I'll text you later and see you at the Bottle." She gave him an air kiss before leaving the cafe and stepping out into the air of the street, it didn't have the same warmth as the cafe or the same fresh smell but it wasn't a bad change of environment.

Approaching the two, still conversing at the window, she caught the tail end of the conversation. "Do you work here? Do you know how long she's been here? She's supposed to be working down at the Art Gallery today--I'm the Gallery owner, by the way, not just some nosy bitch, heh..."
"I'm on my lunch, and she's lying, she is a nosy bitch." Mimi teased as she joined the conversation.

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#2015-01-21 23:01:01, as written by MaliceInWonderland

"I was going to ask you the same question." Tessa was still struck by the image to response coherently.

"My name is Cecilia Tamer...are you from around here? Maybe we're second cousins or something, my family traces back to this town for centuries almost." She said and Tessa had to blink a few times. "I'm Tessa, Tessa Vane." Tessa stammered a bit. "Do you work here? Do you know how long she's been here? She's supposed to be working down at the Art Gallery today--I'm the Gallery owner, by the way, not just some nosy bitch, heh..." She blinked and followed Cecilia's gaze. It was then that Mimi appeared. "I'm on my lunch, and she's lying, she is a nosy bitch." She said and Tessa's brow shot up."This is not my jurisdiction." Tessa joked, holding up her hands and stepping back from the others. "I gotta get back to work, you guys, have fun with all this." She said and was about to walk away. "It was uh...nice meeting you, Cecilia...See you around." She said and ducked back into the cafe. She scanned for Matt. She needed to talk to somebody about this. "Hey so Mimi invited me to the Black Bottle tonight, want to join in as well?" She heard him say and she knew full well Matt had a thing for Damien so she was not about to screw that moment up. She quickly removed her apron and tossed it behind the counter. "Taking my break, Be back in a bit, Love you Bye~!" She said all in one breath, ran by him, kissed his temple and ran out the door and toward the psychic shoppe. She slowed her step, took a deep breath and opened the door. "Hey, Tim, You here?" She said as she walked in. She needed to know more about Cecilia... and why she felt so familiar.

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#2015-01-22 17:16:54, as written by Braysl

"I'm on my lunch, and she's lying, she is a nosy bitch.' Ceci nearly jumped out of her skin when Mimi spoke, suddenly next to her. She huffed impatiently, but smiled regardless.

"I was just wondering where my most valuable worker disappeared to," She said, turning to her only employee, "oh, lunch, right--oh my god, it's lunch time already? Oh man," she looked at her wrist as if she was checking a watch, a moment before she realized she had lost her watch a few days ago, "it is that time already, isn't it? Well I can't get mad at you for taking a break..."

"This is not my jurisdiction." The other girl cut in, her name is Tessa, right? , and held up her hands, retreating towards the cafe. "I gotta get back to work, you guys, have fun with all this. It was uh...nice meeting you, Cecilia...See you around." Tessa disappeared back into the shop, and Cecilia watched her go with a slightly quizzical look on her face.

"You know she looks so familiar...in more than a 'looks-just-like-me' kind of way. Hmm...anyways, here, let's get back to the gallery. Have you been talking to Mister Montgomery, our old friend the art dealer, about that Basquiat piece?" She nudged her head towards the direction of the gallery, and started off walking, signalling for Mimi to follow.

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#2015-01-23 21:21:26, as written by MoonlightWraith

"I was just wondering where my most valuable worker disappeared to... Oh, lunch, right--oh my god, it's lunch time already? Oh man, it is that time already, isn't it? Well I can't get mad at you for taking a break..."
Mimi chuckled when Cecilia admitted her confusion about the time, when Tessa left, Mimi gave a polite wave before turning to her boss. "Oh how you flatter me, Ceci." She put her hand to her chest and feigned a swoon. "I may as well be your PA." Mimi teased, taking out her phone and letting Ceci and Tessa finish their goodbyes.

[To: Clay]
[Hey, I'm heading to the Bottle tonight if you wanna come, we're meeting at 9. Hope to see you there, ya lesbian.]

"You know she looks so familiar...in more than a 'looks-just-like-me' kind of way. Hmm...anyways, here, let's get back to the gallery. Have you been talking to Mister Montgomery, our old friend the art dealer, about that Basquiat piece?"
As Tessa walked away, she gave a polite wave before she was totally out of Tessa's field of view. Mimi placed her phone back in her bag and sucked through her teeth. "I'm sure she just has one of those faces, don't worry yourself about it." Mimi gave a supportive smile. "I mean, you do have a long line of family here, don't you?"

"Yes, and I think you'll be very pleased with my results." Mimi started walking back to the Gallery when Ceci nodded in its direction, her back twisted slightly so as she could converse with her about the piece. "I got him to lower the price from £8,500, sorry dollars, to about 6,500. Although I'm surprised because the cheapest estimation for a Basquiat piece at auction was £10,000, it was an English auction house so pound is right this time. Montgomery must have made most of his money back already if he's asking for around 8 to 10 thousand for a month rental." She wondered why he was eager to get rid of the painting. "Actually, come to think of it, I barely had to say much to get him to lower the price."

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#2015-01-24 17:23:51, as written by Braysl

"I'm sure she just has one of those faces, don't worry yourself about it. I mean, you do have a long line of family here, don't you?" Well that much was true, the Tamer family was native to the area, first migrating to Ashweld almost 100 years ago. That's when the weird spooky 'powers' thing started setting in, with her great-grandma Elizabeth Tamer, who could talk to cows. Cecilia often went through their old family tree, which was contained in a very old leather bound book, and laughed at all the pointless powers her ancestors had developed. Magic tended to manifest in ways that might have to do with your personality, or perhaps destiny...but others like her great-uncle George could only telekentically control shoelaces so that seems like it has little to do with destiny or personality and more to do with being given a shitty hand in life.

But she had never seen in her old family book the last name Vane, or a girl named Tessa, but this was also unsurprising as the Tamer family had broken up in recent years. She didn't even talk to her dad anymore.

"Yes, and I think you'll be very pleased with my results." Mimi continued on, pulling Ceci from her daydreaming again, "I got him to lower the price from £8,500, sorry dollars, to about 6,500. Although I'm surprised because the cheapest estimation for a Basquiat piece at auction was £10,000, it was an English auction house so pound is right this time. Montgomery must have made most of his money back already if he's asking for around 8 to 10 thousand for a month rental..actually, come to think of it, I barely had to say much to get him to lower the price."

"Well I'm not one to argue...about a good price, that is. Perhaps it's one of his lesser known works, and Mister Montgomery couldn't resell right away." They arrived at the front doors of the gallery, and Ceci took a moment trying to fish her keys out of her pocket until she belatedly realized that it was open. She tried to non-nonchalantly keep going, opening the door and holding it for Mimi, "but maybe I should make you my PA, and hire another manager for this place. It's doing pretty good, once we resell the William Kentridge, maybe we can scrape up enough for some bigger showings..." she had always been good at making art, but not so good at managing things. Cecilia usually had trouble remembering to put on a bra in the morning, let alone how many deals needed to be closed and who was working what shift and which bills needed to be paid and all the other things that came with being the owner and curator of the Ashweld Art Collective.

But they were currently profitable, and hanging on the white walls were local artists she had decided to show because she believed everyone deserved a piece of the spot light, not just old white men and dead artists. Next week was the town BBQ, and she was hoping to pull out some show stoppers, and maybe finally finish a piece she was working on herself.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go down into the dungeon--er, studio--please keep me updated on the deal!" She smiled at Mimi then scurried off into the back, past the teeny-tiny 'gift shop' at the back of the studio and through a door marked 'employees only'. This brought her into what was the warehouse side of the old hardware store, but she had turned into a studio. Every once in a while she hosted art lessons for local kids and adults, but at the moment all she was hosting was a huge canvas she had been working on for weeks.

And now to get down the the real work. she hummed to herself, opening her tool box. She arranged her oil paints on the paint-splattered side table, unscrewing the tops of each one. It could use a little red. Suddenly the red oil paint lept magically from the tube with a small flick of Ceci's wrist, and with a wide sweeping motion was smearing itself across the canvas, no brushes required. I love my job.

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Character Portrait: Jannay Arden Polanco

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#2015-01-28 05:03:35, as written by lizardheartstring

Strike wasn't expecting the pub to be so lackadaisical in nature. It was still barren and bland. Only Eugene sat in one of the sleek black booths by the window, all by his lonesome as he wistfully gazed out the tinted window, a shotglass twirling in his hands. He had on his usual whimsical stare, the stare that Strike understood as him longing for his eventful past, whatever it had been like. The way he glared out into the unknown like a lost puppy, Strike couldn't help but feel his pain. Or rather, feel like he was in the old man's ruddy shoes himself.

But before Strike could succumb to the brooding emotions Eugene's loneliness produced, he decided to shoot out a few texts to his colleagues. He pulled his phone from out of his pocket, his brow furrowing as his eyes skimmed across Tom's text message that had been sent rather recently.

From: Tom
Serving drinks. Saving us the cost of buying them with my talent.

Gerald scoffed at the screen and quickly replied.

To: Tom
From: Strike
Very funny. Get your ass over here or you're not getting paid today.

He then scrolled down through his contacts until he found Kat's name.

To: Kat
From: Strike
You sick or something? Still waiting for you and Tom at work.

On a less sarcastic and critical note, he then decided to text Aurora and thank her.

To: Rory
From: Strike
Wonder who left me the present at work today...

It only took ten seconds until his phone vibrated. If she was at the bookstore where she worked, it clearly wasn't busy.

From: Rory
Glad you liked it! :) I thought youd think it was stupid

His lips curled ever so slightly

To: Rory
From: Strike
It was stupid, but in a good way. Thank you. I can't believe you even remembered about that.

She replied, but it took her a minute instead of a couple of seconds.

From: Rory
How could I forget??? Its more than just redemption to me, Gerry. Anyways, I have to tell you something. Its about my power...I think its more than just a gateway.

Strike stared at the screen for a moment, bewildered. He looked around. Still nobody in the pub except Eugene.

To: Rory
From: Strike
What do you mean?

Now it took her two minutes to reply.

From: Rory
Well yknow how we met in like a dream? I think subspace is connected to stuff like that. Dreams, ideas, thoughts...even my emotions. Not only is it an add-on to reality, but its parallel to it. And I think people are connected to those add-ons too. You and me and everyone else. There are millions of us. I could tell you more, and Im going to tell you more soon. But...yeah. KK imma go now. Ttyl.

Aurora slammed the phone down on the counter near the register and stretched, a long puff of air expelling itself from her lips, which were starting to grow dry and chapped. The bookstore was dead, Nikita, Thomas Kirk, and gallons of alcohol were conversing in their private, slightly angsty discussion, and Aurora was all alone. And all of a sudden, all of the pessimistic, unworthy feelings she had tried to supress with meds daily - the roller-coaster affect of her mood swings - they painfully started to bubble up inside of her like boiling hot water inside a metal pan. She needed some air. And quickly. This bookstore was just too dark...

She grabbed a stool and the fantasy novel she had been reading before, and noiselessly slipped outside. She placed the stool by the front door, it's green paint chipping as per usual. The sunny weather had been refreshing before, but now it just felt dense and muggy. The cloudless sky above her was in it's pre-sunset phase; not dark, but a dull, turquoise shade of blue. A very boring hue. Sighing, she opened up her book and began to flick through the pages.

Thirty pages in, and she wasn't entertained at all. She felt nothing. She was nothing. Aurora wanted to throw the shitty piece of crap-literature on the ground, and eventually she did. What was she doing here? Why was she in Ashweld? She had millions of fantasies at her fingertips, and yet none of them felt whole and real enough than the one she had left behind. She stared long and hard at the golden ring around her finger, tears lining the back of her eyes. Had she been selfish, or right? She only wanted escape and freedom, but now that she had it, she was lost. Undefined. Incomplete. Spinning in circles. Even a town filled with superpowered people like her couldn't quell her need to forgive him. He'd shown her love, even if it was set up, and she had shown him fire...

Suddenly, she slapped herself. LITERALLY slapped herself. No - she needed to control her unstable emotions. This was just her mental disease speaking to her. She had been put in a cage. A stupid gilded cage. But every time she repeated those words in her head, the more they formed into a sugarcoated lie.

Having enough, she stood up, deciding that she'd visit subspace for a while to take her idiotic mind off of idiotic things. But as she looked left and right for the third time that day, she realized that no one was around. It was so desolate, so quiet, so dry, that the world felt like a ghost town. Aurora wouldn't be surprised if a tumbleweed passed through the streets. Maybe it was just an uneventful day...

Maybe it was time to try again.

She looked down at her feet, exhaled, and spread her arms out shoulder-width apart. The girl would get it right this time. She had to. Aurora pulled the air in front of her open again, this time relaxing instead of tensing up. Nothing. She pulled harder. Still nothing. Even harder. Again, nothing. And then when she stretched her fingers apart, moving her feet away from each other as she stomped onto the dirty cement, she felt something. A slight tug. A door.

She tried not to gasp or exert more energy in surprise through her toil. This was just like fishing - if she yanked the line too hard, she was sure to lose the the prize. And this wasn't just some casual fishing she was doing, this was the fishing freaking championships. However, she was losing her catch just by remaining lax, so she pulled harder. It came closer. Harder. Even closer. HARDER. She almost had it...

And then suddenly, without warning, without expectations, without delay, a force pelted her so hard, that she fumbled to the ground. It sounded like a miniature explosion, but it felt like a whirlwind, sucking her in. She removed the strands of stringy red hair away from her face, and looked up at her creation. There, standing two feet in front of her, was a field. Or rather, a field inside of a circular, vibrating portal outlined in a blue mystical light. Her breath stolen, Aurora stared in awe. She had done it. She had opened a door outside of subspace. She had proven that universes were connected to reality, like she had theorized.

She put her right hand through the swirling vortex, and as if on cue, a bird perched in one of the far-off treetops flew closer, situating itself on her pale white fingertips. This wasn't some ordinary bird. It was blue, but it wasn't a bluejay. No, it's color was that of the sky. It had the figure of a raven, but instead of being the symbol of night, it was the essence of day.

And when the bluebird flew from her fingers straight into the world of Ashweld, that's when Aurora felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was as if the life had instantly been drained from her, her knees going wobbly, her ears popping, then ringing. Her head about to explode. She collapsed right there, lifelessly unconscious while a slick, black shadow slinked through her portal, multiplying itself like a sped-up amoeba until it came in a dozen large shades of coal-like smoke, and sped through all parts of the town. It was an unnatural wind with no intentions of being tamed.

Aurora had not simply created a portal.

She had created a monster.

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