Pirouette

The Hourglass Order

Casii’fyret’alan

”Remember your roots but grow into what you want to be.”

16 | Female | Yasoi | Respected | 8.12

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ Anxious
❖ Nurturing
❖ Uncouth
❖ Abrasive
❖ Loner

Her growth was stunted by the common harassment and tantrums of her kin, leading her to always be cautious and drive her to be closed off. Her family wasn’t cruel but it discouraged vulnerability, leaving Casii to either embrace it or struggle. Yet her family wasn’t all bad. Her great grandmother, Yas, had taught her the virtues of being kind fostering a rare form of gentleness. Nurturing the sick, the injured, or the depressed is a pull that Casii feels wanting to try and be benevolent to others if they are in worse or dire situations.

Outwardly, she behaves like she just doesn’t give a damn, even enacting her lack of keeping up performances. Without thinking, she’ll disregard established manners to be more comfortable. If engaged or challenged by someone that she feels threatened by, she’ll quickly turn to rage believing that the best way to settle disputes.

People just naturally make her uncomfortable in conclusion. She prefers to dance to her own tune and will do her best to avoid others.

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

Typical Yasoi build, Casii has a lithe frame, towering at six feet and four inches. Her hair is a bleached white usually styled over to one side of her head. Her skin is a little warmer and less gray that your typical Yasoi although to the Yasoi her most notable feature is her very meaty (to them!) and human-like nose. Her Tetsoi so far are in a light blue color with the most prominent pattern displayed on her forehead. She has two body Tetsoi, a set of asymmetric patterned rings around her right and left wrists that will mirror each other.

Clothing-wise, she doesn't have much often wearing the same clothing as the previous day, raggad with cuts and holes with basic coloring, she'd look rather ordinary had it not been for the extensive dyeing done to make some of her clothes more colorful. She'll pick up bits and pieces of clothing and might add it to her outfit if she likes it, only to discard them the next day due to a change of tastes.

Inspiration for her clothing

L A N G U A G E S

Yasoi (Native)
Avincian (Conversational)
Perrench (Regionally accented and barely conversational)

T H E G I F T

❖ Chemical:
Being a family of horticulturalists, there was a focus on chemical magic passed down from generation to generation. Chemical magic was at the center of this and despite the clan’s fall from grace, they still prioritize the instruction of Chemical magics for all manner of purposes. Aside from the usual biochemical applications, Casii has spent significant time studying the illusionary effects that Chemical magic has. She has a particular fondness of manipulating what others experience, whether for their benefit or to their horror.

❖ Binding:
While Chemical magic is placed at the forefront of the clan, Binding magic would be quick to follow. A versatile class of magic that allowed the healing of disease or the removal of infestations. Traditionally, the family did not bother with the distinction of Blood magic, only turning that power against the pests in their fields, but many in the clan learned it as well as any other magic. Casii has made this her second class of magic for the practical purposes of being able to heal. However, she does turn this magic against the very plants and creatures if the need arises.

❖ Kinetic:
Very little emphasis in the clan goes to the other schools of magic. Hardly any members nowadays will attempt to learn a tertiary class of magic because there isn’t a real need to extend that effort. Casii chose this school to model after her great grandmother, seeing the benefits of being able to manipulate forces outside of her control.

B A C K G R O U N D

They say somewhere on the Alan clan’s tree is a Perrench human ancestor and that is how the Greengrowth bloodline was introduced to the line. It, Casii has decided, is more of a colorful story that changes every time her great grandmother brings it up. A line to try and remind the children that the Yasoi and Huusoi are entwined together in a unique kinship. The story goes like this with variations included:

Your ancestor, Teclis’covish’lethan’alan, had been journeying in Perrence just after the Eskandr invasion. He was a reckless fool and found himself in trouble at the hands of a great beast / a frothing Eskandr / his own clumsiness. He would have been killed and you and I would never be here if that were the case. Thankfully he was saved by a witch / noble lady / landing on top of the poor woman thus cushioning his fall. The woman that happened to save him was a Greengrowth and after showing great compassion to the beast by healing it / healing Teclis / healing herself. Your ancestor made a strong enough impression and felt like he owed it to his savor. He spent time and eventually fell in love…

The story goes on sometimes but usually before then Casii is tuning it out. Yasoi can be Greengrowths so why complicate their history with such fiction? In fact, the origin myth of their bloodline isn’t quite as important as the development to her. Those are the stories she truly likes to hear. The ones that paint the picture of just how strong and clever they could be:

Oh yes, for a few centuries the Alan clan depended upon the Greengrowths of our line. We could grow anything and so all of our kin set out to the furthest reaches of the land to find the most exotic plants they could. They were our treasures usually and while we didn’t exchange the seeds of what we found at the Mette’stiroi, we would grow what we found and offer that instead. Many of our ancestors received their fourth name after the plant they brought back if it was fascinating or delicious enough. Segoii, Hiilay, and oh my, many others. That reminds me…

That was a different time. Even her great grandmother had managed to experience some of that real Yasoi culture. Casii loved to hear the stories because it swept her away from the sorry excuse her family has become. The vibrant and diverse gardens they had were withered husks of former glory. Unremarkable compared to the grandeur of the past:

The gardens in my childhood? Oh they were quite the sight! They used to grow whatever they could in branches, carving out planter boxes where the branches were wide enough, or making their own if a fork proved sturdy enough. I would always climb the tallest tree I could to look down at fields of colors growing in and around the leaves of the trees. It was like a field of flowers but with many colors and patterns from the different trees and bushes growing beyond our forest’s trees.. Fruit was in such an abundance that they covered the ground and the animals would come and gorge themselves. Vines grew and wrapped the trunks and our buildings and whatever cracks could support them, the smaller plants like flowers and shrubs would sprout.

The culture of preserving the life they created faded as the Yasoi as a whole grew closed off. Less of her family ventured out to collect new plants to replace those that had died off. They were controlled not to spread to rightly not invade Yasoi lands as a whole. Unfortunately, that led to the gardens dying out and the beauty that her great grandmother told of, Casii would never see. It was like how her own clan was fading from this world. Dying off from stagnation. Maybe it was the frustration of losing their work that made them bitter. Made them turn to other things to escape the sad reality of what was happening.

Ah, the aberrations. You know about those. They were only the beginning. Where one garden pest began, an infestation would grow. Smokeleaf and the fruits for wines are easy to get from our human neighbors and so they offered people like your father and mother a way to manage with everything going on. I fear the Yasoi look to anything now to keep their minds off the sickness. We are hardly going anywhere nowadays. That isn’t right. We aren’t meant to just sit here. Our lives belong out there.

Casii early on had struggled with the sickness. Many of her peers had. With so few of her people leaving to explore other lands, they felt like they were always bumping elbows, being nosy, and just being a nuisance. It flared up a lot of already existing tensions about their lot in life. Growing up, it always felt like you were getting snapped at for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It lead to a lot of children trying to pushback because it felt like they were always under adult surveillance. The event that got Casii her third name had always been an amusing one:

Fyret. You know normally that would net you a lot of trouble. Your whole treetop a blaze because you didn’t quite like how your father was scolding you. It took the whole of us to put out the blaze. Oh my, I can remember being out there. Your father’s smokeleaf burning and all of us getting high off of the fumes. It was a struggle to even stay up there but somehow we managed to put out the fires. Easy to grow back but I don’t think I ever felt sicker in my life thanks to you little Leaf Burner.

She got off easy with her third name. Everyone remembers the event humorously but it felt like her whole childhood was filled with little aggressions against their lot in life. Her peers were the same, lashing out. Casii was quick to pick up on sucking on Jamb’ysp as it made the rounds among the children. Their parents did it, so why not them? It was their elders that actively tried to fight the slowly seeping corruption. Her great grandmother did a good job. Her final advice the last time she saw her before she passed was enough to convince her. She had to leave and learn what it was to be a true Yasoi.

Go out there and see for yourself. We belong out there sweet child.

M O T I V A T I O N

❖ Try to live like a true and proud Yasoi
❖ Discover the world outside of Mycormi and Yasoi lands
❖ Find out what she treasures enough to bring to Mette'stiroi
❖ Recapture the heritage and glory of her clan

I N V E N T O R Y

❖ Bag of Seeds
While not treasures, she does value any plants that take her interest on her travels. Should she find an interesting subject of fauna, she will take a few seeds and keep them with her. Paired with her Greengrowth bloodline, she can grow any of these seeds to full maturity in mere minutes without any effort. At present, she carries monkey nut, razor weed, starlights, a few different fruits, and lithe vine seeds.

❖ Jamb’ysp
Or Monkey Nut in Avincian, is the production of certain type of mangrove tree found in the southern area of Mycormi. The seed, the nut, grows under the elevated trunk of the tree, protected by the tangling roots that elevate the tree from the water. When a storm comes in to raise the water, the seeds are pulled away with the water and allowed to float to new marshy lands to grow. They have a hard shell, difficult to break, but inside is a bitter tar that acts as a stimulant. Casii is horribly addicted to these, cutting the nuts in half and sucking the tar as a mild psychedelic to get through the day is a need for her at this point.

❖ Riigyl’laht
Deer sigil. A wooden carving of a buck’s skull that is no larger than the size of palm of Casii’s hand. Delicately carved along the median of the frontal plate is her great grandmother’s name in Yasoi, Yas’riigylan’tiix’alan. Out of everything, she prizes the memento of her great grandmother the most, threading a line through the eye sockets and wearing the carving as a necklace.

S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S

❖ Botany and Horticulture
There is something about plants that just makes sense. Maybe knowledge of plants was passed down from her ancestors as well or maybe she just had good experience with the many kinds still cultivated in her clan. Regardless, she is already at the point of being able to identify many plants and those that she hasn’t seen before, she’d probably be able to work out what they are. If they are interesting enough, she might even keep a seed for study.

❖ Scrapper
She was quite a delinquent growing up and that cost her all sorts of trouble. If it was with her peers, she’d often fight with them. You had to be tough if you wanted to not be pushed around and Casii might not have been the strongest but she was the feistiest, never willing to back down. Over time she developed a good sense in a fight to carry her through.

W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S

❖ Addiction
Whether it to be to Jamb’ysp, wine, or anything else that consumes a person in alcoholism, Casii remains extremely vulnerable to falling for these vices. Just about anything will require significant attention to break the habit for a time but she’s young and reckless so why not indulge? Jamb’ysp is something else. She needs this substance otherwise she’ll suffer major withdrawal.

❖ Dislikes Humans
There are many names the younger Yasoi are calling humans and not many of them are all too positive. She isn’t quite like her friends back home, willing to venture into human lands, and understands that humans are a part of this world. However, the negatives of humanity are often the first things she points out, overlooking the good. She’ll distance herself both physically and emotionally from humans believing it for the best.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

❖ Don’t call her tiilyt or talk about her nose.
❖ Fear the Deer

O R I F L A M M E

⚜ Camille de la Saumure ⚜

---

Interaction: None
2.1: Siege of Relouse / Let them Come

---

The enemy forces dwindled
Trickled,
Then stopped coming.

This was just the beginning.

Claude had told her to stay, and she would. His instincts were too reliable to persuade her otherwise. Even among the shouts and orders of those around her, she held her ground as Claude clasped a hand around her arm. "Girl, we are going to lose a lot of people in this confusion. Try to do what you can." He sounded steady despite the commotion, Camille thought as she glanced to the raining sky. If only she could be like him then maybe she'd be worth all the admiration, praise and handshakes she has had to endure these past few days.

She closed her eyes and let a familiar prayer come to mind.

Dami, guide your flock and steel their hearts for what is to come. May they stand firm.

There so much noise. People shouting in triumph but others in confusion. Orders being barked by superiors and mummers of hesitation in response.

May they stand firm.

The voices around her quieted. Enough to hear the rain bouncing off of metal and sand. Grips tightened on weapons.

May they stand firm.

Boots dug into the sand and despite the calls and cries around them, those close enough to feel Camille's influence felt their hearts bolster. They didn't have to be told they were in the right spot. They felt like they were. Let the Eskandr come. They were ready to meet them.

Camille felt a squeeze on her arm, Claude letting her know that he approved. "Good. We'll need their help but if we all stick together, there is no Eskandr that can break us." He always sounded so sure, Camille mused with amazement. She might have been the one with Dami's Gift but he acted like he didn't even need that to be strong. It made her think he should have been chosen because who was she? "You're sure we will all make it out okay?" She muttered but Claude's attention shifted.

"Armand, what news are you hearing?" Camille turned to see Claude clasping his hand around the leather of Armand's shoulder. The younger of the two, shook his shoulder free. "Riders from Cap are returning. I couldn't hear why but they aren't dead so. Take that for what it is worth."

Claude let out a laugh though Camille thought it sounded fake. "Ha. Coming back from sniping King Hrothgar, no doubt. Wouldn't that be a sight, eh?" Camille and Armand both exchange a look. Claude had a habit of noticing that from them. "Oh come on you two. Have a little faith." He reached out and wrapped his arms around the both of them. "You'll see. We'll be back in Au Diable Roux, wondering what Alain put in his stew again. I'm already betting potatoes and pork to celebrate."
"Oysters." Camille chimed in, her mouthwatering at the memory.
"Carrots." Armand spat like he was disgusted by the very word.
"Heh. If you go and order the stew, you'll doom the three of us to that. Every time."
The three shared a laugh, however brief that might have been.

The clap of thunder from a bolt striking the wall had sounded for the next phase to begin.

---

Interaction: None
2.2: Siege of Relouse / The Storm Arrives

---

Camille had raised her arm, ducking her head to try and better weather the howling storm. Wherever this storm was coming from, she now knew it wasn’t natural. The town of Relouse was being battered by commanded lightning while she and the rest of the Grand Armee were battered by the winds and rain. The darkening sky was lit up by the occasional glow of magic which was an impressive array by itself.

The storm worsened as rain turned to hail and clanged off of her armor. Ships, real ships, were now appearing along the beach and landing. ”This is it! This will be the battle!” She heard Claude yell behind her.

"Hommes et femmes de Parrence, tenez ferme contre l'ennemi! Les dieux sont avec nous!"
”Je n'ai pas peur! Dami, mon Seigneur, c'est pour cela que je suis née!₁”
Maybe it was hearing the King but Camille felt steadfast all of a sudden. She wasn’t going to turn back. She couldn’t do that and let others die needlessly in her stead. This was going to be a fight and if this was a predestined path that she had to walk, so be it. She was going to embrace it because right now, her devotion would be the only thing to see her through!

The line of charging Eskandr closed and she shouted, joining the shouts of her comrades in arms as the battlelines met once again.

Camille moved effortlessly, her sword cleaving an overly zealous warrior in two. A crackling wave of lightning slipped across her right side and arced into the raised weapon of an unlucky Eskandr. He dropped his axe only to be met with a greatsword being brought back around. A third warrior approached, more measured as she raised his shield to meet Camille’s blade. He knew better to take the force of her blade and ducked under the swing to advance suddenly.

It would seem that she was left open but removing one hand from her greatsword, Camille reached for her shortsword and drew it in a swift draw to thrust into the warrior’s leg, halting him. She twisted and rammed her shoulder into his shield, knocking him clean off of his feet as she withdrew her shortsword, cutting effortlessly across any flesh the blade touched, half severing his leg by the thigh.

A whirl of her greatsword with one hand kept others, daring to take her on at bay. A crossbow bolt fired and caught one of them who had been more focused on Camille’s blade and got his neck, entering a coughing fit of blood as he collapsed. Her team was well versed in working together and would give any opposing force real pause, Claude always boasted. Camille never wanted to test their limit but they would have to eventually against the Eskandr.

She had a bad feeling in the pit of stomach. Destiny was calling.
_{1: I am not afraid! Dami, my Lord, I was born to do this!”}

---

Interaction: Hrolf Bloodaxe
2.3: Siege of Relouse / A Blood Price

---

A break in the Eskandr waves had given Camille the opportunity to glance down the Perrench battle line to see how her allies were fairing. They were holding but around twenty meters down their line, a brute of an Eskandr creature was cleaving through Perrench soldiers with frightening efficiency. Bodies of full soldiers sent flying with a single axe swing, half bodies sent even further. The violence that monster caused was becoming a cacophony to the shaking wills of her people. If they survived encountering them.

Her feet moved without a thought.
Dami, lend me your strength.
”Girl! Wait” She heard Claude holler from behind her but she was already committed, closing the line towards the Eskandr brute swiftly. A circular area around the man existed where Perrench soldiers were too fearful to approach the whirling orbits of crude axes. One Perrench man in particular had Hrolf’s full attention, his panicked jabs with his spear doing little to deter the giant of a man. He didn’t even spare a gesture as a floating axe came and shattered the spear just beyond the man’s grip, leaving him defenseless as the Eskandr raised his axe like an executioner. He brought it down..

Clung, Clink

Camille’s upward slash of her greatsword met the axe before it could fall on the Perrench man. Her strength was enough to deflect the blow but an axe came around.

Dami, protect!

Her shield, strapped to her back swung around, pulled towards the incoming axe to deflect the blade from hitting Camille. She holds herself firm, realizing that she had saved the poor man who was threatened but she was now in this monster’s sights. His great leap coming to bear down, she didn’t think of anything other than to trust in Dami’s protection, leaping back herself however to try and keep him at a distance. She swung her sword again, trying to catch the Eskandr before he could land.

She watched her sword bounced off the metal of his axe but the tip of her blade catching his stomach enough to make Hrolf howl. He draws from a nearby corpse to pull material to close his wound in an obvious scar. Now faced with the man, Camille was sure she had his full attention for that and quietly cursed under her breath. She keeps an eye on Hrolf but she catches the movement in her peripherals. Whirling axes were coming around from all sides to try and cut her. She dove, instinctively to the Eskandr’s side, letting her greatsword lash out striking one axe away as she moved. That was one but she was watching the nearest axe follow her, set up to cleave her across her neck. She didn’t even have time for the full prayer.

”Dami!”
She pleaded, begging for her God’s intercession. She wasn’t sure how she was going to escape with her life but then the obvious sign of Dami’s favor was bestowed. The axe in her sight was blown away suddenly. Dami protects! She praised, rising to her feet catching the movement of her companions in the corner of her eye. She knew they would follow and with the Eskandr focused on her, she hoped their surprise would be enough.

—
’Damn that girl! Taking on the biggest Eskandr she could find. Take your shot and slip away. We’ll have to catch him not looking, I think.” Claude commanded as he ran with Armand, given only a silent nod in return. His sword began to spark with Thunder Magic as she let out a downward slash, sending a crackling wave towards the back of Hrolf. Armand slid to a stop and hastily aimed for the brute’s spine before firing his crossbow. He moved after firing, trying to duck back into the Perrench lines…
—

Camille hoped quietly but those hopes were dashed quickly as the lightning was scooped up in the invisible vortex of Hrolf’s axes and the crossbow was deflected by a wayward axe. The brute turned his head to catch Armand before he sank back into the Perrench battle lines and felt himself halted as the pull of Hrolf’s drawing began to decimate his armor, clothing before starting to dissolve his flesh.

His cries of anguish were obvious enough to Camille who screamed in a panic as she brought her greatsword up and attempted to thrust it into the Eskandr’s side. Hrolf wasn’t a fool and attempted to dodge out of the way but desperately, she pursued leaping with her thrust to catch his flesh. Her blade sank up into his abdomen, the brute of a man giving a very human howl of anguish.

Yet he didn’t relent. Armand’s screams grew louder and Camille found herself joining the chorus of desperate cries. She wailed in a desperate rage as only one thought came to her mind.

”Dami! Kill him!”

Her sword began to glow as if showered in a golden light. There was intensifying pain in Hrolf as his wailed. It was over almost immediately but the moment felt long in her head. Hrolf’s center mass burst in a shower of blood and gore and the once great man of the Æresvaktr fell in two, his last words something that Camille couldn’t understand. She kept her sword elevated, its golden glow illuminating the darkened battlefield for a moment before it faded as her mind focused on the only thing that mattered. Armand.

She turned and ran to where she thought she had last saw him. Where was he? Was he alright? Maybe she could ask Dami to heal him and then…

An tight grip caught her arm. Camille turned to try and slug whoever it was but found Claude was holding her. ”He’s gone! He’s gone!” He shouted at her. She thrashed in his grip. ”Let go! No!” She rasped, her voice already showing signs of strain.

The resolution to her struggle was put on hold as the area just ahead of her flashed and banged with the force of a thunder spell. It wasn’t just the one. It was a barrage of bolts, igniting the beach around them. Camille could barely hear Claude’s voice above it all. ”We have to go! Come on!”

Camille felt herself being tucked under his arm and pulled along. The lightning artillery battered the area. She caught a glimpse of a few Perrench soldiers too grouped up being blown apart by the sudden crash of a bolt. The flashes made it difficult to see and the percussion of thunder made it difficult to hear. Wherever Claude was going, she couldn’t tell, feeling the sting of something pierce the back of her leg. She hobbled slightly along, feeling like she was barely keeping up with Claude. Again, it was a few seconds of real time that seemed to drag out but they had managed to retreat far enough away.

Claude kept them going, however, towards the back lines of the Grand Armee.

O R I F L A M M E

⚜ Camille de la Saumure ⚜

---

Interaction: @YummyYummy
Siege of Relouse / Beach Landing

---

It felt strange when Camille wore her armor. The gift of Dami removing the burden of the weight she carried made not only her armor and equipment weightless, but the clothes she wore underneath. It was like a thin air levitated everything away from her and it made her feel naked. Naked at a time like this in front of all these people! She could never get use to this feeling of being exposed and always it seemed people looked to her. It was almost like she was really nude in front of them like some spectacle.

Her people weren't like that, she knew. They were just looking to her for hope, many have said it to her before. The put her on a pedestal of what the best of Perrence could be. Maybe that's why she felt the way she did. She wasn't a saint like the people in the stories, she was just Camille. Somebody who would gladly accept Dami's Judgement to let her return home and live a quiet, peaceful life but she was judged to have more work to do, especially this day.

Her grip tightened around her weightless greatsword watching the mass of ships roll in. There were so many. She had fought the Eskandr before, leading battle groups against an array of three longships at most. But this? How many were out there, she wondered. A hundred? A thousand? Each with savage warriors who would rend the heads of newborns and drink their blood. Her right sand slipped from her sword and reached into the small bag she had tied around her waist. She couldn't feel it on her skin, but she knew what she was touching. The sand of her home, still fine and soothing as she dug her gloved fingers into pouch. It gave her hope for a better tomorrow. A tomorrow where she would return to the beach by Port Morilles...

”Dame Camille de la Saumure.”

Camille froze. The deep voice of the giant boomed with an air of authority. She wasn't the only one to freeze around her as everyone ahead of her seemed to stiffen, even jump.

”Come.”

The giant's hand raised and fingers motioned of her to approach. She knew better than to dodge a summons of a lord, though this man she had heard about. Le Séisme, the stories often called him in a testament to his sheer force of presence. She wasn't sure if the ground shook when he spoke, but her certainly sent a ripple through the people around.

She stepped around the levy's, some making a path for her, others too zoned out to notice until she brushed past them. It wasn't long before she had approached the giant's side, dwarfed in every sense of the word next to him. The only thing she had comparable was her greatsword, still resting in her grip, propped up by her shoulder, the tip of the blade towering even over the giant.

Camille turned her head and looked up at him as he spoke, her own helmet disguising her reluctance to be here. When initially summoned, she had no idea what a man with that reputation could want that she could offer. Yet here he was, asking her for support. She wasn't sure what he was getting at. Did he need the reassurance like the many draftees? Surely not, considering his reputation but maybe, he did. Claude always told her that when people asked her for a blessing or what their chances are, she had to be confident. It gave them hope and made them fight harder. If that was even half true then a man like the giant fighting harder would surely be a gift to them all.

"Je ne veux promettre que ce que je suis sûre de réaliser...₁" Camille replied back, projecting her voice from experience to sound stern and reassured. She continued, "I'll do my best if you do your best."

She hoped that was enough.

A mist rolled in, Camille knew enough to suspect the underhandedness of magic to cause this but she didn't know to what end. Hide were the boats were landing but there was only one beach. They had to land here as scaling any of the cliffs seemed like a lot of work but she wasn't sure. Tactics that some of the nobles would employ seemed far out of reach for her head. She never questioned them, even if they did seem nonsensical so who was she to judge in Dami's place? If this was an attempt to outsmart them, she would do what she could to not make it easy.

Eskandr landed on the beach and made their way up to where the Grand Armee awaited them. Camille couldn't help but wince at the sight of more than a few of them going down to quicksand. She liked the sand of a beach but not that much, hearing some of their last cries before getting submerged entirely. Those of the invading army that made it past the line of defenses made their way towards the defensive line. Camille brought her greatsword off her her shoulder and she slid into a ready position.

"Right behind ya, girl. We'll keep an eye out." She heard Claude call out from behind her. The two of them were instructed to back her up but they discovered quickly how best to do that.

Dami, give the strength comparable to your will.

The Eskandr warriors charged and Camille stepped forward. With a display of experience, she timed her swing just as the first line of warriors approached her range. The three warriors looked to rush in before she could swing. They chose poorly. Camille felt the strength Dami gave her course through her arm, bringing her sword swiftly along a horizontal line in front of her. The blade whistled sharply in the air. The rightmost warrior hastily raised a shield in an attempt to deflect or block the blow but even with his shield raised, her greatsword had such a power behind it that it cut through the wood without a slow of momentum. Her sword continued and the warrior let out a roar of regret as the blade sliced through his arm, torso, and through his other arm without stopping.

Her blade didn't stop, either. The other warriors on their approach continued, only managing a step or two closer before the greatsword cleaved through them just as effortlessly. It was a mess of gore as she severed bodies cleanly through. A warrior in the second line, on her rightmost again, looked to dart in quickly with her sword to the left, trying to close in before she could recover. She was weightless, however, and any awkward footing from momentum never existed in this case. Her grip on her sword adjusted, bringing the tip of the blade pointed towards the charging warrior and Camille thrusted her reach forward. The steel ran swiftly through the warrior who had scarce time to react before being punctured in the stomach. She pulled the man forward, catching a glimpse of his weathered, aged face.

Old. They were all old. Camille felt her stomach tie in a knot in revulsion. The Eskandr were sending their elderly to die, first. Such savages! She punted the man, planting her boot on his waist and sending him off of her blade.

A spark of lightning zipped from behind Camille's head, hearing it crackle as it went. The bolt continued on, striking the hastily raised shield of an Eskandr, slowing her to stop. Claude's doing as the man was a one and half wheel Thunder Knight. He knew well enough to stay out of Camille's swing range but his role as to slow or pick off those that tried to get the drop on Camille was enough to keep her virtually untouchable.

Camille brough her blade around and ended that warrior's chance at continuing in this battle.

"Girl, I fear the Eskandr are up to something. Do not stray far."

She hadn't realized she was stepping further away from the mainline but that was natural given her tendency try and catch opponents as far as she could. There was a bit of a break in the wave of warriors, anyway, and Camille pulled back to the line just as the giant began weaving a powerful wind. She hadn't noticed the storm roll in until now. Was it always going to rain today?

"I heard the Witch Wood is under attack." Armand chimed in, appearing out of nowhere. Camille frowned and glanced over to the walls of Relouse. Were the Eskandr actually attacking the Witch Wood? If so then why were they here? The Eskandr were just sending their elderly to die. "We should go help." Camille replied but was quickly spoken over by Claude. "No that's exactly what the enemy wants. The beach is the only accessible way to land a massive force. If we give up any ground here then they can land more of their forces here. Let them waste energy climbing those cliffs."

Camille looked once more to Relouse. Claude sounded convincing but then why would the Eskandr send their old to just die without any gains? They could have just attacked the Witch Wood without these needless loses.

Maybe the Eskandr weren't that clever...

_{1: I promise only what I can realize}

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Tick
Tick
Tick

The two metronomes she pictured moved and sounded on their own for some time. Ysilla wasn't sure how much time was needed but the madness of both running on their own soon synchronized into one rhythm. The weak forces tying the metronomes together had produced an alignment and they became connected, no matter the distance.

She kept her eyes closed, mediating with the exception of her left arm, stretched out to a notebook where she held a pen. Her hand began to slowly, transcribing a message that she couldn't know. Not yet, anyway, as this part of the process required her to give up control and will to her other half. The sound of the scraping pen became a temptation and yet she would not dare to budge. Not until she was sure the message was complete.

The sound of writing ceased and Ysilla kept her mind focused on the two metronomes but she could see and hear them turning out of tune again. The connection was lost and whatever she attempted to scry, it was over. Opening her eyes, Ysilla glanced down, first at the single metronome in front of her. The needle and mechanisms idly ticking away. She turned from that to her notebook that now had the message she had scried.

Sister.
Preserve.

Pitiful. Even with her more ingenious discovery of utilizing chemical magic to share memories and vision, it was still not enough to overcome the issue of range. There was so much she still had to learn. This feat shouldn’t be impossible. The Tethered children are a testament to the extent of magic. Though they had just immense power capable and there was nothing clever about using brute force. What more could she add to extend her range?

—

Camels.

Ysilla felt a tinge of disappointment not seeing the horses were present. Fiorella, in particular. She didn’t know much about animals but it was obvious the camel was the beast of the desert. So why keep the horses? A worthless line of thought that she discarded as she approached her camel. It, like the horses, did not appreciate her. This camel gurled and flapped its lips and tongue in distress constantly. Ysilla wasn’t even doing anything, just watching it, as it made disgusting guttural noises. It wasn’t as jumpy as the horse so she decided to try her luck.

Mounting the beast took effort but she managed, picking herself and steadying with a little help from Magnetic magic. She didn’t ride and her position in the saddle obviously looked awkward. Yet away they went, on a journey to stop aberrations.

Halassa were a non-factor. The ones they faced last night were a fair enough scale to determine what a sane creature of this species could do if they really wanted you. These ones were scared off easily enough. The Rhinodon was intimidating, requiring a touch of Ysilla’s magnetic pull to usher her camel along to safety, as well as preventing her from falling off. Her camel, whatever name they gave it, whined ungratefully for the help but that would only mean Ysilla would never offer this beast a carrot.

A sandstorm rolled in and they had to cover some ruins in a cave. Initially, Ysilla was curious enough to wander but she didn’t manage it for long. Her joints felt stiff, movement sluggish, and her mind blurred with a void of thought. The curiosity she had felt faded rapidly and she quietly slid down to prop herself up against one of the pillars away from the group. Whatever relief she felt from her synchronization earlier had expired. She had to link again but even the knowledge of how to set it up felt like a fading memory. It was hastily constructed and the metronome’s tick provided a soothing relief. She couldn’t hear the second one, however, and her left hand sat still.

—

The rest of the voyage was a blur, at best. Ysilla was there, she knew it, but it all felt very distant. The sense of urgency and worry about the dangers felt.. Distant. In fact, Ysilla couldn’t really feel anything at all. There was no terror in her mind as the froabasses rained down in a violent terror. The guards and creatures in the area are being ripped apart in a feast of rabid violence. There was only the directive. Sister. Preserve.

Ysilla’s camel spurred in a rush throwing the puppeteer from her mount. She shot herself up with magic and withdrew Khamsei from her back. The doll laughed as it floated in between her hands, one last laugh before cracks along his porcelain flesh began and quickly spread. One last Ha echoed as the doll was shattered into sharpened shards. Projectiles that were now turned against any frobasses that dived for Zarina or Ysilla, herself.

Sister, first. Preservation, second.

The porcelain shards were not lethal but flung at high speeds in between her hands ensured they would pierce the wyvern hide. While covering her sister, Ysilla had let one of the beasts slip by, the mouth of the creature taking a hold of right shoulder, teeth sinking in with the creatures wild thrashing mangling her flesh.

She made no noise. Only did what she had to. Hoopoe flew out from under Ysilla’s hat and darted her beak into the eye of the creature. The frobass pulled away, snapping at the wooden crow but Hoopoe would prove just as violent as the creature was with her creator. Vicious pecks, talons ripping, and thrashing made the battle a mangled mess of one-sided gore. Hoopoe would slaughter the creature just before the pull of a great magical draw would occur. Ysilla fell back, sliding against the rock until she sat on the ground. Hoopoe watched, standing triumphantly on the carcass of the creature she slayed.

There would be no more as Jocasta performed a great feat of transporting all those creatures away. Ysilla did not feel it. She couldn’t but with her sister safe. She turned towards preservation.

Blood poured from her shoulder like wine, staining her almost porcelain like skin and the white cloth of her clothes and her transmodified white cape. She had to patch the wound and so Khamsei’s other purpose was put into use. The remaining porcelain was moulded in her hands like clay and she applied it across her wounds. The slight touch of chemical magic changing the material to match that of her skin and seal the wounds she had received.

She arose like nothing happened and did not spare a thought to the worsening situation of the wyrm consuming an aberration. With Khamsei consumed, Hoopoe mangled, and now Ysilla’s form fading, she wasn’t sure how much her vessel could offer.

She wasn’t even sure she could make the trip back but had the drive of her purposes pushing her forward. Sister. Preserve. She’d mindlessly follow the convoy as it limped back. The sight of the Refuge did not stir any recollection, like she had never been there. Memory was dying and short term memory was non-existent. This form remembered her sister and thus she had purpose to keep functioning but how long until she forgot Zarina?

O R I F L A M M E

⚜ Camille de la Saumure ⚜

---

Interaction: None
Two days before Relouse / Port Morilles

---

The waves rolled in a soft roar as they crashed along the beach like an invader clashing against the bleached brown sand. Slowed to a crawl, the salt water would climb just enough to caress the bare feet of Camille. It was like the beach had missed her. Was going to miss her, she mused in her head. How long had she been here? Any hour or two? It was difficult to know but she knew the sun had noticeably moved from its low perch on the morning horizon to the high peak of noon.

It was almost time.

Her toes dug into the sand as her arms tightened around her knees, curling herself up to as small as she could be. She didn't want to go. When the news broke in Lord Gabriel's keep that the Eskand and Perrence were going to war, she knew what was coming. What would be required of her. She had been doing it for the past year, fending off the increasing waves of overly zealous Eskandr clan leaders to claim an early prize. They only got what was coming to them. Those that she slayed became feed for the gulls. She let so many of them go though. Maybe if they ran back to Eskand, they would only tell about the hopelessness they faced. It was a stupid thought because now all those that she spared were coming back.

She eyed the waves, feeling their cool touch inviting. Maybe she would just lay here, let the waves take her away. She can drift along the briny surface, floating on her back like Alexandre taught her. The sun warmly kissing her face, letting her slip peacefully into a deep sleep so she'd never have to wake again.

Pentad forgive her for having such a thought but she was already tired of killing. If not her, then another would take her place. That's how cruel it could be and rather than give in, she knew she had to keep going. Spare others from having their lives consumed by violence and death. Dami-Sept guided her this far because He knew better than her. He knew she could or would do it to save others from the unfairness that the foul Eskandr brought with them. Her life of misery for a whole city, no, the whole of Perrence to live free from worry. How could she deny that?

The bells of the Pentad's church began to ring. The Pentad answering her, but it was a sound she wished she didn't hear. The bell chimed for the marshaling of Port Morilles forces to begin. They had a good day's ride ahead to reach Relouse and Lord Gabriel didn't want to tarry.

Camille buried her feet in the wet sand. Five more minutes.

---

Interactions: None
Day before Relouse Invasion / Grand Armee Encampment

---

They arrived the previous evening with enough time to set up their camp. Lord Gabriel was bringing most of his retainers and together they made a barren section of land, in the already bustling encampment, theirs. Lord Gabriel would be staying in Relouse and he offered Camille a bed as well. At the time she believed it was just him being nice and she politely declined several times but later she'd realize, rather be told, that a woman sleeping in a military camp was unusual. Men might act unusual around her.

They did act unusual around her mostly when she left the area where Lord Gabriel's forces were gathered. When she went around in a plain tunic and trousers (she didn't pack one of her dresses for obvious reasons), she'd be occasionally hounded by those that recognized she was a woman. Where's your dress girl? Can you fetch me something to eat? The poor father who had to send his daughter to war... They were probably innocent about their intentions, it was just obnoxious to hear whenever she left to walk around. She didn't even know how to cook that well.

It was even worse when she decided to wear her armor to try and look more official. People, this time including those that knew her from Lord Gabriel's camp, kept asking her if the Pentad were with them. Blessings, pleads, and all manner of wishes and miracles for Camille to perform. She didn't know how to do any of that stuff. She just prayed and her prayers sometimes got answered. How would she possibly know how to commune with the Pentad? They didn't say anything to her specifically, only answering in ways she had to decipher.

When she finally had enough she retreated to her tent where Claude and Armand were laying around. "Dami spare me, please." Camille whined as she threw open the tent flap and walked in, her full armor rattling as she stomped over to her bedroll.

Claude sat up, his expression shifting to amusement. "Heh. People are looking for any sign they are going to make it out alive, Puce₁." Camille paused mid-stride and gave the middle-aged man a look. He lifted his shoulders once and then a hand through his full set of graying hair. "Can't blame 'em for wanting hope."

"Well I know that but you called me puce again." Camille turned towards the man fully now, hands moving to her hips looking at him expectedly. Ever since they worked together as knights under Lord Gabriel, Claude was always doting to her. He had a daughter and a son but to him, Camille was his flea! She never liked that even though he meant well by it. "Oh did I? Ha." The man bellowed, letting his hand message the back of his neck. "Guess I am missing my children already if I am already doing that."

"Better if people underestimate you." Armand chimed in, not bothering to stir from his laying on his bedroll. He had a lot more youth than Claude, hardly having a few ages on Camille. He kept his dark hair short and was rather built compared to the more gaunt figure of Claude. Together, the three of them ran together as Lord Gabriel's knights and had spent the past year together. This campaign was nothing new, although as Claude had said on the march to Relouse, they would be campaigning for a lot longer if this was a true war.

"I know, I know. I just want to be left alone today. I am already nervous enough and when people think I have all the answers, I don't know what to say. I can't just tell them to leave." Camille sighed, finally making it over to her bedroll as she worked to remove one of her plate gloves. "Can one of you just check on Perrin for me, at least." She asked, tossing her glove onto her bed before moving to work on the other one.

"No." Armand quickly replied, receiving a nasty look from Camille in response. Claude, however, rose to his feet with a grunt. "I think ol' Perrin is fine but I'll do it if it means so much to you. But..." Camille froze, lifting her head knowing what was coming. "I get to call you ma puce for the rest of the day." She knew it. Her head dropped in resignation. "Fine. Now go check him. Give him a treat too!"

_{1 = flea}

---

Interaction: @Ti
Relouse Invasion / Relouse

---

Camille, Claude, and Armand were ushered in by Lord Gabriel offering them a place to hear King Arcel's speech and blessing. They had to get ready early enough and so now, they stood in full armor amid the thousands waiting for the ceremony to begin. At first, Camille wanted to reserve her prayer for Dami to relieve her of the weight she carried, both mentally and physically. In full armor, her shield on her back, greatsword propped against her shoulder, she felt exerted from just walking from her tent to the pavilion where the King would make his speech.

Under her breath she muttered her prayer for relief. "Dami judge me right and take this weight for me." A prayer she made every time she was in her full kit and the relief was almost instantaneous, the weight of her armor lifted to be like she was wearing cloth. Her shield pulling on her back, felt like air, and her sword, nothing more than an extension of her arms. She breathed a sigh of relief. The Pentad, namely Dami, could forgive her for making an early prayer.

King Arcel began and reverently, Camille removed her helmet and came to a kneel, laying her greatsword upon her knees. She closed her eyes and with every word, she recited under her breath. It might have been desperate or out of line but she believed the Pentad had to hear their prayers here. All of them. Her people were good, fair, and honest. The Eskandr were cruel, violent, and malicious. How could the Pentad judge this any differently so they had to know. Even if They had to hear it twice. She could feel the Pentad responding, her knees feeling the shake of Their touch through the ground. It was like it was surging to everyone. It was a good sign, Camille believed.

"Amen." She said loudly after the Queen, opening her eyes and raising her head. Several others around her were kneeling with her as a surprise but that was the right thing to do, she thought.

Rising now to her feet, she looked to Claude and Armand. Claude nodded at her while Armand gave her a weak smile. She gave them a nod and a smile back before receiving a bump from behind…

Asier uses the opportunity after prayers to greet Camille as he spots the woman in the gathering nearby. “Pardon, do you happen to be Dame De la Saumure? You are difficult to recognise without the golden skin.” he playfully remarks on the legend as he greets her in a friendly manner, “The Fleur de Lys gave it away. My name is Ser Arslan, Tourrare horseman turned Knight, a Man of Arcel, it is a pleasure to meet someone with a reputation like yours, my daughter loves the stories of your exploits”.

It wasn’t really a bump, more of a tap. It did accomplish the intended effect and Camille turned to witness a man she had never seen before. He knew her, though.

”Oui.” She muttered in reply, realizing where this conversation was going. It wasn’t just the common people who knew her but some of the nobility as well would come up and talk to her. Her stories preceded her, it seemed and the past year of her incursions to defend the southern coast of Perrence were apparently known even to the far stretches of Tourrare.

She didn’t like the stories of her having golden skin.

With a reverent bow, keeping her greatsword pinned to her chest to make sure she wasn’t accidentally swinging her blade in Ser Arslan’s direction, she made the appropriate sign of respect. ”Greetings, Ser Arslan. I do not know if I live up to the stories they tell. People like to make up a lot of things I do…” She resigned humbly, glancing away.

Asier grins widely as he laughs, putting his hand upon the woman’s shoulder. He was thankful she wasn’t 6ft either, as he would have been dwarfed by her size. “Si, you know as the Lion Knight, the Lions must be kept in the stables. It is always tricky when Aslan, Simba, and Leo get hungry. The noble horses don’t tend to like it. Hope your own steed is locked up safely in case they become peckish.” He can empathize with the tall tales and gossip that is spread, subject to those himself, some of them even unflattering thanks to the actions of those envious, can imagine the same for Camille too. “My presence is not aimed to bother you, but if your skill is only a quarter of what they say, we need this strength on this day. Pleased to have you by our side.” He lets go of her shoulder, moving to offer a handshake, treating his fellow warrior as an equal.

Her attention snapped back at the mention of Ser Arslan keeping lions. She had never seen one before but had heard they were vicious beasts. While he could keep them, Camille felt alarm at the mention of keeping lions with the horses! ”You keep your lions and horses together?” She inquired but got her answer from a third party. Claude behind her let out a chuckle. ”No girl, those are the stories they tell about him.”

Camille felt her cheeks warm in a blush. ”Oh.” She muttered, quietly taking his hand and shaking it. ”May Dami judge us all to be on the right side, Ser Arslan.”

Asier nods to Camille’s companions in respect, “Dami will judge us wisely. Now we must retire to the King’s council. After we win this battle, my daughter will be excited for a few days about having the padre papá after meeting you”. He smiles warmly as he departs, “May we meet again”.

Camille gave the man a weak smile. She certainly hoped he would see his daughter again. ”Oui. Dami guide you through battle.” She offered, seeing the man turn and walk. The aspect of being an encouraging figure had always been difficult to her but after a year, she had a couple of lines ready to sound like she knew what to say.

She also figured out that the nobles didn’t need as much mysticism as the commoners did. It was strange but with nobility, she found herself to be more reserved and humble. To the commoner, however, she had to appear steadfast. It was exhausting and she turned back to Claude and Armand.

Claude was amused by it all and Armand looked like his head was in the clouds. ”Always wondered what it would be like to have a reputation like yours, girl. Can’t believe you don’t have fun with it.” Claude received a dirty look and he raised his hands defensively. ”Fine, fine. We should get going. Lord Gabriel’s levy is likely to have made it back home in the time it took for the King to make his speech.”

Camille could only wish that would be the case.

The Hourglass Order

Ysilla Al-Nader

---

Ysilla had laid in the quiet of her room. She had felt tired before but now having the chance to rest, she could not. Sleep required an invitation, but it never could arrive when she wanted it too. For awhile, the Virangish teen lay with her eyes closed only taking moments to peer through slits at the sound of stirring. She swore she heard someone stirring outside and she glanced to the door. Khamsei and Hoopoe sharing the foot of the bed, facing the door acting as sentries. It... was more a ritual than anything else to place them in such a manner. They wouldn't provide any security despite 'watching' the door.

Whoever was outside, Ysilla decided not to investigate opting to return to closing her eyes. Sleep was finally knocking but the dreams were quick to follow.

"Hark in the Halls of my Kin who are Lost...

A feminine voice sang softly, no more than a mere whisper. She carried a tune but her voice croaked with strain and the melody sounded sad. There was a longing in melody, a want for something. Ysilla couldn't see her, the picture was dark as if she had her eyes closed. As if she were somewhere else.

"Sabbah would sing to the ghosts...

The language was Virganish and as Ysilla heard more, the woman sounded familiar. Whoever the singer was, it was like she had known her for a very long time. There was a strange longing, like she felt she was being pulled towards the singer's voice.

"The Ones she had loved, the Ones she had left...

Suddenly there was a sting in her chest, like a needle had pierced her flesh. Ysilla clenched her teeth and thrashed, at least she thought she did but no matter how much her mind played her movement, her body did not stir. Was she strapped down? Encased magically? She needed to open her eyes.

"The Ones who had loved her the most...

A sharper pain in her chest flared. This was no longer a pinprick but now she was being sliced open. She wanted to open her mouth and scream but it didn't shift, not even her vocal chords could wail in agony. Could she do anything?

Now gone for so very long, I couldn't remember your face...

Concentrate. Concentrate. Ysilla heard those words stir in her mind. She had to find out where she was. Find out what she needed to do to break free. It took everything, fighting the anguish of the various pricks and cuts to her chest tearing her apart, but she managed to move. Her eyelids lifted, light rushing in and she could see.

How you could change my life the most...

The woman, singing still as hovered over her chest. Ysilla couldn't see herself, aside from the pale skin of her nose but she could see the woman, focused intently on whatever she was doing to her chest for a moment before she froze. The other woman shifted, the length of her hat coming to block the light and shade Ysilla's gaze. Her hat. Before she could study anything else a soft set of fingers touched her eyelids, gently closing them. Ysilla couldn't see the woman anymore as her song continued for one more line.

You would sing our sorrows away..."

Ysilla awoke with a gasp. She clutched at the fabric covering her chest as she jolted up. Her breathing intense as she glanced around the room. It was just her, back in the Refuge. Nobody was here. Save for Khamsei and Hoopoe who were watching her wake with a fright. Their lifeless eyes seemed to peer focus on her and as she recovered from her reoccurring dream. She always had nightmares but this was the first that actually brought fright. The gaze of those unflinching eyes of her puppets weren't bringing comfort like they did in her room. Her own gaze shifted to her hat that sat in the corner of the room. Why had she seen that in her dream? The girl from last night? She wondered...

Movement outside. People were waking and moving on. She had to as well.

She dressed and stashed Khamsei and Hoopoe in their spots. She had new clothes but her hat and cloak were kept, maintaining that iconic look. Stepping out into the sunlit pavilion, the puppeteer would skulk silently following some of her companions to breakfast.

She didn't eat. Not much, anyway. She had each of the items offered but only a single bite-sized portion of each as if she were sampling them. The cooking was adequate for what it was. This wasn't a place of taste as a segregated colony in a danger strewn desert. They wouldn't be able to bring in spices and more exotic ingredients like the cities of Torragon but the Torragonese cuisine was always Ysilla's favorite outside of some of Virangish specialties.

Discussions at breakfast were dull proceedings. They talked business and any topics away from that were deflected by this table's conversational dictator. Bored, Ysilla sat still and slowly panned from each of her dining companions, watching what they ate and how they ate. Maybe if they reacted a certain way to whatever was being talked about. While the intention was innocent enough, her still and seemingly unblinking certainly came off with a different energy.

We don’t need to fill the minds of children with nightmares

Ysilla perked up. Her nightmare, as cumbersome as it was during sleep, at least offered an insight into what people were like. What did they fear enough to consider it a nightmare? She panned back to warden, patiently waiting to interject with her own question.

"Warden, indulge me. Perchance do you have any nightmares?" She asked plainly like it was an everyday question. If he denied or refused, he was lying. Ysilla wouldn't follow that up, knowing that regardless of his reaction, she would know more about what the warden was like.

---
@YummyYummy

With breakfast ended. Ysilla wondered off on her own. She walked quietly through the grounds, watching the children and the guards go about their usual days. She got a lot of stares back but few approached her, noting that the children might have been instructed to avoid them. A lie by the warden that they could see the children tomorrow. Ysilla wasn't going to cause an issue on that matter yet. She was distracted with something else.

In her mind, there was an inkling of something she wanted to see but couldn't place it. The presence of this nagging desire was bothering her. Last night when she arrived at the Refuge, it was there, but this morning? It was like the thought vanished. Someone had something she wanted to see? But who and what? Her mind began to hurt and slipping a hand from under her cloak to her temple. She rubbed in a circular movement, eyes closed trying let that nagging feeling fall away.

When there was some relief, Ysilla used her exposed hand and lifted up her hat to let Hoopoe out. The wooden bird cawed and took off in a low hover circling Ysilla as she paced over to a wall where she could lean against. She'd sit there and watch as Hoopoe would turn and fly off. The bird airing itself out as it surveyed the Refuge now with the light of day to get the full layout. Ysilla could see through Hoopoe's eyes through a bit of complexity with chemical magic. It stirred her own mind to dream of what Hoopoe was actually seeing. The process was difficult to maintain but very, very useful.

The static entity of the Refuge, the buildings and the like, were swiftly taken into account before Ysilla started to focus on the movement. People. It took work to focus on them after building the image of the landscape but she'd be able to watch people from Hoopoe's point of view. There were the children and guards, even her companions moving about. She watched for awhile before witnessing her sister break away towards the stables. She recognized what that meant.

Opening her eyes, she snapped her attention back herself, slightly dizzy from the effort. Hoopoe would descend as Ysilla started heading for the stables. The wooden bird would arrive first, flying through the window and perching herself on the windowsill, announcing the arrival with a loud squawk. It would be seconds after that Ysilla would step inside the stable.

She stood at the doorway for a moment but didn't give her sister a chance to break the silence first. "You always flee towards animals when anger is at the forefront." She said plainly in their native tongue. "Tragically predictable. You ought to consider that."

The Hourglass Order

@Force and Fury

Morning, maybe. I’ll be on discord tonight I think.

Morning = 12 hours from now. Tonight = ~2 hours from now.

The Hourglass Order

@Force and Fury

Yes. We can try.

The Hourglass Order

@Force and Fury

That is kind of you.

Long story short, Ysilla as an idea was born hastily and not entirely by my own ideas. I’m a planner type who wants to have a strong foundation to build off of. Yums can attest to this but if I’m into a character, I can really stretch out the hows, whys, and what ifs for a chara.

But I can’t even think of what Ysilla wants to make as her next puppet, a central part of the character and that should be fun, what material, form she chooses playing a literary role. I have fun when there is complexity and causation. Because that leads to satisfying pay off or connections.

The Hourglass Order

@Ti

The collab happening and everyone having fun with it isn’t a big deal. Like if you right in the middle of another one and having fun then yes, continue!

The reason I bring it up is that it may have helped me find some fun angle with Ysilla.

It is hedging my bet, too. If Oriflamme is having similar situations happen. I at least have more going on with Camille that is fun for me so that feeling of missing out isn’t really there. So instead of splitting my attention between the both if I’m missing out, then I would at least keep pursuing the character I can have fun with on my own.

Hopefully that makes sense.