Pirouette

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Jonna Harlson btw.

Picked because it originates with the term “commander” in Swedish I think.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

J O N N A
J O N N A

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^{_{"People are like bees – Some make honey and some just like to sting."}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ Jonna Erik Harlson _________________________________________________________ May 20th,2005 | 18 | Scandinavian _________________________________________________________ Single | She/They | B(i)sexual _________________________________________________________ Mjölby | - | Sweden ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ B U I L D || Slender ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Blonde ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Blue ◼ H E I G H T || 5'-2" ◼ W E I G H T || 82 lbs (112 lbs when reverted) ◼ S K I N T O N E || White - ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M O T I V A T I O N S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Self-Preservation. The idea that she must be preserved may have been a product of anatomical changes. The hive preserves the queen and she is the queen. In her head this is rationalized by her affection for her swarm, especially considering they give their lives for her. She does not want their sacrifice to be in vain. However, an interesting theory was proposed by a psychologist that had Jonna as a patient. He proposed that Jonna’s bees are an extension of desperate self-preservation and are not individually motivated. That somehow, the swarm and Jonna’s consciousness are linked more like a singular mind rather than the alternative theory of Apis swarm dynamics. G O A L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Peace. Although a noble ambition without context, Jonna’s true goal in life, at this moment, is to get to the point to segregate herself from others and live an undisturbed life. The time she is spending now at P.R.C.U was a mandatory step in achieving this peace. An authority to sign off on her moving somewhere warm where she may bask in a radiant sun and a field of flowers. - ▅ N O T E S ▅ N O T E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ►Regular cravings for something sugary and sweet. A necessary bribe to get past her stinging guards to the softer and gentler Jonna. She harbors an extreme loyalty on rare occasions but maintains an otherwise, aggressive isolationist stance towards others. - _________________________________________________________

▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ When a Hyper-Gene drastically modifies a human’s structure, the effects may shape the person as well. Jonna’s early memory as a child is absent either by neglected memory or repressed. She does not remember her parents, only that if they were around, they care little enough to track her down. Her earliest memories reach back to only about ten, the start of her time in the orphanage, Dacke Stödboende, located in Mjölby, Sweden. Her time there was not awful, having been well taken care of, but something about it that was isolating. The environment did not foster an openness for Jonna to develop socially and she regressed into herself. She wanted for little and showed no signs of expression, timid to even comply with requests to draw a picture. A psychologist, Lisbeth Palme, believed Jonna had experienced significant trauma in her early childhood that resulted in her being closed off. However, her arrival to Dacke was nothing more than brought in by the police finding her to be an urchin, having been aimlessly wandering the streets of Stockholm. The first significant improvement in Jonna’s condition came alongside her mutation into her specific Hype-Gene expression. Her anatomical and physiological structures were completely changed in a few weeks due to the extensivity of it. Jonna was bed-ridden from the initial shock but she had no severity of condition. In fact, her body proved incredibly adaptable to the change. Even mentally, the prospect of your body playing host to insects was taken well shortly after Jonna’s realization. This drastic change proved to be a sort of psychological wake-up and Jonna’s seemingly absent existence shifted to focus wholly on the swarm of bees that lived with her. There were issues with this, however. Her connection with what was essentially herself proved to be quite harming to her relationship with others. She saw no issue with letting her swarm fly freely among the other children and staff at the orphanage. Her power plagued others with fright and any action against her was met with a frenzied retaliation by her and her swarm. She proved caustic to the orphanage and they had to segregate her, reverting her back to preferring a more isolationist mindset. To the credit of the orphanage and staff, they still worked with her patiently to ease her out of being aggressively expansive with her Hyper-Gene. Indeed, she did eventually come to understand that people needed their space, keeping her bees away from others was a start. She was integrated back in with the other children after a few months but there was an uneasy existence truce there. The other children were terrified of her and Jonna made little effort to put herself out there. As their last resort, H.E.L.P was requested to take her case. They did so eagerly. Jonna spent that last few years of high school under H.E.L.P supervision. She passed allowing her next step to be attendance at P.R.C.U. to help her further integrate with people. She has made a lot of progress but obviously, P.C.R.U would be a big next step. ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y ||A N A T O M I C A L H I V E __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION ||ESOTERIC __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION ||SOMATIC Ability Keywords: Regenerative First-Aid, Extrasensory, Damage Resistant, Bee Swarm The Anatomical Hive Hyper-Gene is an interesting study into Esoteric-Somatic form. In essence, Jonna’s Hyper-Gene changes her anatomical and physiological structures to both be and accommodate the Apis mellifera or common European Honey Bee. As for the bees, they appear, by all accounts, like normal honey bees. However, some key differences exist. First, their developmental life cycles, while normally measured in weeks, are now measured in hours with fully adult bees capable of being so only a few hours after birth. Their birth, by the way, is a product of HZE-Ions in the marrow of Jonna’s bones. Their rapid development is reliant upon the HZE-Ion supplying the energy to make it so. At peak conditions, Jonna is capable of housing a swarm of 30,000 bees but conditions for this are scarcely available. Among this change is the vast network of hexagon comb structures that replace most of Jonna’s organs, namely her muscles. Instead the comb structure is the organ that clings to the bone and skin, forming channels from their many layers to allow bees to travel throughout the internal part of Jonna’s body. The walls of the comb structure house a few physiological pathways that make functioning possible for Jonna, such as the nervous and endocrine systems. Under this new structure, Jonna proves more or less the same on the outside. She still walks, talks, and all without any apparent differences. Her strength and speed are more or less the same as a woman of her weight and height. One notable difference is that she is lighter and able to land with more of a cushion as the honeycomb flexes and moves to provide her the ability to move naturally. One significant difference is that wounds that do not break her bones or target the head, are essentially unfelt. She has no blood in that regards as well. Instead, her reliance is upon the bees to keep her alive. The bees are vital to Jonna’s existence as they function as a new form of circulatory system and give Jonna life as she knows it. They function as a means to repair and maintain the comb structure of Jonna’s form. They also serve as her protector from harm. Each worker bee is capable of releasing from a special gland, a type of hemoglobin wax that will reseal wounds and recover broken honeycomb structures caused by external damage. Gashes, cuts, and stabbings do not bother Jonna as these can be easily repaired. Bees are directed by an altered endocrine system which functions more as a swarm pheromone under Jonna’s new form. Key relays weave themselves through the honeycomb walls to spread any direction that Jonna provides swiftly to the swarm. Jonna does not directly share mind with the swarm but can translate pheromone signals she receives back from the bees. The bees, themselves, are capable of understanding and relaying simple messages as one would expect from any regular hive. The bees also generate regular honey and wax. Additional Note: Development opportunities for this ability are here for suggestion and are not limited to the following: --Healing others via Bees sealing wounds. May not be provide permanent relief but a way to stop the bleeding in crucial moments. Milestone requirement will be Jonna having a trusted friend that is in peril. –Signaling with Bees with words or images of the bees arranged in a pattern. Milestone requirement will be Jonna’s participation in team exercises or missions. –Drone pheromone relay will allow Jonna to rapidly pass pheromone-encoded messages through the use of drones would be a slight upgrade in intelligence compared to the worker bees. Workers will vastly outnumber the drones by 1000:1. Milestone requirement is scientific instruction or some stronger motivation to improve ability. –Jonna’s own set of insect wings. She’d be able to fly up to 30 mph but this requires some type of mechanic to power up HZE-Ions within her. L I M I T A T I O N S ||N O T C O N T R O L Jonna does not control the swarm but directs it. Each individual bee does behavior on its own and at no point can Joanna directly influence a bee to do anything. Everything must be relayed via pheromone messaging. Additionally the bees are only capable of doing what you’d expect of a bee. Joanna cannot make the bees dance, sing, or illustrate elaborate maps. They are bees and have slightly higher intelligence compared to any other swarm of bees. Additionally swarm reproduction rely on HZE-Ion use. If Jonna reaches her limit on HZE-Ion use then the reproduction of bees approaches days, even weeks of time for fully adult bees to be born. This would balance out, I believe, to Jonna suddenly losing her hive form. Additionally, enough exposure to EBI or any inhibitor will revert Jonna back to a regular human anatomy temporarily. The makeup of her hive form comprises everything the human body has and the DNA would be able to rewrite under the HZE-Ion reaction to reform. Jonna would pass out and awake an hour or so later as a normal human. If she was not exposed to EBI or any inhibitor for an hour or two, then she’d pass out again and she’d revert back to her hive anatomy. W E A K N E S S E S ||S M O K E , W A T E R , F I R E, C O L D Smoke would calm the swarm and make them less responsive. It would also have the side-effect of Jonna nearly passing out and remaining in a rather lax state. Water would be any body of water that goes past her waist. The swarm would be susceptible to drowning and falling into the water might as well be a death sentence for her. Additionally she does not know how to swim adding to the danger of being submerged past her chest. Fire would be a means of swiftly eradicating the swarm. There is also the aspect of smoke that can affect the swarm and Jonna. There is a danger of Jonna’s swarm being reduced in number significantly and then being inhibited or introduced to EBI that could be lethal as the bees do make up some of the biological matter she needs. Cold represents anything just above freezing temperatures as the swarm would be unable to leave Jonna due to the cold. While Jonna can manage in cold weather with the swarm keeping her warm and her keeping the swarm warm, it would be rather miserable. ________________________________________________________________________________________

▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S}
▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{Y O U A W A K E I N T H E D E A D O F N I G H T, W H A T W O K E Y O U?}

It started with the droning sound of insect wings. A familiar hum to Jonna that she knew she wasn’t alone. The sound hadn’t bothered anymore. It meant she wasn’t alone. Her eyes opened softly, her room was still dark with the rising sun barely cresting the horizon to bring just enough light to allow her to see. She turned her head to find the sound of those beating wings. The yellow and black fuzz of the honey bee made her smile, appreciating how adorable her little friend was.

“All ready to wake up and eat? It is barely morning.” She resigned airly with the croak of early morning grogginess. She didn’t want to get up but hungry was a reminder that she, too, needed to eat. She always needed to eat, it seemed. They needed to eat.

She sighed, bringing a hand around to rub at her eyes. “Fiiine.” She gave up, laying there for a moment with her hand covering her eyes. The honeybee landed on the back of her hand gently, stepping lightly across the back of her hand and to the honeycomb hole in her skin where it crawled in.

The room was silent. For a moment. Then the droning sound of wings began in her stomach. The hive was waking and they were all hungry.

_{A D I S H E V E L E D S T R A N G E R A P P R O A C H E S Y O U A S K I N G F O R H E L P, H O W D O Y O U R E S P O N D?}

Jonna tensed up.

Nobody approached her, usually and yet this woman did. The alarm had been instinctively raised and the swarm inside her picked up in intensity to a maddening frenzy. They weren’t leaving her yet but they were ready. The woman had instantly recoiled, backing up, afraid. Jonna knew that look. Many would turn to that look when they realized what she was. The woman was without words, as if she couldn’t understand. Nobody did.

Then something surprising happened. The woman reached out grabbing Jonna’s hand. “Please!” She begged, “Please! Help me!”

Jonna flinched. She hadn’t expected it. A few furious bees bore a hole through Jonna’s forearm and began to make low passes over the woman’s head. She didn’t move. She was afraid but more afraid of whatever else was after her.

Jonna looked up, catching just in time to see a group of men step out of a building. Tattoos. Jackets. Weapons. Danger.

Jonna pulled her hand back from the woman and stepped backwards. “Go.” She gestured with her head in a different direction away from those men. She did not wait to see if the woman understood before Jonna turned and ran.

_{A N I N T R U D E R A L A R M H A S B E E N S E T O F F O N C A M P U S, H O W D O Y O U R E A C T?}

Loud. Alarm. Danger.

Jonna understood that there was risk to her when the campus would activate the alarms. She was always told to seek shelter when the alarm went off. Even if they were drills, she knew she would not want to be put in danger. People were running but where were they going? To the danger or away?

Unsure. Confusion.

Jonna needed more information so she clenched her fingers. The hum of bees picked up in a frenzy as several poured out of her and zipped about the air. They scattered, spreading across a localized area as Jonna looked around trying to see if she could see the potential threat. She did not want to meet the threat and risk herself and the swarm.

Minutes passed and the swarm had gathered in considerable number outside Jonna now. Others were sent searching but then one bee came back. It landed, exhausted and climbed into Jonna finally sending her a message. Danger that way. She turned, looking at the administration building. No fire. No bang. Something bad, worse than those and it was over there.

She turned, running away from the administration building. She needed to hide and protect them all.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

The BeeKeeper

J O N N A
J O N N A

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^{_{"People are like bees – Some are honey and some just like to sting."}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ Jonna Erik Harlson _________________________________________________________ May 20th,2005 | 18 | Scandinavian _________________________________________________________ Single | She/They | B(i)sexual _________________________________________________________ Mjölby | - | Sweden ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ B U I L D || Slender ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Blonde ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Blue ◼ H E I G H T || 5'-2" ◼ W E I G H T || 82 lbs (112 lbs when reverted) ◼ S K I N T O N E || White - ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M O T I V A T I O N S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Self-Preservation. The idea that she must be preserved may have been a product of anatomical changes. The hive preserves the queen and she is the queen. In her head this is rationalized by her affection for her swarm, especially considering they give their lives for her. She does not want their sacrifice to be in vain. However, an interesting theory was proposed by a psychologist that had Jonna as a patient. He proposed that Jonna’s bees are an extension of desperate self-preservation and are not individually motivated. That somehow, the swarm and Jonna’s consciousness are linked more like a singular mind rather than the alternative theory of Apis swarm dynamics. G O A L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Peace. Although a noble ambition without context, Jonna’s true goal in life, at this moment, is to get to the point to segregate herself from others and live an undisturbed life. The time she is spending now at P.R.C.U was a mandatory step in achieving this peace. An authority to sign off on her moving somewhere warm where she may bask in a radiant sun and a field of flowers. - ▅ N O T E S ▅ N O T E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ►Regular cravings for something sugary and sweet. A necessary bribe to get past her stinging guards to the softer and gentler Jonna. She harbors an extreme loyalty on rare occasions but maintains an otherwise, aggressive isolationist stance towards others. - _________________________________________________________

▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ When a Hyper-Gene drastically modifies a human’s structure, the effects may shape the person as well. Jonna’s early memory as a child is absent either by neglected memory or repressed. She does not remember her parents, only that if they were around, they care little enough to track her down. Her earliest memories reach back to only about ten, the start of her time in the orphanage, Dacke Stödboende, located in Mjölby, Sweden. Her time there was not awful, having been well taken care of, but something about it that was isolating. The environment did not foster an openness for Jonna to develop socially and she regressed into herself. She wanted for little and showed no signs of expression, timid to even comply with requests to draw a picture. A psychologist, Lisbeth Palme, believed Jonna had experienced significant trauma in her early childhood that resulted in her being closed off. However, her arrival to Dacke was nothing more than brought in by the police finding her to be an urchin, having been aimlessly wandering the streets of Stockholm. The first significant improvement in Jonna’s condition came alongside her mutation into her specific Hype-Gene expression. Her anatomical and physiological structures were completely changed in a few weeks due to the extensivity of it. Jonna was bed-ridden from the initial shock but she had no severity of condition. In fact, her body proved incredibly adaptable to the change. Even mentally, the prospect of your body playing host to insects was taken well shortly after Jonna’s realization. This drastic change proved to be a sort of psychological wake-up and Jonna’s seemingly absent existence shifted to focus wholly on the swarm of bees that lived with her. There were issues with this, however. Her connection with what was essentially herself proved to be quite harming to her relationship with others. She saw no issue with letting her swarm fly freely among the other children and staff at the orphanage. Her power plagued others with fright and any action against her was met with a frenzied retaliation by her and her swarm. She proved caustic to the orphanage and they had to segregate her, reverting her back to preferring a more isolationist mindset. To the credit of the orphanage and staff, they still worked with her patiently to ease her out of being aggressively expansive with her Hyper-Gene. Indeed, she did eventually come to understand that people needed their space, keeping her bees away from others was a start. She was integrated back in with the other children after a few months but there was an uneasy existence truce there. The other children were terrified of her and Jonna made little effort to put herself out there. As their last resort, H.E.L.P was requested to take her case. They did so eagerly. Jonna spent that last few years of high school under H.E.L.P supervision. She passed allowing her next step to be attendance at P.R.C.U. to help her further integrate with people. She has made a lot of progress but obviously, P.C.R.U would be a big next step. ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y ||A N A T O M I C A L H I V E __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION ||ESOTERIC __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION ||SOMATIC Ability Keywords: Regenerative First-Aid, Extrasensory, Damage Resistant, Bee Swarm The Anatomical Hive Hyper-Gene is an interesting study into Esoteric-Somatic form. In essence, Jonna’s Hyper-Gene changes her anatomical and physiological structures to both be and accommodate the Apis mellifera or common European Honey Bee. As for the bees, they appear, by all accounts, like normal honey bees. However, some key differences exist. First, their developmental life cycles, while normally measured in weeks, are now measured in hours with fully adult bees capable of being so only a few hours after birth. Their birth, by the way, is a product of HZE-Ions in the marrow of Jonna’s bones. Their rapid development is reliant upon the HZE-Ion supplying the energy to make it so. At peak conditions, Jonna is capable of housing a swarm of 30,000 bees but conditions for this are scarcely available. Among this change is the vast network of hexagon comb structures that replace most of Jonna’s organs, namely her muscles. Instead the comb structure is the organ that clings to the bone and skin, forming channels from their many layers to allow bees to travel throughout the internal part of Jonna’s body. The walls of the comb structure house a few physiological pathways that make functioning possible for Jonna, such as the nervous and endocrine systems. Under this new structure, Jonna proves more or less the same on the outside. She still walks, talks, and all without any apparent differences. Her strength and speed are more or less the same as a woman of her weight and height. One notable difference is that she is lighter and able to land with more of a cushion as the honeycomb flexes and moves to provide her the ability to move naturally. One significant difference is that wounds that do not break her bones or target the head, are essentially unfelt. She has no blood in that regards as well. Instead, her reliance is upon the bees to keep her alive. The bees are vital to Jonna’s existence as they function as a new form of circulatory system and give Jonna life as she knows it. They function as a means to repair and maintain the comb structure of Jonna’s form. They also serve as her protector from harm. Each worker bee is capable of releasing from a special gland, a type of hemoglobin wax that will reseal wounds and recover broken honeycomb structures caused by external damage. Gashes, cuts, and stabbings do not bother Jonna as these can be easily repaired. Bees are directed by an altered endocrine system which functions more as a swarm pheromone under Jonna’s new form. Key relays weave themselves through the honeycomb walls to spread any direction that Jonna provides swiftly to the swarm. Jonna does not directly share mind with the swarm but can translate pheromone signals she receives back from the bees. The bees, themselves, are capable of understanding and relaying simple messages as one would expect from any regular hive. The bees also generate regular honey and wax. Additional Note: Development opportunities for this ability are here for suggestion and are not limited to the following: --Healing others via Bees sealing wounds. May not be provide permanent relief but a way to stop the bleeding in crucial moments. Milestone requirement will be Jonna having a trusted friend that is in peril. –Signaling with Bees with words or images of the bees arranged in a pattern. Milestone requirement will be Jonna’s participation in team exercises or missions. –Drone pheromone relay will allow Jonna to rapidly pass pheromone-encoded messages through the use of drones would be a slight upgrade in intelligence compared to the worker bees. Workers will vastly outnumber the drones by 1000:1. Milestone requirement is scientific instruction or some stronger motivation to improve ability. –Jonna’s own set of insect wings. She’d be able to fly up to 30 mph but this requires some type of mechanic to power up HZE-Ions within her. L I M I T A T I O N S ||N O T C O N T R O L Jonna does not control the swarm but directs it. Each individual bee does behavior on its own and at no point can Joanna directly influence a bee to do anything. Everything must be relayed via pheromone messaging. Additionally the bees are only capable of doing what you’d expect of a bee. Joanna cannot make the bees dance, sing, or illustrate elaborate maps. They are bees and have slightly higher intelligence compared to any other swarm of bees. Additionally swarm reproduction rely on HZE-Ion use. If Jonna reaches her limit on HZE-Ion use then the reproduction of bees approaches days, even weeks of time for fully adult bees to be born. This would balance out, I believe, to Jonna suddenly losing her hive form. Additionally, enough exposure to EBI or any inhibitor will revert Jonna back to a regular human anatomy temporarily. The makeup of her hive form comprises everything the human body has and the DNA would be able to rewrite under the HZE-Ion reaction to reform. Jonna would pass out and awake an hour or so later as a normal human. If she was not exposed to EBI or any inhibitor for an hour or two, then she’d pass out again and she’d revert back to her hive anatomy. W E A K N E S S E S ||S M O K E , W A T E R , F I R E, C O L D Smoke would calm the swarm and make them less responsive. It would also have the side-effect of Jonna nearly passing out and remaining in a rather lax state. Water would be any body of water that goes past her waist. The swarm would be susceptible to drowning and falling into the water might as well be a death sentence for her. Additionally she does not know how to swim adding to the danger of being submerged past her chest. Fire would be a means of swiftly eradicating the swarm. There is also the aspect of smoke that can affect the swarm and Jonna. There is a danger of Jonna’s swarm being reduced in number significantly and then being inhibited or introduced to EBI that could be lethal as the bees do make up some of the biological matter she needs. Cold represents anything just above freezing temperatures as the swarm would be unable to leave Jonna due to the cold. While Jonna can manage in cold weather with the swarm keeping her warm and her keeping the swarm warm, it would be rather miserable. ________________________________________________________________________________________

▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S}
▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{Y O U A W A K E I N T H E D E A D O F N I G H T, W H A T W O K E Y O U?}

It started with the droning sound of insect wings. A familiar hum to Jonna that she knew she wasn’t alone. The sound hadn’t bothered anymore. It meant she wasn’t alone. Her eyes opened softly, her room was still dark with the rising sun barely cresting the horizon to bring just enough light to allow her to see. She turned her head to find the sound of those beating wings. The yellow and black fuzz of the honey bee made her smile, appreciating how adorable her little friend was.

“All ready to wake up and eat? It is barely morning.” She resigned airly with the croak of early morning grogginess. She didn’t want to get up but hungry was a reminder that she, too, needed to eat. She always needed to eat, it seemed. They needed to eat.

She sighed, bringing a hand around to rub at her eyes. “Fiiine.” She gave up, laying there for a moment with her hand covering her eyes. The honeybee landed on the back of her hand gently, stepping lightly across the back of her hand and to the honeycomb hole in her skin where it crawled in.

The room was silent. For a moment. Then the droning sound of wings began in her stomach. The hive was waking and they were all hungry.

_{A D I S H E V E L E D S T R A N G E R A P P R O A C H E S Y O U A S K I N G F O R H E L P, H O W D O Y O U R E S P O N D?}

Jonna tensed up.

Nobody approached her, usually and yet this woman did. The alarm had been instinctively raised and the swarm inside her picked up in intensity to a maddening frenzy. They weren’t leaving her yet but they were ready. The woman had instantly recoiled, backing up, afraid. Jonna knew that look. Many would turn to that look when they realized what she was. The woman was without words, as if she couldn’t understand. Nobody did.

Then something surprising happened. The woman reached out grabbing Jonna’s hand. “Please!” She begged, “Please! Help me!”

Jonna flinched. She hadn’t expected it. A few furious bees bore a hole through Jonna’s forearm and began to make low passes over the woman’s head. She didn’t move. She was afraid but more afraid of whatever else was after her.

Jonna looked up, catching just in time to see a group of men step out of a building. Tattoos. Jackets. Weapons. Danger.

Jonna pulled her hand back from the woman and stepped backwards. “Go.” She gestured with her head in a different direction away from those men. She did not wait to see if the woman understood before Jonna turned and ran.

_{A N I N T R U D E R A L A R M H A S B E E N S E T O F F O N C A M P U S, H O W D O Y O U R E A C T?}

Loud. Alarm. Danger.

Jonna understood that there was risk to her when the campus would activate the alarms. She was always told to seek shelter when the alarm went off. Even if they were drills, she knew she would not want to be put in danger. People were running but where were they going? To the danger or away?

Unsure. Confusion.

Jonna needed more information so she clenched her fingers. The hum of bees picked up in a frenzy as several poured out of her and zipped about the air. They scattered, spreading across a localized area as Jonna looked around trying to see if she could see the potential threat. She did not want to meet the threat and risk herself and the swarm.

Minutes passed and the swarm had gathered in considerable number outside Jonna now. Others were sent searching but then one bee came back. It landed, exhausted and climbed into Jonna finally sending her a message. Danger that way. She turned, looking at the administration building. No fire. No bang. Something bad, worse than those and it was over there.

She turned, running away from the administration building. She needed to hide and protect them all.

Okay. Too tired to see any errors so I can now rest.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Utility characters are very cool. Most people aren't willing to give those types a try for some reason.

@TGM

Conflict is easy drama.

Plus who doesn't have a power fantasy?

That said... you may have convinced me to consider something more... hands-off.

We shall see.

The Hourglass Order

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Interactions: GM Foodie, FnF with Isii
Sugah'n Spice

---

Casii had spent her time in a not particularly productive fashion for the mission at large. She did, however, profit in her own way. The day she spent checking the yanii shops and sellers, she found a number of goodies. It turned out to be quite the hassle to haggle without being able to speak their language, nor them speaking the common yanii speak. It took a lot of gestures and repeating words to find a way to express ideas. Even then, looking back, she thinks they were misunderstanding more rather than understanding. She, at least, managed.

The first place was the spice seller. In Casii's experience, yaniis could occasionally see to an interesting flavor to a yasoi's palete. In the end, Casii wasn't sure if she had gotten a good deal or not. The spice she had gotten tasted strong but she exchanged a few melons for a small bag. Curious enough, as Casii was going through different things she could offer, the yanii seller seemed to offer her something in exchange for the entire harvest of an orange tree and some yanii shillings on top of that. It was a case of some thick sauce that was titled with some far-off yanii name: "Bar-bee-Q". Upon dipping her finger and sampling, it tasted rather foul like it had been sitting on shelf for far too long. The yaniis swore it was legendary but Casii didn't think the yaniis had good taste. She considered just tossing it but decided to give it to one of her yanii friends like Desmond. She could imagine he had the culinary taste that... preferred that kind of rankness.

Having spent time in the town, Casii then wandered the border finding a neat garden of rather exotic looking plants. They weren't exotic to the area but they were the more unique plants that grew in the area, gardened here as kind of passion for someone. Casii picked one, a strange cup looking plant. It was a carnivorous plant for small insects, producing a sap in the cup. The yanii whose garden this was came out, alarmed, but quickly assured when Casii displayed her greengrowth ability. He explained in broken common yanii speak about the plant. They use the sap to heal as it had some medicinal properties. Casii gave the man two melons in exchange for letting her cycle one of those plants to obtain seeds for her bag.

---

The following day, Casii relinked with Isii, deciding that maybe she had enough time on her own. She didn't like the idea of leaving Ismette alone because from her experience, it drives her all manner of crazy when she is down. Isii was definitely bothered but avoiding it....

Ismette did not feel like herself. That wasn’t a metaphor. She quite literally did not, and it worried her. Deep down in the very marrow of her bones, it worried her. Was she going crazy? Casii was giving her questioning eyes and that was bad. She’d scarce slept a wink the night before and some of it was guilty conscience and some of it was annoyance at herself, at those stupid yaniis for making her act that way and at Casii for being worried. I’m perfectly not fine, thank you very much, precious one. Truth be told, it bothered her most that Casii was worried for her: that she was some active detriment, right now, to someone she cared about. It bothered her most, except for, well… the thing - the main thing. She hugged herself as she walked, trying to project her usual level of good cheer, but it was a hollow effort.

Casii worked her tongue and jaw extra hard this morning as she swirled around the portion of jamp’ysp she had stuck in her mouth before they set out. It was a habit born out of worry for the yasoi, who usually sought escapism from her life’s problems. The issue this time was, what do you do if they aren’t your problem but someone else’s? Someone important? Someone loved? Casii glanced over to her partner as the pair walked. She was hugging herself, causing the white-haired yasoi to frown. It seemed a lonely gesture, one that you’d need someone to lift you out of, but she had never been good at being soft. ”You know yer huggin’ yerself when you can be huggin’ me all you want. I ain’t mind it, Isii.” Casii smiled but it was a smile marred by concern.

Ismette did what she always did: hugged. It was as natural to her as, well… she didn’t know, but it was natural. It was sudden, too: she wrapped her arms around Casii from the side and tried to squeeze all the strength and reassurance that she could both into and out of her. You’ll think I’m crazy. You won’t say it, or you’ll play it off, but you will, or I’m just dodging responsibility. They parted after a moment. I remembered. I remembered things that were not mine. I acted: acted in ways that weren’t mine. It sounded like excuses, though, and she knew it, like she couldn’t acknowledge what she’d done. It had been her, but it was like there were a hundred other versions of herself or something like her with their hands on the reins, gently but implacably guiding hers. It couldn’t have actually been real… could it have?

There was content and comfort in those arms, Casii always thought. How could you worry when someone special embraced you like they’d never let go. Isii had always been capable of causing that feeling. Although Casii felt guilty in a way that she’d never be able to return what Isii gave her. She damn well tried but it always felt like she could never give enough, even returning that squeeze with everything she had somehow felt weak. Silence hung like a cloak over the pair even after they broke apart. It wasn’t fixed, whatever it was. Isii’s darker side, Casii believed it came from something impure about that magic she used. Dark Magic was named for a reason… ”Hey Isii…” Casii felt her chest tighten and her tongue stick to her mouth. She hadn’t mentioned it yet but she felt like she was feeling it. “You know I love you so you can tell me anything.” She said, low and quiet, afraid that such an admittance would only be met with closed doors. A risk Casii wouldn’t have made so carelessly a year ago but now… She was either stupid or really in love.

“What if that thing was really terrible?” Ismette asked almost… offhandedly. They were the baggage train of the group, trailing behind it as they went through the market. She glanced at some of the bits and bobs that these yaniis sold, but they were mostly boring people.

“So what if it were? I ain’t privy to judgin’ you.” Casii turned and spat before glancing ahead. She felt like she had been slugged in the stomach, regretting that she let slip the L-word. It was foolish of her to admit it so casually. Her cheeks grew flushed with a faint rosy color. Desperate to take her mind off of it she worked the half nut in her bottom lip as she considered how best to appeal to Ismette. “‘Sides, I know yer sweet’n kind’n lovin’n there ain’t a whole lot terrible ‘bout you, Isii. There ain’t nothin’ that gonna change you to me.”

Ismette lost her nerve right there. “Well, luckily, you’re right!” she giggled, before her mirth faded. “Truth is, I kind of lost it yesterday. They damn near killed you and… Ugh. For a moment, I wanted to…” She trailed off with an awkward shrug. “Just smash ‘em. Fuckin’ smash ‘em like they deserved. It’s got me a bit out of sorts, I guess.” She sniffed as they drew nearer to a spice vendor. “Sorry if I’ve been ‘off’. That’s it, really,” she lied.

She nodded a long, seemingly unbothered by Ismette’s truths about yesterday, but there was something about it that unnerved Casii. Her grip tightened around her staff, the Living Wood offering a caressing grip back as it encapsulated her hand almost entirely for a moment before it retreated. “Well yer probably just heated in the moment. Those yaniis were right foul ‘specially that one that went’n shocked me.” She aired casually but eyes narrowed at that being it. If she were better equipped for people, Casii might try to pry out the hard truths but she wasn’t. She just believed that she had to accept someone keeping their secrets.

”You know I went’n bought some kind of dried kelp ‘er somethin’ there.” Casii gestured with her staff towards the spice vendor, deciding on changing the subject.

“Kelp? Ismette squealed, “Like weekos eat!?” She made a face.

Casii shot a scrunched up face back at Isii. “No! It ain’t like for eatin’ like weekos!” She reached her free hand down into her seed bag and pulled out a small ceramic jar giving it a shake. “Fancy folk go’n use seasonin’ on everythin’ so I gots me some of my own.” She popped open the jar just enough to let the smell out allowing the two yasoi to intricately indulge in it. It was actually kind of good… for yanii seasoning!

“Well, you can colour me skeptical, but I’ll try it,” Ismette admitted. “Smells alright, I guess.” They came flooding back to her, then: sitting on a rocky shore, nervous and tired and grateful to have a virgin forest of horrors well behind her. Glancing over her shoulder and pulling her knees up to her chest around a fire. How many stars there were in the sky! She bit into the fish and the seasoning on it: it was like what Casii had, and suddenly Ismette knew exactly how it would taste. It would be no surprise and it would bring her back to that place. Then, just like that, she was back in the moment. There was a bit of an aroma from one of the stands and she was glad of the distraction. “You know what smells better, though?” she asked rhetorically, “That, over there!” She pointed at a baker’s. There was something about that salty drudgunzean bread that she’d taken to immediately upon arriving in Constantia.

“Yanii bread, huh.” Casii mused, almost sounding disappointed but she wasn’t really. She just liked to give yaniis and everything they did a hard time. “Only if they’re offerin’ ‘nough butter to go’n make it extra savory. ‘Cuz I ain’t gonna mind it then!” Casii would follow Ismette over to indulge in their little distraction. Ismette would eagerly accept, in some sort of mutual acknowledgement to avoid the elephant in the room… for the time being.

The Hourglass Order

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Interactions: None
Crick in Ass No Where

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It had been a restless night, the yellowing sun rising above the horizon to take the chill of dawn away. Casii had found a comfortable spot, dangling out of their second story window as she watched the town wake from their slumber.

One that Casii had found little sleep, though she never found comfort held up in a yanii building. The air was too stagnant, and the walls seemed to close around her. Isii didn't get much sleep either, it seemed. No doubt in regard to her lashing out and there was something about that that stuck with Casii. Fighting for their lives is one thing but there was something more in Isii's twisted motivation to interrogate that dumb yanii for information. Was there really information there because in Casii's eyes those were some bums who picked a bad target and she often didn't mistake things like that. Something about it made Casii consider that Isii wasn't coming from a good place.

That frightened the fuck out of her.

Dark magic always didn't feel right from the way it removed existence outright to the unnatural monsters it seemed to bring forth. Casii liked to believe all of life had some kind of connection and transference. You die, you become fertilizer. That was natural but whatever Isii was learning interrupted that. There was nothing natural about it. There were times Casii made her opinion on that matter known, but seeing as she hadn't seen the things Isii had in Tarlon, she didn't have much leg to stand on.

Fight horror with horror or something like that.

Still, what Isii did yesterday wasn't sitting well. Casii asked about her last night, but Isii was played it off. She did that, trying not to make her worry but come on. She'd worry.

Reaching into her bag, Casii found half a half jamb'ysp scrapped the inside against her teeth before burying it into her cheek. Taking mental stock as her hand shuffled around her bag, she frowned realizing she had been slacking on keeping her stock up. Two left. A consequence of being distracted or lazy, even. She didn't care which but she'd need to slip away at some point if she was going to survive this trip. Then again, maybe the yaniis here had some. They were not far from Qarii'Muuna, relatively anyway, so they might have some from trade. Maybe Tusa did come all the way out here in his shitty raft.

"Humph. Vyshta's favored fool." She leaned forward and spat, letting her spit drop to the ground. She dipped back in to throw on her jacket, the wyrm scaling and froabas leather glittering in the sunlight as she peered out the window again. She picked up her staff and leapt out, landing in a low crouch.

Time to see what the yanii sellers had. If she could understand this crazy yanii speak.

The Hourglass Order

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Student Magic Specializations

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Start of Arc Four

❖ Casii'fyret'alan 0 3 3 2 0 0 2 0 0 0 0

Arcane Binding Chemical Kinetic Magnetic Atomic Blood Temporal Dark Command Primordial

The Hourglass Order

@pantothenic
Panto is a bum for not putting it in his character sheet.

The Hourglass Order

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Interactions: None
Sweet Breathin'

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Early mornin' riser, Casii always was. Like the plants and trees that craved the first light, shuddered excitedly as morning breeze swept over them, Casii too found the light of a new day to be refreshing. She found one of the higher roofs in Ersand to situate on the ledge of and look out to the horizon, waiting for that sun. Her feet dangled and kicked energetically as she popped a fresh Jamb'ysp into her mouth, letting the buzz of take a weight off of her shoulders.

She ran her hands across her new staff that lay in her lap. The Living Staff, they called it. Casii wasn't quite so sure until she held it. A powerful presence sat inside, at least she thought so. Her first touch alone had made her believe there was something excited about greengrowth manas. She wasn't sure she could articulate it to anyone clearly, but the Living Staff wasn't just plant or a staff. It was more, something special.

"Humph."

Casii knew that sound. That grunt of disappointment had been chasing her all her life.

"What you want, ma?" Casii snarled, letting her throat churn a clump of her chew before she hocked it out down to the street below.

"What you want, ma is it? After all the fine raisin' I did, you go'n buck up like that? Avoidin' my visit, too. Yer always bad for benastyin' my mood before we even begin. Some ruint you turned out to be." Taarie spat, if her mood grew sourer, Casii could not tell.

"I ain't beholden to you'n yer raisin' any much. Why, I turned out dandy without you." Casii stopped swinging her legs to turn give her mother a sour glare. Although she could never quite match the sourness her mother always had. She tried, at least.

"Aggin' me on with yer look, girl what a fool yer turnin' out to be. Be any wonder where yer gettin' over yer head with warshy contest'n an unfitten prize." Casii turned away, staring back out across the academy skyline, just as the sun was starting to crest the horizon. She had a feeling it was coming to this. Her mother's greed creeping in to taint what should have been a chance for some sort of attempt at a warm relation.

She clutched her hands tighter around the Living Staff. It seemed to react, hardening to her tenser grip. It was strange, she thought it felt like the staff was trying to convey a resilience, even annoyance at her gripping it.

"Unlessen you want somethin'n, I wanna be on my ownself, ma."
"Yer ownself? That how yer goin' about treatin' yer ma when she carries yer kin to yanii land? Leave ya just like that? Girl, yer somethin' else. Heartless as a Finch'r."

Casii felt her chest stir with guilt. Was her mother really trying to extend some curtesy here? This felt like her mother's usual routine of making her feel guilty and preying on that, but what if it wasn't this time.

"Dammit, ma! I just wanna be on my ownself now! Casii leapt up and turned, snapping in frustration. "I'll... see you, pa, Jesuup later. Fair'n all?" She relanted, feeling like she was reluctantly conceding a defeat.

"Fine. Dunk yer head in the mud'n come find us. I ain't leavin' till we do a goodbye proper, girl."

Casii watched as her mother turned before gracefully leaping off the ledge, vanishing from sight but surely scaling down with ease. Now she had to find them later, knowing her word would be taken true. Her mother's threat was true to. She'd stay all school year, harassing her if she didn't give her what she wanted, but no way in five hells was she giving the Living Staff to her mother if that was it.

She sighed audibly. Where was Isii when she needed her? She'd need backup for what was to come.

O R I F L A M M E

⚜ Camille de la Saumure ⚜

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Interaction: None
5.1 If only for a Moment

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Your mother is alive..

Camille felt weak. She had been prepared for the worst when seeing her father. They hadn’t said it, but the feeling was shared between them. Her mother should have been gone and yet, by the Grace of Oraphe-Sept, she had been spared but to what degree?

The cavern passage grew narrow in this alcove of the cave system as the little saint followed her lifetime friend, Claude, through. Even from behind, it was clear to see the damage the Eskandr had done to him. Sweat clung to his brown, ragged shirt sticking to his skin revealing just how much weight he had lost the past few days. He favored his right leg, barely finding comfort when weight came to his left. Cuts and bruises marked up his arms, neck, and face but she wasn’t sure how old they were.

It hadn’t occurred to her until now that she should have asked for Dami’s Judgment to heal. She came close to saying something until he spoke, cutting off before she offered. ”Oh don’t worry about me, girl. I can handle a few lumps. It is your mother you should comfort…” He paused and Camille peered over to see his face contorting in conflict. It was like he wanted to say something. ”...She’s been through a lot.” He turned and gave her a flimsy smile. Even she could see he was putting on a face.

Claude must have been disappointed in what he saw because his smile faded, giving up as he gestured down the passage.

Camille gave him a blank look, confused foremost, before she stepped lightly onward down the short distance to a small circular room, carved clearly by ancient predecessors. Dim candle light flickered, giving illumination to the small room, displaying a few women huddled together for warmth? No, support. Their quiet sobs carried in the small room as Camille stood at the entryway. She did not move, nor did the women as the two parties considered the other.

”Camille?...”

Her mother’s voice was masked behind a hoarse and tired throat, but Camille knew.

”Mama?”

Camille wavered with a weak reply, tears welling up in her eyes. Her mother sounded so weak… so soulless… She couldn’t explain it and didn’t have the ability to understand it as well. All she knew was that her mother was there. The little saint lunged, the women grouped with her mother parted enough for the two to embrace in tears.

They had both faced horrors on their journey to get here but they did get here for at least this moment in time.

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Interaction: None
5.2 The Gambit Chosen

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”It is utter madness. You all can’t be actually considering going along with what that knight said?” Marion exclaimed, her singed hair on the left side of her face would have been quite distracting had it not been for the eyepatch. That still took Camille some getting use to.

”Normally I might agree but I have a good feeling about this. Dragons aren’t one to mess about but what other choice is there?”

Claude was standing before he became lightheaded and dropped carefully onto his rear so he could sit the rest of this debate out. It was just the Port Morilles denizens in this particular part of the cavern, waiting out the dragon’s frequent flybys that kept them pinned inside.

”Since when is that our only option?”

Camille was never one for strategy. She felt like she could hardly read at times, let alone propose something thoughtful in this situation. Instead, she watched the proceedings like a witness in a court. Both Marion and Claude were smart enough so surely one of them could make a sound argument. Her and her mother were nestled together, sitting with their backs against the wall and leaning on one another. Camille had gotten some sleep at some point before Ser Maerec came forth with a plan.

”Oh think outside the box, Mare” Claude held a sincere smile. He was quite thrilled his children made it out of the siege alive and more, they were here. It was good to see him smile sincerely again. ”If we tame a dragon. Actually do it, then we win the war.”

Taming a dragon.

She didn’t really believe dragon’s were as smart as dogs but apparently they were, enough to at least tame one. If it was her choice, she’d want to try and slay the beast before it could burn any more homes or people. That, of course, carried risks and she wasn’t sure how she could slay something flying.

”You say that like it is casting a net for fish, father.” Marc finally chimed in with a light chuckle. He always reminded her of Claude, simply because they both took everything lightly. Marion, however…

”If you think for one minute that it is possible to tame a ravenous beast breathing fire in a primal rage then you and this war are truly lost.” Marion shook her head. ”Sometimes I think I’m the only sensible one here. Camille!”

Camille jumped and turned her head to meet Marion’s single eyed gaze. ”Please tell me you aren’t also considering this braindead idea.” Marion shifted into a glare, expecting the intimidation tactic to strongarm Camille into agreeing with her. The little saint, however, had no idea.

”Whatever helps us now.” Camille offered softly, not trying to choose a side in order to be fair. She didn’t want to waste lives in an attempt to tangle with a dragon but if they could do it… shouldn’t they try?

”Camille…” Her mother softly spoke, pulling her attention away Marion groaning loudly in annoyance as Claude came in to point out he was winning.

”Even if they try.. Don’t go. For me.” Berenice had moved away so she could look Camille in the eyes. She was pleading, desperate for Camille to stay. How do you tell your mother no?

”Mama…” Camille muttered, shifting her grip to her mother’s forearm and lightly squeezing it. ”I have to.” She stated as gently as she could but could already see her mother’s eyes water. ”I won’t lose you now. I can’t keep going through with this.”

Camille didn’t know what to say. She was in this armor for a reason. Dami chose her and she couldn’t abandon that, could she? Men like Ser Caelum or Ser Maerec or women like Queen Eleanor were devout and pious to their belief. How many times had Caelum saved her? If she could just extend that saving grace to others then she hoped that would be enough.

”Dami chose me and I have to.” Camille wished she had something more inspiring or convincing to say, but that was the bare truth. She was chosen and this was her duty. She didn’t understand it, but she saw it in those noble souls around her. All called to be arbiter’s of the Pentand

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Interaction: None
5.3

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Interaction: None
5.4 The Cost for Reward

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Interaction: Eleanor [@ForceandFury]
5.5 Rallying Cry

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Eleanor had never trusted Talit’yrash. From the day they had first met, as girls of sixteen, the yasoi had reeked, to her, of lust - and not just sexual lust, not just for Eleanor’s husband. If I could have the aid of her magic right now, the queen thought, I would take it in a heartbeat. The colossal black dragon that had plagued these lands for decades, that had taken countless lives, and that had fought with such ferocity against the combined efforts of humanity now lay draped across the summit of Mont Errant, beaten and submissive. If many might have seen tragedy in the mighty beast laid low, Eleanor was not among them. For the queen of Parrence there existed only the triumph of human will and ingenuity and the ample blessings of the Gods. One creature did not possess an inalienable right to lord its dominion over others and it was right and just that humans should fight back and secure for themselves survival and peace. Such were the tests of Echeran and they had passed this one. Lives had been saved by Eleanor’s actions and those of her countrymen.

Yet, it was not the lives saved that held themselves uppermost in her mind, but those lost. These men and women had placed themselves under her care and some eighty percent of them who had left the killing fields of Relouse with her had joined Ahn-Eshiran. It is the will of the Pentad that they give their lives for a just cause, she had counseled herself when first the Nashorn treacherously broke the sacred rules surrounding Camille’s duel. They have died heroically, she had thought as more fell in battle against the Eskandr. They have earned their places in the Five Heavens, among the angels and Pentangels. She clung to it as truth while the dragon’s fyre swept through her army and they perished in agony by the hundred. She had nearly joined them. She had not been ready to die. For all her pious talk, Eleanor de Perpignan was not content to give her life away. The same had likely been true for most of them.

It was the early morning after the battle. A cool, clammy mist hung heavy across the battlefield, coating every surface. The sun glowed a faint bluish behind a mourning curtain of clouds and she leaned tiredly against a tree, squeezing her eyelids shut and rubbing the bridge of her nose in regret, frustration, and a sense of relief that she knew for misplaced. Sleep had been poor and fleeting in the night. There was no building left standing and much of the army’s baggage train had been burnt. People had slept in the caves and under trees. The Queen of the Parrench had lain on the ground among them, if slightly removed. She’d awoken in the morning dampness, blinking droplets of condensation from her eyelids. Eleanor took a deep breath in, held it just long enough for her body to feel it, and released it. Her conduct was central to her people’s chances of success, and the march of battle was relentless. She opened her eyes, pushed off of the tree trunk, and walked among them.

The cowardly Eskandr had left them to deal with the dragon, indifferent to their success or failure. Cowardly, she thought, but tactically astute. tactically astute, but not strategically. Sir Maerec of Solenne had broken the beast’s spirit and it was now his as it was healing, being nursed back to health at his hand and that of her brother. Thank Oraphe that Percy was okay. As obnoxious as he could be at times, he was a far more complex person than many gave him credit for, and he was her brother, after all. Now, however, another person dear to her was threatened. It was a near-certainty that the Eskandr army had broken for Chamonix with all haste, and that they would join with Hrothgar’s force to annihilate her husband and his soldiers and take the city. She shuddered to think what those people would suffer: all of the pent of rage and frustration of these southmen, held back by so few scruples and so tenuous a moral fibre. She had perhaps four hundred able-bodied fighters left under her command, little in the way of a baggage train or supply lines, and a host of ills to contend with. She needed them to press forward. They would have to press on to Chamonix at speed if they were to have any hope of affecting the outcome of the battle. Perhaps they could stop in Ambroix and Girenne along the way. Those were towns of some note. Perhaps they could pick up some recruits. It had to work. There was no other option. If Chamonix fell, if Arcel fell, Parrence would be broken, and her with it.

To that end, her eyes roved across the makeship camp as she walked, delivering greetings and encouragement to all who noticed her or appeared in need of it. There was one person, in particular, who she was looking for.

Camille did not find much sleep, even embraced in her mother’s arms. Victory had been theirs and their constitutions tested but the charred smell that still lingered in the air hinted at the cost. Many lives, good lives, had perished. All sacrifices to a ceremony of taming a beast that laid low the people of Perrence for as long as memory served. A small victory, sure, Camille couldn’t contest that but she’d trade it in the heartbeat to end the war now. Maybe it would.

Despite how burdensome those thoughts were, Camille’s rest wasn’t disturbed by the weight of life. Rather, she was encumbered by a discomforting realization. Dami had seen to spare as many of her loved ones that were in her prayers. Her mother, although fractured, was still alive along with her father and her friends, aside from Armand. Her hometown had even shown a resilience, outlined by the kind Ser Caelum to her. She had protected the things dearest to her as best as she could from the evils gripping the Eskandr. That was a victory and yet…

Her eyes wandered to the greatsword she had claimed from the dragon’s horde. A superior blade compared to her previous that looked unscarred by the passage of neglect for the time it had been sitting in that cave. The only impurity, if you could call it that, were the intricate runes of some unknown meaning and origin were lightly smithed into the sides of the blade, writing out a poem or story. The symbols started about a third of the way up the blade and carried down, over the hilt and onto the handle. It was beautiful and Camille could swear there was a slight glow to the whole blade when she held it, a surge of strength she hadn’t anticipated and perhaps what she feared, a calling.

Dami did not place this for her to find to retire peacefully back home. She had been called to be more than herself. She always loathed losing what she had, giving up her life of happiness and simplicity for others. However as the tragedies of this war increased, she was beginning to understand Dami’s Judgement. Let the few be chosen to protect the many. How many other Camille’s relied on her saving them just before their unrighteous end?

Her life to save the others.

She reached out and clutched her new greatsword’s handle, her touch causing the symbols to glow faintly. Were those Dami’s words addressing her? Maybe one day she could read them and know that she made the right choice.

Someone was approaching. Camille and her mother had tucked away in a shallow cut in the rockface, preferring to be away from the others but still close enough to react to any urgent cries. She wasn’t sure she trusted the idea of a tamed dragon. Rounding into view was Queen Eleanor making Camille’s eyes widen in realization as she stirred, shifting her mother who was leaning on her still asleep.

”Mama, the Queen.” She muttered, grabbing and helping her mother up in a haste. Camille had a reverence for Queen Eleanor, believing her to be the best of them with a pure heart. Though she had never directly interacted with her or really any royal before. Bowing reverently, Camille bent at the waist. If she had been wearing a dress, she might have remembered that she was supposed to curtsy, but she rarely wore a dress in any event. At least she thought so but her mother bowed with her, leading to a slight bit of internal confusion.

”Bonjour Queen Eleanor.” Camille spoke loud but rather plainly, believing herself to be just no one of importance.

“Camille.” Eleanor reached out and took the youth’s hand fondly before turning to her mother. “You must be madam Saumure.” She smiled. “Your daughter is an amazing young woman.” The words felt rote even as she said them. How else was she to address a commoner who she did not know? “I am filled to see that the both of you are well and at last able to take some moments together.”

”Your words and blessing are too much, my lady.” Camille kept her head bowed, fingers curling in fists as she grew tense. She had often heard stories of royalty chopping the hands off of peasants that acted disgracefully in front of them or broke a rule of etiquette. She wasn’t sure what the rules were and could hardly remember the ones she had been taught, hoping that she was sufficient enough in this regard. ”My mother and friends are alive, but I would have liked to save more. Even the ones I didn’t know, my lady.”

Eleanor flashed a reassuring smile in the direction of the girl's mother and took Camille’s other hand. “I know well the feeling, Camille, for it burns me inside as well. It burns me as the one who was called upon to lead you here. We have known a great success, but each life lost…” She turned momentarily to Camille’s mother. “Might I borrow her for a moment?” She felt awkward even asking, for she knew that she would not be refused.

Camille’s mother had still clung to her daughter’s side and looked up, concerned as the Queen made her request. Camille’s eyes peered over to her mother’s worried that her mother might just refuse the request outright. The look on her face had certainly been saying that but there was a small breath of relief when the little saint felt her mother’s hands lighten around her arm. ”You may, my lady.” Berenice muttered, backing away meekly.

Camille frowned but turned her attention to Eleanor, partially relieved she could be spared from her mother if only for the chance at a clear head. Though that prospect itself was daunting because now she had to contend with her royal manners. Silently she nodded, signalling she was ready to be borrowed but certainly appearing apprehensive about it.

They walked along the edge of the camp, towards the shore of Lac Ste. Elaine, and there remained the smell of burnt things about them. It was inescapable. “We have known great success, Camille,” she reiterated. “We are of similar mind on that, but each life lost… I tell myself that it is Echeran’s will” - she looked up to the sky momentarily. It remained a mourning shroud. - “but it feels like a failure.” She regarded the youth’s hesitancy. “You should speak freely in my presence. We are all ordained for different roles by Dami, and mine is a large one - to be queen of this nation - but I am a mortal woman no different from you beyond that. I swear it.” She tried to smile.

They had only managed a couple of paces before a reminder, outside of the smell, was found of the cost of their foray with taming a dragon. A charred skeleton near the path, flaking and brittle from a mere scathing of that dragon’s breath. Bone would likely be dust if directly hit by the inferno spewed from the creature’s mouth. Camille stared at it as they passed, never before seeing the decrepit sight of black human bones like that.

When the queen spoke, however, Camille had turned her attention around again, facing forward to remain more polite or so she believed. Her words were, indeed, something she’d expect from one so noble, but that voice… it even betrayed the emotion to Camille. She was tired. They all were and not in the physical sense but mentally and emotionally. It was uniquely vulnerable, Camille had thought and when given permission to speak freely, she had one thing in mind instantly.

”Are you tired, my lady?” The little saint inquired and it might have been a lead into a concerned offering to sit, but no, Camille was analysing, encountering the rare chance to see someone she had placed so high and impervious before to be a little bit vulnerable… Like herself.

”With your role. You said it like I would to..” She paused, considering that she may have crossed a line with being so direct, however, she found it to continue. ”...Like I would to Claude or Armand.” She felt her mind wander back to the camp, just before the war began. It was a happy memory. ”Saint Camille…” She muttered meekly not trying to sound boastful. She wasn’t, just recalling all the times people would look up to her. It just wasn’t something she understood, but now… maybe she would.

Eleanor smiled faintly, slowing as the lakeshore appeared around a bend in the trail. The sickening smell of death was nearly one from the air. It was just her and a simple girl, guileless and decent. and perceptive, in her own fashion. It had been two weeks since the queen had so much as touched another human being in a manner not perfunctory. It had been two weeks of eyes looking to her for guidance, for answers - eyes that looked up to her and eyes that harbored their own ideas and silent doubts. She had not always wanted to lead. She had grown into it, but still ever under the wing of dear Arcel, until they had parted. “I am not supposed to say these things,” she sighed, “as I can see that you recognize.” There were ducks on the lake. Was it this one or another where she had fed them as a girl. It did not much matter. She turned to Camille. “I am exhausted. My vessel is battered and emptied.” She turned back to the lake. “But I shan’t succumb, just as I am now certain that you shan’t, Sainte Camille.” She glanced over as the youth came up beside her, corners of her eyes crinkling in some genuine fondness. “Some of us must serve so that others do not have to.” She sat then, in the damp sand, not caring much for cleanliness. It was all horribly improper. “BBut you have served so greatly and given so much.” Her voice took on a note of sadness, “At such a tender age - and I do not mean to belittle you. I would not command you to come with me to Chamonix. You are free to spend this precious time with your loved ones.” Out on the lake, five ducks and, belatedly, a sixth, took off and flew into the slowly-brightening sky.

Camille, since the first time the queen had arrived, had fully looked into the face of Eleanor with dull brown eyes searching and studying the queen’s after everyword. Were they really so alike? Did Queen Eleanor, the Pentad’s chosen for Perrence, really feel these same things that Camille toiled with? Did she really justify it the same way Camille had? That others could be spared if the few answered.

The little saint joined Eleanor down on the sand quietly in her own mind. Her gloved hands curled around the sand naturally, feeling the slight familiarity of home. It made it painful to think about as the queen offered her the chance to lay down, put to rest her sword and return home. She stared blankly across the calm water, watching the ducks passively as her mind furiously worked itself into a frenzy.

All she ever wanted was being offered. A royal pardon from the war to go home, her family and friends to go with her. Had she been asked this two weeks ago, she believed she would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now, she felt a weight still her tongue on the tip of an answer she couldn’t believe she was about to admit. Her mind played reason after reason to not say it, give in and live how she wanted, but she couldn’t convince herself.

”I shan’t go home.” Camille spoke clear and calm though she thought her voice trembled at the admission. ”I will go to Chamonix so they don’t have to. I need to go so others I don’t know have a chance to live a life I wanted.” Camille turned her face, unbreaking in a resolve. She wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from. Her hand palmed and ran over the Oraphe blade she had been given by Caelum, finding its touch to give her strength. ”I’ll serve Dami so that Parrence may be blessed favorably in Judgement.”

For a moment, Eleanor merely sat in the sand, listening. Her heart grew heavy and soared at once. Perhaps, if Camlle felt so, then there were others. Perhaps their queen was not simply spurring a coalition of the otherwise-unwilling with the strength of her rhetoric and the weight that her authority carried. Wordlessly, she reached out and squeezed the youth’s shoulder. Though it was an embrace that she truly craved, it would not be proper, and Dami had assigned for her the role of queen and its host of other benefits. “Thank you, Camille.” She meant it. So often, she gave away her thanks in perfunctory fashion. Eleanor took in and released a breath, and it rose, misty, in the direction the ducks had gone. “We may yet earn our peace, and I pray that we do, but I will allow the knowledge that our actions maintain peace for others to sustain me, as I can see that it sustains you.” She rose, then, and brushed herself off. “We must break camp soon, and make haste for Chamonix, for the barbarians are relentless and without honour and I sense that the city will die without our aid, and… my husband with it.” She was earnest, perhaps too earnest, for she had not been raised in such a fashion. “It means very much to have you at my side.”

Camille had maybe for the first time been sure she was in the right place. Hearing the queen speak to her as an equal even had been the surest way that the Pentad made their will known. It made her heart swell as she rose, joining the queen on her feet. ”I’m ready.” She nodded, rubbing the last bits of sand she had in her hands. ”We will save Chamonix and the King.” The little saint bashfully added with the slightest of smiles on her face. ”Parrence along with them both.”