Zephyra
༝ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉᵈ ༝
- Joined
- Aug 30, 2024
⚔ Vıolet ⚔
「❝ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢
𝔓𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔪𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯.❞」
Ɱetal parts and gears lay strewn about the city square, the remnants of a great, hulking beast of steel. The steam that once spewed from its cylinders had dissipated into the air as it powered down, defeated at last. The whirring of its engines ceased, a deafening clanking sound as it collapsed onto the cobblestone, the force of its weight leaving cracks in the earth beneath them. The manmade monster had resembled a warthog of sorts, giant ivory tusks and pointed hooves large enough to take out a small building. The creature had wreaked havoc across the center, stampeding through crowds and fixtures alike as it decimated all in its path. Many would starve or find themselves homeless thanks to the food stalls and houses it had destroyed, ensuring that the townsfolk would be scraping by and rebuilding for months to come. Yet worst of all were the innumerable lives that had been lost, the streets coated in the blood of innocents as mothers clutched their limp children to their chests and husbands mourned over the bodies of their wives.
Everywhere she looked she saw death and destruction, the people stricken by despair. The wails of hopeless souls tortured her ears, her heart breaking for them with every strangled sob that ripped through their throats. Some others were already starting to pick up the pieces, good Samaritans running around as they sought to provide aid to the wounded and quell the flames leftover from the aftermath of a hard-won battle.
All things considered, Violet had come out of that fight far less the worse for wear than she'd anticipated. Stumbling backward, she fell onto her bottom, her breathing ragged and strained as she clutched at her chest. An abundance of smoke in the air burned her eyes and lungs, each painful inhalation of breath sending her into another coughing fit. The dark purple bruises along her side ached from the movement, sweat beading along her brow as she turned her head to look around. Her hands still shook, entirely numb from the cold bite of frost that sank deep into her skin, nothing but puddles of water left behind from her ice crystals. A cut above her temple had blood matting her hair to the side of her head, while another gash in her shoulder appeared much deeper. With the adrenaline crash came the pain, searing and sharp. She ground her teeth together, her pale silver eyes searching for her twin.
"Caleb?" The young woman called out for him, a note of desperation in her voice. Had they lost each other in the midst of the battle? She began to sit up, struggling to raise herself to her feet as she tried to remind herself to stay calm, to not immediately assume the worst had befallen him. "Where are—"
A hand gripped her arm, that iron grasp yanking her upwards and forcing her to stand once more. Wincing, Violet tilted her head back to lock eyes with the cold, unreadable helmet of an enforcer. Her heart sank into her stomach, panic seeping into her features as her body tensed up. Had she done something wrong? What would possess a guard to seize her at a time like this? Her pupils darted around, finally spotting her brother in the crowd. He was being restrained in the same fashion, and though she was relieved to know that he was alive, she couldn't help but cry out when she was jerked forward, dragged along like some uncooperative dog on a leash.
"Unhand me!" She cried, struggling against the metal restraints placed upon her wrists. "I have to go to him! Please, you can't do this!"
In the end, her pleas fell on deaf ears. The guard smacked her across the face with the hilt of his sword, the force of his swing prompting her to spit blood onto the pathway beneath their feet. The Ash Lord who'd fought alongside them was nowhere to be seen, and the two found themselves without any allies to defend them. In no time at all they were separated, pushed into different holding cells while they awaited their verdict at the hands of the ruling class. It wouldn't be for another few hours until the bars of her cage swung open and she was ushered along once more, but this time she was treated with much more care.
Violet had been given quick medical treatment for her wounds, a linen bandage tied around her shoulder and a cup of herbal tea to help soothe the pain. Eventually, she was uncuffed and brought into the most lavish room she'd ever seen. It appeared to be an office of sorts, but all of the furniture was more expensive than anything she'd ever owned in her life. Polished hardwood flooring creaked underneath her dirty boots, oil lamps lighting up the room with their orange glow. A man sat illuminated at a desk in the back of the room, his suit threaded with the finest silk in the city. His workspace was littered with baubles and bottles of luxurious liquor, the sound of wine sloshing around in a glass as he poured one out for himself reaching her ears. She was nervous and withdrawn, though she reminded herself to stand straight, recognizing that she was in the presence of a nobleman.
The door opened and shut once more as another figure entered the room. Her brother was led inside shortly after her, directed to stand next to her where they would both be facing the desk. Reaching for him, she took hold of his hand, silent worry plastered across her features. Violet had never been adept at hiding her emotions on her face, and the concern she felt for him now had her busted lips pulling into a frown. But she didn't have time to assess the damages, for her attention was taken away when the mysterious man cleared his throat, commanding the twins' focus.
"I'm sure you're both wondering why you've been brought here. We'll get to that part, but please, take a seat." The man gestured to the leather couch behind them, his voice gravelly and coarse from a lifetime of smoking cigars. Hesitantly, she took a seat, still holding onto her sibling's hand if he sat down beside her. She could use the comfort.
After drinking deeply from his glass, the man introduced himself. "My name is Sir Ambrose Hargreaves, an ambassador for the prime minister. I've been told your names are Caleb and Violet Blackwell, is that right?" She nodded gingerly, confirming his question. "Wonderful. You know, the things you two did out there for the city today could go down in history. I've never seen such a gripping display of heroism in all my years working with young upstarts just like yourselves. You've taken the whole town by storm."
Violet could hardly contain her shock at being addressed in such a way, having expected a scolding or worse thanks to their earlier reception. What had brought about such a drastic change? She slipped her hand out of Caleb's, placing them in her lap as she leaned forward just so. "You flatter us, sir..." She bowed her head somewhat, strands of her wavy black hair falling into her face. "But we weren't trying to be heroes. We did what had to be done, and we couldn't save everyone..." Her eyes lowered to the floor, shame and guilt crossing her features. In fact, she knew that in many ways, this was all her fault. Not the beast breaking through the Ash Wall, but the fact that her and her twin had ended up here in the first place. If she hadn't begged him to take her to the marketplace today, if she'd only stayed in the hideout and let him do his job elsewhere, they wouldn't be in this situation. Caleb never would have had to jump to her defense and reveal himself in the process, and neither of them would've gotten hurt.
"Nonsense. The people of this district will be singing your praises for years to come, mark my words." His words carried warmth, but his smile was too thin, not quite convincing. "Now what if I offered the two of you the opportunity to keep protecting our fair city? Why, with your talents, Mister Blackwell, you could find yourself among the ranks of the illustrious Ash Lords yourself." Violet's gaze flickered over to her brother, gauging his reaction to that bombshell of a statement. Surely he couldn't mean that he wanted to recruit them into the upper level of the military? They were both still so young, largely inexperienced in combat and untrained in the ways of a soldier. To go from being mere paupers to veritable nobles themselves was a leap too great for her mind to comprehend.
Ambrose gestured to her, that thin smile tightening at the corners. "And the lady, of course, would be your Handmaiden. Now, we do have to keep up certain appearances here, you see. The people aren't so willing to accept a Lord without a bride, and we'd hate to have to separate such a loving family. You understand what I'm getting at, of course. Miss Violet here should fill that role nicely, wouldn't you agree?"
The aforementioned woman nearly keeled over right then and there. Did I hear that right? She thought, her face flushing from the suddenness of it all. Her, a bride? To her own brother? Her fingers tightened as they clutched at her roughspun skirts, feeling her heartbeat racing as it pounded up against her ribcage. She knew better than to speak her dissent— not only as a woman, but as a commoner, to boot.
Their host lit a cigar as he let the silence fill out the room, an awkward, almost palpable sort of tension in the air. He puffed on it between sips, the smell of the smoke nearly causing Violet to scrunch up her face in disgust. Of course, she had a functioning sense of self-preservation, and as such she did her best to maintain a straight face. Now she didn't even dare to look at Caleb, her reddened ears a sure sign of her discomfort. Ambrose's hazel-eyed gaze passed over her to land upon her twin once more, something dark underneath his amiable act. "What do you say, Mister Blackwell? I assure you, your acceptance of such an esteemed role promises a great many benefits, not the least of which would be an elevation in status."
As if dangling a carrot on a stick in front of them, the ambassador leaned back in his chair, observing the young pair before him. There was merely the illusion of a choice, for in reality, no such choice existed. Something in the hard edges of his gaze, in the crow's feet that stretched from his eyes and dipped to meet that simpering smile spelled it out for them clearly. They could not refuse. Not if they wanted to survive to live another day.
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