((Thanks to Martiallais for the Idea))
Seven years before the Calamity
“Coward!â€
The insult was followed shortly by a glob of spit, the boy’s pockmarked face leering at her cruelly. It hits her cheek, glistening, and she wipes it off before it can fall down to damage the delicate vellum of the book.
Just ignore them. Don’t give them what they want. They’ll get tired.
They’ll go away. You’ve been through this before.
Do as Leopold told you, endure.
“See? I told you she wouldn’t do anything!†the voice that joins in is shrill and haughty. The kind of voice that could only come from a woman of impeccable breeding. Evangeline takes a peek out of the corner of her eye, seeing of course, the arch-mistress of her torment, Chantrise Dzemael. The woman’s fiery red hair frames a perfect face, skin a soft caramel. “It runs in the blood you know. Cowardice.â€
Evangeline closes the book, her hands clenching as the blood rises to her head. NO! She shouts at herself, forcing herself to keep breathing, to look away. Don’t give them what they want. Don’t play their game!
The three boys snicker at that comment as Chantrise continues, “Tis no suprise, their father never served in the knights, nor their mother.†She sighs deeply, “Is it any wonder their union produced two snivelling…â€
“My brother is not a coward!†Evangeline wonders for a moment who spoke, then realized with growing horror that it was her. Her voice was soft, but carried clearly to all present. She clenches her fists to halt them from trembling, and meets the woman’s eyes.
“What did you say, Lady Primrose?†The woman’s voice sounds calm, but has more of a dangerous edge than a honed blade.
“My brother is not a coward! It’s your sister that…â€
Her words are cut off as Chantrise’s hand snakes out to grab a clump of Evangeline’s black hair, twisting it in a flash of pain. “What did you say? You filth?â€
She cries out, reaching up to try and pry Chantrise’s hand free, but the other woman was larger and stronger. While Evangeline had been shirking her exercises and training in order to read, the highborn woman had been training in sword and lance.
“It’s your brother who lost his nerve when the drake landed! Your stupid cowardly…†The woman’s eyes flash with rage, the three boys edging up next to her with cruelty in their eyes. All three were sons of lords sworn under the high house, there would be no sympathy to be gained from them.
“That’s not what he… your sister is a LIAR! She’s the one that…!†Evangeline interrupts the woman, her own glare matching Chantrise’s. This of course, was the wrong thing to have done, and the grip at her hair becomes crueler, forcing Evangeline painfully to her feet. “S-stop! Let me go!†Her fists grip at Chantrises without effect.
“Ishgard has no place for liars, Primrose.†The woman drives a balled up fist into Evangeline stomach, causing the book to fall from her hands, and clatter to the dirty sand of the training yard.
Evangeline doubles over, coughing, the movement causing her hair to go taut, and for a moment she thinks Chantrise’s hold on it will rip her scalp from her skull. “S-stop…†She pleads as tears well in her eyes, the larger woman preparing another blow. “Let me go! I’m sorry!â€
“From here, It is not she who appears the coward.â€
The voice comes from behind the group, it’s accent plainly common. The four of them turn, shocked at the presence of a commoner in a training yard for the nobility. The owner of the voice was a teenager like themselves, stripped to the waist and doing a series of exercises with a long wooden pole. It was padded on the end, and weighted. A training lance. Sweat beaded on his dark skin, and his long black hair practically dripped with it in the still air of the yard.
For a moment, the yard was silent, the only noise the shuffling of feet and slicing of wind as the duskwight stranger continued his exercises, seeming to have lost interest in the group again.
“What did you say, duskie?†One of the boys said almost on cue, as Chantrise glares at the interloper, Evangeline’s hair still tight in her fist. The boy was a hyur, and while he was shorter than the duskwight, muscles bulged under his training clothes. “Who let a lowborn cave dweller like yourself in here?â€
The Duskwight continues his exercises, seeming to view the hyur as beneath notice. This only seems to annoy the hyur more, and he steps closer, “I’ll teach you some respect, you mouthy shit!†His fist flashes out, aiming for the sensitive spot just below a man’s ribs. Somehow the Duskwight spins out of the way, his training lance flashing as he does so. The length of hardwood smacks into the man’s ankles, sending him sprawling into the ground in a flash of dust.
“Perhaps you all should spend more time training, instead of… whatever that is.†He doesn’t spare the man a second glance, and instead goes back to his training, his wooden lance a whirring blur.
The knocked over hyur crawls out of range before gaining his feet, checking his ankles to ensure they’d hold his weight. “Oh, you’ve done it now, duskie.â€
Chantrise let’s go of Evangeline hair, and the slender woman scuttles back against the wall, whimpering and rubbing at her aching scalp. The four of them pace around the training yard, picking up practice weapons of their own. The hyur slips on a pair of weighted wooden cestus, while the two male Elezen test the weight on practice blades. Chantrise herself hefts a practice lance, and they circle around the Duskwight, Evangeline temporarily forgotten in the pursuit of more satisfying prey.
(part 1/3)
Seven years before the Calamity
“Coward!â€
The insult was followed shortly by a glob of spit, the boy’s pockmarked face leering at her cruelly. It hits her cheek, glistening, and she wipes it off before it can fall down to damage the delicate vellum of the book.
Just ignore them. Don’t give them what they want. They’ll get tired.
They’ll go away. You’ve been through this before.
Do as Leopold told you, endure.
“See? I told you she wouldn’t do anything!†the voice that joins in is shrill and haughty. The kind of voice that could only come from a woman of impeccable breeding. Evangeline takes a peek out of the corner of her eye, seeing of course, the arch-mistress of her torment, Chantrise Dzemael. The woman’s fiery red hair frames a perfect face, skin a soft caramel. “It runs in the blood you know. Cowardice.â€
Evangeline closes the book, her hands clenching as the blood rises to her head. NO! She shouts at herself, forcing herself to keep breathing, to look away. Don’t give them what they want. Don’t play their game!
The three boys snicker at that comment as Chantrise continues, “Tis no suprise, their father never served in the knights, nor their mother.†She sighs deeply, “Is it any wonder their union produced two snivelling…â€
“My brother is not a coward!†Evangeline wonders for a moment who spoke, then realized with growing horror that it was her. Her voice was soft, but carried clearly to all present. She clenches her fists to halt them from trembling, and meets the woman’s eyes.
“What did you say, Lady Primrose?†The woman’s voice sounds calm, but has more of a dangerous edge than a honed blade.
“My brother is not a coward! It’s your sister that…â€
Her words are cut off as Chantrise’s hand snakes out to grab a clump of Evangeline’s black hair, twisting it in a flash of pain. “What did you say? You filth?â€
She cries out, reaching up to try and pry Chantrise’s hand free, but the other woman was larger and stronger. While Evangeline had been shirking her exercises and training in order to read, the highborn woman had been training in sword and lance.
“It’s your brother who lost his nerve when the drake landed! Your stupid cowardly…†The woman’s eyes flash with rage, the three boys edging up next to her with cruelty in their eyes. All three were sons of lords sworn under the high house, there would be no sympathy to be gained from them.
“That’s not what he… your sister is a LIAR! She’s the one that…!†Evangeline interrupts the woman, her own glare matching Chantrise’s. This of course, was the wrong thing to have done, and the grip at her hair becomes crueler, forcing Evangeline painfully to her feet. “S-stop! Let me go!†Her fists grip at Chantrises without effect.
“Ishgard has no place for liars, Primrose.†The woman drives a balled up fist into Evangeline stomach, causing the book to fall from her hands, and clatter to the dirty sand of the training yard.
Evangeline doubles over, coughing, the movement causing her hair to go taut, and for a moment she thinks Chantrise’s hold on it will rip her scalp from her skull. “S-stop…†She pleads as tears well in her eyes, the larger woman preparing another blow. “Let me go! I’m sorry!â€
“From here, It is not she who appears the coward.â€
The voice comes from behind the group, it’s accent plainly common. The four of them turn, shocked at the presence of a commoner in a training yard for the nobility. The owner of the voice was a teenager like themselves, stripped to the waist and doing a series of exercises with a long wooden pole. It was padded on the end, and weighted. A training lance. Sweat beaded on his dark skin, and his long black hair practically dripped with it in the still air of the yard.
For a moment, the yard was silent, the only noise the shuffling of feet and slicing of wind as the duskwight stranger continued his exercises, seeming to have lost interest in the group again.
“What did you say, duskie?†One of the boys said almost on cue, as Chantrise glares at the interloper, Evangeline’s hair still tight in her fist. The boy was a hyur, and while he was shorter than the duskwight, muscles bulged under his training clothes. “Who let a lowborn cave dweller like yourself in here?â€
The Duskwight continues his exercises, seeming to view the hyur as beneath notice. This only seems to annoy the hyur more, and he steps closer, “I’ll teach you some respect, you mouthy shit!†His fist flashes out, aiming for the sensitive spot just below a man’s ribs. Somehow the Duskwight spins out of the way, his training lance flashing as he does so. The length of hardwood smacks into the man’s ankles, sending him sprawling into the ground in a flash of dust.
“Perhaps you all should spend more time training, instead of… whatever that is.†He doesn’t spare the man a second glance, and instead goes back to his training, his wooden lance a whirring blur.
The knocked over hyur crawls out of range before gaining his feet, checking his ankles to ensure they’d hold his weight. “Oh, you’ve done it now, duskie.â€
Chantrise let’s go of Evangeline hair, and the slender woman scuttles back against the wall, whimpering and rubbing at her aching scalp. The four of them pace around the training yard, picking up practice weapons of their own. The hyur slips on a pair of weighted wooden cestus, while the two male Elezen test the weight on practice blades. Chantrise herself hefts a practice lance, and they circle around the Duskwight, Evangeline temporarily forgotten in the pursuit of more satisfying prey.
(part 1/3)