Zylvia
Agnorian
Florence Lore / Korina Vale
Florence knew her patience was brittle, prone to flaying at the edges and then bursting in a barrage of claws and fists. She'd gotten a lot better since her days in juvenile detention. It wasn't there that she'd gotten her first bruise or her first beating. Those cherries had long been popped by her mother. It was there, however, that she'd had her first stitches and her first broken bones and her first trip to the emergency room. As much as she hated to admit it, those experiences still haunted her, ghosting her steps whenever she saw hands raised and fingers splayed. The wildfire within her soul had been forcefully quelled to embers. Presently, Florence liked to think she had a much better grasp on her temper, however, she'd be lying outright if she said that the snarky redhead didn't piss her off. One sentence from her pretty little mouth and already, it seemed like they would be butting heads with every sentence that followed.
"Oh darling," she cooed mockingly, lips pouted and eyes hard. "Did someone shove a cactus up your ass this morning? Is that why you're so prickly?" As soon as the words left her lips, she almost regretted it. Almost. She knew her words were harsh and her personality brash, but she also knew she wasn't crude without provocation. She was a beast and she would not cage herself, would not pretend to be civil and pleasant to jailers like this redheaded girl. No. She was wild, and they would know it sooner rather than later.
She stared down the young woman with bullheaded determination, grey eyes stormy. However, before things could escalate further, the appearance of a group of middle-aged men and women interrupted their childish dispute. A single man led the group, exuding command and control. His eyes, appearance and tone were solemn - the complete opposite of her late father - and the words he spoke sent the world spinning on its axis. Was she really supposed to believe he was a "Fire Elementalist Mentor" simply because he said he was? Hell, if only people believed she was the princess of Monaco just because she uttered the words. Florence had just opened her mouth to say as much when another spectacle occurred before her disbelieving eyes.
A blinding flash of light. A second to blink. A greying man with a kindly grin.
As much as she enjoyed these little tricks, the young woman found her mind a riot of emotions. She wanted to believe this was real. She wanted so desperately to believe these people and their little magic tricks. If they were real, if they were who they claimed to be, then she might have a chance to understand what had happened back at the school. She might have someone to teach her how not to get herself killed by flying knives. Gods, please. I'm a fucking hazard to myself. These people could mean the difference between being called a psychopath and being revered as an Elementalist of legend. But Florence couldn't suspend her disbelief that easily. She couldn't just discard a lifetime of myths and legends and jump onto their merry wagon of Mentors and Mentees. She had to be sure.
"That's real impressive," she said, all hard edges and lines, watching the group of people with wary eyes and crossed arms. "But I've seen that parlor trick before. How do I know you people are who you say you are? For all I know, you people could be psychopaths waiting to skin me alive."
A blonde woman, posture stern and rigid, stepped forward from the group, eyes hard enough to match her own. For a moment, she simply stared at the group, scouring them from head to toe, like she was performing a formal assessment. Florence frowned. Whatever this test was, she wasn't sure she wanted to pass. Not until she knew what it was she'd gotten herself into by coming to this hauntingly beautiful place. It was only after a several seconds that the woman spoke, voice pitched low, lips stretched into a cheeky smile.
"You guys sure are a ragtag bunch," she said, nodding her head for emphasis before turning back to Florence. She locked eyes with the young woman, fighting fire with fire. "And you've asked the right question." Without another second's hesitation, so fast the grey-haired girl took a step back, the blonde woman threw both fists forward to punch the open air. In front of her clenched hands, hovering on invisible strings, two blades took form, shimmering into existence from thin air. They were translucent, almost surreal in their intricate designs and gleaming edges. Florence gasped, eyes alight with wonder and fear. If this was a parlor trick, it was like nothing she'd ever seen.
The blonde woman grinned. "Korina Vale. Creation Elementalist Mentor."
Korr knew she was being flashy - unnecessarily flashy - but what better way to convince disbelievers of their identity? She'd learned from her time in the military that it was better to go overboard and then ease up than to go easy and have them pick up the slack. Carefully, she studied the expressions on the kids' faces. They're so young. It's almost cruel to have them here, fighting a war they don't even know about.
@TheWretchedEgg @ShadyAce
Florence knew her patience was brittle, prone to flaying at the edges and then bursting in a barrage of claws and fists. She'd gotten a lot better since her days in juvenile detention. It wasn't there that she'd gotten her first bruise or her first beating. Those cherries had long been popped by her mother. It was there, however, that she'd had her first stitches and her first broken bones and her first trip to the emergency room. As much as she hated to admit it, those experiences still haunted her, ghosting her steps whenever she saw hands raised and fingers splayed. The wildfire within her soul had been forcefully quelled to embers. Presently, Florence liked to think she had a much better grasp on her temper, however, she'd be lying outright if she said that the snarky redhead didn't piss her off. One sentence from her pretty little mouth and already, it seemed like they would be butting heads with every sentence that followed.
"Oh darling," she cooed mockingly, lips pouted and eyes hard. "Did someone shove a cactus up your ass this morning? Is that why you're so prickly?" As soon as the words left her lips, she almost regretted it. Almost. She knew her words were harsh and her personality brash, but she also knew she wasn't crude without provocation. She was a beast and she would not cage herself, would not pretend to be civil and pleasant to jailers like this redheaded girl. No. She was wild, and they would know it sooner rather than later.
She stared down the young woman with bullheaded determination, grey eyes stormy. However, before things could escalate further, the appearance of a group of middle-aged men and women interrupted their childish dispute. A single man led the group, exuding command and control. His eyes, appearance and tone were solemn - the complete opposite of her late father - and the words he spoke sent the world spinning on its axis. Was she really supposed to believe he was a "Fire Elementalist Mentor" simply because he said he was? Hell, if only people believed she was the princess of Monaco just because she uttered the words. Florence had just opened her mouth to say as much when another spectacle occurred before her disbelieving eyes.
A blinding flash of light. A second to blink. A greying man with a kindly grin.
As much as she enjoyed these little tricks, the young woman found her mind a riot of emotions. She wanted to believe this was real. She wanted so desperately to believe these people and their little magic tricks. If they were real, if they were who they claimed to be, then she might have a chance to understand what had happened back at the school. She might have someone to teach her how not to get herself killed by flying knives. Gods, please. I'm a fucking hazard to myself. These people could mean the difference between being called a psychopath and being revered as an Elementalist of legend. But Florence couldn't suspend her disbelief that easily. She couldn't just discard a lifetime of myths and legends and jump onto their merry wagon of Mentors and Mentees. She had to be sure.
"That's real impressive," she said, all hard edges and lines, watching the group of people with wary eyes and crossed arms. "But I've seen that parlor trick before. How do I know you people are who you say you are? For all I know, you people could be psychopaths waiting to skin me alive."
A blonde woman, posture stern and rigid, stepped forward from the group, eyes hard enough to match her own. For a moment, she simply stared at the group, scouring them from head to toe, like she was performing a formal assessment. Florence frowned. Whatever this test was, she wasn't sure she wanted to pass. Not until she knew what it was she'd gotten herself into by coming to this hauntingly beautiful place. It was only after a several seconds that the woman spoke, voice pitched low, lips stretched into a cheeky smile.
"You guys sure are a ragtag bunch," she said, nodding her head for emphasis before turning back to Florence. She locked eyes with the young woman, fighting fire with fire. "And you've asked the right question." Without another second's hesitation, so fast the grey-haired girl took a step back, the blonde woman threw both fists forward to punch the open air. In front of her clenched hands, hovering on invisible strings, two blades took form, shimmering into existence from thin air. They were translucent, almost surreal in their intricate designs and gleaming edges. Florence gasped, eyes alight with wonder and fear. If this was a parlor trick, it was like nothing she'd ever seen.
The blonde woman grinned. "Korina Vale. Creation Elementalist Mentor."
Korr knew she was being flashy - unnecessarily flashy - but what better way to convince disbelievers of their identity? She'd learned from her time in the military that it was better to go overboard and then ease up than to go easy and have them pick up the slack. Carefully, she studied the expressions on the kids' faces. They're so young. It's almost cruel to have them here, fighting a war they don't even know about.
@TheWretchedEgg @ShadyAce
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