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jay is my name and playing tall pretty women is my game ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

The club only continues to expand ⇨

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C L A R A

IFRISE FOREST — SOVEREIGNTY OF DRYADLIS


Clara's attack had sent the maleficarum into a tree, and herself face first into the soil, again; twisting her body around so aggressively had thrown her off balance, and she had been met with a mouthful of dirt. Judging by how the frantic yells of her fellow magi were starting to peter out, it appeared their battle had finally drawn to a close.

But Clara wouldn't let this downtime go to waste, already fearing the worst considering how the last few hours had played out. Damage had been done to the maleficarum — Clara had made sure of that — but there was no telling if it had truly been enough to bring her down.

Then there were the inquisitors back at the barge.

If what Etoile had said was true, defeating the maleficarum would stop whatever magic was wrecking havoc on the barge, freeing the passengers on board from those horrid birds, inquisitors included. If they all hadn't had their eyes plucked out by now, surely they would be on the hunt for the magi that had started it all; and perhaps, any others they found along the way.

Inquisitors were a tenacious bunch, it haunted every facet of Clara's life. She'd heard the stories, her mother's stories, and she'd seen it happen. That night, the rocky deserts surrounding her home village did little to stop their chase. What was a couple of overgrown bushes and trees to people like them?

Clara tried lifting herself from the floor. A sorry attempt, as the true weight of all her injuries suddenly came crashing down. Her uninjured arm strained to heave her body up, when after numerous attempts she was just about able to sit herself up against a tree trunk, all sluggish and sloppy.

This was bad. She was in no condition to fight, to think, to do anything.

Where would she go? Where could she go? She wanted to run, she needed to run, far, far away from everything, from this terrible forest and from those terrible people, after all, running away was the only thing she'd ever been good at ever since—

"Hey Clara, you alright?"

A voice called out to her. Barely audible over the sound of her ragged breaths. Cautiously, Clara tilted her head to the side, where through her delirium and locks of matted hair, she noticed Pagonia sat a few paces away. He wore a smile on his face, bright and strong, as if the battered state of his body was a but figment of her imagination. As if he were trying to say that everything would be fine. That he was fine.

Clara felt sick to her stomach. She'd seen that kind of smile before.

Yet instinct caused her to feign a smile of her own, faint, but reassuring. An awful attempt at reassuring the man, maybe, but this wasn't the time to be vulnerable. She would have to worry about the pain later. Couldn't let her guard down now with the possibility of inquisitors hot on their trail. 

"…yeah. I'm fine. I'm fine, Pagonia. Really, I should be the one asking you that," Clara chuckled softly, hand held against the tree trunk as she struggled to her feet. "Please, go and check on your brother. And the others, too. They're not looking so good."

She looked past Pagonia and at Zestasia, who was hovering around Etoile and Pythia. She couldn't hear much, but judging by the grim looks on their faces as they exchanged words with each other, Clara figured they needed something — or rather, someone — to lift their spirits.

Instead of joining them however, Clara wobbled towards Lazulin, who was confronting the young witch. Young, she repeated in her head as she observed the two, a safe distance away from where Lazulin stood. It seemed the little maleficarum still had some fight left in her.

"If you are pursued, that means less work for us, at least," Clara intervened, arm clutched over her abdomen. "If you really want those inquisitors to take care of things from here, then be our guest. I know we're not just gonna sit around and wait for them to capture us as well."

Though she would flinch whenever she met the girl's black, empty gaze, Clara's own wasn't necessarily frightful. Instead, it was rather solemn. Pitiful, almost. People — children — didn't just… end up like that for no real reason. 

But Clara didn't have time to expend her pity. The group was in bad shape, and who knows how much time they had left before more demonic animals or inquisitors started jumping out of the bushes. They needed to get themselves together and get a move on, before things got a lot worse.
C L A R A

IFRISE FOREST — SOVEREIGNTY OF DRYADLIS


Once Clara had halted Etoile's bleeding and let the woman charge forward, chaos resumed.

With terrifying speed the maleficarum lashed out, weaving through wisps of malum left in the wake of her attacks. But just as fast, if not even faster, was the young Pythia, ripping through the dark haze with tempestuous force. Her combined assaults with Zestasia and Etoile spiralled into a wild torrent of ether that would tear Clara apart if she were foolish enough to meddle as she was now. 

Instead she skeetered around the edges of their skirmish and kept a watchful eye, hoping for something, anything to turn the fight over in their favour, however trivial. Looking over her shoulder to Lazulin and Pagonia, it seemed the last treeant was as good as dead. Now, if only the pain in her injured arm would wither away along with it. Just thinking about it forced another wince through Clara's lips. The thought of beating the last breath out of that stupid tree had never sounded so enticing as it did now.

The next explosion shook her out of it.

Pythia was on the floor now, out of reach of the others, smoke clinging to her coat where she'd been hit. The little maleficarum cackled as darkness coiled around her fingertips, preparing for slaughter.

There it was again, that tugging in her chest. Not again. Not this time. Clara could already feel a spring in her step as her breathing hastened and her muscles prepared to—

Oh.

It was coming for her.

Clara pivoted. Then looked away. Then ran. Ran, ran away as fast and as far as she could. What else could she possibly do, against that, like this? Not even a few paces away from where Clara had just been standing and the humming of malum claws had come so close it drowned out the sound of her own racing heart. If only her legs could race just as fast, just as ferociously.

And even after I said I'd help...!

There was no reason for Clara to look back. She knew what was coming. It would get closer and closer until it was close enough to slash at her, slash through her skin deep, down deep to the bone, and then—

Ah, wait... maybe if I could—

The dark magi swung down and tore into Clara's back, ripping through her woolen shawl and straight past the innermost layers of her clothing. Scraps of red flew into the air as she fell to the ground with a heavy thud, unmoving.

There was the shortest moment of silence as the maleficarum stood above Clara's limp body, how fortunate that she had finally landed her first serious blow. But it took an even shorter time to notice that something wasn't quite right. A split second in which the the sunlight caught a stone's type of glimmer peeking through the layers of shredded fabric. A split second that would not go unused.

Clara burst into motion, swinging her torso off the ground and to the side, letting a crystalised arm swoop low through the momentum. Whatever the outcome of her attack, she hoped it would buy some time for someone, anyone, to do something.
C L A R A

IFRISE FOREST — SOVEREIGNTY OF DRYADLIS


A surge of pure malice ripped through the air, and it tore at Clara's very being.

She was already on the floor, hands and knees pressed to the soil in an attempt to actually get up and get moving again. Now she just felt stuck. Couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

The malum energies clung to every part of her body, muscles, bone and all, it swarmed in her throat and seethed in her gut as if she'd been force fed poison, as if she was decaying from the inside out, and it smelled and tasted putrid and wrong and she could feel it everywhere, all over, and it burned, gods, what's happening to me? A terrible shiver overtook Clara's body, as if she'd been hurled into the rapids of a freezing cold river. It was overwhelming.

So she shut her eyes as tight as she could, as if it would somehow make everything disappear. The pain, the nausea, the dread, the fear, all of it. Just as she had done all those years ago. Just as she had done when the inquisitors came after her family, and she couldn't do anything about it.

Her hand clawed at the dirt beneath her.

And the soil hummed under her fingertips.

Something murmured in the back of Clara's frenzied mind, a voice that was not her own, but one she recognised immediately. It was a voice she hadn't heard in years, one she feared she had long forgotten.

"…so you must hear it, feel it, embrace it. Open your senses to the earth, and it will lend you its strength."

Mother. She cried out to the distant memories, but heard nothing in return. Her fingers dug deeper into the soil.

"…which is why you should never forget your blood. Your people."

Clara took a deep breath. Several deep breaths. Her body started protesting against the waves of malum that had infested her, and her mind tried calling out beyond the malicious blockade.

"This is the one thing they can never take away from you."

And Ifrise Forest whispered back.

Clara opened her eyes, and slowly rose to her feet. She still ached all over, still felt nauseous, the malum energies still buzzed in her head like an angry wasp nest. But she had to power through. The fight wasn't over yet.

Soon enough she made it back to the group, just stopping short of where Pagonia, Lazulin and Etoile stood. Clara gave them a weak smile, when really her body was rearing to get rid of this crazed maleficarum and get out of this hellhole of a forest. Her ether danced over her skin, ready to sprout, and her eyes burned bright with a desperate determination.

"I'm no good a fighter like the rest of you, but I'm sure you know what I can do by now," she croaked, the taste of the maleficarum's ether still hanging from the tip of her tongue. She then directed her gaze to Etoile: "so if there's anything I can do to help defeat that, then you can bet on every god above that I'll gladly take the chance."

She'd be damned if she let anymore kids die in front of her again.
C L A R A

IFRISE FOREST — SOVEREIGNTY OF DRYADLIS


Fragments of red scattered around Clara, and another agonising scream left her body. Her back was planted to the grass now, arms laying limp at her sides and all semblance of ether control gone. Had her crystal been a second slower, her left forearm — which had taken the brunt of the attack — would've been more than a little broken.

The vine rose up, readying itself for another strike. Clara couldn't move. Only the sound and sensation of her quickening breaths were keeping her consciousness from being sucked into the soil.

Then the vine came down again. Even in her last ditch effort to channel ether into her working arm, there was no way she would be fast enough. Clara couldn't take another hit.

But then the hit never came.

The vine was sliced in two like a knife to butter, crashing into the undergrowth just metres away. Even when smaller vines dove in to resume the attack, they would never reach her; something was shielding her body. Then someone grabbed Clara and pulled her up so fast that it took what little control she had left over herself to not be sick again. It was Etoile.

Clara met the woman's frantic gaze. Grey eyes, like the sky in a raging summer storm, she remembered from when they were on the barge. Back when Etoile had told her to leave her be, when her cloak had slipped and the sunlight caught her metal arm, when she blasted the carriage door open with one of her wind spells in front of the passengers.

Upon looking down and seeing Etoile's muddied inquisitor uniform, the first thing Clara did was shove the woman away.

Clara eyed Etoile in that moment, silently, cautiously, as if the slightest movement would invite death by the woman's sword. Her breath stuck to her throat and her entire world came to a complete still. If her jaw were to clench any harder, she was certain it would break.

A sting of pain from her fractured arm stunned Clara back to reality, and she quickly looked away. With a weak pull of the sash around her waist, she tried wrapping the fabric over her arm to bind it. She hissed and cursed and hissed curses whenever she tugged too hard, though it was apparent she wasn't doing it hard enough if it was still hanging loose like that.

In her delirium Clara felt another pain, a different pain, as she saw the vines swarm Pagonia and Zestasia. Now her chest was starting to ache.

"Etoile… The kid, you…" she spluttered through ragged breaths, refusing to meet Etoile's eyes as she continued fiddling with her sorry attempt for a bandage. "You have to get the kid."
C L A R A

IFRISE FOREST — SOVEREIGNTY OF DRYADLIS


When the earth burst to life with an overflow of malum, Clara blacked out on the spot. Not that the group would notice, because as soon as she did, a large vine swung forward and smacked her into the bushes. Just the rush of wind alone had startled her awake.

The shrubbery cushioned Clara's fall, but her stomach was not so fortunate; that vine had hit her hard. Her throat burned with acid as she flipped to her side and hurled up onto the grass, Clara couldn't keep it down anymore. At least there was no blood and nothing strange to be found, she noted with relief.

Coughing up the last drops of nausea, Clara heard something move as her consciousness slowly returned. Many things, actually. Were the trees… moving? She gawked at the way their trunks broke and twisted into the most horrifying shapes, blighted by malicious energies. Clara could only shudder at the spectacle. The trees appeared even more ravenous than the krovar from earlier!

Still trying to catch her breath, Clara looked towards the group and then to Etoile. The two of them were meant to watch the group's back, if she recalled correctly. Now the swordswoman was on her lonesome, and surrounded like the rest. Clara's muscles ached with a fiery numbness as she scrambled to her feet and tried calling out to the woman.

"Etoile, watch your–!"

Then a rushing sound came above Clara's head. It was another tree vine, much larger and more ferocious than the one before. Still barely on her knees, Clara did the first thing, the only thing that came to mind in that instant.

She crossed her arms over her head and muttered the old words.

Crystalised ether sprouted from her skin, but the vine was even quicker. A raspy scream erupted from Clara's lungs as she was slammed into the soil, the hastily formed crystal on her left arm shattering.
Class C: tree man might be dangerous don't go near the tree man

A L B E R T A

'A' TRAIN — FIFTH CAR


Alberta had the luxury of not having to interact much with Mandi these past two weeks. From the assumptions she'd made after seeing them plenty of times in class, she was convinced that staying clear of her bubbly classmate would be the best way to preserve what little sanity she had left. Upon hearing Mandi's absurd proposition — to which she prepared herself to shove them into the far left bench as a response — Alberta was again interrupted. This time, by bad poetry. Alberta pinched her arm to see if she was still awake, and unfortunately, she was.

It was enough to distract Mandi at least, and with the arrival of the steward, they were bound to have gotten the message at this point. But there was something more important on Alberta's mind — food. She was no stranger to skipping meals on occasion, but after missing yesterday's dinner and this morning's breakfast, coupled with her sprinting to the station fueled by adrenaline alone, hunger was hitting her terribly hard. Alberta sat up straight and addressed the steward with as much grace as she could manage.

"I'll have my own pot of tea. Black, please," she croaked. A caffeine boost would help wake her up. "And whatever spring fruits you have available, too. Oh, and some scones on the side would be delightful as well. Thank you."

When the steward arrived with everyone's orders, Alberta thought her fruits would come in a sizeable bowl she could keep to herself. Instead, the assortment stretched to half the length of the table, packed with slices of apricots, strawberries, peaches, and a bunch of other fruits in season. In the middle of the plate sat a neat pile of diced pineapple. Alberta just blinked at the large array of food in front of her, far too dazed to adequately process her shock. She took in a deep breath, as if she were about to lash out at her companions.

"You know what, just…" Alberta sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "take whatever you want. I can't finish all of that myself anyway." she finished, taking the plate with her scones on it. For the rest of the train ride she remained quiet and distant, taking slow nibbles from her food as if the events of that morning had never happened.


THE VILLAGE — OUTSKIRTS OF GENELOGIA


Save for her atrocious physical stamina keeping Alberta a few paces behind most of the students, the journey to the forest village was somewhat bearable. Though she hadn't slept on the train, the pleasant lunch she had was enough to distract her from her deprivations for a time. Alberta was lucky she'd remembered to pack her water canteen, otherwise she would've really struggled. Especially when the foliage started to thicken around her, making it harder to move about. Her face may have hit a few twigs and she may have almost tripped over a tree root or two, but Alberta didn't want to use up her remaining energy screaming into the trees above.

The atmosphere took a peculiar turn when the foliage started fading from spring greens hues into autumn reds and yellows. When the class finally reached the village, it was apparent the trees weren't the only strange occurrence. Alberta gasped at the sight of the plagued villager; she never thought she'd see something like that outside of the pages of books at this point in her life. When Ankaa asked to examine the very diseased man up close, Alberta scoffed with disapproval.

"The villagers must be boarding up their homes for a reason, and I'm betting it's because whatever that man has, it's probably contagious. If you even had half a braincell left, you'd know to stay away from him, Liu."

Still, Alberta contemplated Ankaa's question. Making her hypothesis from a distance seemed like a safer option. "As for his skin condition, you don't see ones caused by the environment alone that extreme on this side of Alrune. Most organisms responsible for those kinds of afflictions aren't as common in this particular climate, I believe."

"If all of this is anything to go by," Alberta continued, observing the vibrant autumn trees. "then it's likely the man's illness is linked to magic as well. A lot of disease-related spellcrafts take effect through physical contact or airborne substances, similar to how fungal spores found in soil or on plants can enter the body and cause infections similar to what that man has." Though her earlier studies about such magic had been brief, her limited knowledge could prove useful. After all, the spells under the Language of Wisteria were composed in a similar way.

"Either some crazy mage is going around casting diseases on people, or they're using magic to produce abnormalities in the forest's plant-life; some of which are inducing seasonal shifts in the trees, and bark-like lesions on the skin. There's nothing but dense forest for miles beyond this village, anything could be hiding in there."

Alberta then glanced back at Ankaa, giving her a tense look. "Whatever the source is, we should talk to the other villagers about it first. The man can wait."

@samakama @OwO @SilverPaw
A L B E R T A

CITY OF GENELOGIA — GENELOGIA STATION


Alberta suspected nothing less from her classmates. Had she not exhausted all of her energy in the past hour rushing to get ready and travelling to the station, she would have had a lot more to say to the people making comments about her. Right now, Alberta could just about manage a look of intense disgust in response to Mandi's remarks. She didn't know what she found more repulsive; said student's suggestive implications towards her and Kress, or just the concept of physical intimacy alone.

"Have you got sewage in your ears, Alzaru? I guess it's not unlike someone as deplorable as you to come up with such perverted—!"

Alberta was cut off by Kress' more reasonable and valid explanations. But rather than thanking the boy for supporting her, she simply looked on with confusion, almost annoyed. She could have handled this entire situation on her own just fine, so why did he have to interfere? Really, Kress could have just left without her in the first place and not get himself swept up in this mess! Did he have some sort of ulterior motive? Or was he just that stupid?

"Indeed it was," Alberta confirmed Kress' statement with a sigh. She had wanted to keep the subjects of her training and studying private, especially from certain people, but at least her all-nighter made for a genuine excuse. "Studying for a few hours before bed has always been part of my routine, but I can assure you it's not like me at all to lose track of time so recklessly. Regardless, I…" Alberta paused, appearing a little hesitant. Her gaze shifted away from Nyx's for a brief moment.

"It won't happen again, Professor."

Once Alberta was dismissed by her professor she gave him a quick nod, before walking past Caelum and greeting him with a malicious scowl. Oh, how she wanted to rip that idiotic grin off his face and grind the rest of his body into plant fertiliser. Even after two weeks had passed, Alberta refused to let her default victory against him fade into the background as the semester progressed. All those late night training and study sessions wouldn't be for nothing, and if her and Caelum were to cross paths in battle again, she would aim for total decimation.

"For the hundredth time, it's 'Blumenthal' you halfwit," she hissed at Caelum. "Remember, I didn't give any of you losers permission to call me 'Alberta', but I guess you're too slow to even comprehend something so simple."

Alberta had insinuated on multiple occasions that no Class C student had earned, or would ever earn, enough of her respect to call her by her first name, or for her to call them by theirs. Whatever she could do to keep her distance from this cursed class, she did. And with varying degrees of success, it seemed.

After throwing her satchel into one of the overhead compartments, Alberta slid into one of the benches below her. As she tried shuffling towards the window seat, she was startled to find someone already there. Sanhan, in all her awkwardness and eerie silence, had gone completely unnoticed by Alberta; running on two hours of sleep did not do well for her spatial awareness. But at this point and in this state, she couldn't be bothered to move elsewhere. Sanhan didn't even seem that disruptive from what she remembered anyways, so Alberta figured she could at least get some much needed peace and quiet for a time. Instead of moving to the opposite bench as she otherwise would have done, Alberta just sat there, resting her elbows on the table and holding her chin in her palms.

@Dezuel @ERode @Blu @metanoia @OwO
will get a post up by Wednesday or Thursday!
sorry @ERode that my post is 50% dragging Kress around like a rag doll and 50% Alberta being a hot mess
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