She had pledged her fealty to the magician long ago.
How long ago, nobody seemed to know. She was his “dearest shadow.” That’s what Court Magician Asra likes to call her, while clutching her chin tightly between his lithe fingers. There was no real affection behind it. The magician didn’t seem capable of such a thing. His tone was always too cool and his eyes betrayed a glimmer of emotion that was hard to place. But, he would grin at her the same way he did when he would see his cobra with her jaws wide open, poised to devour her latest prey.
Lady Elvira is one of his favorite pets, or so he likes to say. It’s uncommon to see one without the other. Wherever the magician walks, Lady Elvira follows close behind obediently, like a dog at the heels of her master. They are the types of people who’s eyes you can feel when they are looking at you. Their gazes are heavy, the magician’s with sadistic curiosity and the lady’s with intense, burning disregard. He whispers things into her ear in the presence of company and she responds simply and concisely. She is never verbose, never outwardly emotional in his presence, and hardly, if ever, speaks out of turn. She knew better than to do so.
It is said that she hadn’t been the same since the tragic passing of her parents. Or, at least, that is what could be heard from some of the whispers around Vesuvia. Other, less kind ones bear theories of how she was the cause of the deaths of the Lord and Lady. “Her aunt died mysteriously some years after them as well, didn’t she? That’s far from any coincidence”, they say. “She is the last of the Casimiro line. Who’s to say that isn’t on purpose?” Of course, anyone who hasn’t met Lady Elvira firsthand would scoff at these queries, thinking they were the product of baseless gossip. She is likely no more than a snide aristocrat, just like all of the other Vesuvian bluebloods. However, those who’ve been unfortunate enough to have looked into her eyes know all too well. They are dark and hollow, yet there is a burning behind them. They betrayed her temperament and gave a warning to all who came near: you are beneath me and I can dispatch you without remorse.
Like she had done it before. Like she would do it again.
“Beware the ‘Lady in Black’.” It is one of the first things mentioned to any newcomer to the palace after being warned about the magician. She hardly seemed like a threat on her own. She wasn’t known to make a move unless the magician commanded her to. But, make no mistake, crossing her was not without danger. For if she ever expressed her displeasure to the magician, there was no telling what could happen. She was his treasured pet, the dog at his heels, his dearest shadow. If she was displeased, then so was he. And there was no pleading with the magician when he was displeased. If the magician ever expressed the origin of his own displeasure to Lady Elvira, she flared up as quick as a brushfire and attacked unflinchingly. It was a courtesy, a mercy. For when the magician dealt with those who crossed him himself, people wound up missing. They are a double-headed serpent, the magician and his shadow. If one doesn’t swallow you whole, it is only a matter of time before the other does.
Beware Court Magician Asra.
Beware Lady Elvira.
Don’t look them in the eyes. Don’t turn your back on them. And don’t ever, ever find yourself alone with them. The magician calls the shots and, at his command, his darling shadow will be the last thing you’ll see before the world goes black.
Day 5 of @arcana-echoes Echoes of the Past event- The Aunt! To read my other entries, click here.
TW Character Death
Marina Valeriano is Elvira’s aunt and her mother’s older sister.
She was the first born child of Xavier and Valentina Valeriano.
She’d always had an affinity for magic. It is presumed that she got this ability from her mother’s side of the family.
She ran away from home when she was about 18 years of age and fled directly to Vesuvia.
She lived on the streets for a while before she met the woman who owned the building that would later become the magic shop. She was an herbalist and a healer. She agreed to teach Marina and let her move in on the condition that she would occasionally mind the shop and be her valet as she traveled all over for ingredients.
In her time living and travelling with the woman, she became instructed on many worldly topics. met many people (including other magicians that instructed her how to use her magic), and learned the woman’s healing magic.
When the woman died, she left the building to Marina. She took this opportunity to renovate it using her own two hands and made it into the shop Elvira lives in to this day.
She hadn’t seen or heard from her family for 18 years before a letter from her sister found its way to her, letting her know that she was dying and that she had a daughter that needed to be cared for.
She quickly arranged for a trip to Venterre. But, by the time she got there, Camila was already dead.
It took some convincing on her part to have Elvira come and stay with her.
She’d never had interest in having children, yet now she found herself to be the guardian of a 15 year old girl that was traumatized beyond her wits.
Elvira had barely even spoken to her or looked at her directly when they met, and they didn’t have a real two-way conversation until they came to the shop in Vesuvia.
She found out later that Elvira didn’t want to look at her because she resembled her mother. The truth is that Camila thought the same about her.
Over time, she and Elvira bonded. She eventually filled the role of “teacher” for her niece and passed on her knowledge about magic to her.
She also taught her a lot about classic literature and poetry, along with the histories of the many vast places in the world.
She had barely even hesitated to let Asra live with her and Elvira when she had found out that her niece’s friend was an orphan.
When the Plague hit Vesuvia, she didn’t even hesitate to offer her services as a healer.
When she found that none of her magical remedies were working, she offered to work full time at the palace until they found a cure, leaving
Elvira and Asra in charge of the shop.
She contracted the Plague about 4 months into her research. She was 44 when she died.
The last thought that she had was of her niece and her ward. She never got to say goodbye to them.
When she was found, she had dried forget-me-nots in her pocket.
Day 1 of @arcana-echoes‘ Echoes of the Past event- Hometown! To read my other entries, click here.
On the west side of Venterre lay a faming community collectively known as Calmedra. This area of Venterre is known for its smaller, more spread out farmlands. Whereas much of the country’s exports are grown closer to the middle of the country, this community is known more for its self-sustaining farms. The community is one of much seclusion. Because many of the farms are further apart and fewer to come by, much of life is contained to one’s own plot of land. While the people there are not unfriendly, many live in the area to be to themselves.
The Casimiros came to Calmedra from Tzatec, a small port town northeast of Nopal by the Emerald Sea. Ignacio and Camila’s plans were to travel all around the world on foot and see many different places. However, that all changed when Camila became pregnant and the couple decided to settle in one place to raise their child. They found a house while wandering through Calmedra and bought the plot of land it was on. Like many of the surrounding farms, the Casimiro farm was a wide plot of land with grassy fields and good soil. The farm was mostly self-sustaining. They lived off of much of what they produced on their land and sold all of the surplus in surrounding towns and villages. Altogether, they were very happy there. Even though Elvira loved growing up in Calmedra with her parents, she had inherited their sense of adventure. If her life had been different, she would’ve left as soon as she could.
The thick perfume of marigolds and lilies hang like a veil over the shop, the faint smoke of incense and three scentless candles rising in the still air. On a table, a cup of fragrant chamomile tea, a cup of sweet wine, shots of strong liquor, sweet rolls, bitter chocolate, a cup of black coffee, bread, and tiny skulls made of sugar are laid out surrounding three items. Marigold petals are laid in a pathway from the ofrenda to the door, outlined in lily flowers laid from stem to stigma. Elvira hopes this will lead them back to her, if only just for a night, if only to feel the warm embrace of something far-off yet familiar. There are no graves to visit, no pictures to look back on. Just a well-read book of poetry, the name “Marina” written inside in beautiful script, a pair of working gloves, the initials I.C. branded into the worn leather, and a woven shawl, smelling faintly of grass and fireplace smoke.
She hopes that these are enough.
These are the things they left behind. These people that once meant so much to her, reduced to these items and the fragments of their lives that still stirred in Elvira’s mind. Marina, Ignacio, Camila. Tia, Papa, Mama. These were artifacts, some of the only remaining evidence that they ever existed.
But Elvira knew that her hair was Marina’s. She held her thick hair in her fist, piling it atop her head and inserting a comb made of mother of pearl to keep it in place. There wasn’t much of her aunt that Elvira remembered, but her inky black hair always came to mind; How it moved and shined in the sunlight, how it always smelled of lavender, how she used a mother of pearl comb to keep it out of her face when mixing potions. She remembered Asra telling her that Marina’s hair had been going white in the same place that hers did. The magician sat back in her chair and wondered if they’d be doing this together if she were still there.
Her eyes were Ignacio’s. She couldn’t remember the rest of his face. But, his eyes were unforgettable. Green as fields of dew-covered clover. She doesn’t remember where she heard that from, but she knows it was about him. As she paints her face in monochrome, she knows his eyes are staring back at her. She wondered if he would recognize her now. With eyes like his, so green and clear, did they see the world the same way?
Her body was Camila’s. She knew that for sure. She was built long legged, wide hipped, long fingered. Her hands were strong and made for pruning and planting. Her arms were made to pull her on top of shelves and high up into trees. With the very little Elvira remembers of her, there are slivers of memories of her mother before her sicknesses took her. She was strong as an ox, and had once seemed stable enough to weather any storm. As she pulled on her black dress, Elvira wondered if others saw that sort of strength inside her, too.
She pulled a black lace mantilla over her head. It smelled sweet, calming, as if she had buried her face in a planter of lavender. She appraised herself in the mirror, inspecting her handiwork. Her face was completely painted to resemble a skull, colorful designs decorating her forehead, cheekbones, and chin. Her black dress and lace veil, crown of marigolds adorning her head. Here she is, a symbol of death incarnate. A reminder that she was once dust, and dust is what she will one day be again. She took in a deep breath and stood. She had taken long enough. Her friends were likely waiting for her by the market. Luna ran into the room suddenly. She barked excitedly at her mistress, a necklace of marigolds hanging from her neck. Elvira smiled and patted her head.
“Just one more moment, Lunie,” she chuckled, moving over to the ofrenda once again. She looked down at the array of items she had there. Slowly, her stomach turns at the sight of each item. This is all there is. No graves to visit, not portraits to look back on. Just a book, a pair of gloves, and a shawl. How could this possibly be enough to bring them back to her? A thick lump grew in her throat, the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes. She had forgotten them. How could they ever forgive her? How could they find their way here now if she couldn’t remember them?
Just as soon as the panic had started to settle in, a shock of clarity silenced her mind. She was the last thing, the last artifact of their existence. She was forged by her parents’ hands and tempered by Marina’s care and teachings. Here she stood, a living ofrenda, a testament to those that came before her. She was her father’s joy and her mother’s spirit and her aunt’s warmth. She was the product of everything they had left behind. While she had lost much in death, the one thing that couldn’t be taken from her was their presence in her very being. They lived within her. Every breath that she takes is theirs. Every sight, every sensation, every strand of her being is her family’s.
Luna bumped her head into Elvira’s leg. When she looked down at the dog, she was wagging her tail and tilted her head at her expectantly. The skeletal woman smiled at her and nodded.
“You’re right, Lunie. We should go.” She turned to leave out the door before she felt a chill run down her spine. A warmth descended upon her, stopping her in her tracks. She hugged her arms to her chest, feeling her heart swell with emotion unknown. Breath caught in her throat as the warming feeling spread from the top of her head, to the tips of her toes.
“They’re with me,” she whispered, giving herself a slight squeeze before continuing to the door. “Come on, Luna. Everyone is waiting for us.” She grabbed her guitar, the xolo barking excitedly and turning around in a circle. Opening the door, the magician stepped out into the street, teeming with life and celebration. Elvira turned back to look at the shop, feeling a breeze rush out of the previously still shop with her. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. Turning back around, she stepped into the street, becoming consumed by a crowd of people.
I was procrastinating on the copious amount of work that I have to do at 1 AM last night and I made prequel/Plague-era Elvira on Artbreeder.
Yes, she was always mean mugging people. I call this her “moody period”. Early 20s Elvira was a lot more guarded than post-resurrection Elvira, especially during the Plague.
So, I’ve playing around a little bit with the coloring of Elvira’s hair since I made her having black and white hair post-resurrection canon.
But, I’ve been having trouble deciding which version I want to go with (I’m an indecisive bitch at heart). I don’t know if I want a solid front streak, going all white at the temples, or go full zebra streaks.
So, if anyone wants to give their input, I’d greatly appreciate it!
Day 8 of @arcana-echoes Echoes of the Past event- Familiar! To read my other entries, click here.
She shouldn’t have stayed out past sundown.
For her first time being out by herself for so long, she was sure being cocky. The city looked so different at night. Was she going the right way? This street sort of looked familiar in the lamplight. Maybe she should turn back...
Turning slightly to her right, Elvira saw a small side street. Maybe this was the one? She was trying to find her way back to her shop without the aid of anyone, not that there was much of anyone around this late (nor would she have willingly asked someone for help). Asra had gone on a trip and left Elvira alone to run the shop. He said it was to “help her regain her independence”, or something. She was sure her friend was full of it, but he left without much of an objection from her. She could take care of herself, she was sure of it.
But, considering the fact that she was currently wandering through Vesuvia searching for her home, she may have been a little too confident in her own abilities. Asra had offered to help her map out her way back home once more before he left, but she refused. She was sure regretting that decision now. The dark haired woman walked a few feet more before deciding to turn back to the side street she was peering down earlier. It was dark and she was wary to go down the street alone, but what choice did she have? Taking in a deep breath, she straightened her spine and walked down the cobblestone road.
After a few moments of walking, she heard a shuffling and what sounded like animal claws against the cobblestone. Elvira froze, looking around to see what could have possibly made the noise. But, she could only make out the vague shapes of things in the darkness of the alleyway. She took in another deep breath and held out her hand. Imagine holding a ball of light, just like Asra told you.... A weak ball of light formed in her outstretched palm. It illuminated only about a foot of space to either side of her, but it was better than nothing. Emboldened by having a bit more visibility in the darkness, she continued forward.
The scratching sound followed her down the alleyway as she carefully made her way down to the other side. As she got closer to the building at the end of the walkway, she noticed a glint on it in the moonlight. It had a dark stained wooden door with a crescent moon shaped window, and Elvira recognized it as the shop’s back door. She sighed in relief, knowing that she had finally found refuge from the darkness of the night. However, before she could take another step, a small animal scurried in front of her path, knocking into a crate that had been placed there for refuse outside of the building directly across from her in the alleyway. Elvira whipped around, her magelight shining brighter with the rush of emotions she was experiencing. In the light, she saw the creator of the sounds she had been hearing: a small, black dog, with white speckles going up its legs and chest.
Stray dogs were not uncommon in Vesuvia. However, this dog was unlike any of the other strays she had seen on her previous trips out of the house with Asra. It was a puppy, and seemed to be hairless. The tiny thing was shivering next to the crate, looking up at the woman before them. Elvira felt a shiver go through her when her eyes met the dog’s, but she blamed the cool night air and pulled her burgundy shawl closer to her body. She shook her head to herself and extinguished her light as she turned back to her shop. Her palm pressed against the wood as she murmured the spell that cancelled the cross-me-not charm she put on the door. Another shiver ran through her as she reached for the door handle, and she was filled with the sudden thought that she was missing something.
The dark haired magician whipped back around, getting the sudden urge to look at the dog once again. When she did, her breath caught in her throat. This puppy, once feebly huddled again the wooden crate, was now sitting at attention in front of her. It was sitting in the direct line of moonlight that had been peeking out from around the corner of the building across from her. Elvira could’ve sworn that it was glowing. She crouched down to be closer to the dog and got a good look at it.
“Was that you?” She squinted at the dog in the low light. “Were you the one that made me feel like that?” Momentarily, she felt silly for talking to a street dog. But, to her surprise, the dog barked back as if responding to her question.
“... Did you just... answer me?”
The dog barked again and Elvira was taken aback. Why did she know that these two barks were affirmatives? She supposed that Asra could interact with his snake, Faust. Maybe this was kind of the same thing. Did all magicians have this ability?
“So... You’re a stray, huh?”
Another affirmative bark.
“Yeah, yeah... I guess I am, too, in a way.” She held a hand out to the dog. It sniffed her hand warily, and Elvira was filled with a very quick flash of unease. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Although, I probably should be worried that you do.”
The dog barked again at her and she snorted. “No, I suppose you couldn’t do much damage with those little teeth.” She caught herself mid-chuckle, realizing that she was very much having a conversation with a street dog as if she knew what it was saying.
“Okay.... Maybe I’m missing Asra more than I thought...” She shook her head and stood up, turning once again to go to the door. But, she found her feet stuck to the ground. She didn’t want to move. Her brain was telling her feet that they should take a step forward, but they didn’t budge. There was something about this dog that she couldn’t place, but she knew that something about it was calling out to her. Elvira turned back around to find the dog still sitting there.
“You know, I don’t think I could take you in. I’m not sure if I even like dogs, and I certainly don’t know how to take care of one.”
A few more barks.
“I mean, I’ve met street dogs like you. But I’ve never had one. It couldn’t possibly work out. We’re too different, you and I. It could never work.”
A whimper.
“Well... you’re right... It is a little cool out here. And I’m sure you’re a little lonely.”
Another whimper.
“Yeah... Me too.” She crouched back down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. It seemed to really like that, for Elvira felt a warmth spread through her. “Fine... I guess I could let you come in for the night. Maybe until Asra gets back. I’m sure he’d know what to do with you.” The dog happily wagged its tail and barked, turning around in a little circle. Elvira picked the dog up, squinting at it from all angles. “You don’t look like you have pests or anything.”
The dog barked at her again and she clicked her tongue. “Yeah, I know you don’t have hair. You can still get bugs... Right?”
A huff.
“I don’t know, either. You do need a bath, though. You smell like garbage.” Tail wagging and tongue panting, the dog was clearly happy to be in her presence. “Look, I don’t know what kind of life you’re gonna have with me... But I’ll do the best I can. You got a name?”
Another huff.
“Hm, no... I guess you wouldn’t, since you’re a stray and all.” She stood up, dog in her arms and looked up at the moon. It was full and bright, and the sight of it filled her with a feeling she couldn’t quite place. “How about I call you... Luna?” The dog barked at her, and she knew it was an affirmative one. Elvira smiled for what it seemed like the first time in a long time. “Great. I like it too. Now, c’mon. Let’s get you into a bath.” She walked toward the shop once more and felt another chill go down her spine. This felt right, like it was meant to be. She picked up the dog once again and looked it in the eyes.
“Luna, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
The dog barked once again and licked her face. She laughed and continued into the shop. That night, after a nice warm bath and a meal of skinless chicken, Luna and Elvira fell asleep next to each other on the bed. Little did they know that every night that followed would end in the same way.
