DAY TWELVE: In what ways is your character selfish?
“Avie, share with your sister.”
“No, minn’da! It’s mine!”
“Avie!”
Anaeli Silverbrooke was rarely sharp with her children. Her youngest daughter scowled up at her with all the petulance she could muster and clutched the stuffed lynx plushie tight to her chest. Avari just sighed and rolled her eyes, she was used to her little sister getting weird about the strangest things.
“Minn’da, really. She can keep the toy. I only wanted to see it to use in my still life.”
“Avari, she has to learn.”
“It’s mine!” Avie cried again, yellow-ish green eyes gone wide and shiny with tears that threatened to overspill.
-
“Avie, must you always be so selfish?”
“I am not!”
“Then why do you care so much?”
Avie frowned and tucked her knees against her chest a little tighter, balling against the back of her armchair and hiding the book she was reading in her lap. Avari always wanted what she had - it was so unfair! Teenage hormone amplified her bad mood, leaving her seething long after her sister gave up and went to do something else.
“It’s mine, you can’t have it.” The youngest Silverbrooke muttered to herself, clutching her precious book of fables.
-
“We buried our minna today and you want to talk about this now?!”
“We need to address it, Avie.”
“No! I won’t, I will not.”
“Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?!”
Avie whirled around on her father, glaring up at him with all her new found fury. War had changed her, the cold winds of Northrend had returned her a different, stronger woman. She would not allow Caemenas the chance to take her mourning from her so quickly, not while it was still raw in her chest.
“This time is mine. For all you have taken from me, you shall not have this.”
-
“She would have let you have it, Avie.”
“No, no-! She wants it for herself - both of you do!”
It was everywhere. Avie glared down at the dying shape of a man in his own blood. There was so much of it. On her clothes, her face, in her hair. What a mess she had made. She had heard death rattles before, but the one that came from Inlaeth Flamesinger would haunt her for decades to come. Fighting back the bile rising in her throat and ignoring the familiar brown hand on her shoulder, lilac eyes turned cold and unfeeling.
DAY SEVEN: What is the biggest trigger for stress in your character’s life?
“He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?!”
Avie felt panic crawl up her spine, not the immediate, freezing panic that a rabbit felt when it was caught in the headlights but the slow, creeping dread that came with the knowledge there was little she could do to avoid the iron cage rapidly closing in around her.
“For how long?”
“We are unsure, he sent word only that he would arrive before noon.” Errus replied with a grim face. Beside him, Mylinne gave Avie a sympathetic look as if she wanted to whisk the poor girl away from her impending nightmare. The paladin herself took a deep breath, forcing back down the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. Now was the time for preparation, she could tremble and cry when it was over. Pale lilac eyes turned hard, red brow knitting.
“Mylinne. Take Amelie to your house, she will stay with you until he is gone. On your way back, fetch the usuals from the market. Make sure we have the ingredients to make his favourites twice over and enough wine to keep him sated,” the round, elderly woman nodded and toddled off as fast as an elf her age could at once as the young Lady Silverbrooke turned back to her steward. “Errus, gather up all of Kalyanar’s things and return them to the Court - take my bracelet, it will allow you to pass through the wards safely but don’t be surprised if Si’iohema is twitchy; I would go myself but...well. You know.”
“Of course, my Lady. Anything else?”
“Tell...just tell Kalyanar my father is visiting. Iiloridan will understand,” Avie replied and removed the enchanted bracelet from her wrist with trembling fingers. As she passed it over, she found two enormous, weathered palms around her hands, cupping them gently.
“So long as I breathe, Avie, he will never lay a finger on you again.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide for a moment before her hardened mask returned and she nodded firmly. “If he touches me again, he won’t have any fingers left.”
