#rulerofshadow

[icedxflower-blog]

There was no need to actually speak with her, not, just her knowing he was there in her home would be enough. That was why he personally wanted to deliver his letter to her. He used her bathroom (seat up, so she’d know), had a nice sandwhich and then looked around at her photos around the home. There was one of his favorite, but disloyal subject, Lyon. He wasn’t alone though, for he was with some pink haired woman who was holding his arm. Lance laughed at this and reached forward, opening the frame, he took the picture and placed the frame back on the wall.

Finished with this, he left the way he came; his shadows.

Dear sister,

      I’m sure you’re happy to hear from your dearest brother, and it is with unfortunate news that I contact you. My little pet is off to join a guild with both know; Lamia Scale. What a guild, eh? I need her back though, and I’m going to have to ask you to help me there. If she does come back to me the way I want her to, then I won’t have to involved Lamia Scale at all. You see?

       I liked your hair longer, by the way.

                           - Lance.

   There was no actual warning she received, no blinking lights that told her that someone had been in her apartment — but even before she saw the traces, she knew. There was something uneasy and heavy in the air, the same feelings people described to have felt prior to coming across a murder scene. And Lance, of course, was a walking crime scene so the moment she spotted the letter, she felt a cold rush. Lance had always made it difficult for her to breathe, something that was largely connected to the way he had never cared whether or not she could breathe. In fact, she was sure that if their grandmother had not actually cared about her, he would have found a way to kill her ages ago. 

   Lance,    if you believe that I would ever get my hands dirty by even to consider to ‘help’ you with anything, you are even further gone than I imagined. Apparently, you also seem to have forgotten that unlike you, I developed a moral compass — and this is why I need to say thank you, but no thank. I have no interest in helping you to retrieve your daughter.    And if you seek a fight, consider to go for someone in your weight class, for a change. But then, this was never your thing, was it? You always picked on the weaker ones, probably because you knew that you lack the conviction to actually win against someone who can fight back.    Your pathetic threat fails to impress me. I am no 6 year old little girl you could push down stairs anymore, brother dearest, and you’d do well to remember this. And I suppose I keep my hair short these days because I prefer it. And this matters more to me than your opinion.    I hope you die in a hole,    Ur

   She was not completely satisfied with the letter, but this was hardly surprising. 

   Although she had not been in her brother’s shadow for many years now, she still fell nearly silent the moment it caught up with her again — and this was nothing she liked, simply because it was a weakness — and weaknesses were something he exploited the moment he knew of them. 

   ( She still would move and ensure that her next apartment had the wards to keep her brother far, far away from her possessions. )

[icedxflower-blog]

Black Bird

She felt like she was trapped in a lion’s den and this scared her considerably.

Sometimes, she was lucky. Sometimes, her mother let her stay with her during the day and then, she was safe. Safe from her brother. If she was with her mother, all she had to fear were snappy comments, sharp glares. She only was really safe when she was with her grandmother because the old woman was the only one who could keep everyone in line.

But her grandmother had locked herself up in the library and this mean that Urania could not hide behind the old lady. This meant that Urania had to find some other way to avoid her brother.

Not that this ever worked.

Whenever he decided that he had ignored her for long enough, he always knew where to find her. She was rushing down the hallway close to the library when she felt the sharp pain on her scalp, a pain that put tears into her days.

>>You aren’t supposed to run here, Ur-a-nia.<<

>>La-Lance-ni-nii-sama,<< she whispered as she gritted her teeth. It usually got worse when she cried so she could not afford to cry. This pain was bad enough.

>>You wouldn’t want to disturb the old hag with your whining, now, Urania?<<

Her eyes widened and then, she was pushed down yet another staircase. By now, she had gotten rather good at breaking the fall —- far better than a five-year-old should be.

[icedxflower-blog]

All he saw was red. His gaze was in his younger sister and his foot moved swiftly to kick her in the side, "You idiot! You could have been more hurt if I wasn't here!" Alas, the wrong time for him to walk in. A few more kicks before he actually called for help. "You're pathetic."

She did not understand.

Again.

Well, she never had understood her brother’s behaviour towards her, why he usually ignored and why he was always yelling when he was not, why he was always acting like she had done something wrong even when she had carefully followed all instructions she had been given to prevent just that.

Getting back to her feet – it did not hurt that much, it had hurt more the time he had tripped her down the stairs – she blinked hastily, trying to avoid any tears from falling. She was not as strong as he was, not as strong as their grandmother was —- but she would not cry. When she cried, she made things worse.

Dusting off her dress and rearranging her scarf, she lowered her head. >>I am s-sorry, ni-nii-sama<< she apologised as she stared at the ground, a ground that was blurry because of the unshed tears in her eyes, while she heard her grandmother’s voice in the distance.

Yes, everything would be fine again.

Her grandmother was coming, she would be protected again soon enough.

[icedxflower-blog]

"I can't wait to see my little warrior again! Unless of course, Deliora gets him first. I think I would actually feel sad."

“…and here is was wondering if you’d start about Deliora before or after the typical threats against my mental and physical wellbeing. Thank you for answering this question. As for Lyon … he knows better than to die. I know this. Because, you know, I taught him.”

[icedxflower-blog]

frost kills roses. || drabble

            She has changed and she could see it.

            Her hands, once smooth and warm, had suffered from the constant cold she subjected them to whenever she used her magic and she had been using her magic a long time now, free of restrictions, finally finding her shape.

            Her arms had gained muscles because although her magic made her a fighter best suited for mid-ranged combat, she sometimes had to make it count in close combat, especially when she was running low on magic.

            Her skin was marred, in same parts. Tiny little scars, the results of her training to make her ice colder and harder than anything, the results of countless tiny cuts that had occured whenever she had shattered her ice with too much force, whenever she had been unable to harden it completely.

            But this was not even the change she had noted.

            She walked differently and when she looked into a mirror, she seemed to be taller, bigger ---- more there than ever before. And this was the true growth she noted and this was what she failed to understand because she had never wanted to gain the presence of a ---- whatever she had become.

            She no longer had to hide because there was no one with the ability to take her back to where she had run from. The prison would no longer be able to contain her, the bird-in-a-golden-cage had become an eagle and even her parents would know better than to make her go back, than to put her back into their web of lies.

            She had seen through the lies, a long time ago.

            She did not need such lies to make herself feel better about anything.

            Perhaps, this was her arrogance, her pride.

            (And, dear, she knew that this would be her end one day.)

            She knew because this seemed to be something she shared with her older brother. She did not often think about him, not anymore. She had learned to hate him because she did remember her grandmother's pain and bitterness about Lance just too well and she loved her grandmother too dearly to dishonour her by caring about a man long lost in the darkness.

            Ur had seen the darkness because it was the cause for her loneliness because Lance's slow fall to the darker side of magic was the reason why her parents had been afraid of her as well, why her mother had never sat down at bedtime to sing her a lullaby, the reason why it had always been her grandmother who had given her a kiss goodnight and Priscilla had been a busy woman.

            But one day, she would get back at her brother for all of this.

            She had once admired him from afar but she had learned her lesson. There was no place for Lance in a world where she dreamed of happiness and there was no place for her in a world where her brother wanted everyone to live in a nightmare.

            The question was just ...

                                                ...had she changed enough to end her brother's doings?

[icedxflower-blog]

this is absurd || drabble

It had been a calm day for Ur as she had spent a few hours reading one of the many books Lucy had recommended before she had gone out for a walk. Upon her return, she had found a single letter on her doorstep, single word on the envelope. Urania. The handwriting was ridiculously familiar to her and she was torn between setting the letter aflame and running away and never going back again.

Sadly, she had to be more mature than that.

So she sighed deeply, picked up the letter and sat down.

Her grandmother's handwriting had always been effortlessly elegant, like the ink obeyed her just as much as the water did. (Why was she even thinking about this now?) It had been years since Ur had seen this handwriting and she had never known how much she was indeed missing her grandmother previously.

No matter what, Priscilla had turned a blind eye to her for the past years and for her to suddenly take note of her was something that had a reason. It was also relatively obvious that this reason would not be a good one.

Sure enough.

The letter itself read, quite minimalistic, even for Priscilla's standarts, only a few words.

He is back. Watch your back.

Six words. It did not take more for Ur to feel very, very cold all of a sudden. She did not need any further explanation because she knew. God, and how she knew. There were not many people Priscilla would warn people about.

Lance was probably the only one.

And from the letter, it seemed like brother dearest was back.

Ur was not sure how she felt about this, how she felt about Priscilla seeing him ---- especially right after Ur had recommended Zilla to search for the old lady. At the time, it had seemed to be a good idea, now, Ur wondered if she might have sent off her niece into her death.

[icedxflower-blog]

I saw mommy kissing santa claus last night~

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus: Or another story of how the idea of Santa got ruined.

Ooohhh, more for Young!Ur aka Urania

“Santa isn’t even real.”

Four and a half words to send a little girl’s world crashing down.

Lance Rosenboom had always gone out of his way to ruin things for his little sister yet this was by far the worst thing he had done. This was not like the time where he had used his shadow to tear apart her favourite doll. Or the occasion where he had pulled so hard on her braid that he had held a strand of her dark hair in his hand.

One would say that the hatred he had for his sister was no longer to be explained rationally — and they would be right. It was not normal that he hated her this much, that he wanted to see her suffer whenever the occasion arose.

Urania was short for her age and seemed dwarfed in her large green sweater with the snowmen design which had grandmother had knitted for her. Her lower lip quivered before she pouted at her brother. “You are a liar!” she accused, dark eyes flashing with honest anger. “And a meanie. Santa so exists.”

“The old hag buys the presents ‘cause Santa is not real.”

With all the strength a five year old child could muster, Urania punched her brother’s leg. Whether it was because he had said somehthing mean about the grandmother — Urania might not know what a hag was but it sounded mean enough — or because the ridiculous notion that Lance might know something she did not know, she was not exactly sure. Not that it actually mattered. Lance was a meanie. End of the story.

“You are a liar. If grandma buys the presents, it means that she is Santa. That’s logi- common sense,” she huffed.

But inside of her, the seed of doubt had settled down.

Yet as Lance was no trustworthy source for anything of importance, Urania made her way to her grandmother’s study because Lance was a liar and he knew nothing and Grandma knew absolutely everything. This was a basic fact everything in Urania’s life was build upon.

“Granny?”

Priscilla Rosenboom was a tall woman and she easily lifted her granddaughter up and placed her on his lap. “Yes, dear?” she asked, absentmindedly braiding the girl’s hair anew.

“Lance says Santa doesn’t exist.”

“Does he now?”

“He says you buy the presents.”

“Do you believe him?” the old woman asked, blue eyes full of wisdom.

“Nah.”

“You see, as long as you believe in Santa, he exists for you. And you and me both know that Lance is a bit of a, how do you say?, meanie?”

“A meanie, yes.”

Priscilla’s attempts on preserving Urania’s belief in Santa were shortlived. The very next day, the scorned boy went and destroyed all the presents his parents and his grandmother had bought and piled up the remains in front of his sister’s room.

[aquxmara-blog]

there is something broken in me || post-Lance-drabble

She could not forgive herself for what had happened. She could not. She could not excuse her own failure, her hesitation in the second where she had had the chance to end it once for all.

The half-knitten scarf was still on the side of the table where it had been for weeks if not for months. So had she known? Had she known what would happen, that he would leave?

She only knew he was not coming back.

If he ever appeared on the doorstep again, she would aim for his heart instead of for his eye. She could not forgive herself for the event of yesterday's night but she was alright with hurting him, with striking him even after realising that she was having the upper hand in the battle.

No, she would not forgive herself.

She hoped Urania would forgive her, one day. She was sure that she had shielded the girl from the brother's inner darkness, a darkness that had finally devoured him.

Raising from her chair, she nearly knocked the table over. She had to focus. She rushed out of the room, the half undone bandage flying behind her like some weird kind of veil.

She had to ensure that she would not fail again, that she would keep Urania away from the darkness. Priscilla saw herself as an unfulfilled oath, a broken promise. And sometimes, she felt like whatever had changed inside of her, whatever had perhaps, probably broken inside of her her was something she would never be able to fix again.

She stopped her way, leaning against a mirror as she did not wish to see her reflection. She was not a good person. She did not want to see her face, did not want to see the age reflected there. It was bad enough to feel the guild stamp on her shoulder burn.

She had been a mage of a guild for two long to be a loving, doting grandmother. She had seen too many mages fall to the darkness to actually care about who it was. Whatever happened, she could and would stop them.

Yet Lance had gotten away.

Between her and her grandson, she was the true monster, at least sometimes. Or better said, there was a darkness residing in her heart as well. Maybe this was the shadow in their hearts they all carried, no matter how long they had walked in the light.

She exhaled, resting her hands on the balustrade, looking down into the yard instead of up to the skies. She watched how servants were cleaning the yard after she had left it behind destroyed as she had followed her grandson, no, he was no longer her grandson. He was the enemy now.

In the distance, the uprooted tree was a clear and sharp silhouette against the white sky.

Inside of her, the rainstorm was rattling against the cages.

"Not yet," she muttered. She meant something else.

"Never again."

What a pretty little lie.