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 Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2020 1:03 pm
Prentice Solo One
Life after the ball had changed drastically for Asa Sargsyan.
As the scion to one of Zena's most affluent houses, and an eligible bachelor at that, Asa knew full well what his social failure’s had cost him. Whatever liberties his parent’s had graciously afforded him were now gone and had been replaced with a structured routine far more meticulous than any soldiers. He rose with the sun, regardless of how his body felt, attended studies until midday and after that spent hours with his mother writing apology letters to all of the guests he’d offended. Any who were ‘kind’ enough to write back were either treated in one of two ways; those with less than pleasant messages were ‘politely’ ignored, while others were treated with a level of kindness Asa had never seen from his mother.
House Sargsyan was trying it’s best to retain its good social standing despite the careless actions of a wayward heir and now it was Asa’s job to clean up his mess.
Even the staff, who had previously gone out of their way to avoid him, openly sneered as they passed. What good was an heir, even a dying one, if they couldn’t continue the line? If Sargsyan fell, everyone attached to it would also suffer, which was a feeling represented by the estate as a whole. Few faces smiled his way in the weeks after the ball, which prompted Asa to spend more time than usual in his chambers. It was just easier this way; he would wake, attend family meals, do his duty to his studies, and go back to bed. His hobbies went untended, dreams drifted away, and soon all he was left with were his thoughts.
It was easy enough to recall his mother’s reaction when she’d found him, squirreled away in the servant’s quarters, blissfully alone. He dared not think of what she would have done if Ygraine had been in the room with them. Would she have yelled as much as she had? Or more? Would she have slapped Ygraine as hard as she had him?
“How selfish can you be?! You’ve doomed us all, and for what? A dirty little tart with no standing? Do you realize what you’ve done?!”
If possible, Geir had shown even less restraint than Tikaani. Despite there being multiple healers on site all were prevented from even being near the young heir unless he showed signs of labored breathing. He would be made to carry his bruises in the same way his father was carrying his son’s failures; this much Asa knew the moment he’d taken Ygraine’s hand. By the time Asa left the servant’s quarters he had a noticeable limp, one that he was expected to hide at all costs. And yet, there was little they could do about his split lip, but if anyone had noticed they didn’t openly comment on it. Societal etiquette prevented them from doing so; away from their hosts, however, rumors had started to spread almost immediately. What had he been doing? How long were they gone? Were they found in the act? Had the girl been trying to run off with him?
By the end of the night only a fraction of eligible maids remained, and most, if not all, barely met his parents specifications. They were all from ‘lesser’ houses, with a handful of discrepancies among them, and while obtaining favor back from the others was steadily bearing fruit Sargsyan had still taken a blow. Asa felt it everyday in the dismissive looks of his parents, in the cold, utilitarian way he was served his meals and the very cadence of his staff. In many aspects it was an absolute nightmare, and yet, he found normalcy in all of it.
Despite it all, Asa wouldn’t have changed a single thing.
He didn’t regret meeting Ygraine, nor did he regret helping her. He’d known this would be the ultimate result, but the iceling just hadn’t cared. For just once he was in control of his life, and that...was something they would never be able to take away from him. His free time may have been stripped away, but really, how many luxuries were gone? Not quite so many. He needed the multitude of blankets just to make it through the long Zenan nights in much the same way he needed his padded coats. Every meal was a necessity for his emaciated frame as were any snacks he requested. Of course he didn’t get his choice in what he ate anymore, but that wasn’t so bad; he could live with worse.
Holo remained by his side over the years. His brash nature proved as exhausting as ever, and admittedly, he’d grown jealous of the other boy. He talked frequently about his nights out, of the things he did with his friends in the city, as if the tediousness of an isolated life hadn’t gotten to Asa years ago. If he’d just chosen a normal, proper girl would he be permitted to go? Holo was little more than a glorified nanny anyway, so it may have been possible. Since Asa was so rarely exposed to fresh air over the past year he’d had only a fair amount of attacks, and his body had flourished. His mind, however….his mind had flashed between stages of all consuming depression and a white hot anger he’d never felt.
Holo lacked breeding. He had no class, faked his way through training, and was a healer in name only yet his parent’s adored him! They spoke to the young man as if he were the son they should have had while their own flesh and blood withered away in his tower. His father often discussed plans of expansion with Holo present, as if waiting to see how the younger male would respond, and when Asa expressed his ideas he was promptly shut down.
The biggest shock, however, came on the eve of Asa’s seventeenth birthday. He’d spent the past week in the throes of a terrible fever, one that left him with just enough energy to breath, when Holo came into the room. At first Asa thought he’d been dreaming; he called out weakly for the other, begging for water with his cries being harshly ignored. Why wasn’t he responding? Couldn’t he hear him? The heat was unbearable! Holo took a wide sweep of the bed, dancing his fingertips along the curved footboard while Asa was forced to watch. There was no way he would ever forget that self assured smirk...or the way his father’s signet ring glinted on Holo’s finger.
A hand found it's way to Asa's shoulder, and that familiar grip forced him to turn toward the man standing above him. In his haze he didn’t see Holo at first, but rather, the grim face of his father.
"Will you make it through the night?"
His heart stalled, fear gripping him, until Holo’s cool hand brushed back the hair from his forehead. It was then that his wild, fever bright eyes noticed the medicinal poultice Holo had spread onto his bare chest. The sensation sent shivers down his already shaking frame, but at the very least it was helping to cool him.
“Your mother wanted to be the one to tell you, but she just can’t bear to see you like this”. Holo sat on the edge of the bed, calloused fingers massing the poultice into Asa’s skin. At first the sensation was welcome….until his menstrations became rough. He pressed down hard onto Asa’s chest, causing him to jolt in discomfort, which only made Holo’s smirk grow. “A bride’s been chosen. Good news, don’t you think? After everything you’ve put us through this nightmare can finally end.”
A...bride?
“Your father worked out a pretty good deal, too. You’ll be married next year, on your eighteenth birthday and don’t worry about liking her; all you have to do is make sure she gets pregnant with your little brat and I’ll take over from there. Simple.” Holo gave Asa a good ‘pat’ on the chest before standing up. The pair locked eyes for a moment, predatory gold looking into desperate yellow before breaking off.
That had been months ago, and relationships in the house had shifted considerably. All Asa knew of his betrothed was her name, Isanna, and her family history. As soon as the fever had left him he’d wished he was still trapped in that haze. At least then he could pretend his parent’s weren’t already replacing him, that his life held more meaning than passing on blood, and that he could be happy.
He often thought of Ygraine during these times. He would sit by the window sill and look out over the snow drenched streets. In every tuft of snow he could see her hair, bouncing free and full as she walked. Every morning frost was a light in her eye, and he could just hope that her life had taken a far more positive turn than his.
[WC 1535]
[5]
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Posted: Fri May 01, 2020 10:12 am
Prentice Solo Two (Class Affinity) - Scholar
Isanna was, without a doubt, a stunning woman.
When Asa had first been introduced to his betrothed he was pleasantly surprised. Over the past few months she had rebuffed any missives sent her way, and without so much as meeting him, had made it abundantly clear that she cared little for the arrangement. He had hoped that, at the very least, they may have found common ground in all of this, but without so much as a sentence to tell him what she was like he’d been left to ponder.
In truth, Asa had convinced himself he was marrying a great, brooding beast with fangs for teeth and claws as hard as iron. She was, quite obviously, such a mythically monstrous girl that she lacked the ability to write and while she was at least agreeable to marriage this had been why he hadn’t received anything in return. What he saw, however, was a tall, classically beautiful girl with large, plump lips and a purposeful stride. She’d gotten off the carriage on a warm, spring morning, right behind her father and looked over to Geir without so much as a glance to Asa. He’d tried to garner her attention with what he thought was a warming smile, but maybe she just hadn’t seen it? Or, which was more likely, she’d blatantly ignored it.
She had a few crystals around the neck that dipped down underneath her clothes in a style much rougher than his own. Her skin itself was a hue close to his, but her hair….He’d never seen anything like it. With each movement it changed color under the sun’s direct light. One moment it was a bright, beautiful blue and the next a rich indigo. It was just long enough to frame her face, and yet, short enough so as not to graze the top of her shoulders. He thought it made her look all the more mysterious, if not a little dangerous.
Could she be acting this way because she was nervous? Or would she always be like this?
Try as he might Asa wouldn’t know the answer for some time. All throughout the grand evening feast he tried to get closer to his future wife with little success. It was very apparent that the only members of his household Isanna found worthwhile were his parents. She talked with his mother for most of the evening, with brief interludes from Geir, and an occasional poorly timed joke from her own father. A few times attention had been turned his way, but it was quickly outlived. Why focus on the dying with such lively company? Even Holo had been asked to join and with his presence they’d made quite the ‘lovely’ evening.
Asa, himself, felt more ill at ease by the minute. She was older than he was by at least three years with a quick wit and an eye for Holo. If his parents knew that they were previously connected they didn’t say anything, but it was painfully obvious to Asa. Ever since he showed up Holo had made sure to keep the distance between them to a bear minimum and one would have thought it was his betrothed he was clinging too.
Isanna had only scolded him once, and even that told a story. He had started getting handsy until she smacked him under the table, then murmured a quick, ”Later” before returning to the meal.
So that was it. Asa was to receive Holo’s strumpet, give her a child, and once he’d passed Holo would inherit it all. His death would ensure a blissful life for everyone…. except for himself.
Isanna and her family were to stay on the estate for the rest of the season until the wedding. His mother warned him in passing not to get caught sneaking into her chambers, but had otherwise encouraged it. They would be married, after all, and any….’unexpected surprises’ would be treated accordingly.
Thank you mother, I feel at ease knowing you’ve given me your blessing to have pre-maritals.
Perhaps it was Asa’s near constant exhaustion that had placed him into an irritable mood, or the evening itself, but he found himself retiring to his own chambers earlier than usual. He simply didn’t have the mental fortitude to sludge through anymore schmoozing. It was clear enough that so long as a child bore the Sargsyan crystals it didn’t matter if his wife was faithful or not. They may as well attach stones to the poor child’s chest and -
Asa caught himself. It would do little good to think ill of a child, much less one that would inevitably be born into this family. He’d already resolved himself to caring for it as if it were his own, regardless of the….father. He could no more help the circumstances of his birth then he could change night to day and to expect as much of another would simply be cruel. After all, with his illness, Asa wasn’t entirely sure he could father children. The thought often left him lying awake at night, mostly after any such talk with his mother, but sometimes...sometimes he imagined that it wouldn’t be so bad.
At least then he wouldn’t be condemning another to life in this manse.
“Why so glum? Was your fiance not everything you expected her to be?”
Asa turned, a great violet flush spreading across his skin. He’d been so wrapped up in his own head that he hadn’t noticed the older woman sitting in his room, and how could he not? It wasn’t as if she blended in with the tapestries.
Oona was a grand spectacle of proper Zenan breeding and fashion. Her hair was always decorated in the finest of gems, each outfit hand tailored with silver thread, and every fur that hung off her shoulders was never worn twice. Even at the ripe age of seventy nine winters she still outclassed Zidel’s elite, and yet, the most endearing quality about her was the kindness she kept despite it all. When Oona had learned of Geir’s son she had volunteered her services as a seasoned healer, and had been an invaluable asset to the family ever since. At time of Asa’s birth her husband had just passed, her own offspring inherited the family name, and it only made sense for her to turn her services elsewhere.
She walked a fine line each day with the members of the Sargsyan family. Most days they found her to be rude, overly opinionated and a bother, but were too scared to get rid of her lest their son suffer an attack.
She was the only person that had ever shown Asa true affection, and he adored her for it.
He moved towards the older woman, and sat in a chair by her side. By the look of things she had been in his room the entire time he was gone preparing poultices. Various herbs were strewn across his desk, mixed with various liquids of...questionable smells. How much of this has she slipped me without my knowledge? Best not to know.
“Isanna will make a fine wife.”
“Which means you don’t like her.” Oona pinned him with a pointed stare which just made Asa sink back into his chair. What did she wish him to say? Of course he didn’t care for the woman; he barely knew her! She was as cold to him as the ice itself, and beyond that, she was too busy parading herself in front of the hired help to pay any attention to her fiance.
How could I ever ‘like’ someone like that?
“What type of herb is this? I seem to have misplaced my labels.” At first the question caught him off guard, but once it dawned on him what Oona was trying to do Asa played along. In high stress situations, or some of his worst days, the old healer would teach him her craft. Specifically, she would drill him on herbs and the properties they withheld.
Most were little more than common weeds that needed a little burst of magic to spur them into any sort of healing mixture. As they went about their routine Asa’s nerves seemed to dissipate, as did his aggravation.At some point in the conversation he had moved from being a mere bystander to scooting his chair closer, rolling up his embroidered sleeves and blending mixtures in the mortar himself.
“Now...what about this one?”
Asa looked up to the old, worn spellbook Oona held aloft and squinted. This one….wasn’t as familiar to him. The flowers were white, it looked more like a southern plant, and ultimately too delicate for Zenan soil. And yet, he knew it, didn’t he? Why did it seem so familiar and yet…..
“Sometimes I use this to put in your father’s tea when he talks too much-”
“Ashwagandha!” Asa’s face lit up, “It’s a fever reducer and a sleep aid! It needs consistent water, plenty of space to grow since it can get fairly tall and shares most of its physical properties with common shrubs.” He hadn’t even realized that he’d bounced a little in his chair until Oona smirked, but he quickly regained his composure. It was exciting to get something like that right, but a...little embarrassing to be found out like that.
“You would make a good healer, you know.” Oona sat her spellbook in front of them, and flipped back to the proper page for their own project. It was a spell both knew by heart at this point; the one for a poultice to help expand Asa’s lungs while in the midst of an attack. It wasn’t a cure all, nor anything that could truly save him, but it would relieve enough pressure so that he could sleep. Over the past couple of years Asa had taken to blending the mixture himself since it required more dexterous hands and it was getting harder for Oona to pull it off by herself.
Besides that, it felt good doing something for himself for once in his life.
“You’ve gone through your apprenticeship. All you really need is field work and-”
“-magic. Miss Oona, I would need magic in order to be a healer. My family is a great many things, but mages we are not.”
“Not yet you mean. Your bloodline could very well hold some of the most potent magic in all of Tendaji, but without the right teaching they would never have known.”
“And what good is magic to a dying heir?” Asa’s good mood seemed to wither in an instant, “Please, Miss Oona, it isn’t polite to tease.”
“Then what would you do if you could leave? If you were healthy and whole, with the world at your feet, what would you do?”
“I would...I’m sorry, dreaming is a frivolous act, we should really be focusing on-”
“What. Would. You. Do?”
Asa sighed and leaned back in his chair. “If I weren’t burdened by this illness I would be a tradesman, like my father, and inherit the family name in all the proper ways. If I could choose, however…..I may very well become a healer to help others suffering as I have. That would never come to pass though as I still lack...magic….” His voice trailed off as he noticed a faint glow emanating from the mortar. Upon closer inspection Asa quickly found the glow wasn’t coming from the concoction itself, but...rather...from his own hand….
“What sits before me isn’t a ‘dying heir’ but rather an apprentice who has trained under a master healer for many years in the art of keeping critically ill patients alive.” Oona reached over to place her hand upon his knee and smiled to him with all the kindness she’d shown him over the years and something else….Something foreign...Something that looked an awful lot like, dare he say it, pride?
“Don’t be so quick to throw yourself away, Master Asa. You’ve been dealt a difficult hand, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own. If a healer’s work is what you wish to learn I will continue my best to teach you, but you have to have the resolve in your own heart to make it work.”
How was it that such a woman could exist when his own parents saw so little in him? His future had been written from the moment of his conception, and now it seemed to be acted out on a stage he could only observe. If he could master this talent….if he could just manage to learn enough so that he could get away from here without worrying about finding someone else to help him…No no no, dreaming was dangerous! It was frivolous and foolish!
And yet, even if he couldn’t escape...even if his destiny was to marry Isanna and die in this house...maybe he could extend it a little longer. “If you’ve the will to teach then I’m ready to learn, Miss Oona. Please, impart upon me half of your wisdom so that I may learn.”
Oona...snorted and then laughed. It wasn’t...exactly how he expected her to react, and yet, Asa found that he didn’t mind. At least she was giving him a chance, which he was only to happy to accept.
[WC 2265]
[7]
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Posted: Sun May 31, 2020 6:01 pm
Prentice Growth Solo
[Everyone has their breaking point. Asa has lived his entire life in a gilded cage with his parents dictating his every move. Because of his illness he was never allowed to live his own life for fear of an early death without a proper heir to carry the family forward. For the entirety of his life Asa believed that was his purpose; until meeting Ygraine. Now he's taking the reigns of his own life and has decided that even if he dies he's ready to live his life the way HE wants.]
The wedding that would join House Sargsyan and House Varlin was set for the following morning. A grand party had consumed much of the evening after rehearsal, and while guests were still in it’s thrall downstairs Asa had quietly retreated to his chambers for a break.
While his ‘bride’ had played the role of blushing, excitable innocent all evening Asa knew the truth. For every sweet, shy word passed his way in front of the Zenan elite he heard twice as many heart breaking ones behind their back.
“Hold my hand, they’re watching….what are you doing? Don’t eat that….Stand taller, the head of the merchant’s guild is here…”
It had taken all he had just to survive the evening and the thought of spending the rest of his waking days with her at his side was daunting. This woman was a viper; no matter how fake their marriage apparently was she would still sink her fangs in every chance she got.
And in contrast, there was Ygraine.
Asa shook his head. Thinking about anyone other than his intended the night before their wedding was shameful. It was a shame his future wife didn’t feel the same. The likelihood of her bed going cold tonight was slim, and he imagined she would look fairly exhausted tomorrow, much as she had for the past couple days. Weeks of preparation had led to this moment and now that it was here he couldn’t keep from feeling ill.
Ygraine had offered him a chance to escape once. She had offered him a life of freedom, no matter how brief, and he’d turned it down. Now that the harbinger of his own demise was staring back at him in the mirror Asa couldn’t keep the cold sweat from claiming him. You must remain strong. All he had to do was go through with it and…
Why was he shaking so much? Seeing himself in the nearly spotless stretch of glass, trussed up like a foreign marionette ready to be played, terrified Asa to the core. Never before had the sight given him so much stress. I can do this, I have to do this, I WILL do this-
If you left right now who would notice? Who would even miss you until the ceremony?
Asa looked into his eyes and found a rare bit of rebellion taking hold. Every thought he had of being the ‘proper son’ and seeing his family to fruition were being drowned out by his own desires. I would only be a burden to her. True, but hadn’t she almost begged him to go? If she was ready to accept the risks then who was he to say no? Especially when he wanted out so very badly.
“What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing~” He muttered the mantra over and over as he chaotically tore his chambers. “I have a bag, right?” Even though his walls must have been over an arm’s length thick he still kept his voice low as if the dust itself would turn him in. Once he’d uncovered a satchel Asa simply stared into the empty bag, and realized he had no idea what he needed to pack. Boots, of course, something better than he had on - or perhaps not, considering all of his footwear was mostly for decoration than practicality. An extra blanket or two, extra gloves, a hat, and gold….I have no gold! How would they afford anything if he had nothing to give? Looking around Asa snatched up as much jewelry as possible, knowing full well he wasn’t likely to get half of it’s actual worth with inexperienced traders out there but at least it was better than nothing.
Of course he stuffed his bags with herbs; as many as it would hold before he realized he was out of space. But then again, his coat had pockets. Thankfully his parents had thought it best to give him a thick outer coat, of which he tossed on and loaded with as many herbs and poultices as possible.
And for a moment, his hands hovered over one last piece of his ‘old’ life; Oona’s spellbook. For some reason the old woman had insisted on leaving it behind in his room every night after Ygraine had visited, as if….as if she knew….Asa quirked his lips in a half smirk and snatched it up. You always knew, didn’t you? He only wished she was there so he could properly say goodbye.
His satchel was almost too heavy to lift, but Asa carried it like a shield. For a moment he looked towards the large wooden door separating his room from the main hall. His entire life had been a build up to a wedding he’d never wanted and a life that was never his. Not once had his parents ever contemplated the things he could do, or the places he might have seen. In one night Ygraine had given him more hope than they ever could have, and she’d been right; what kind of mindset was he in that it felt right to run away with a girl he barely knew?
And why did it hurt his heart so much to go?
Even though they treated him more like a servant than a son Asa had always been tied to this estate simply because he knew of nothing else. They would hunt him, at least at first, and he was ready for it.
He opened the door to the servants quarters, spared one last look at his old room, and closed the door behind him.
[WC 956]
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Posted: Thu Jul 01, 2021 6:40 pm
Stage 2 Growth Solo
[Now that Asa is accepting the fact that he might just live long enough to have a happy life he wants to make things official with Ygraine. She's given him more than enough to fight for and as scary as it is he's willing to try.]
For every step Asa Sargsyan took forward, life pulled him back an extra five.
Fever settled deep within his very soul and made every breath he took as painful as breathing smoke. Each inhale stung and the resulting exhale would snap like fragile ice. He’d been told it sounded like he was drowning and in a way Asa supposed he was. His lungs certainly felt as if they were filled to the brim with frigid water and everytime he was pulled into unconsciousness Asa feared he wouldn’t wake up again.
In the beginning his illness was simply a part of life; an aspect of himself that he’d long since accepted. He was going to die, there was no way around it, but now he didn’t want to give in. The thought of leaving Ygraine behind to bring up their son alone scared him more than anything else in the world. It was beyond frustrating not to be able to provide for his little family. He wanted so desperately to be the partner she deserved and while he was deeply appreciative for the support of her family Asa didn’t miss the way they looked at him. From passing glances to the little subtleties in how her fathers treated him spoke volumes. In his moments of strength they allowed him to help, but they were few and far between in Colm’s early years. He tried his best not to let Ygraine see how much it scared him, but with each morning Asa could feel his strength leaving until he woke less and less. Whole weeks passed where he wasn’t cognicent enough to remember anything and it was during that time, when his fever raged, that she begged for Arden.
At first he denied her. The shame of leaving her behind with one child was enough to worry him, but two? And still, she pressed on until he felt guilty for not giving in. So, time stretched on and he got through it. Those days were some of his happiest. He was able to travel to Oba, to help with the boys, even take on an apprenticeship and earn some coin for their family. The sense of confidence he got when he returned from a hard won day to see his sons annoying the life out of their mother brought him no end of joy. He was so sure that the worst was behind him at that point. He’d survived, just a little longer, and now...now he could have what he’d always wanted. A true family.
And then, just as surely as the sun sets, Asa got sick again.
It crept up on him this time with a painful slowness. The fever had started light; a side effect of a particularly strong heatwave. He’d been so sure that if he just waited it out, stayed in the shade and took a few days off work that he would heal. Except, he didn’t. Time and time again he had to deny his sons’ request to play in favor of retreating to his bed, body wracked in coughs that stole his breath. The warm, desert air that had seemed like such a blessing at first burned just as strong as the harsh winter winds and reminded him that no matter how far he ran On’os’s sands of time would surely run out.
The ‘bad’ days may have been spaced out further apart from one another, but when they hit they were much stronger. He’d already lost so much weight that his clothing no longer fit and his appetite, to spite it all, simply didn’t exist. Yet, through it all, the one thing that remained was his ironclad will to live. Everytime he opened his eyes and saw some bit of his family Asa reminded himself of why the fight was worth it. Ygraine at his side, Colm coming to practice his reading, Arden standing at the doorway...His eyes traveled across the room to a little bag sitting among his belongings. It was a coin pouch, a nearly invisible little bag, but one that held the biggest treasure of all inside. He’d worked so hard during his ‘good’ days to afford it, and as soon as he was through this he’d give it to Ygraine.
Inside that bag was an engagement ring.
Asa wanted nothing more than to make Ygraine his wife. Initially he’d held off on the notion because he feared trapping her in a fruitless marriage, but over the years she’d stubbornly dug her heels in. If she wasn’t going to let go then why should he? That woman had turned his entire world on its head and even if he only had a few more hours left he wanted to do so with her by his side.
The fever would pass, he desperately hoped it would, and when it did Asa was going to take that leap.
[WC 838]
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