Applying for RP Prompt: 016 Character Name: Sotiria Hightower
Owner Name: Nyx Argyros
Tea: Gentle Frost
You understand there is a 15,000 gold Fee if you win? Yes.
You understand that this character requires at least 3 months of activity, or it will be rehomed, no refunds given? Yes.
Prompt Response: The Heart of a WitchThe deep forest was dark and still, the first rays of the morning’s sun struggling to break through the thick foliage. The hush before the day was short-lived, however, as the birds began their salutation to the dawn, seemingly unaware that the forest they inhabited was one viewed with great awe by witches of all varieties. Indeed, they paid little attention to anything outside of their routine, hardly sparing a glance at the unconscious human woman lying face-down at the bottom of a hill where she had clearly fallen at some point during the night.
Quite suddenly, like someone flipping on a switch, the woman’s vibrant blue eyes opened and unconsciousness was replaced with full awareness. As she sat up, Sotiria stifled a hiss of pain. Clearly, she needed to take a quick inventory of her status.
Numerous abrasions covered her body, even cutting through the cloth of her tights and sleeves. They were minor, but uncomfortable. Still, she would have to tend to them as soon as she was able in order to prevent any chance of infection. The woman also noted bruises on her upper arms and on the outside of one thigh as well as an odd ache in her chest. Nothing appeared to be broken or sprained – a minor miracle – but she would have some difficulty supporting her weight with her bruised leg. Inconvenient, but probably not fatal unless danger lurked nearby. She also happened to be filthy, a discovery that made her lip curl in distaste. Knowing that there was nothing to be done about it just yet, she turned her attention to her surroundings.
Sotiria peered around, but could only make out vague dark shapes. Well, her nose made it quite clear that wherever she was, it was damp, earthy, and filled with green growing things. Frowning, she squinted at the ground and groped around her immediate surroundings. Her hand touched something thin and metallic. After carefully wiping off the lenses with the inside of her shirt, the woman put her glasses back where they belonged. Much better. Unfortunately, Sotiria’s worst suspicions were confirmed. Tall trees, menacing atmosphere, dense foliage, there was only one place she could be: the Grave of Fairies. Tira should know; she had been here not so very long ago in order to fulfill her quest. It was not the sort of place one soon forgot.
More wary than before, though still maintaining her poise, Sotiria tried to gauge her exact situation. However, her mind was not providing the prompt answers that it usually held. Her frown deepened. Just what was wrong with her? She did not even know the time of day. Of course in this particular forest, that was difficult to judge at the best of times. Currently, however, it was even dimmer than the last time she had been there, though it was not the overwhelming darkness of the night. Twilight. Now, was it dusk or dawn? Given the activity of the birds, and the dew on the ground, the Witch was inclined to believe it to be morning.
There. That was something. Her analytical mind had swiftly induced that she was alone somewhere in the Grave of Fairies at dawn and though it would be uncomfortable, she was physically able to get back to the city. Magically, she was…
Sotiria cut herself off mid-thought.
Magic. Now why was that thought nagging at her?
The young woman silenced her thoughts and searched through her tidy mind, seeking the place where the events from the past night should be. She found nothing but a foggy darkness. Patiently, with the steady certainty of one who would not accept failure, she worked to clear that darkness starting with the last thing she remembered.
***
It was late afternoon and the young Sotiria Hightower was just leaving the Royal Academy’s largest library, having been there since early that morning. This was not an unusual occurrence – in fact, she would often stay even later if she was in the middle of a particularly important bit of research. However, Sotiria had made significant progress today – enough that she had to recalculate her hypothesis on a successful diplomatic liaison between humans and druids. Nothing further could be achieved in the library, so she was on her way back home. So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that Tira failed to notice that the number of people in the streets diminished as she neared the western edge of the city.
A prickling trail of unease ran down her spine and she glanced around only to realize that there was no one in sight save herself. Now that was definitely not normal, not at this time of day and in this part of the city. Deciding that it was best to err on the side of caution, Sotiria tapped into the core of her magic, ready to steal the life-giving heat out of an enemy at a moment’s notice. Even as she reached for her magic, she analyzed routes of escape and the most likely directions an attack could come from. Unfortunately, she failed to account for something utterly beyond her realm of experience.
Until that moment, Sotiria had not known that anything could move that fast. Before she could so much as comprehend that she was not imagining things and there was indeed someone else nearby, she was already experiencing the indescribably excruciating agony of losing one’s Heart.
Her Witch Heart. Her magic. Her soul. It was being forcibly torn from her body as though thousands of tiny claws were digging through her flesh and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. For the first time in her life, Sotiria was completely defenseless, but she was in no state to appreciate this fact. All she knew was that there was no breath in her body with which she could scream, not that it would help anyway. There was no one to hear her.
When she thought she could bear the pain no longer, Tira caught a glimpse of a small, dark figure, probably male, though it was hard to tell.
“Thank you,” he said in a light, mild voice and disappeared. Tira had just enough time to realize that she had just had her first encounter with a Witch Eater and that her first would undoubtedly be her last before darkness consumed her and she thought no more.
***
Sotiria jerked awake with a start and stared at unfamiliar walls with wild eyes. It was small and white and clean and smelt unpleasantly of sterility overlaying disease. She had dreamed. She had dreamed and dreamed. She had dreamed that she was a Witch and of course she was, but she had dreamed that someone ate her heart. A great, dark beast came and stole it. Impossible. It was impossible. A mad giggle bubbled up in her mind, but could not find its way past her lips.
Oh, but it was true. So very, very true.
She reached for that part of her that was so unique and important and fundamental to her being, but all she found was a raw, jagged, aching void where her Heart of hearts should be. It was enough to make her want to howl from the fundamental
wrongness of it. She tried to scream, but not a sound would answer her call. As she had no Heart, her voice had deserted her, too.
Unaware of the tears trailing down her face, Sotiria whipped her head around as the door opened and a short, sturdy man came into the room.
“You’re awake,” he observed, keeping his voice soothing so as not to spook her.
She tensed anyway. The beast had been small and gentle-sounding. Was this man his ally? He approached her slowly and when he had nearly reached her, she leapt out of the narrow bed, shoving him out of the way with a strength she had not known she possessed. His cries of alarm were ignored as she made her escape.
People. People. There were people everywhere. The building, this prison of death and disease was full of them. Were they all allies of the beast? Though some called after her, none tried to stop her. Perhaps they knew what had become of her.
When at last she stumbled out of the building, her panic only intensified. More and more and more people. So very many, so full of life and energy and magic. Magic that she no longer possessed. The void where her Heart of hearts should be gave a sharp twist at the sensation of all that magic in the air. How was it that they had their magic while she was hopelessly empty? She did not understand, but it hurt to be near them, so she fled.
The woman with no Heart ran until her breath was ragged and her stomach contorted from being ignored. She ran until her hands shook and she was dizzy from the overexerting a body that was already burdened with the strain of losing its magic and the sickness of its approaching death. She ran until her vision was filled with spots and lack of oxygen threatened her with unconsciousness and then she stumbled on, gasping, hardly caring where she was so long as there were no people to torment her with what she did not have. Then, when she could stumble no farther, she curled up around the place her Heart should be and slept.
It was a fitful sleep, riddled with nightmarish reminders of her attack and her impending demise. Every little thing brought her back to half-consciousness, from a squirrel climbing a nearby tree to a bird taking flight, to a fly buzzing away. So when the man appeared, she could not tell if he was another nightmare or a true being come to disturb her on her deathbed. She decided that it did not matter.
He spoke to her, but she could not quite comprehend the words. They probably did not matter, either. At least, she thought that none of it mattered until he reached out and loosely grabbed her arm. That felt far too real to be a dream. Even through the madness, Sotiria held firm to her conviction that if she was going to die anyway, she would not go out being helpless at another’s hands. Never again.
She began to struggle, and he grasped her other arm, holding her in place with a grip strong enough to bruise if she put up a fight, and fight she did. Or rather, she fought until the strangest sensation began to fill her. It started off slowly, a prickling warmth that licked at the edge of the void and crept inward, aiming for the center of that chasm. It sped up and intensified until it became a torrent of magma flooding the void and a long-awaited scream found its way out of her throat. Her vision filled with a blinding white light that consumed her mind and swallowed her whole.
***
Sotiria’s eyes widened, then narrowed as the darkness cleared from the last of her memories. Well, she had certainly lost more than one night to her…
experience. Abruptly, she grasped for her magic and allowed herself a ragged sigh of relief as she felt the familiar tingle. However, given the uncomfortable rawness that accompanied even that little embrace like a still-tender wound, there was no way that the Witch could deny the truth: it was not a dream or a hallucination, those memories were the real thing. Her Witch Heart had been stolen, and then it had been restored.
Another undeniable fact came with that knowledge. Though a Witch Eater stole her Heart, it was also a Witch Eater who gave it back. The same one or a different one, she was not certain, nor did she have so much as the slightest hint as to why she was targeted or why a Witch Eater would seek her out and return her Heart to her. But she intended to find out. Perhaps if she could get a clearer memory of his face, or make out his words through the haze of madness that had taken hold of her then…
Sotiria frowned at herself. There was no point in dealing in uncertainties. She had something more important to focus on. The beginnings of an idea was forming in the back of her meticulous mind and it had all the earmarks of a very important discovery, perhaps even important enough to alter the course of her life. Everything was becoming so much clearer. There was nothing wrong with going wrong with aiming for more efficient systems with which to run the government, or devising methods to promote more harmonious relations with the Druids, but anyone could work on such projects. Sotiria had a unique perspective on the Witch Eaters, one few had the dubious honor of attaining with their lives and magic intact. Who better to hunt them than one who has felt both the very best and the very worst of what they can do?
It would take time to discover the identities of the Witch Eaters she had encountered over the past few days. It was not as though she was liable to just run into them on the street. In the meantime, she would have plenty of time to pursue other endeavors, and if those other endeavors just happened to help her find who she was looking for, so much the better.
Her blue eyes hardened to ice and an oddly serene smile graced her lips. Yes, this new idea of hers would suit her very well.
Reply
