Information
Noir
Legacy Name: Noir
The Glacier Serpenth
Owner: Marine
Age: 17 years, 5 months, 1 week
Born: November 21st, 2006
Adopted: 6 years, 4 months, 1 week ago
Adopted: December 23rd, 2017
Statistics
- Level: 58
- Strength: 145
- Defense: 138
- Speed: 137
- Health: 139
- HP: 135/139
- Intelligence: 3
- Books Read: 3
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Store Clerk
i. the beginning of the end.
It all began when Mom got sick.
Not her earliest memory, but one of the most poignant: how she staggered against the wall with a cough, how Mother quickly came to attention and asked what was wrong, how cinnamon incense perfumed the air from the back room. It was all probably just some cold, some inflammation of the throat and lungs-- easily tended to with rest, liquids and honey; it all just meant that family business had to be put on hold.
But this time simply had to be different.
Her name was Noir, for the countless auspicious desert nights that hid secrets and wealth in their shadows. Fate found it only right to rebel against such a name, for she was born with a blaze of platinum-white hair on her head, a trait stolen from the one she called "mom", Robin. But she had "mother's", Tharja's vague purple gaze and darker skintone, and a fussy nature not quite from either: truly a unique sort of child.
Her early life knew no shortcomings of love and attention. She read and wrote with ease, played well with the other children, and sometimes she got to be spoiled with fabulous silken clothes and golden jewelry, the sorts of delightful treasures that Tharja brought home from the marketplace. A few years later, she was gifted with a baby sister by the name of Morgan, dark-haired and often beaming with a smile-- and Noir was determined to be the best big sister she could ever be.
But then that one fateful day came and went, and everything seemed to change.
At first it seemed no different. Everybody got a bit sick now and then, it was just what happened: thankfully, Tharja was incredibly knowledgable about ailments and their cures, and had a potion for everything. What seemed to work at first only failed to uphold the bargain, however, and as Robin failed to recover, soon becoming unable to leave home without support, despair began to settle.
She was still young, they both were, not even breaking 35 years yet.
There wasn't anything in the books about some sort of coughing, fatiguing ailment that wouldn't fade-- and so Tharja turned down a different route.
Noir did her best to continue on, even as one mother lay bedridden and the other dabbled in hexes and spells to try and figure out a cure. She still did her reading and writing lessons, still fed the doves they kept for eggs and meat, and when she could, she would try her best to take care of Morgan. Her little sister rarely left Robin's side, happy to sit at the bedside to be read the same tales of bravery and strategy over and over again.
And as things took a turn for the worst, that was what saved Morgan.
Animals weren't decent test subjects for curses anymore: they didn't give generalizable results, and none of the results looked like Robin's illness. First Tharja tried to bring in priests of her Grimleal faith, skilled practitioners of the magical realm of life and death.
Perhaps that would be enough, perhaps that would stave off any worsening while she looked for a cure. Something, anything--
This all fell to pieces as the symptoms only got worse. Coughing, spasms, temporary paralysis, like some horrific magical ailment. Noir stared on as she watched her mother fall to pieces, whimpering between sobs that she didn't know what to do, that she trusted her people to come up with a plan only to fail miserably.. and from that despair came horrific desperation.
"We're going to do this for Mom. It'll be fine, Noir, I promise... we're going to make her better."
Not wanting to argue with a happy sentiment, Noir silently accepted this fate: a magical guinea pig, soon subjected to all manner of miserable spells for her ailing parent's sake. She smiled at first, knowing that this would be the last time, that it was all for a good reason.
The days dragged on, and days became weeks.
She spent almost all her time exhausted, recoiling, dreading the next curse dropped on her shoulders. The words of kindness and reassurance had faded so swiftly: the doting words and gentle touch of her mother's hand were long gone, and now she feared the next failure to provoke a screaming fit. Once or twice, Robin herself would intervene, struggling to her feet and gathering Noir up, taking her out of that gods-forsaken study for however long, and those moments were the happiest.
Everything was falling apart right in front of her. Morgan was becoming more and more self-sufficient, able to take care of herself between an absent parent and a bedridden parent-- despite all the scars she accumulated, Noir was at least proud of her little sister.
"It will be better", she told herself, despite the tears that stained her cheeks, despite the terror that welled up deep within her whenever her mother pulled her away for another curse-testing session. Someday soon, they were going to find a cure, and everything would be all right.
One morning, Robin didn't wake up,
and in a second, the world ended.
mreeeeep.
Pet Treasure
Onyx Cabochon Ring
Dark Shaman Wolf Totem
Enchanted Elven Bow
Quiver of Arrows
Arid Decorative Vesnali Feather
Salvaged Green Buttons
Torn Blood Stained Strip of Fabric
Old Arrow Head
Brass Oil Lamp
Coal Heavy Duty Gloves
Wooden Playing Cards Case
Darkside Heat Charms
Old Coins
Subeta Tribune Special Issue VII
Get Out Of The Apocalypse Free Card
Time Travel I
The Butterfly Effect
For The Light
Forgotten Storybook
Edited Script
Unfortunate Cookie
Bad Luck Club Sticker
Leftover Sugared Almonds
Sweet Potato Pie with Marshmallows
Hot Cocoa and Marshmallows
Pistachio Moon Milk
Hearty Mushroom Soup
Cracked Serene Crystal Ball
Spilled Ritual Ink