Information
Pure
Legacy Name: Drafts
The Common Kumos
Owner: Pureflower
Age: 8 years, 3 months, 2 weeks
Born: December 7th, 2015
Adopted: 8 years, 3 months, 2 weeks ago
Adopted: December 7th, 2015
Statistics
- Level: 38
- Strength: 84
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 93
- Books Read: 69
- Food Eaten: 2
- Job: Pawnbroker
She'd given it all up for love.
The idea of love, at least.
The palace. The constant balls with their fancy gowns and false-faced courtiers. The personal chef who knew every mood of her sweet tooth.
She didn't miss that luxury. Mostly. Though she sometimes wishes she could have bribed the chef to come along on her journey.
That would have defeated the purpose, though. She knew that finding true love demanded a total sacrifice. She was convinced that finding a true and everlasting love could only occur if she was willing to become completely selfless.
And suffer the loneliness that went along with such dedication.
The only token of her former life that she could not bear to leave behind was the icy crown that was both a link to her past and a mark of the future she will one day reclaim.
When she finds her love.
Or dies trying.
II.
Life as a princess had been pleasant enough but as the fifth in line, she had never felt any real obligation. Her oldest sister saw marriage as an obligation. The next two had chosen based on shaping stronger alliances for the land, should the burden of ruling ever fall to them. Her fourth sister...nobody ever really knew what to make of that one.
She hadn't taken much interest in the constant talk of balls and gowns and possible center pieces at the wedding banquet table. The palace library was one of the best in the world, the sort of place one could enter at sunrise and easily lose themselves in until well after dark. Chocolates, crafted after the theme of her latest literary obsession, were always within arm's reach. Cook had a soft spot in his heart for her. The queen had frowned on such indulgence. The king would shrug and warn his wife not to take away the joys of youth. Soon enough, their bookish daughter would be like every other noble woman, tottering down a narrow path of polite conversation and socially acceptable hand gestures. Let the girl find joy while she can. Let her have a little fun.
She never took notice of these conversations, though she was hardly ignorant to what her future held. The prospect of marrying some handsome duke or ambitious count was merely a distant threat. She was too busy observing dancing witches in the woods or soaring on the backs of winged horses to put much focus into matters of state. When her lady-in-waiting became too much a pest, she would slip down to the lake and do a few laps. Her people were of the sea. She could slip into her scaly skin as easily as breathing. The arctic water felt no colder than tepid bath water, for she was immune to cold.
She put on the dresses and jewels at her mother's command. (Though never in a shade of coral...an unfortunate swimming accident as a toddler had left its mark, quite literally. To say nothing of the fact that most shades of pink left her looking like a bloated fish.)
She would have likely settled into a life of mediocrity, had it not been for the book.
III.
Yes...the book.
Not merely a book, but the book. A book of magic more wondrous than all the parlor tricks to ever be presented in the Royal Theater. Every turn of the page would bring with it a new story, one always sure to fit the reader's mood.
She had found it on a gloomy day, when the moon was new and the wind was especially bitter. A tale of wandering a maze of icy cobwebs that could capture the memories of travelers not wary enough to keep their hands to themselves. It had planted a seed in her mind, a hidden desire to get out and see more of the world than her isolated little snow globe of a kingdom.
For weeks, the tales built, one on top of another. Teasing. Suggesting.
Until the story that made her sit entranced until three cups of tea had grown cold and her maids were nearly faint with worry.
The tale of the wealthy queen and the handsome pauper. A love story so powerful that its author had been banned in seven different cities.
She longed for a love of such magnitude, a love that could never betray her or grow bored with her or question how anyone could spend so much time reading books.
It took careful planning, convincing the king and queen to give her journey their blessing. She would revisit the depths of the oceans and bring back new trading contracts from foreign lands of great wealth. She would do it all for the glory of the kingdom.
Her mother relished the thought of having this peculiar daughter away in a place that could offer culture. Her father was more reluctant - but he could see the great excitement in his daughter's eyes. He had been sure nothing but a dusty old tome would ever encourage that look.
Whatever bug for adventure she'd caught, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.
IV.
The years passed.
It seemed she had walked every mile of land that spanned the seven seas. The food was often atrocious but the beauty of nature and the peace of being alone as she crossed the ocean spans could almost make up for the luxurious life she often missed.
Many handsome princes and wealthy merchants (and even a charming rogue or two) were happy to host the lovely princess from the frozen north but none could ever awaken that spark in her heart.
None were the pauper. The idea of him was too dear to sacrifice her journey for a few witty phrases or three dozen white lilies dipped in real silver and gold.
The cold lands would at least sometimes capture her attention for a while. Frigid beauty was something she could relate to.
Many a jaded man would say that she had a frigid heart, when quite the opposite is true. She has great capacity for love, but a long string of disappointments has made her wary. Sometimes the deepest declarations of love can hide the basest scoundrels.
The Persian prince came the closest. He had a love of books nearly as great as her own...but he would never stoop so low as to risk his life when she was in danger. He could not entertain the thought of spending the night in a conjurer's dungeon for her sake.
It was what the pauper would have done.
She just knew it, without having to be told. (Though she'd consulted her magic book and confirmed that was exactly what the pauper had done.
It would have never worked out between them, even if that prince had passed her test. She couldn't stand to live in the desert.
V.
Love remains elusive, yet still she wanders.
She consults the book every day. She studies maps of the world, seeking out obscure lands and tiny villages with names she can't even pronounce. She does her best to keep hope alive.
Will she ever truly find that love that will make the many lonely nights and sacrifices worth all the trouble of roaming every corner of the world?
Only time will tell.
Story by Pureflower
Sure, it was a great place to find his favorite art supplies. All the best galleries, the ones that featured his work, were all within walking distance of one another. The two most important ladies in his life - his lovely muse and the psychologist who kept his inner artist from tormenting him too much both lived there.
He still hated it.
The crowds, the noise that jarred his sensitive ears, the bitter tang of pollution in the air...these were all valid reasons why he'd tried to convince Glacida to consider a cozy condo in the snowy hills of Arctic Frost.
She'd changed her "no" to a "maybe". He continued to hold out hope.
He knew he'd never convinced Rhiannon to relocate. Her active practice and many patients (needier than him, if such a thing were possible) would keep her firmly rooted downtown. She would occasionally agree to a house call, when he was having an especially bad week.
Glacida loved the crisp mountain air as much as he did and she never tired of strutting down the street, showing off her luxurious white fur with its swirling, mysterious patterns. Maybe this would be the day...after certain business considerations were attended to.
Dragorian would absolutely never leave the city. The top-notch art dealer was addicted to the Centropolis nightlife (and a certain high-end restaurant that had named a main course in his honor.)
He needed Dragorian. He was the best art dealer to be found in any corner of Subeta. Nicolai's work was the best, therefore it needed the best sort of seller. Hence his current trek down the mountain in his Jeep. Spatters of mud up the side were a woodsy imitation of one of his paintings on a more volatile day.
Well...most of his paintings were done on volatile days, if he was being honest. He had been known to bite the heads off visitors who spoke at exactly the wrong moment and interrupted the flow of creative potential.
Rhiannon was helping him work through the rage. He'd had the same house cleaner for seven months straight. A record.
Art was more than creative expression. It was the opportunity to let his pent-up aggression prowl over the canvas. Bold abstracts and impressionistic landscapes of more dire scenes. These were his signature pieces. Those rare portraits he did were declared "brutal honesty captured" and "realism at its finest". Such praise was always welcome, but the hours required to stare at the same static subject, the frustrations of not getting every tiny flaw captured perfectly...many a promising piece had ended up shredded to confetti in a fit of rage.
Flinging his own painting into the ocean during an art exhibition had led him to Rhiannon. She wasn't just another clinically cold medial professional. She had understood him on a deeper level. She had listened, truly listened and her suggestions were truly inspired.
Yet it was Glacida who truly made his life worth every frustration.
His girlfriend was sweet and sassy, never willing to settle for second-best but always willing to drop what she was doing and help to ease his troubled mind. The one portrait he could never find fault with was one of her, looking at him coyly, her violet eyes wide and alluring but far from innocent. That painting could almost distract him away from the stunning beauty curled beneath it on a custom-designed ivory couch.
Almost, but not quite.
They'd met through her boss...and his art dealer. Dragorian had been cautious to encourage such an unlikely match at first but when she had seen Glacida's face light up and when Nicolai had proved he actually could be quite the gentleman, she had been happy to keep a distance and allow the attraction to blossom into full-scale dedication.
She would have looked sensual simply brewing a cup of coffee. He wasn't good at romantic talk, so he had to hope she read all the affection and longing in his eyes, every time he looked at her. Sometimes his minion Dimitri had to give his leg a subtle swat from under the table when he became too lost in her eyes.
There were many reasons Dimitri was never allowed to leave his side. Glacida's beauty was at least half of them.
Would they ever have that contemporary wedding that was likely to get their pictures in a dozen glossy magazines?
Like his most abstract works, Nicolai is happy to leave that question to the imagination...
At least for now.
Story by Pureflower
He has to.
Especially when he sees me in this new, ultra-high-tech camouflage suit that doubles as a thermal control device.
When we're on a mission, that is. Out on the street, it has the look of a jumpsuit in the cutest shade of bubble-gum pink.
I mean, I can't be seen in some boring black or gross gray, obviously.
Or...maybe I should go with the subtle green?
I can get lost in my closet for hours. Any girl worth the kind of big bucks I have needs at least three walk-in closets, if she wants to consider herself the least bit fashionable.
I have seven.
Oh drat. There I go getting distracted by clothes again. I'd better get a move on if I want to catch Shouto on his usual daily stroll. I know he secretly really wants me to join his organization or he'd obviously choose another road to walk.
(Okay, so maybe it is the shortest way through the city. I still say it's because he secretly really wants me.)
Maybe my first real mission will be with Tel. He is so dreamy.
Wow, did I just think that?
Thank goodness nobody can hear my thoughts.
But he is so wild and strong. He's like a force of nature. I would give anything for one of those lopsided smiles to be aimed right at me.
Okay...I'll compromise with a nice powder blue. I wish my eyes could be such a nice shade. Boring brown, on an otherwise perfect face.
My eyelashes, however, are pure perfection.
Shouto is right where I'm expecting him to be. It's almost like he was waiting for me. I know his exasperated sigh is all for show.
"Shout-ooo. Let me into your club. You know I'll only keep asking."
"Tacitha. We've been over this a hundred times. You're skinny as a stick, you weigh less than a feather and you have no fighting skills whatsoever."
"Yeah, but I'm rich. So rich, I could buy you all the best weapons and still have enough left over for several really cool get-away cars...and that's just the cash I have on me."
"You'll get hurt...or worse. Go back to playing dress-up."
He's immune to my pout, which is a real shame. I've been practicing my pout for years.
"You could get your hands on the most impressive treasures in the city, with my help. I can bribe anybody into leaving their post. You want the Fantasy Diamond? You got it. Want to get your hands on some magical silk from the Mystic Mountains? All yours. There isn't a guard...or a city official...I can't bribe. Just think how much more fun it would be if you could all live in mansions as lovely as mine. All I'm asking in return is a chance to feel a little thrill for once. You have no idea how boring life gets when you can have anything without even trying. Help me feel the rush, Shouto. Plee-e-ease?"
He sighs. "Everything is a game to you, Tacitha. You've never spent a night in jail. You've never eaten something soft and squishy and wondered if it was soggy bread or really dense cabbage."
I wrinkle my nose at him. I only eat imported food at the very best restaurants.
I mean, seriously. Cabbage? Who does he think I am?
"I could've had their heads, Shouto. I still could, you know. You did try to rob me."
He winces and looks around. We're alone, of course. Always so paranoid.
"Ichi is still angry that one of your guards scarred her, you know. She'd like nothing better than to pin you to a wall by every scrap of fancy silk you're wearing."
I roll my eyes...but only after I've had a quick look of my own.
It's not like I'm afraid of Ichi. No way.
But she is really good with a knife.
"One job, Shouto. I'll never ask you for anything again."
"That's exactly what you said when I let you observe us on the Platinum Pin mission."
"You made me stand there while you stole a hairpin. I want a real mission. Glorious. Dangerous. The sort of thing I can put in my memoirs, years from now."
His last sigh is even more resigned than the first. It's how I know I've won.
The hall is done up in lots of hieroglyphs, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and a low sort of moaning sound. Wind? Or the cursed breath of a mummy?
Keep it together, girl. Not only do you look stunning in your cream taffeta adventure gown, but you are totally going to own whatever this tomb has to offer.
I take it a step at a time, well aware that a trap could be sprung at any moment. I've watched pretty much every action film ever made. I know how these things work.
There really is a trap. My foot barely presses down and this whole volley of arrows goes flying straight at me!
Tel swings me over his shoulder and makes three spectacular leaps that take us right to the central platform where a ruby the size of my fist awaits.
He's so close...if only he'd take a few steps forward, he'd be near enough to kiss.
He's looking at me so seriously. "These things always have a pressure trigger. You take the jewel and make for the exit. I'll watch your back."
I can think of other things I wish he'd do to my back...but if I ever want to convince Shouto to let me do any more cool missions, I've got to stay focused.
Another operative, a female whose name I don't know, is waiting for me. She tucks the jewel into a bag that almost seems to eat the light sputtering from the torches.
"Wait out there. One of the drivers will see you safely down the mountain."
The truck has the most gorgeous scent of lavender, but it's making me so sleepy. All this adventuring, I guess...
*****
Ichi sneered as the lumbering green truck made its way off the training compound, a certain heiress snoring loudly in the back.
"You think she'll ever suspect?"
Shouto gave her a warning look. "This time tomorrow, she'll be back in her posh little world, trying to convince her rich friends this wasn't all just some wonderful dream. Soon, she'll start to believe it herself. We needed her out of our hair. The real mission is too important for any distractions...but you will not let on to her what we have done. If you are ever stupid enough to be outwitted by her people a second time, you're out."
Ichi bared her teeth in a silent snarl. "You know very well that no one ever catches me twice."
Story by Pureflower
Story by Pureflower
Story by Pureflower
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