Private Tales A Physical Fatality

[Avery]

Responsibility had been handed to her without a proper thought.

Or at least that is what Avery believed the moment she traveled to a town just shy of Elbion. It was here that her mission would truly begin.

This was her first trial. That was what Dreadlord Bennett had told her before handing her off towards the Portal. Do well on this mission and she would be taken in by the Vigilite to train in becoming a necessary individual to Vel Anir. She wasn't stupid. The Academy had done great work on her, and having rivals had made her sharper. Avery was to become a spy by the means of using her natural beauty to disarm. To infiltrate.

All those lessons she had been given growing up at the Academy had detached her from thinking any of it was natural to her being. Avery had been always careful in maintaining pretty appearances, to ensure her hair was always pleasant and never in her face. That her clothing was always flattering and fitted well. She had ensured that her posture was always right, that her voice was always soft, that her entire being was to be of perfection. Many of her classmates admired her, and that feeling alone made her wonder what it would be like to indulge. Perhaps put into practice what she had been taught.

She was never comfortable or confident in such a thing in the end.

Avery was estranged to affections or attachments. Was foreign to any other touch than a fight.

In a war between beauty and soldier, she couldn't choose to be one wholly than the other. She could be beautiful, but not the charmer they wanted her to be to be successful in their plans. She could be a deadly weapon, but unable to feel the reward to take another's life all on her own. It left her frustrated with herself that she could not reach the level of perfection those watching her had planned. Avery hated to disappoint, and mostly fail in her own goals... but she was a good liar.

I'm ready, she had told Dreadlord Bennett.

I will not fail you, she had promised.

She was not Avery Cathaoir, Initiate of the Academy, not today. Her uniform and her fighting leathers had all been left back in her room at the Academy, and instead was dressed in blue.

Blue suits you best, Initiate. Be sure to wear it when you can. That was one of the first lessons she had been taught.

Today, she would try to be perfection.

She will not fail.

 

[Avery]

Three weeks had gone by, but the news of Avery's arrival was now known to everyone in the town. What she had thought would be a quiet place to live a life, she was gladly mistaken when she saw that it was indeed bustling as it was the last stop before Elbion. The town of Greymeadow saw many travelers, merchants, and soldiers belonging to many different groups. There were a great deal of Kaliti and Elbion trade, but very rarely did she come across Anirians, some on a mission and the rest having turned their backs on their nation. She always got curious glances from them when they heard her accent, but Avery never asked them their business in return to their curious staring.

Avery was known as the innkeeper's niece. That his sister insisted Avery was too meddlesome back home and needed to learn proper instruction with a job. There was to be no Dreadlord inclinations about her, no magic.

She had her lie to tell.

"Girl."

She turned, brows lifting in question at her supposed uncle. They shared similar features, in that they both shared rich shade of flaxen hair and pale blue eyes. Made the lie more believable. Taven motioned for her to return to the bar when Avery turned, and after she finished clearing her table and giving it a wipe with a clean cloth, he gave her a warm smile as she got closer.

"You have a letter. Why don't you finish up down here and then go read it? Marisol left it on your bed, along with your dress for the fire night tonight." Taven nodded to her arms holding the cleared steins. "Good job on cleaning those."

Avery smiled. "It was quite relaxing in the slow hours. I don't mind it at all... Did Marisol tell you I planned on cleaning the windows out front?" The menial tasks turned out to be what she needed when things felt too slow. She was used to filling her time with training and studying, perhaps even going for a walk around the Academy grounds, but here in Greymeadow, she had none of that. Some nights she wondered if this what life would be like as a Dreadlord and on the front lines, but she knew that was not the case. That being around her people would make her feel more at home, not needing to hide her capabilities.

"Put those away and go read your letter." Taven's face tightened, catching her attention. He subtly jerked his head to the kitchen, where Chef deserted it in favour of necking down watered down whisky at the back door. Chef had told Avery he was trying to quit drinking, and she half believed the man. Avery followed her uncle through the door, and one by one, placed the steins in the barrels of water meant for cleaning the glasses. It was murky now, in need of emptying, but she wasn't about to annoy Chef about that. Taven cleared his throat, watching the young girl continue her work despite the granted privacy. "The letter should be more informative... but there are developments happening on the front lines... and soon you will need to do what you came here to do." The Anirian accent was dull, but still it lingered on his tongue. Taven came from a family that served the House Virak but fled as a boy when his father was murdered while in service to some Lord. He ended up here, stayed, and made a name for himself.

Avery sighed. It was heavy, well needed after she had kept her mask up for days now. Taven rarely dropped his, even when no one was watching, and that only encouraged her to do the same. It was exhausting to pretend, for Avery had to ensure she did everything flawlessly lest she makes someone wonder about her.

"Fire night?" She asked, trying not to wince at the idea of carrying on her mission.

"He'll be there."

Avery frowned. Taven found this amusing. He shrugged at her, reaching for a jar and pulling out the stopper. Offering it to her, she took one of the honeyed oat biscuits Marisol made earlier that morning. "Don't you think it's odd your wife is willing to let me try and seduce her half brother? All of this planning and scheming... just in order to secure power in Cosme? The war—"

"— needs Cosme. In order to put a large blow into Cortosi spirits, taking that city would be advantageous for Anirians. It will become a stronghold, and you, Avery, are perfect for the role in which you must play. This is years of work being laid. He has known about you for a few years now... and the moment he saw you..." Taven smiled at her in a way that reminded her of the Proctors at the Academy.

It was the look of someone seeing her potential.

That expression alone was like a drug to her. She needed that approval, like every other Initiate.

"I am in control." She said simply. Taven nodded, taking a biscuit for himself.

"Go read your letter."

 

[Avery]

He has known about you for a few years now.

Avery brushed through her hair slowly, absentmindedly, as she stared at her reflection at the vanity. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pouting, and this facade was every bit an Initiate's expression. Blinking, she lowered her brush and pulled together a more pleasant look. Rouge and lip stains and kohl, things she was not used to having except for special occasions back at the Academy, but now offered to her freely as she prepared to ready herself for this evening.

Fire Night was something more along the lines of eating, drinking, and being merry. Most of the night would be filled with music and dance, and Avery was there simply to bewitch Marisol's half brother.

That was what her letter stated. That she needed to establish an relationship with him in order to break down his defences. Control him, control the outcome of what happens with Cosme.

For years, she had received instruction from the Proctors on how to lean on her features to get what she wanted. Avery would have never noticed just how pretty she was without the compliments and attention she got for them. Never mind that her general nature was dampened, numbed, and beaten out of her, to the point she had taken an interest in feigning a personality in order to be here. It wasn't hard, she had thought once. Mimicking anything Eliza Wylls did was easy, for they had been friends once. And Vittoria too, but Avery could not stomach the idea of imitating the Unmaker.

Leaving her hair unbound, Avery made haste out her door and exiting the home built above the inn.

The closer she went down the road, following the crowd, she began weaving through the throng and did her best to shut out the pull of magic that just wished to be put to use. Crowds had never been a fair environment for her, especially when she was not to use her magic out here in Greymeadow. Although she was able to suppress it, being in a foreign place left her all the more aware of her own self. How did she carry herself? Was anyone looking too closely at her? Did she dress to stand out more than intended? She knew her accent caused some attention but they soon wrote her off. Too pretty, they probably thought, to be deadly.

That was why she was here.

Her eyes spotted him, and suddenly the performance was alive in her. It was a spark that made her next step bounce, the flicker of growing flames in the way her face lit up, and the heat that stayed in her chest as she lifted her hand and waved him down. "Arrio!"

He was tall, which was no difficult feat in comparison to Avery, but he was a few inches off from six foot. She was glad for it, not needing to strain to look up at him, but Fire Night was the best time for dancing. She knew only a few different dances before coming to Greymeadow, but Marisol was sure to teach Avery some of their favourites here, and although she was no master of them, she knew it would come to her advantage.

Arrio turned and smiled right away, a smile she returned timidly upon approach. "Have you gotten a drink yet, Avery?"

---

Her feet hurt. The slippers she had worn were just too small, and she winced at the pain they were causing her hours into the night. The bonfire was roaring proudly still, and in it's light, Arrio was shadowed as he returned to her with some cloth and ointment. The blisters on her feet were red and angry, and cradled within a hand as she sat at a table. "You should have told me earlier." Arrio winced as he knelt before her and gingerly took her foot, not wanting to infuriate the blisters any more. "Or taken off your shoes."

"Oh, but I needed the shoes in order to step onto your boots as we danced." She smiled. "I told you I was a terrible dancer."

Arrio grinned, something he did easily around her. He dabbed some ointment gently on her sores, before slowly wrapping her foot and starting on the next foot that was considerably less angry. "And what did you say when I insisted multiple times that we should take a rest?"

She was silent. He looked up at her, and Avery caught herself.

His expression was different, but she was not so naive to dismiss it entirely. Avery had seen this expression many times at the Academy, that someone admired her and intended on exploring it. There had only been one person Avery had mixed feelings over, but in the end, she had no true inclination if that was what she wanted. The way Arrio looked to her told her he was a fool. One she needed.

The act had returned to her, warming her cheeks as his attention truly did flatter her. "I said..." she trailed off.

"Yes?" Eager. He was waiting on her word with bated breath.

"I said I liked being close to you... because of the dancing." She added lamely. Avery let out a nervous laugh, feeling strange behind the mask of innocence.

Arrio smiled up at her and arranged himself to sit on the grass, facing her. "Of course... because of the dancing..." He winked at her, as if a secret had been exchanged between them.

And the rest of the evening had been spent there, on the grass. Eventually, she had slipped from her seat and sat beside him as they watched the bonfire grow smaller and smaller. She listened to him, for he had no qualms for taking charge of conversation, and only when he began to ask her questions about herself, she would feign exhaustion and did not fight him on escorting her back home.

"See me tomorrow?" He had asked in a whisper, a stone's throw from Taven waiting for her at the doors.

Avery mustered a smile, exhausted from holding up this mask. It was in her favour, for she saw his eyes soften at her tired state.

"Yes."