「 光曙 」- helistaeus.

[Snowflakette]

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snowflakette » helistaeus » one » two » three » four
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( back to original thread )
please don't post!

[Snowflakette]

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ｐｌａｙｌｉｓｔ

shawn mendes - never be alone

lana del rey - carmen

mr.kitty - carnations

6o - til i die

tedy - it's over now

eden - wake up

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[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

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“That poor thing...”

Night had fallen and the townspeople of Teqille returned to their homes, sleeping in for the night, without knowledge of what would occur the next day. A full moon watched over the village and their enemy country, casting a faint glow against the old walls dividing the streets. Two merchants walked briskly into an alley, knowing their family would be home to welcome them, but stopped at a homeless child curled up in a ball, laying in a broken wooden chariot. He was fast asleep to the rhythms of the wind, shivering slightly every so often from the cold weather.

“Surely we can do something for him, right?” The man asked his partner in a hushed voice.

“Perhaps we could bring him to the monarch, they could help him.” The other replied slowly.

“That’s the worst possible solution— we both know this land is falling apart. Who knows if they can take care of a child when they can’t even keep their royal knights alive? I figure it’s better, and safer, for him to continue living among the villagers.”

“Awfully harsh… but you’re right.” The man took off his cloak and gently placed it across the sleeping child like a blanket; it was the least he could do. The child stopped shivering.

“Jeremy... let’s go, it’s getting late.” The other man urged, taking a quick glance at his watch. Jeremy rose up and walked with his partner. With one last look at the child, he muttered softly, “Bless your soul, young one.”

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[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ [ᴏɴᴇ]

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It had been a few years since I left Teqille. After everything that happened, I went into hiding, deeply afraid the townspeople would notice and recognise me. After all, I was presumably dead.

Ironically, here I am, walking past the welcoming sign of my hometown.

—

An hour ago, my mentor Theia had been altered to the presence of a “magic anomaly in an abandoned village”. The village was in an old kingdom long troubled by war, far from the modern world where we lived in. Theia kept a fully charged portal beneath the library that had enough energy to transport the squad to and from the village, so he took on the mission. I was midway through writing a report and labelling evidence, so I wasn’t interested in joining the mission with them. That is, until Theia announced which village it was.

“Nico, Sebastien, you’re going with me.” he said to the two youngest members in the precinct. Sébastien eagerly ran to his desk to grab his belongings while Nico simply rolled his eyes at the lad's utter failure to hide his excitement.

Upon hearing this, one of our archivists voiced his concern, “Detective Leventis… are you sure Nico and Sébastien can handle this?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s been reported a few lone bandits are scavenging Teqille for any valuables that were left behind. All we have to do is stop them from wrecking havoc.”

My ears perked up at the name of the village that was all too familiar, “Sir! Sir, you’re going to Teqille? May I accompany you guys?”

“Hel… have you finished your report?” Theia asked quizzically, eyeing the stacks of paper I had in front of me.

“Admittedly, not even close… but I just really want to visit my hometown.”

Theia walked towards me and lowered before my desk, so he was facing me eye-to-eye. He spoke to me in a softer, hushed voice: “Paperwork’s not much of a concern, but Hel… are you sure you want to go there with us? It’s changed a lot since you left.”

Detective Theia Leventis was the one who rescued me from the village, after all. I could tell from his tone that he was hesitant to see me hurt by my past.

I pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear; he could see I was nervous at the thought of my hometown no longer as it used to be. The truth is, Teqille becoming abandoned after I left wasn’t much of a concern; the red flags were clear, it was just a matter of time for it to happen. “I’m certain, sir.”

My mentor nodded with a hesitant smile. “Very well,” he said, then shouted across the room: “Nico, Sébastien, get ready!”

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[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ [ᴛᴡᴏ]

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Whenever I think of home, I always try to think back to the peach trees and carnations.

But no matter how vibrant the flowers bloomed, it never shielded the corruption and sorrow the kingdom tried so desperately to hide.

I was an orphan for as long as I can remember. The villagers in Teqille recalled how my parents were around, but no one knew the slightest about them. One day, they left a tiny child in a fruits basket and left without looking back, never making a return. No one was aware that the couple even had a child.

My parents were the ones who left me with a name: Helius. By the time I was four, I found myself asking some villagers what it meant and if they knew how my parents decided on it. An elderly woman told me it meant “the sun”. They hoped I could persevere through all the hardships the world offered, the “darkness” on my own. I asked her what the darkness was, but she simply smiled weakly. I’ve grown to hate my name.

Some of the elderly villagers told me how I had wavy chestnut hair like my father, and piercing red eyes like my mother. Those two simple descriptions were all I possessed of my parents. As a child, I would stare at my reflection in dusty windows, wondering which parts of me resembled my father, and which belonged to my mother. I could never reach a conclusion.

I didn’t have a family or anywhere to live. Most of the villages were paupers and had trouble taking care themselves in the first place; they simply could not afford to take care of another child that wasn’t theirs. Even so they still empathised with me and I was always welcome to stop by their fruit parlours to take an apricot or have water filtered for me without a charge. Sometimes though, it was hard to distinguish empathy from pity.

I travelled around the town; it wasn’t very big and I often found myself residing in the same spot every few days. Company was scarce and I didn’t have a grasp on the concept of friendship. Most of the children my age were busy helping their families run their homes, growing up too quickly and never learning what play was.

I wasn’t completely alone growing up; I will never forget Seraphime.





When I was seven I had a companion for a while: Seraphime was a frail woman in her thirties who escaped from a neighbouring country to seek refuge in Teqille. Her most distinguishing features were her messy beige coloured hair and canary yellow eyes. They were tired, but the warmth never left.

Like me, she too was homeless; with her village in ashes, she had nowhere to go and nowhere to stay except for our rundown town. I had always thought of her as a mother figure. She braided my hair, shared her food and cared for me, things that my real mother never got to do. Although we didn’t live on the same street, she often thought of me and checked on me from time to time.

My most content memories I shared with her was when we sang. Seraphime had an angelic voice and in our many hours of free time she taught me how to sing. She often told me I had a fantastic singing voice, and I could become a chorister if I wanted. I didn't know what they were, but I only assumed it was a good thing. The villagers said she had a voice that reminded them of a flute or a harp; it made me wonder what those instruments sounded like.

I once asked her why she enjoyed songs so much. She told me if one can get lost in the melody and rhythm of a song, they can temporarily escape from the harsh realities of life.

I was so grateful to have her stay with me. I never knew how to make it up to her or how to return her kindness.

Sad to say I never got a chance to.

One lonely winter night, she passed away from hypothermia. I woke up the next day with a heavy cloak that shielded me from the cold.

No words could describe the anguish I felt that grey morning.

If only you could bring back what’s no longer there.

"Rest easy, Seraphime."

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[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ [ᴏɴᴇ]

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The four of us promptly arrived at the derelict village. I raised my left hand to shield my eyes from the glaring sun— staring at the paperwork in the library of the precinct for the past seven hours made adjusting to the bright outdoors much more difficult. Contrary to the weather, however, the village didn’t look as bright. The entrance to the town had a few extra bullet holes and most of the buildings were burned around the edges. What really sent a chill down my spine was the sight of all the wilted peach trees.

Appalled at the sight before him, Sébastien reached up and placed a hesitant hand on my right shoulder. “Oh… Hel, I’m so sorry.”

I raised a hand to hold his and smiled down at the younger boy, “Nah, it’s fine.” The village contained more bad memories than good ones, so there wasn’t any sense of nostalgia or anything of the kind.

Theia stood up after examining the ground, “The bandits haven’t gone this way. Energy levels on the radar show three of them in this town, so how about we split up and hunt them down?”

“Can I look around?” I chimed in, Theia looked at me and opened his mouth to voice his concern, but I interrupted him, knowing what he would say already.

“Please,” I plead, “Teqille’s not a big town— I can return here about half an hour.”

Theia sighed. I hated upsetting my mentor, but I knew the town like the back of my hand and I was capable of self-defence in case I encountered one of the bandits. What could go wrong?

“Alright.” He said to me, then turned to the other two members of the squad, “The signal’s destroyed in this part of the kingdom, so our communicators won’t pick up anything. We’ll meet back here in about half an hour to check in on progress, even if you haven’t found the thieves.”

Sébastien responded eagerly while Nico performed his own way of a nonchalant nod by gently flapping his feathery wings. Theia turned to me once again, “Teqille’s not like it used to be. There’s a lot of structures falling apart, so stay out of any hazards, alright?”

“Yeah, I know.” I replied, smiling. “Let’s go.”

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[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ [ᴛᴡᴏ]

(reused my writing from round four here and added more details!)

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As the years went on, the war only worsened. A battle started between Neres and Kaorise, and Teqille was unlucky enough to be caught in the middle. Constantly there would be the sound of distant sirens and gunshots, too far from my village, but too close to feel safe.

The war brought famine upon us. There was a shortage of many resources, even the magicians couldn’t impede the decline. Meanwhile, crimson red marked the outer borders of our land.

I was no longer a meek, naïve child. With my basic necessities in jeopardy, I began to pickpocket. Once this seed had been planted, however, its roots took hold of me right away.

It worked the first few weeks, but citizens began to notice. It wasn’t long before I resorted to force; no rewards came from being passive anyway— my country was the biggest example of that. Seraphime was long gone. With no one to look up to, I slowly lost my moral compass. I said I stole for my own survival, yet the more I repeated my actions, the more it felt like I was doing it for pride.
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A few days later, the first carving appeared on my back, delicate but firm lines arranged like bars of a cage.

—

Once, I came across a wealthy-looking woman in the busy streets. She walked briskly through the crowd; my last thought would’ve been for her to be walking towards me… she probably saw me stealing from someone.

“You’re... here to report me to the monarch?” I asked, but it came out phrased more like a statement.

She stared at me with her tired yellow-green eyes. I vividly remembered them. They had hints of yellow, like Seraphime’s. However, they were terrifyingly judgemental.

She reached into her duffel, and handed me all its contents. Small, but sustainable, bags of food and bottles of water.

“Y-you must have mistaken me for someone else.” I stammered, unsure of what to do or say.

“No, take them.” she said without a second glance at me. A stab of guilt— the only thing she saw in me was a dirty thief and nothing more. The way she let me have them so willingly... she must’ve pitied me.

A few days later, word spread through town that the yellow-green eyed princess threw herself from her tower to escape the burdens of war.

The bitterness of remorse coursed through my entire body. War was no kind thing.

"I'm so sorry, miss."

—

A group began pursuing me, believing I was the murderer. Without a place to stay, I was forced to seek refuge in the outskirts of the village.

Dusk fell rapidly over Teqille as I crawled onto the parapet of an abandoned house, merely sheltered by derelict walls.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crash, and purple fumes billowed towards me, circling until a hurricane of smoke enveloped the roof. It shot into my throat, grasping and consuming my lungs. Poison. I coughed and spat frantically as it burned within. The buildings below me warped, the poison twisting everything in and out of reality.





I desperately stumbled for air, but there was none. My foot caught on something and suddenly I was falling backwards, lying with only the sky staring down at me.

The purple smoke forged on, until all that was left was black and the last breath left my body.

—

Days after, the smoke cleared and I opened my eyes.

A second carving— an intricate rose— was on my shoulder, half bathed in light, half drenched in darkness.

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(click the images for full size. ♥ )

[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ [ᴏɴᴇ]

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A fruit basket laid lazily on the floor, knocked over from a wooden food stand nearby. I paused to wonder. Did the villagers have enough time to pack their belongings before running away from the place? I climbed onto the stand to look through the window of an old building that was once habited by a townsperson. To my surprise, the room was full of items; books, bags, clothes, blankets. It appeared that nothing was taken or out of place.

My gut dropped at the thought of the villagers— people I knew— running out frantically, out of time to take their belongings and out of time to calm down as they abandoned the town without a returning look. I lingered on the thought that if I closed my eyes and imagined, the townspeople could reappear and return to their normal lives.

I turned away from the main street and ducked into an alley. Memories came flooding back as I briskly treaded along the cobblestone path, knowing just where I wanted to go. My walk turned into a jog as I ran further into the village, towards the corner where I once resided.

A while later, I arrived at the foot of a small abandoned house. A sense of relief rippled through my body. I didn’t care much for the house, it was old and dusty and I didn’t have many things to store in it anyway, but I was glad it wasn’t destroyed in the war.

I climbed through the open window on the side of the house (the metal door was always broken, and past me never bothered to tamper with it); it felt all too familiar. I carefully stepped around the creaky floorboards and kneeled before my "corner" of antiques. I didn't have much, and when I stole items that weren't edible, I simply stashed them in here. It mainly consisted of glass and plastic bottles, old blankets and pillows, and a few bags that were left on the street.

The artifact with the highest worth was probably the old antique vase. It wasn't exactly stolen— I uncovered it from the rusted cupboard when I first moved into the abandoned house. I took out a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped some of the dust from the edge of the vase.

A crumpled piece of paper fell from the ceramic jar. Curious, I unfolded it to reveal a message I wrote myself a couple years back.

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I don’t know if I’ll ever need this, but it’s a dangerous place right now so I’ll take my chances.

In the 17 years that I’ve lived here, I have never felt truly safe.

Some nights when I had nothing to do but stare up at the moon from the narrow alley, I saw dozens of fireflies dancing away with faint glows emitting from their bodies, and delicate dandelion seeds flowing by the wind, moving across the little creatures. It felt so, so real, but that was nothing more than a tragic illusion. Imagination's a funny coping mechanism.

If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that nothing was peaceful about Tequille.

My name is Helistaeus; if we've met, you might have known me as Helius. I’m hiding here because I’m wrongfully accused of murder. I first noticed this when townspeople gave me odd looks. I quickly dismissed it— after all, I steal from people and and I have nowhere to live. I considered the looks and whisperings about me justified. Oh, how I was wrong.

A group formed to pursue me; I believe it was voluntary. In a way, it’s hilarious. Imagine being so loyal and devoted to the monarch that you choose to believe in any rumours that come you way.

And you know what happens when a group begins hunting you down?

You fear for your life every second of the day. You no longer sleep in fear that they will attack you when you’re most vulnerable, but when you do, you’re burdened with nightmares. You don’t feel safe or comfortable anymore; your body is constantly on edge.

In the end, they did get to me. One night, a poison grenade was thrown to where I lived and I succumbed to its wrath. I’m sure I died; the toxins were so painful that at one point, I was in so much pain that I thought death was preferable. It did grant me the relief— yet somehow, I’m still alive. I woke up few days later below the abandoned house, so utterly confused and shocked.

How did this happen?

I’ve heard many myths of elixirs of life, capable of granting immunity to mortals and non-magics alike, and even resurrecting people from the dead. I thought perhaps I took one of them, but it seemed so surreal that I wouldn’t believe it if I was told.

Even if I did, I don’t understand how I was worthy of having one of them. God, so many questions, none of which I can answer.

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The note ended there. Frankly, I didn't remember writing it, but I figured it was written during one of the many times I felt like I was about to break and needed something to transfer my trepidation onto. I mean, there's only so much one could bear on their own.

I eyed my old house down for a few minutes, then stepped out to give one last goodbye. In that moment, I had let my guard down. Which was a mistake.

All of a sudden, a swift punch was delivered from behind and a hooded figure— one of the bandits, had their arm locked around me and directed a dagger to my neck.



Oh my god... A funny thought crossed my mind, Is this how I die?

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[Snowflakette]

✦ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ [ᴛᴡᴏ]

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"What are you doing here?" The hooded bandit asked, with menace in her voice.

I gulped. In a state of shock, I couldn't process what was in front of me. I answered with the first thing that came to me: "I... I'm supposed to hunt your group down."

The bandit laughed uproariously. I guess I was in a state of nihilism, because I nervously chuckled with her.

Almost immediately, she dropped her pleasant tone and directed her focus to the sharp dagger. "How many are with you?"

"Three... three others." I gasped.

I could tell she was wearing a wry smile under the scarf that hid her face. "You'll find them for me, and tell them to drop whatever mission they're doing, or you're dead."

"Aha... you wouldn't do that, right...?" I asked nervously.

Before she could answer, someone struck her head with a blunt object and the hooded bandit fell onto the floor. I looked behind. It was Nico!



"Oh, hey... thanks." I smiled at the younger boy.

"Sure." Nico shrugged while apprehending the bandit, "We can head back now."

"Wait, you've got the other two already—?" I asked, and he nodded. "That's really impressive."

“Better to catch them before they actually take anything, I suppose. These three are part of a bigger network of scavengers who steals valuable objects from war-torn towns and resells them. If I remember from the investigation, they’ve collectively killed about... 250 people.”

“Yikes— I should’ve been way more scared.”

“Yep.”

“Hey... did you knock the bandit out with my—”

“Vase? Yeah. I snooped around in your house right before I noticed you outside.”

“Thanks...”

We walked back to the rendezvous point where Theia and Sébastien were already waiting. Sure enough, the other two bandits were already apprehended, staring sulkily at the floor.

“How was exploring, son?” Theia asked.

“Well, dad—”

“He wasn’t playing safe and was nearly killed by one of the criminals.” Nico chimed in.

Theia looked like he was about to go off on another lecture, but Sébastien stopped him by reminding him we still needed to take the bandits under custody. My mentor gave me a look and I knew that I wouldn’t see the end of it once we get back to the precinct.

While the others were busy handling the angry bandits, I looked back at my hometown’s welcoming sign one last time and blew a kiss towards it.

“Farewell, old friend.”

[end]

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[Snowflakette]

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ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛѕ

Hello! Thank you for reading to the end of my entry. It's my first time writing
a character's backstory that was longer than 500 words, yet alone a full story about
them haha. I've still got a lot to improve on, but I hope you enjoyed reading!

All art and writing were by me.
A huge thank you to Marsh for proofreading and
fixing my writing, I couldn't have done it without you. ♥

Theia, Sébastien and Nico are my kals - their stories are canon and
they do work at a magic precinct disguised as a library!

Seraphime, the princess, along with a few other background characters
are not real kals, I made them up to help with the story.

The bandit who attacked Hel, however, is real! Big thank you to Ethulai
for letting me use their kal Dhakiya for the fierce bandit.

The titles of each chapter are inspired/taken from 狂乱 Hey Kids!! by The
Oral Cigarettes. Feel free to check it out, very energetic song!

I used this site for the fancy font.

Once again, thanks for reading to the end of my form,
and finally good luck to my other four competitors! ♥


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