[lex]

Á ｎｇｅｌ . ｄｅ . ｌａ . Ｍｕｅｒｔｅ
1999 words

She stood in a few centimeters of sparkling white snow, gazing down at a piece of rock that jolted up from the snow. Her green eyes gazed down at the stone, taking in the names etched upon it quietly. These were the names of people she had killed, and she knew them well. All too well.
[ _ ]It wasn’t her doing. At least, not intentionally. Maria remembered that day well. Like this very own day, it had been bitterly cold. The land had been quiet. Serene. It was that fateful day that her entire life changed. She’d just been a viscling. Short, energetic, and naive. She had a power, a simple thing; she could make flowers. White and red, pointy-petalled flowers. They sprung up in her paws just from thought, and her younger self was quite pleased with them. So, however, was someone else.
[ _ ]Maria remembered playing in the snow, laughing happily to herself as she aimed snowballs at unsuspecting trees and dropped to the ground to make snow angels. Her wings poked into the snow and she shivered at the cold, holding her warm coat clothes. It had been freezing that day. She remembered sitting up, and then squeaking in surprise when she saw another viscet standing nearby. The viscet had pretty dragonfly wings, but it had startled her and she had dived into the snow, her mane, her tail and her halo peeking out from the powdery whiteness.

[ seven years ago. ]

“Don’t worry,” the viscet said. The voice was feminine and soft. “I’m not here to hurt you, little one.”
[ _ ]Maria’s ears pricked up and she raised her head from the foxhole of snow she sheltered in. She said nothing, gazing at the dragonfly-viscet before she smiled and hopped out, running to her. Her inhibitions had been lost almost immediately. “Your wings!!” she said in awe. “Are you a…a faerie?” Her mother had told her stories of the faeries. They were wondrous, mischievous creatures from the Feywilde.
[ _ ]“A faerie? Well….” She smiled wider. There was a glint in her eye that made Maria confused, but she didn’t say anything. “I suppose you can say that. Hm. That’s cute creation you’ve made there.”
Maria followed the viscet’s gaze over to the snowcet she’d made. It had sticks making up the mane, a rock for a nose, and red and white flowers covered its head in a cute little crown. “Thank you!!! It took me a long time.”
[ _ ]“I know. I saw you making it. Those are some beautiful flowers?”
[ _ ]“I made them! Aren’t they cute?”
[ _ ]“Of course. Mind showing me how you make them?”
[ _ ]Maria nodded. She loved to show people her flowers; they were so pretty and they smelled quite nice, and she couldn’t help but admit she loved the compliments that came with them. She held out her paws and a few seconds later green buds sprouted from her pawpads. They grew quickly, before finally unraveling as flowers.
[ _ ]“Well, that’s quite impressive,” the faerie viscet said. “What’s your name, little one?”
[ _ ]“Maria!”
[ _ ]“It’s nice to meet you, Maria. I’m Malloria. Can I show you something?” This viscet was so nice. Maria nodded happily, and Malloria reached forward, taking one of the flowers. “Hmm… if you concentrate just right, you can do something very special with your flowers,” she said, gazing down at the red flower in her paw. It swirled gently, the petals folding closed, before they opened again. A haze of dazzling red smoke expelled from the flower’s center, filling the air before it faded away.
[ _ ]“That’s pretty!” Maria exclaimed. “Can I try?”
[ _ ]“Go right ahead. Hm…just think of the magic you used to make this. I’m sure it’ll come natural for one like you.”
[ _ ]Maria didn’t hesitate. Her eyes screwed shut in concentration and she waited for a moment. It took a few minutes, but like it had with Malloria, the petals swirled shut, and then opened again in an expulsion of the glimmering fog. “Wow…! I did it!”
[ _ ]“You certainly did,” Malloria purred, before patting Maria’s shoulder. “Why don’t you run along home, now? Show your parents. I’m sure they’ll be amazed by it.”
[ _ ]Maria looked at the flower in her hands before nodding furiously, taking it and tucking it into her mane and smiling up at Malloria. “Ok! I will!” she said happily, before turning and beginning to run away, her boots leaving wide divets in the snow. “Thank you!”

The next time Maria saw Malloria, she was in that same clearing a few weeks later, her eyes closed tightly. Her muzzle was buried into her arms and her legs were drawn up. She was crying uncontrollably, and she ignored the feel of the biting cold seeping through her clothes and fur.
[ _ ]“What happened, dear? Are you alright?”
[ _ ]Maria opened her eyes, looking up at Malloria. Her eyes were red and puffy and her ears were pinned back against her head. “N-n-no,” she mumbled, before sniffing and then lurching forward. She nuzzled into Malloria’s chest, eyes closing. “M-m-my mom ’n dad…. Th-they got sick. R-really sick. And…and…now they’re…”
[ _ ]“That’s terrible, dear. What are you going to do?”
[ _ ]“I don’t know…. Th-they want to send me to an orphanage but I-I don’t want to go.”
[ _ ]Malloria was silent for a length. “You could… stay with me.”
[ _ ]“Stay with you…?”
[ _ ]“If you’d like. I’m a bit lonely there, all by myself…well, I have a friend, Dove, that lives with me, but he’s not very talkative.”
[ _ ]Maria paused for a moment. She didn’t know Malloria too well, but she looked nice and after all, she was one of the fey, wasn’t she? She had to be nice! She stared up at Malloria for a second before closing her eyes and nuzzling against her. “O-okay. If you don’t mind…”
[ _ ]“I certainly don’t, darling,” Malloria murmured, running her fingers through the viscling’s soft mane.

Maria never saw the smug, victorious smirk on Malloria’s face.

From then on, she was raised by Malloria, who lived a surprisingly far ways away. For the first few years, she enjoyed it. Malloria, though her rules could be harsh and her punishments strict, raised her relatively well, and Dove was kind, although he was soft-spoken and nervous, especially when Malloria was around. When Malloria was around, he was practically mute. Maria soon learned why.
[ _ ]Frequently, Malloria would ask Maria for a bouquet of her flowers--“They’re so pretty, I just want to show them off,” she would say--or for Maria to deliver a flower to someone. Maria had thought nothing of it, simply eager to show off the plants. It was a few years of this before she finally questioned Malloria about it.
[ _ ]“Why does no one ever thank us for the flowers?” she asked.
[ _ ]“I don’t know, dear. Some people are simply that…rude,” the fairy-winged viscet said, smiling comfortingly.
[ _ ]Maria took it in stride, questions ceasing. Until, that was, people began to flee at her passing and avoid her completely, especially when she was carrying flowers. People would avert their gaze, quicken their paces, or move to the other side of the street when they saw her. Children would be hurried along, and doors would be locked as she passed. She knew nothing of what was happening, and she was concerned. The next time she asked Malloria, it was a mistake to do so. The viscet had already been in a sour mood for some reason, and it had earned her a severe punishment.
[ _ ]It was Dove that finally told her all that was going on, when she was a teenager, and it was then that her friendship with him began.
[ _ ]He told her of all the cruel things that Malloria had done. He told her of his enchantment, how he could never escape her. He told her of the murders she had committed, of the lives she’d ruined, of the men she’d broken. And he told her of her own unwitting role in all of this. Her flowers were poisonous; the ‘gifts’ were just a subtle way for Malloria to commit murder.
[ _ ]He said he knew why the others avoided her. She had been dubbed the ‘Angel of Death’. Even the flowers she made went by a special name; a ‘pointed instrument’ in which the receivers of the gifts were killed with. In the native language, the flower was called poinsettia.

That was the day her plans to escape began. Her respect for Malloria had been lost completely; now, she just longed to leave.

[ One Year Ago ]

It was early in the morning. The sun would be rising in only a few hours, but the sun rising was not what Maria’s mind was focused on. Tonight would be the night she escaped. She had done her best in the past years to act just the same, no matter what she knew, which took difficulty. Malloria still sent her on trips to give her ‘gifts’. People still looked at her with disdain and cursed her very presence. But now was her chance to escape all this, to escape the torture of living here and serving the enchantress. Unlike Dove, she was not cursed to remain here. As far as she knew, Malloria still trusted her wholeheartedly and believed she was still under her influence. Tonight would have to succeed, or else she might very well find herself in the same place as Dove.
[ _ ]She crept out of her room. A burlap sack was draped over her shoulder, holding her meager belongings; mostly clothes, a couple of books, and some of Malloria’s coin she had snatched while her back was turned. As one final jab, she had left a red-and-white, mottled poinsettia resting on her pillow. Malloria would surely find it when she woke up, but Maria would not be there to see her reaction. She almost wished she would. But, alas.
[ _ ]Maria would have to be careful. Malloria likely had alarm enchantments and the like, so when she left, she would have to make a run for it. She stopped in front of the wooden door, her green eyes gazing intently on the textured planks. It would be now or never. She reached for the knob, twisting it. The door creaked open and she stared out for a moment. Then, without any further hesitation, she sprinted forward into the night, not daring to look back.

Before she had left, Dove had given her advice on what to do, where to look. He had told her something very simple. She needed, according to him, to go find a friend of his; his brother, Logan, who he knew was looking for him. She had nodded and reassured him that she would do as he asked, and when she finally escaped, she held that promise. Her search for Logan actually didn’t take a very long time, and though he reacted with untrusting hostility at first, as she explained things, he calmed (well, his friend persuaded him to calm, at least). Then she told him about Dove, and she’d seen the pain and fury in his eyes.
[ _ ]“I promise,” she’d muttered near the end of the conversation, sitting up a little straighter, “we’ll free your brother. We’ll take Malloria down. Together.”
[ _ ]Logan had stared unblinkingly at her for a few seconds before he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

She remembered that conversation to this very day, a year after her escape. As she stood there, breath fogging in the air in front of her and the winter’s furious wind buffeting her, an icy tear slid slowly down her face. Maria stared at the hallowed, silent grave of her parents, wordless. Her thoughts slid from her family, to Dove, to that wretched enchantress that had caused this all. Her gaze fell to her paw, where a red poinsettia blossomed in her palm.
[ _ ]“I will end you,” she muttered hatefully. The flower wilted before her, and she leered at it, her wrath rising up like a dangerous wave. Her wings twitched. “You created an angel of death. Now… she’s coming for you.”

[park.]

Username: park_eunhuii
Name: Cassiopeia
Nickname: Cass
Gender: female
What do they think about winter?:
2000 words + 5 art pieces to use in your form!

this cet is gorgeous!

[Yugi]

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Username: Yugi | Name: Ophiel | Gender: Male

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What do they think about winter?:

xxxxxA tired looking viscet sighed as he rubbed the miniature wing present on his shoulder. In his spare hand, he held a blank piece of note paper. His lime green eyes fixated on it before drifting off to the nearby pen that sat pleasantly on the table in front of him. It was clear that he was in a state of deep thought; he did not know what to write, at least not just yet. This happened annually, always around the winter time as he viewed this season to be a month of remembrance and analyzing one's actions throughout that whole year. While he never perceived it as just positive or just negative, he felt that the cold, almost somber winter times were necessary in ones life, as it was one of the times he could actually catch a small, well needed break. He appreciated the winter, always welcoming it with warm, open arms, even if the thoughts it left him weren't always pleasant.

But this year was different. He had gone through a lot of change in his earlier life, but the years prior had change that he dreaded thinking about when it came time to doing so in the winter. This year had filled him to the brim with joy and hope thanks to his new friends. Clutching the paper and holding it near his chest, Ophiel began to drift away into the memories that cluttered his mind, hoping that he would be able to successfully organize it.

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xxxxxWhen he was a young child, he was always sickly; his clumsy, accident prone ways often sent him to the hospital to mend his broken bones. He recalled all the times that the children his age, joyous and bold, would spend time together celebrating. Ophiel was rarely ever allowed to participate in these events due to how ill he got, as his sicknesses made him bedridden. His classmates soon had forgotten the sound of his voice, or the look of his face, and many of them had even lost track of his name. On the off chance he was able to attend, his classmates would mistake him for a new student.

Soon, as he had missed out far too much attending a public school that his education began to suffer overall, his parents had decided that homeschooling him would be better. He hadn't much access to other children his age after that, as his father was afraid of him becoming ill due to contact with other people. Thus he began to become very introverted and developed a dependency on his immediate family members; the idea of making small conversation with someone other than his own parents terrified him, so he didn't mind staying at home as much as he did. He felt safe and protected in his own small corner of the universe, surrounded with the undying love his family members showered upon him. He didn't become as sick as he used to, and he had felt much happier.

Ophiel discovered his interest in medicine and helping other people like him during the time that he was home schooled. In addition to that, he wanted to find ways to make sure that he too could prevent becoming ill. Ophiel always hated the worried expressions his parents would always have upon their faces when he was severely sick, and he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure it would happen less. When he wasn't watching a lesson or doing work, he spent his time reading through various medical books. Winter, at least during his years of being taught at home, was his favorite season, as Christmas would often bring him goodies relating back to his interest.

Life felt great for a while then, but his situation quickly took a sudden turn when he turned ninteen. He knew that his parents still loved and cared for him completely, and he understands that they only wanted what was best for him, but he wished that they could have eased him into his new life. He had completed his homeschooling and was expected to enter into college. Through gritted teeth, Ophiel followed the instructions of his parents; they had given everything to him, so he felt it was only fair for him to do the same in return. He enrolled into a college out of his hometown as his parents felt that it would suit him well, and would aid him in achieving his lifelong dream to enter into the medical profession.

With his belongings in hand and worry on his mind, Ophiel waved goodbye to his parents as he boarded the airplane. A small, delicate, white mask covered his face; while he hadn't been ill for a long time now, he didn't want to take any chances. The airplane ride, while only taking a few hours, felt like an eternity to him as an inner turmoil teared through him. He can't remember how many times he teared up on that plane ride, as all he knows is that he actually did shed enough tears to leave a large temporary water stain on his bag.

For four long years, Ophiel pushed himself through college. At first, despite how miserable he was, it wasn't all that bad; his immune system kept up, and he was able to attend class without failure. However, he found it difficult to talk to his classmates, even when he wanted to or needed to. Spontaneous group projects were always awkward, as he would be the last one to find a partner. He didn't mind it though, as he would usually finish the assigned work by himself within a day or two; he was always fearful that he wouldn't be able to find a classmate to work with in time, and he was hesitant on fully trusting them to fulfill their end of their work. By the third year though, he began to struggle along. His tendency to become sick easily had come back due to his high levels of stress; despite him taking three classes that year, he couldn't keep up with the workload. He felt too broken and ill that he began to skip classes and slack on his work.

By the fourth year, despite him selecting classes, he completely dropped out as the stress was far too much for him. He didn't feel like himself anymore; the seemingly endless, raging fever that consumed his body made every little move that he made agonizing. He didn't want to come back home to disappoint his parents, so instead he left college and lived by himself for a little while. With the spare cash his parents sent him, he rented out a small, humble apartment. Ophiel could recall the many times he would just sit on his bed, staring at the white wall next to him.

Things really didn't change until he finally decided to leave his apartment. A week had already passed him by, and that period of time had not been kind to him. As he made his way down the street, he bumped into a lady who passed by him, causing him to stumble down and fall while she firmly stood. She wasn't phased by him walking into her, but she did noticed the collapsed boy and wore a look of worry upon her face. A red haired female viscet peered down at him, extending out a kind hand to help pick him back up. He hesitated before fully accepting the kind gesture, allowing himself to be helped up by her.

She introduced herself as Camira, but their conversation had not gotten all that far. Without skipping a beat, Ophiel felt his world crumble down upon him as he blacked out due to his worsening fever. He couldn't remember what had happened exactly, but somehow the woman was able to rush him to get medical help. Within a blink, he found himself waking up in the middle of the Wings of Peace's, or W.O.P, base. While it was completely unfamiliar to him at first, as he never truly learned about them before as a child, it felt oddly welcoming.

That was when he learned more about Camira, as well as the opportunities they could provide for him. Even though he was terrified that she was able to easily get information on him, he was thankful for it as it meant that he didn't need to explain himself. He couldn't really talk due to how much his head ached and how weak his body was due to the fever that still plagued him. During that specific moment, he thought of how he could simply join them, mending his plans to impress his parents. Camira promised him the ability to learn at his own pace, as well as to work alone in his own section of the W.O.P's medical ward, if he should demand it.

When he fully recovered, he was given the opportunity to meet another pleasant viscet. Mercy was the corp's head medic, and she was a lot of things he aspired to be. She was his mentor; Camira promised him that Mercy would do everything she could to ensure that he would be in top shape to be a medic. Mercy was sweet, despite her headstrong personality and her tendency to get aggressive on the battlefield when she was called upon to do so. Ophiel had never met a medic who had held a gun with such finesse as she did, and while she preached to him to focus solely on healing their fallen comrades, it was clear that she had training to shoot the handgun she was issued. Rarely any other medic was issued a gun to defend themselves, especially on base; only a handful of them were on field medics.

Mercy was the first person that he could truly open up to, which was weird as she was perhaps the most secretive of the members in the W.O.P. She wouldn't even tell him her real name, and requested that he dropped the subject; her code name was more than enough for her anyways. The two shared similar goals and ideologies, which more than likely led to him being able to connect to her the most. He put his trust in her fully. When some of the troops came in, she guided him through and alleviated his stress almost completely.

If it wasn't for Camira or Mercy, he doubts that he would be where he is now. They introduced him to new people, even though his mind fought against him. Within a few months, his circle of friends went from zero to quite the handful, even to the point where he considers his closest allies to be his family. They never pushed him to do things he didn't want to do, and he was eased into every new situation. While Camira and Mercy weren't the only people he learned from, they were certainly the primary factors that changed his life for the better.

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xxxxxAs he ended his writing, he placed his pen down onto the table. The note had been fully finished and closed with a warm wish for his parents to have a merry Christmas. He began to tear up, but he bit his lip to prevent the tears from overflowing, not wanting it to mess up the ink. Little did he know was that his allies were waiting for him with a special surprise. As he leaned back in his chair, trying to enjoy the gentle winter winds, a warm embrace suddenly captured him from behind. Multiple arms could be felt as they hugged him. Mercy, his still current mentor, pulled out a gift of three large poinsettias, fastening them to his head, left wing, and tail before coming in for a hug as well.

Every winter, Ophiel continues to revisit his actions for that year. Instead of dreading it, he looks forward to it, as he knows that with his new changing demeanor and growing friends, he's prepared for anything.

(2,000/2,000)

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Credits
- All art and writing present in the form was done by me
- Camira and Mercy (mentioned in the story + art) are both owned by me
- Scylla and Barrett (shown in art) are also owned by me
- Cipher and Anurah (show in art) are owned by TenguInari, who has given me permission to draw her viscets <3

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[-Shaded-]

Username: -Shaded-
Name: Haruhi ハルヒ
Gender: Female
What do they think about winter?: Winter is a very powerful season. The weather is dangerous, unpredictable, and few can force their way through the storms. Winter is also a very meaningful season... despite the harsh weather and the long trips we still manage to get together to celebrate us being together.
2000 words + 5 art pieces to use in your form!

[snowdrake]

Username:
Name:
Gender:
What do they think about winter?:
2000 words + 5 art pieces to use in your form!

WIP!

[Mint Chip]

ahhh so gorgeous mmmmm
but imma just mark to watch <3

[veridian]

MARK PLEASE

[Matreats]

ahhh Mark!

[outro:tear]

marking .o.

[jolteon]

1 week left!