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#i want to try harder at making ocs than i used to you knoe i wanna try now im ready 2 try ✌
ghostcrows · 3 years
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I'm so impatient I could literally wait to color him and give him a last name but I dont want to. I like him too much . This is my boy that I made in the lab of my brain
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finnofamerica · 4 years
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Black Rose Star - Avaelia Roseguard
Summary: The official backstory for my girl/OC Avaelia. 
Word Count: 3,689
Date Posted: 05.28.2020
Warnings: Death, Major injury. 
|| Masterlist || 
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“Dad!” Avaelia ran up to her father, embracing him in a hug, “Welcome home!” 
Haada Roseguard shared his daughter's black hair, and green eyes, though she got her wild curls from her mother. He gave a laugh as he wrapped her up in his arms. 
“Hello, my darling star.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 
“How was your meeting with the Elves of the mainland?” She asked excitedly, unable to keep her smile off of her face. 
“Wise counsel, as always. But enough about politics, tell me how did you fare without me?” 
Haada linked his arm with hers the both of them flying up to their home hidden in the trees. 
“I fared fine, Madam Jotka taught me well, you know.” She gave him a pointed look. The same look her mother used to give him. The two of them sat on the bench on their porch, overlooking the town below. 
“And you’re healing lessons?” 
“Anahkt is an excellent teacher.”
“I have missed you, my star.” 
“I missed you too.” She laid her head on his shoulder. 
. . . 
“Avaelia!” Haada called, reaching out to his daughter. 
“You either give me the hidden location of Rahaa, or I’ll kill her.” The masked rogue threatened, holding a sword and a torch. 
“Don’t hurt her, please.” 
“Don’t tell him!” Avaelia yelled, groaning as the man’s companion pushed his foot harder against her back. Wings like starlight fluttering helplessly against his weight. “Don’t!” 
“I will tell you, just don’t hurt her, please.” Haada took a step forward, “I’ll tell you where Rahaa is.” 
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” The Rogue opened his arms to welcome the dark-haired Chieftain forward. The two of them spoke in low voices. The companion, with his own torch in hand, pressed harder on Avaelia’s back making her cry out again. In the crowd, she could see Jotka and Anahkt both with worried looks in their eyes. 
“I’ve told you what you wanted, now please, let my daughter go,” Haada insisted firmly
The Rogue chuckled, “I don’t think so chieftain. I can’t have you spoiling my plans now can I?” 
“No! Think about what you’re doing!” 
“Kill them all!” 
The companion held his torch to Avaelia’s starlight wings, as the rest of their party rushed the town slaying everyone in sight, starting with Haada. 
Avaelia screamed and cried until her throat was sore and she had no more tears. Exhausted from her pain, she blinked her eyes closed and sank into the dirt she was laid on. 
. . . 
“Oh dear, what happened here?” The voice pulled Avaelia from the darkness that surrounded her. She peaked her eye open, seeing a man dressed in black. He looked nothing like the Rogue that hurt her father. She tried to push herself up off the ground, only to let out a hoarse cry, her throat sore and dry. 
“You’re alive!” The man gasped, rushing over to the struggling Fae. He helped Avaelia to her feet, being cautious of the oozing wounds on her back. “What happened here?” 
“Rogues,” She rubbed her head, the whole thing throbbing painfully. Her body paint was smeared across her face. “Dad! Please, I have to find my dad!” 
“I will help you search, but you must rest.” 
Avaelia looked all around, the village had burned to the ground. The thick ash covering the bodies of those who were left forgotten on the ground. Madam Jotka was held protectively in Anahkt’s arms, both of them lifeless with matching chest wounds. The fae cried desperately for her teachers, kneeling helplessly on the ground, her tear tracks leaving clean streaks through the paint and ash. 
“We’re never gonna find him in this mess,” She said softly, tears still rolling down her cheeks. 
“Come with me, Miss,” The man said kindly, wrapping his arm around her gently holding her to on her feet, “I can give you a place to live and purpose at the monastery.” 
“Who are you?” 
He gave her a smile through his beard, “I’m Asterion, part of my Order is to find people like you and to help them. Your name, My lady?” 
“Avaelia.” She winced. 
“Let me take care of your wounds then Avaelia, then we will be on our way.” 
Asterion spent three days tending to the wounds on her back, but it was too late for them to heal nicely. He cleaned out any infection and bound her back with care. He was gentle no matter how much she cried, the burnt skin sensitive to the touch. 
Finally, they left for the monastery once she was healed enough to travel, her bindings covered with his light cloak. 
“Asterion, where are we?” Avaelia asked gently, looking around the deep dark forest they were riding his horse through. 
“We are approaching the Monastery. Worry not, my girl, nothing will hurt you here.” The Half-elf assured her. Soon he stopped, in front of a single tree. Cleverly disguised stairs running up its trunk. 
“Up you go.” Asterion took Avaelia’s hand, helping her up the trunk. He only followed after she made it to the platform. The young woman was still in a skirt since everything had burned, Asterion wouldn’t forgive himself if he risked her privacy in any way. 
Along the trees were several buildings, each being the private living space of the monastery’s residents, hanging bridges connected the trees, all leading to the center where four large oak trees supported the main building. Avaelia assumed that must’ve been their sacred temple. 
“I will take you to the elders.” Asterion linked his arm with her, guiding her past the large temple. Just beyond it was another large building, though it was smaller than the temple. 
They entered quietly, the four elders sitting on the floor, arranged in a semicircle. 
“Asterion, you’ve brought home a stray.” The woman’s voice was smooth, and she never opened her eyes to him, her long grey hair pooling on the floor around her. How did she knoe? Avaelia thought. 
“Herais, you say that as if it wasn’t my job.” Asterion fired back, humor on his lips. Herais opened her eyes to him, a smile breaking out on her face. Her milky eyes seeing nothing, though she seemed to know exactly where Asterion was. She rose to her feet, a simple staff at her side, guiding her way as she walked over to embrace Asterion. 
“Welcome home old friend.” 
“It is good to be home.” 
Herais turned her unseeing eyes to Avaelia, carefully reaching her hand to the girl’s face. Her joyful face twisting into a frown as she did so. 
“Oh, my child, you’ve suffered a great tragedy.” Herais tucked some hair behind Avaelia’s ears, wrinkled fingers gently tracing her ear back down to her chin. “You are safe here.” 
“Where is here?” Avaelia asked, glancing from Herais to the other three elders sitting on the floor, another woman with grey streaks in her black waves, and two men both fully grey, one bearded one not. 
“This is the Black Rose Monastery, come sit with us, tell us your story.” The Elder woman guided Avaelia back to the semicircle, sitting down on her mat and encouraging Avaelia to sit on the floor in front of them. She knelt in front of the elders, all now watching her. After a deep breath, she began to recount the story of her village and the fae that lived there, her father and his work, and finally the rogues that burnt her village to the ground, slaying every Fae that lived there. Every fae but her, the last of her kin. 
“You’ve suffered a terrible fate, Avaelia Roseguard,” The man to her left said, his voice like the ocean crashing against the rocky shore, husky and soothing. 
“But fate has plans for you yet,” The woman with salt and pepper hair said, eyes so crystal blue Avaelia feared she was enchanted. 
“Yes, it is no coincidence Asterion found you when he did,” The bearded man added, “Had he found you any earlier he would have assumed your death, any later and you would’ve died of your wounds. It seems to me you were meant to meet.” 
“It seems we are in agreement,” Herais placed her fist over her heart, “The Black Rose welcomes you.” 
The two men and the other woman repeated the gesture. 
“Asterion will be your master, he shall see to your training after you’ve healed.” The Elder woman continued, “Take her to Warin.” 
“Yes, Herais.” Asterion nodded to her before leading Avaelia away from the Elder’s Council. 
“Who exactly were those people? I understand they are the elders but-” 
“Their names?” Asterion smiled at her. “They do have a habit of forgetting to introduce themselves. The bearded man is Fintan, he came here nearly 80 years ago, though he still looks good for 367. The other man is Theowip, he’s been here for as long as I can remember, same for Leatitia, they arrived together. Herais has been here longer than any of us, and nobody knows how old she is.” 
“Herais, she’s blind?” 
“Yes, my dear. But she is more attune to the world as it is than any of us seeing people.” 
“Is that how she knew you were here?” 
“Indeed. Come, let’s see what Warin can do about your wings.” 
. . . 
“I’m an excellent healer, Asterion,” Warin, a young human hissed to the half-elf quietly, trying his best to not let Avaelia heart. “But I’m not a miracle-worker! You’ve done your best to tend to her wounds, but her skin will be scarred forever, and on the slight chance her wings grow, they will never be strong enough to bear her weight.” 
Avaelia laid quietly on the physician’s table, pretending she couldn’t hear what they were saying. 
“What can you do for her then?”
“I can suture her wounds and give her an ointment for the pain, but that’s all I can really do. She’ll be living with those burn scars for the rest of her life.” 
“Okay,” Asterion sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Just help her as best you can. I trust you Warin.” 
As their footsteps approached again Avaelia turned her head away, gasping as she felt Warin’s soft hands examining her back. 
“Take a deep breath, Avaelia, this is going to sting,” Warin warned, before sticking her with the curved needle he held in his hands, gently pulling the skin back together. She held back her pain pricked tears, keeping on a brave face. When he was done he rubbed a numbing ointment over the two long sutures, easing the Fae’s pain. 
Asterion knelt at her side, “Rest here, for now. I’m going to go check on your quarters, then I’ll be back with your dinner.” 
Avaelia laid there in silence, watching the sunset outside the window, falling into an uneasy sleep. 
. . . 
“Asterion what are we doing today?” Avaelia asked, curious about what her training would mean. She adjusted her black tunic over her black trousers, similar to Asterion’s own clothing. 
“Today,” He grinned, opening the door to the temple, “We meditate.” 
There were a few monks in the temple, but not many. Most preferred to meditate in their own quarters. Near a statue of a dragon, Asterion laid out two mats, sitting cross-legged on his. Avaelia followed, matching his position as he guided her through meditation and it’s purpose. 
“You must go beyond your mind,” Asterion explained, “Follow your breathing to silence your intellect, connect to the spirit that lives in this tree as it lives inside you.” 
Avaelia took a few deep breaths as Asterion told her before letting her breath fall into its natural rhythm. 
“Do not be discouraged if you cannot feel it your first time. It takes some monks months before they can feel the tree that cares for them.” 
She quieted her mind, focusing her energy on the trees that surrounded her, hoping to feel some sort of energy reaching back, but for hours she could feel nothing but Asterion in front of her and the mat she was sitting on. 
Avaelia let out a sigh as she slouched, exhausted from sitting straight up for several hours. 
“Asterion, we’ve been at this for ages, can’t we take a break?” 
“Some monk’s meditate for days on end without breaks.” 
“What’s the dragon for?” She cocked her head curiously. 
“That, my child, you will come to learn in time.” 
Avaelia didn’t realize she could become so sore from sitting all day long, but she wasn’t used to sitting like that. Exhaustedly, she sank into her bed, laying on her stomach out of habit. Though her stitches had come out, her back was still sore. 
. . . 
“Avaelia, tell me what do you think when you think of the Rogues that hurt you?” Asterion asked, standing across from her with a staff in hand. 
“I hate them,” Avaelia spat, “They killed everyone I ever loved, who is to say they don’t deserve the same!” 
“Watch yourself. You must learn to let go of your anger, or it will consume you as it has consumed so many of this world.” 
She let out a sigh, “I’m sorry, Asterion, I will do better.” 
“You are still learning, child, be forgiving with yourself as you would for others.” 
“Yes, Asterion,” She bowed her head to him. 
“Good, do as I do.” 
Asterion guided her through the almost dance-like movements of spinning her staff back and forth across her body. 
“Let the feeling flow inside you, follow the movements of the staff. Let it guide you into your strike.” 
. . . 
“Wrist elbow strike!” Asterion called from his seat above the lowered platform. Avaelia let the staff roll over her hand, pulling it in as the staff rolled over her elbow, striking her sparring opponent. Thecla ducked under the knockout strike, swinging her own staff to knock Avaelia off her feet, but Avaelia jumped over the strike, and swung her staff down upon Thecla’s shoulder, stopping just before she hit her. 
Sweat dripped from the Fae’s skin, a serious look in her pale green eyes, freckles across her skin glowing in the sunlight. She stood now before her master a woman when she had arrived at the Monastery a child. 
“Very good. Thecla dismissed.” Asterion said, causing Avaelia to stand back at attention, the staff at her side. Thecla nodded respectfully to Asterion before returning to her own master. 
Asterion shed his cloak, his grey hair braided down his back, save for a few hairs that were too short, and framed his face. He held his staff at the ready, feet grounded. 
“You’ve trained well all these years, do you think you are ready to face me?” Asterion asked, a hinting taunt. 
“We shall find out won’t we?” Avaelia found her ready stance with ease. The young monks gathered above the platform, excited to see the face-off between student and master. 
Asterion struck first, aiming for the Fae’s stomach though she swiftly blocked the blow. The two of them practically dancing in their fight, exchanging blocked blow after blocked blow. Though occasionally a blow missed and knocked the other back; both the Fae and the Half-elf were swift on their feet, age not yet touching Asterion’s bones. 
“You’ve taught me all you’re tricks master,” Avaelia said through a grunt as she stuck at her master. 
“Not all of them,” He ducked her strike, extending his leg to sweep her off of her feet. She landed painfully on her back before she had time to process he was fully upright in a rooted stance, his bow staff held vertically above her chest. After a few tense moments, both of them laughed, Asterion reached down the help the fae to her feet. 
“I concede, you are well versed Master Asterion.” Avaelia bowed her head to him. He just laughed. 
“Go get cleaned up, I want to speak with you after dinner.” 
“Yes, master.” 
Avaelia picked up her staff, heading off to the bathhouse. The collected rainwater was still warm from the sun as it washed the sweat and dirt from her skin, purple scars curling around her shoulder blades and sides. The wounds no longer ached like they used to, but she could still feel them in her nightmares.
She let the water wash the pain from her mind, and once clean she headed to the temple. Her wet curls sticking to her skin and soaking her black tunic. She sat in front of the statue, legs crossed and arms resting in her lap. She took a few deep breaths, letting her mind settle as she fell into a steady rhythm. Extending her awareness to the tree around her, cradling her safely in its arms. The statue in front of her thrummed with energy. At times when she was seeking wisdom, she could almost feel the statue speaking to her. 
“I heard of your spare today, congratulations Avaelia.” A kind voice drew her out of her relaxed focus, feeling like her soul was returning to her body. “I only wished to have seen it myself.” 
“Thank you, Herais.” 
“Take a walk with me, let me impart an old woman’s wisdom on you.” She extended Avaelia her arm, though both of the women knew that she didn’t need it. The two women walking towards the dining hall as Herais spoke her next words.
“There will come a day when you leave this place and you will venture into the world a grown woman. Never lose sight of your connection to the world, let your meditation be your guide. There is a lot of evil out there and you must not give in, as you release your worries through your meditation, your meditation will protect you from the evil that seeks to corrupt the best of us.” 
Avaelia listened to her words, feeling them settle deep into her stomach. It didn’t feel like wisdom, it felt like a warning. Avaelia guided Herais to the elder’s table before returning to her own table, filled with her peers. 
She ate her meal in silence, a focused look on her face as she tried to detangle the mess of words in her stomach, too focused to notice Asterion approaching the table. 
“Avaelia, if you’ll come with me.” The older half-elf extended his hand to her. Still quiet, she nodded, taking his weathered hand and letting him lead her out of the dining hall. He lead her through the dusk light to a building she’d never been in through her six years at the monastery. 
“Asterion, what is this place?” She furrowed her brows as she entered the dark humid hut. Glowing stones littered around the room, nests on pedestals. 
“Six years ago you asked me about the dragon statue in the temple, it is time that I tell you the story.” He began, his blue eyes staring far off into a distance past the hut wall. “Long ago the very first of our order was traveling when he came across a baby dragon being tortured by a group of raiders. He jumped in and stopped them, barely escaping with the dragon and his life. He began to nurse the dragon back to health, and as it slept, he was visited by a great god older than time itself. The great creator. 
The Creator told him that he was chosen to serve him in the protection of these magnificent creatures and that if he committed to this work, he and his successors would be greatly rewarded. The First of our order told the Creator that he didn’t need to be rewarded, serving him in this righteous task was reward enough. 
Since then, The Creator has chosen someone to serve him in this task. I believe he has chosen you.” 
“I can’t possibly be chosen for this, Asterion. When you found me I was just a child with no knowledge of the world, I haven’t been anywhere but my village and here.” Avaelia denied, taking a step back from her master. 
“When you meditate before the statue, does it speak to you?” 
“Yeah, but that’s just my-” 
“It’s the creator speaking to you his wisdom, guiding you.” 
“Asterion, I’m not ready for some life-long holey quest.” 
“You are ready.” He insisted, clasping her hands in his, staring deep into her green eyes, “For years I have overseen so many trained to become the servant to The Creator and but none have had your fighting spirit. A dragon spirit guides you. You are the protector of dragons, Avaelia Roseguard.” 
Fire stirred in her soul at her title, her eyes were fierce. 
“And if I accept?” 
“You will set out into the world, from there your instinct and inner self will guide you.” 
“I accept my service to The Creator.” 
An egg at the back of the hut began rattling, it’s shell cracking and splitting. The baby inside chittered, sticking its little snout out of the hole. 
“Go on Avaelia. Treat him well and he will bond for life.” Asterion urged. She moved forward cautiously, approaching the egg. The dragon chittered again, biting the edge of the egg to break it. Peacock colored scales peaked out from the egg, purple eyes blinking at her. 
“How will I know his name?” She asked over her shoulder. 
“He will tell you.” 
Avaelia took a deep breath as she gently grabbed the egg, a single word coming to mind: Egan. The little dragon sneezed, smoke coming from his nostrils. 
. . . 
It was early the next morning when the monastery gathered on the ground below their tree community. Avaelia stood, bag packed, bo staff in hand, Egan nestled into a special pouch at her side. She wore her black outfit with pride, the material deceptively breezy. Herais gave Avaelia a smile and bowed her head in respect. Her milky white eyes were something Avaelia would always remember.
 Asterion, her mentor for the past six years stood with her in front of the crowd, pride filling him to his brim. 
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Black Rose Monastery,” He addressed the crowd, “Today we have the great honor of seeing off Avaelia Roseguard, Protector of Dragons!” 
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