#apprentice isolde

Isolde rubs her eyes blearily, digging the first knuckle of her balled-fists into the corner of her eye in a way that she is sure will cause wrinkles in a few years but feels too satisfying to stop. A few minutes ago she had woken alone, the space in the bed next to her empty and cold, an unpleasant surprise after her too-convincing dream of Julian laying beside her. She remembers the pleasant, slightly scratchy feeling of the hair on his chest under her fingertips, and the heat of skin-to-skin contact as if it had happened moments ago, instead of in her imagination.

She crumples the bed sheets in her hands, scrunching her eyes shut and lightly shaking her head in a half-hearted attempt to forget the dream. This is far from the first time she had needed an escape from her thoughts, but it is the most pleasant by a mile. Although, these last few months she does often find her mind wandering to the doctor. The more the city becomes overcome by the plague, the more hours she pours into researching alongside other volunteers and Julian. The way his eyes narrow, gaze focusing on parchment that may contain just a hint at a cure, and how his jaw tightens when it turns out to be nothing, haunts her. Except for be there, be another pair of hands to help, she isn’t sure there is anything to be done to ease the pressure that so clearly weighs on him. And that weighs on her.

There is no returning to sleep now. The only thing for it, Isolde decides with a determination that comforts her, even if only superficially, is to go for a walk and clear her head. She sits up, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders, allowing herself a small groan at the feeling of her muscles waking up. Only a small one though, it wouldn’t do to wake Asra in the next room. She is quite sure they would settle her down with a cup of tea. Well intended, but an interruption to her impromptu trip that she does not think she would welcome.

She reaches out to the small bedside table, waving her hand lightly over the candle and whispering a spell to light the wick. Her hand hovers over it for a moment longer than necessary, as she savours the warmth on her palm and watches the light flicker, casting a soft glow around her small room. Meticulously tidy, but with perhaps a few too many trinkets, it is a cosy and comforting place. Over the head of her bed hang dried flowers and herbs of every variety, filling the space with a sweet and slightly earthy smell – contrasting with the fresh, crisp, night air that creeps in through the not-quite-shut window. She glances over her shoulder to check the height of the waning moon, seeing that she has woken in the very early hours of the morning. Good. She will be able to get in a few more hours rest when she returns then, hopefully with a head free of longing.

A white cotton dress is quickly shrugged on, and falls loosely over her hips, down to her shins. It will only be a short walk, and if anyone sees her out at this time of the night surely they will be too drunk to recognise her. There is no need to dress to any degree of propriety. Besides, she thinks, teasing her fingers through her hair as she creeps towards the door to her room, there isn’t anyone around here I’m trying to impress.

She eases her way gently down the wooden stairs, carefully avoiding the spots where she knows they will creak, and especially the splinter that Asra keeps promising he will remove. Perhaps she should just do it herself in the morning... She had resolved to let them get to it, but in the end she is quite sure it will be her or not at all. Downstairs, the carefully organised belongings become a little more... scattered. Isolde was always gathering Asra’s items up; arranging them neatly on the second step, or the counter, so that they could put things away in the proper place. Somehow they always ended up in the same wrong places she had collected them from. Not long ago, 13 months, almost 14, she had done the same for Arthen... She thinks he had always put them away, but perhaps that was just because she misses him now, and it renders her unable to recall any frustrations.

Thick woollen socks wait next to the back door, ready for her and Asra to protect against the autumn chill outside. That was Asra’s idea, to leave them by the door so they wouldn’t forget, and she thinks she must be rubbing off on him. She makes a mental note to thank them again in the morning, and to forgive them for the stair-splinter. Quickly pulling the socks on, followed by her not-quite-so-sensible brown boots, she slips out of the shop, and hearing the latch click into place, steps away.

The streets of Vesuvia are just as empty as she expected. The moonlight is only faint but a few stars can be seen, picking out dots of light through the sparse cloud coverage. She feels a familiar, but faint, tug from the natural river flowing through the heart of the city and turns away, walking instead towards one of the canals and beginning her stroll along the edge of it. The canals are man-made. They are safe.

Her boots tap, tap, tap along the paving slabs, the slight echo coming from the buildings softening as soon as it bounces to the water beside her. The wisps of hair falling into her face lift lightly in the breeze and she turns her face towards it, inhaling deeply the smell of the city. There is something sour under the fresh night air. Something sour underlies everything in Vesuvia this past year.

She isn’t quite sure where she’s going, but she lets instinct lead her, constantly catching herself thinking of Julian in a way that she knows is very inappropriate, given that he is essentially her boss. But she can’t help herself. It’s not just that she can see him suffering and is desperate to help. It’s a lot to do with that, but there’s more. With a heavy sigh, she resigns herself to the crush. In the beginning she hadn’t tried half as hard to resist, but he remained oblivious, seemingly wilfully so, to her flirtations, and as the stress mounted she realised what he needed was support, not a fling to meet her whims. So, she supports.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a glimmer of warm candlelight and a small, pleasurable shiver crawls its way up her spine, seeming to take it’s time in a way that a shiver of fear never does. She has arrived at the destination she didn’t know she had: Julian’s Clinic. And light is flickering inside. Of course it is, because no matter how strong Isolde’s work ethic, no matter how strong her drive to find a cure, it is nothing compared to Julian’s. She peers through the window, the glass appearing slightly frosted from the condensation on the inside. It must be a lot warmer in there than it is out here she thinks, and the shiver returns for a different reason.

She moves carefully once again, slowly turning the handle and squeezing in through the crack she opens up. She doesn’t want to let any of the cold inside. Julian sits at his desk, papers strewn over it, the nearby table, the floor under his feet... His head is in one hand, elegant fingers twisting into his thick hair, turned to burnished copper in the firelight. The other hand scrawls across the page, words forming like spiderwebs, appearing from where Isolde stands to have no rhyme or reason. He looks desperate.

Isolde flicks her head, her hair sweeping back over her shoulders and tumbling down her back as she murmurs very softly “Hello Julian.”

His head snaps up.

“Isolde, Darling, what are you doing up and out at this time of night? You’ll catch a chill and we can’t have that!” Julian sweeps towards her, swinging his jacket from his shoulders as he moves and quickly wrapping it around her, “Theeere we are...”

They stand like this for a moment, Julian’s chin almost resting on Isolde’s head, and Isolde’s nose almost brushing Julian’s chest. She can smell parchment and sandalwood and salt on his skin. His warm breath stirs her hair, and he gives her arms a slight squeeze with his un-gloved hands.  For a second she can't stop the thought, surely he is getting ink stains on my dress, he always gets absolutely covered with the stuff. But then he inhales through his nose and makes a barely audible “mmm” noise, and it is all she can do to keep from leaning into him. Isolde holds as still as she can, terrified of breaking the spell, but then just as quickly as he had reached her from his desk, he steps away again, putting an uncomfortable, comfortable distance between them.

She takes a steadying breath before saying quietly “I’m not sure. I woke up and my feet just brought me here. I suppose the clinic is on all our minds a lot recently...”.

Will he believe me? she wonders. Do I even believe myself?

“Besides,” her voice is a little stronger, a little firmer than before, “you’re one to talk! I’m sure you haven’t slept at all.”

“Ooohoho,” he chuckles, a deep rumbling in his chest that makes Isolde dig her fingernails sharply into her palms, “you know me! A glutton for punishment, and how could I ever sleep on a beautiful night like this!”

His jovial, almost suggestive tone falters then, “There is so much work to do, and I thought I was so close...”.

Isolde rocks forward on the balls of her feet, about to take a step towards him, but thinks better of it. “Well good thing I’m here then, perhaps I can make some sense of the mess of notes. Unless this is a new look for the Clinic you’re working on, and I have the wrong end of the stick?” She tries to lighten his mood again.

“Oh, Dear,” a smile spreads on his lips like honey and her breath catches at the sight, “I couldn’t possibly trouble you to help me work this late at night. You should remember this is, well, this is my job! Not yours, Isolde. But I do insist you don’t go back into the cold. Your company will be appreciated.”

He makes a sweeping gesture to the sofa just in front of his desk, and returns to sit on the wooden chair, which looks like it was built for a child under his gangly frame.

Well, I can’t complain, the fire will be more than pleasant and what a lovely view. As long as I can stay awake. Isolde thinks as she sits on the worn red velvet, rubbing the tips of her fingers - which are longing to touch something - over the fabric, and stretching her legs out to reach the other end. The cushions are ever so slightly lumpy from years of use, but they are comfortable as she sinks into them.

She can see the ink spots on Julian's hands now. She knew they were there, but that doesn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching up, assured of her familiarity with him. The veins on the backs of his hands bulge slightly, straining from countless hours of writing non-stop, and her eyes follow the green-blue paths under his almost translucent skin to the cuff of his shirt. He is paler than usual. He hasn’t been outside enough. But how could she convince him?

“Tell me what you’re working on. It might help to say it out loud, to bounce your ideas about a bit?” Always trying to help. She knows realistically she can’t add anything here he hasn’t thought of, but perhaps she can get him out of his head.

He flashes her a grin, but she knows it’s nothing more than bravado. “I am convinced the plague is carried in the blood, and so bloodletting must do something. But as you well know, so far: nothing. I was reading through some very old, ancient even, manuscripts earlier today. Oh, Isolde you should have seen them, the illuminations were flawless, and the work they have done with different species of leeches. Well it’s truly something else.”

He pauses for breath, the excited, desperate tone fading. “Anyway, I’m getting off track. I was looking for similarities between what is happening now and past plagues. And there are many, but there are many with all of them and I just... I don’t know what to do.”

Isolde’s eyelids are becoming heavy, but she looks at him earnestly, gazing into his downcast eyes. “This isn’t all on you. It can’t be all on you.”

“I-” he shakes his head and looks up at her. “Thank you. You should shut your eyes my Dear, you look exhausted, and I won’t be blamed for your lack of beauty sleep.” The deep chuckle returns, and this time Isolde joins in, just for a moment.

“You think I look this good because of sleep?" She tries, and fails, to stifle a yawn, "I have some bad news Doctor Devorak. It’s a spell.” She barely gets the last few words out, shutting he eyes and shuffling down into the sofa.

The sound of shuffling papers becomes muffled, the light through her eyelids darkens and she has almost sunk into sleep when she thinks she hears Julian say, ever-so-quietly, “Well, the spell is working.”

***

Isolde’s eyes flutter open as a misty kind of morning light hits them. Looking up at the ceiling she can see a few spiderwebs here and there amongst the dark beams. Not her room. The blanket covering her is utilitarian, grey and slightly wiry, but welcome nonetheless. And it hadn’t been there when she fell asleep. She starts to stretch, but suddenly becomes aware of a weight on her legs.

She leans up slightly, looking down to her feet and half expecting to see her cat. But no. The rickety wooden chair has been pulled up next to the sofa, and in it, doubled over with his arms folded on her shins and his head on his arms, sleeps Julian. One of his fingers grazes the sliver of skin between her thick socks and her unsuitable dress, and she thinks how very glad I am that I didn’t get properly dressed. The loose white shirt has slipped off his shoulder, and curls of dark auburn hair brush his exposed neck. Reaching out as slowly as she can, trying hard not to move her legs, she pulls his shirt back up, and shrugs the jacket off her back to gently lay it on his instead.

Full name: Isolde Tlachtga Rosach

Name pronunciation: Ee-Soldt Clack-Ga Rose-Ak

Name meaning: Isolde means ‘she who is gazed upon’, and as the town’s future leader her role would be to be looked upon, and looked up to, but not more. Tlachtga is the name of a powerful druidess of legend, famed for her red hair and far-reaching travels.

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthday: June 26th

Age (when the Arcana game begins): 29 Notes: This makes her age 25 when she dies, and 26 when she is brought back by Asra. She is 20 when she arrives in Vesuvia and almost 24 when Arthen dies of the Plague. I headcanon the characters ages based on this post

Orientation: Bisexual

Innate Magic: Natural Energy Manipulation, Animist Communication.

Learnt Magic: Light Bending, Lunar and Stellar Energy Manipulation.

Familiar: Clídna the forest cat

Love interest: Julian Devorak

Theme song: Runaway by AURORA

Playlist: Though she be but little... (This really could have been 100% Florence + The Machine)

ALIGNMENTS

Zodiac sign:

Sun: Cancer

Moon: Sagittarius

Rising: Cancer

Element: Water

Patron Arcana: Queen of Cups (minor)

Upright: Compassionate, caring, stable, intuitive, warm, counselling, energetic.

Reversed: Insecure, dependent and co-dependent, fragile, martyrdom, over emotional.

Magic:

Natural Energy Manipulation

With this ability Isolde is able to harness significantly more power than she possesses, provided that there is a natural source of energy in the vicinity. This can manifest in many different ways, the most obvious being that she can draw on power from the natural world around her to empower specific spells she is using or potions she is making. It also allows her to rearrange natural energy (anima) to take different forms. For example, pulling the anima from a forest to rapidly grow one tree, or drawing in a fog from the moisture in the ground.

This can be heavily influenced by her mood: in extremely negative moods she can unconsciously suck the life from her surroundings, and the opposite is also true. This only really happens in states where she is beyond controlling her emotions to any degree, and she is extremely cautious not to have a negative impact.

Animist Communication

As with her energy manipulation, Isolde can use anima to commune with nature, to varying degrees depending on the strength of the life force in whatever she wants to communicate with, and heavily depending on her mood and frame of mind. This works as a sort of partial possession, transferring some of her life force into the being she is communicating with – always keeping a thread between them to find her way back. She can communicate with plants, in this case it is more like hearing an echo of what has been happening in the area with varying degrees of clarity, and with animals, where she gains a deep understanding of their emotional state – neither are like a conversation but she has learnt to intuit a lot of information. Using this skill puts her body into a trance like state and leaves her vulnerable.

Light Bending

Light Bending is a form of visual augmentation – by changing the way light refracts off objects she can partially change the way specific objects, or with a lot of effort, peoples surroundings, are perceived by them. This can be as simple as making colours appear more vivid to brighten her day, or to make a doorway blend into the wall so passers-by don’t try to enter. It is by no means flawless, and can usually be seen though by anyone looking for it, like a holographic image that shows a different picture depending on the angle you view it from.

Lunar and Stellar Energy Manipulation

Much like Natural Energy Manipulation, this allows Isolde to harness more power than she herself possesses. As this is a skill she taught herself, and is not innate, it is far from as powerful as Natural Energy Manipulation, and is heavily dependent on a clear view of heavenly bodies. She has a much greater affinity with the moon and certain stars (particularly those in the Cancer and Lynx constellations), so when they are more visible she has more power. This doesn’t grant her any additional abilities, so is really just a way to augment her other spells, or to infuse potions.

Other abilities: Isolde is a talented herbologist, and more casually, gardener. She speaks two languages, though one, being Celtic, doesn’t often see use. Isolde can ride well, and drive a cart or carriage. Finally, she is an excellent baker and cook.

PERSONALITY & PREFERENCES

Personality:

Isolde is a lover and a fighter. She is strong-willed, fiercely self-reliant, passionate, and holds herself to very high standards. She is also very scared. She craves having the chance to let go of her responsibilities, and to be vulnerable, but she is afraid of what will happen if she does. There are really two sides to the coin with her, and for most of her life she has struggled to find a balance, and to allow herself to be both parts of who she is.

Initially, Isolde is very responsible, she likes to be in charge and she carefully considers her actions to be sure she is doing the right thing at all times. She is very proud of how reliable she is, and how she doesn’t let things slip, but she is also deeply resentful of how, to her mind, everything rides on her. Not that she would admit it, because it is vital that she can believe herself to be good, and kind, and correct.

On another level, she wants to let go of everything, to be able to let her life become a bit messy without the guilt that her responsibility slipped, and she desperately wants someone to help her pick up what she misses. She can be much less uptight, becoming gentler and more relaxed, more affectionate as she lets the mask slip, and accepts the difficult parts of herself.

Isolde is terrified of abandonment, but takes a sort of sick satisfaction in people leaving her – it proves her right and gives her a reason to break down for a while. She is a very compassionate and loyal friend: her relationships are what she values the most, and secretly what she is most proud of. She is very emotional, and scared, and hates to be in the wrong, but she is also very warm, caring and loving.

Likes: Animals, especially wild animals, sunrise on a dewy morning, singing and dancing, baking, dozing next to a flowing river or under the shade of a tree.

Dislikes: Coldness and lack of emotion, lack of empathy, being in the wrong or worse being told she is wrong, feeling powerless.

Fears: Being trapped, physically or emotionally, and abandonment (ironically, she has been known to do the trapping to avoid being abandoned).

Most likely to: Bring an apple to her teacher for brownie points

Quirks: She always has cold fingers, so it’s not unusual to see her with her fingers tucked into her cuffs, or bundled in her skirt. In the wilderness, she can go into a trance like state, sometimes that’s what it is, and sometimes she is just so taken with the sound of the wild.

Mental health: Isolde has terrible nightmares about being trapped in a cage, back in her village. She would not openly speak about this. She holds herself to an impossibly high standard, and lashes out when she is not meeting it. As mentioned before, she has massive abandonment issues, and is also overcoming something of a victim complex.

Favourite food: Fresh baked bread with honey or wild strawberry jam

Favourite drink: Earl Grey Tea

Favourite flower: Snapdragon

APPEARANCE

Height: 5’6”/167 cm

Hair: A soft auburn in winter, muted ginger in the summer when the sun has lightened it. It has a natural wave, curling at the bottom where the weight of it is less inclined to pulling the curl out. It is long, just past her waist, and she usually wears half up in a bun, with many plaits to keep the volume more manageable day to day.

Eyes: Deep green, with just a hint of blue-grey near the centre. Large, with a deep crease, and downturned lashes.

Other: Isolde is quite heavily freckled and has moles all over, but especially over her nose and cheeks, shoulders, elbows, thighs and knees where she most catches the sun. She has several large scars, one on her left calf, another on her left thigh, and most prominently a large branching scar on the right side of her back. The main part of the scar is just below her shoulder blade, but it branches out like lightening across her back and reaches around her ribs on the right side – this is from where she very messily removed a tattoo.

Colour theme: Rich forest green, sage green, and lilac, with gold and white accents.

Fashion sense: Isolde’s fashion sense could be described as well-disguised practicality. She loves anything with a full sleeve and off the shoulder, and this gives her a good range of motion. Fitted bodices provide some minor support when she is standing in the shop for long periods, and loose skirts and wide legged trousers allow plenty of room for pockets. She likes to feel pretty, and feminine, so these things go hand in hand.

She likes to accessorise with jewellery, especially changing her many earrings frequently, and always wears gold.

She does long for the opportunity to dress more grandly, and perhaps to throw what she knows, and is comfortable with, out the door. Although everyday wear is quite simple, she is seduced by decadence.

FAMILY & BACKGROUND

Family:

Rowena - mother - alive | relationship: estranged

Unknown - father - alive | relationship: non-existant

Arthen - brother - deceased | relationship: very close

Background:

Isolde was born in a large, but well hidden, town called Dėrwintreb. Dėrwintreb sits in a cold, damp, and mountainous region south of the Sea of Persephia, and west of the Scourgelands. The people there, Atrebates, there are secretive, and know the land better than they know the backs of their own hands. It is not uncommon for towns to be a combination of stone and wooden dwellings, as well as homes carved out of trees and rocks, using what nature provides to make their structures.

Tradition is everything to the many tribes that make up the Atrebates, all slightly varied form one another, but all seated in mysticism and spiritualism, and very deeply routed in a respect for nature. They mistrust outsiders, or at least the change that they often bring, and this has driven an even deeper connection with the natural world.

In Dėrwintreb the leading Druidess was Isolde’s mother, Rowena. The Druidess is who the town looks to for guidance, as both a spiritual and governing ruler. The role and title is inherited, passed mother to daughter, with only very rare exceptions if aptitude is not shown. She spends almost all of her waking time in a trance, communing and sharing anima with the world and the wilds around her. She breaks the trance to use what she learns to guide and instruct the village. It is expected that she all but breaks familial ties, living for the good of her people and the forest, rather than for herself – and Rowena was proud to do this.

Which brings us to Isolde. She was born before her mother took up her duty as druidess, followed 5 years later by her brother Arthen. When Isolde was six and Arthen was one, Rowen became the Druidess. Isolde was used to having a distant mother, as she was always in training, but this was a new level. The saying “it takes a village to raise a child” was always the case in Dėrwintreb, so they were both raised by their neighbours, but Isolde felt responsible for, and protective of, Arthen, not wanting him to miss his mother as she had.

When Isolde turned 16, her coming of age ceremony was held – and as the moon reached its peak Rowena came out of the trance for the rare occasion. Isolde of course was overjoyed to be able to connect with her mother again, and did everything she could to be the golden child. She carefully lay still while she was tattooed with the tribe’s sigil, trying to prove to Rowena, and herself, that she was on the right path to become the Druidess no matter how much she dreaded it. A few days passed, like this, with celebrations and more attempts to “earn” Rowena’s love in a way Isolde had never felt it, but on the third day, when Rowena returned to her trance, Isolde couldn’t face it any more.

Horrified by being, to her mind, abandoned by Rowena again, and terrified of a future where she lived the same half-life, she took the 11 year old Arthen and ran. He didn’t face the same future as her, but he had the same absent mother. Wanting nothing more to do with the Atrebates, she used her innate magic for the last time in years to remove her tattoo, and then travelled east, through the Scourgelands.

After this, Isolde did everything she could to distance them from her culture, spending the next two years mostly living off the land and learning to draw her power from the heavens, instead of from the earth. She held deep fear, and resentment, of the connection she still felt to the wild, scared that it would draw her in and lead her home, so when a they chanced upon a traveling tradeswoman, Elmira, who spent all her time sailing from city to city, Isolde decided that was the way for her to separate herself entirely from the Atrebates.

Isolde, Arthen, and Elmira spent another 2 years traveling, Isolde peddling potions and astrological spells, Elmira working on building projects wherever they landed. Eventually, Elmira got word that her aunt had died, leaving her a shop, which is how, at 20, Isolde came to settle in Vesuvia. Elmira stayed around 9 months and in this time her and Isolde became romantically involved, but not wanting to settle she opted to move on and left the shop to Isolde and Arthen. This consolidated Isolde’s fears of being abandoned at every turn, although Elmira returned for regular visits and the two remained close, any chance of a relationship after that was scuppered.

She met Asra for the first time not long after Elmira left, out trying to prove to herself that she was okay, and that someone could still want her even though no one else had stuck around. Asra wasn’t what she was expecting, nor did they give her what she was looking for, but instead she gained a local friend, and that did more for her than any one night stand would have.

Isolde’s brother was among the first in Vesuvia to die of the plague, which is a large part of why Isolde chose to stay when Asra left. She felt entirely responsible, and if he was dead then she would make sure some good could come of it, even if that was just an extra set of hands working for a cure. Vesuvia was also the taste of a stable life Isolde had ever experienced, and being a city it kept her separate from most of the wilds that called to her innate magic, so the thought of leave terrified her.

Five facts:

o Isolde is quite uncoordinated – she loves to dance, but she is somewhat clumsy with it, and despite being a talented singer she has never been dexterous enough to pick up an instrument.

o She usually carries an assortment of dried flowers and herbs, and semi-precious stones that she has found while out and about and can use later for spells.

o She has terrible circulation, leaving her fingers and toes cold at all times – she is quite used to it so it doesn’t bother her, but as she gets more in touch with her innate magic this does improve.

o Her hair smells of apricots and vanilla – she loves to act surprised when someone notices it but of course it is very carefully curated.

o The plaits in her hair are normally simply for convenience because she has so much hair, but for certain occasions she plaits her hair into intricate patterns with different meanings.

A huge thank you to @leila-of-ravens for creating, and letting me use, this beautiful template, to @evarcana for always asking about Isolde and keeping me motivated, and both for inspiring me!