#ashes-and-static

Ask, and this one will tell you of horrors they have faced, of family tearing itself apart in the name of power and control. This one will tell you of trusted liars, abusers who claimed hearts -mostly theirs, though this one keeps its shards together now with a ribbon stained with black ink- only to gleefully shatter them. And this one will tell of picking up the pieces, fewer of them every time, and walking onward in a never-ending march to oblivion.

They had names too, once, these breakers of things. They had names that this one has hissed with fury and cursed under her breath. They had names that once this one said with a velvet tongue, with loving tone, with adoration and hope.

Now, now this one walks the campus in quiet determination, occasionally offering something to a particularly brave crow, or fending off some student or Gentry that has accosted someone they have claimed as theirs. This one is protective, this little broken spitfire, protective of those whom they can save and helpful to those they cannot. For the ones who are scared, who are tired, who are lost, this one spins stories to guide them. For the ones who are brave, who are determined, who are as this one says they once were, they weave wards.

This one has magic, you see. Magic in stories and magic in their blood that is halfway Them and yet not Them. This one sings softly of places far to the north and back in time, rarely, and will if prompted enough bare the runic tattoos on their wrists, arms, elbows, ankles, legs, knees. Most of Them -if They are among the prompters- tend to back away quickly, for blood magic is more powerful than almost any other that mortal hand can craft, and just as protective as iron and salt if not moreso. However, if They are friends, are among theirs, this one will hide the blood-mixed ink and call them back softly, by Names that they have given them that ring as true as Their own. Names, this one knows, are powerful things, and even if they are lost there are two that know theirs, truly know theirs, and can call them home.

This one goes by Morrigan, first, then Cerridwyn then Medusa then a string of others- yet all none of these are their Name.