#fyianna

Between trying to finish my Valentines/LS3 writing and work I decided to stick my main and most written about characters into a line up.

Left to RIght: Vrishya, Odette De Lys, Aelestri, Varyllis, Ateyla, Faerylie, Klivvik, Caerthys, Tasia Wraithrend, Ellie Blacksmith, Erebus Swiftreaper, Lyaeris, Fyianna and Phenriel.

The first cool breeze that rolled through on the otherwise still, close day had both Sylvari on edge, alert and deathly still. Both uncertain of themselves, of the prickling at the backs of their necks, the sting of electricity in the air, looked to each other questioningly, wordlessly.

With silent slow movements Varyllis places her rifle on the ground, eyes never leaving the canopy, the thicket of the trees around them, and pulled free her pistols listening as Aelestri followed suit, two daggers in his hands. More silence. That continuous cool breeze. And the feeling...

Like they were being watched.

It’s only a small gesture he makes into the forest, his eyes more acutely trained than hers, his senses much faster, and she misses whatever he was pointing to. The sharp taste of magic and static and metal is stronger though. It has Aelestri fidgeting with his blades in tiny finger twitches. Varyllis still staring, unwavering, willing herself not to miss it again.

She does.

And in a blink there’s bright white light, the ungodly burn of electricty passing through her and the unnatural chill of a solid steel knife pressed to her throat. And that’s where it stays, still and firm.

The Sylvari holding the knife is familiar, pastel and dressed in silks and jewels and fine flowers. Tall, slender with an unusual wickedness on her face. A face which turns from deep concentration to a look of dawning realisation. But before a word can leave her mouth, Aelestri’s finally visible again, his stealth worn off and he has both daggers crossed across the attacking Sylvari’s throat from behind.

Varyllis visibly relaxes as the elementalist drops both knives to the ground, still fixated on the engineer.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting this.”

Definitely a courtier. Varyllis’ memories tick over until it finally clicks. One of her own Knights. Miasma.

“Countess. My, you’ve changed,” she coos airily, seemingly unphased by the daggers pressing more firmly against her throat, “Not as much as we had believed though. At least you don’t look like a Mordrem.”

“I’m not.”

She doesn’t correct the use of her former title. Not out of nostalgia or need for rank, but because shes uncertain of the Knight’s reaction to her sudden abandonment of everything she’d ever known.

“And who’s this you have with you? A welcome home present? Bribing your way back into power? He’s sweet, I’ll give you that.”

The words she chose weren’t exactly what she’d meant to say, but when dealing with courtiers it was easier to stake your claim and make a stand rather than give them the opportunity to take and corrupt. Aelestri doesn’t react.

“He’s mine.”

That was the end of that exchange. The courtier looks the former countess up and down, judging, deciding. And when her decision is made she smirks.

“There’s still a vacancy. No one was brave enough to step up and steal your title away.”

“I’m shocked you weren’t all over it as soon as you’d abandoned me at the edge of that forsaken hell hole of a jungle, Fyianna. Isn’t power your thing?”

Another sharp smirk spreads across the elementalist’s features, “It is. And that’s why I named myself Baroness, but...No one could fill the space quite like you, Countess.”

The tone of her voice puts every tiny fibre of Varyllis’ being into full alert. The sweet honeyed words, the hollow compliments, everything about it trying to lure her back into the court’s clutches.

“Faolain is dead, Fyianna. The Court is just a disgusting mix of the Dragon’s slavery and The Mother’s expectations anyway. I choose to be truely free and that means I want nothing more of you or your Court. You can have the damn title. It’s not worth the pain it causes.”

Stunned and staring, Fyianna takes a moment to process the information. An unfamiliar concept, leaving the Court. The continuation of life without the Grand Duchess, without the Countess that had taken her in and taught her her ways. The shock turns to anger but before she can reach out to strike, or pull at the arms around her neck Varyllis has the barrel of a pistol to the elementalist’s forehead and cocks it.

It’s only when she noticed Aelestri’s eyes focused in on her, concerned, the tiny shake of his head that she pulls the pistol back, slamming the butt into the Sylvari’s nose and watching her crumple to the ground in an unconscious pile.

GW2 Fashion Week - 4/7

Fyianna, Baroness of Miasma || Elementalist

Fyianna is a Courtier of the worst variety. She doesn’t partake in the fighting and the physical side of things too often (she’s fond of torture and breaking in new recruits though) but she’s the first on the scene when lies need to be woven and manipulation needs to happen. Since her Countess’ disappearance, Fyianna is no longer a Knight, but a Baroness. Having learnt from Varyllis, she’s a cruel one at that.

Oh man. Good choice.

It’s the clink of a buckle and the sound of a leather strap tightening that catches her attention, the pastel Sylvari turning onto her side and leaning up on her elbow to investigate the source. Varyllis is dressing, sheer silk dress and black petals, looking like something straight from the Nightmare. On her right thigh is a holster, small and discrete, holding a pistol of the Countess’s own design. 

“Not to be rude, Vary, but it’s a formal event,” when all she receives is a roll of the elder’s eyes, the Knight sighs, “You really shouldn’t have a weapon.”

One final check and Varyllis sweeps her skirts around her legs, the holster just visible through the material. She pats it down, hands coming to rest on her hips as she looks down, exasperated, at Fyianna.

“It’s a Nightmare Court formal event, darling. I won’t be the only one with a weapon about my person.There’ll be more backstabbing and conniving tonight amongst the retinue than you’ll be able to spot and I intend to have every part in it. And if it gets messy then I’m prepared.”

Fyianna slumps back down onto the Countess’s pillow’s with a whump, an expression of bitterness on her face, “Of course, forgive my naivety.”

“It’s only to be expected from a convert like you.”

A sharp glare from the Knight reaches the back of the Countess’s head and she decides an equally sharp comment is in order.

“I’ll keep your Knights occupied while you have your fun with the retinue then.”

“What? Not everyone has a sob story that they hope will justify their actions. I wasn’t recruited like you, Fyianna. I was born into the Nightmare like the others of my generation. Why would I start seeking redemption when I’m not doing anything wrong?”

The elementalist leans up on her elbow, pulling the blankets up around her. Of course, Varyllis never really spoke about her history with the Court. She’d only say that she was too old and there was too much of it.

“Alright. reasoning and redemption aside, what was it like when you were a sapling?”

Varyllis narrowed her eyes at the Knight, sighing a little, “It was smaller. Slightly purer in it’s goals. I was the Knight of the Hunt, an efficient recruiter and even more so at terrorising the Dreamers. It was just life, Fyianna, there’s nothing to it. There was nothing to miss or rectify like you seem to think there needs to be.”

“You’ve never been a Dreamer then?”

“No, Fyianna, clearly not-”

“Have you ever been in love?”

The Countess stopped her pacing, making a sharp glance to the younger Sylvari, “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s me asking if you’ve ever been in love.”

If it hadn’t been for the split second pause, she would’ve gotten away with it, but the elementalist just grinned smugly as a pointed ‘no’ came from her lips.

“My recruiter was a Duke and he may have been the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. As for myself, I was perhaps a little older than a sapling, coming up to my second year and still childishly naive. I hadn’t strayed far from Caledon Forest in all my time, mostly comforted in The Grove, stuck with the lovely Luminary of Noon, Niamh and my fellow Noon blossoms. I was safe and happy, I had everything I could need, never short of company for adventure. Although the other Noon born saplings took to defending against the Nightmare Court, I preferred to hold back. My naivety told me that perhaps they were just mislead. Perhaps take a trek out instead, watch some wildlife.”

“He approached me when I was alone one day, watching a flock of brightly coloured birds preening and displaying themselves proudly in the canopy above. It seemed almost appropriate, like a divine sign. Standing a few feet away watching me cautiously with his vibrant eyes. A magnificent lilac. I was naive. So utterly uneducated in the world. He took me sweetly by the hand, still hypnotized by his eyes and ever more so by his words. As silver-tongued as he was silver skinned.”

“I will tell you right now that I never loved him but once I continue you won’t believe me because sometimes I do not believe myself. He had a way of speaking straight through me, to my heart, to the part of my brain that could override any thought. I believed I loved him. I believed every word from his lips; that I was the only one he could ever love, that he knew on sight that we were two souls meant to be, that he could never deceive me. He took my heartstrings in his fist and twisted them until I was a puppet to do his bidding. I trusted him with my life.”

“A dusk bloom and a mesmer. He took me out under the setting sun and we watched the stars come out. He created shimmering illusions that fluttered through the air nearby. To a glade that I had only seen in the bright sunlight, where the moon shone down through the branches in silver beams. He kissed me for the first and only time, took me by the hand again and told me he would take me somewhere special to him, where he’d never shown anyone else before.”

“I should have known. I was so naive. The glow was ethereal. Drawn in by some force unknown. Wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and whispering sweetly to me that we’d be together forever.”

“The next thing I knew I was cocooned inside a pod too dazed and confused to struggle. My mind filled with images of horrible things I had never imagined and the pain- It didn’t take long to break me, shatter my resolve. Take me over to Nightmare.”

“His wasn’t the face a saw when I emerged again, even through I looked for it. In fact I didn’t see his face again for a while. All the love and fluttering feelings he’d bought about had been wrapped up and choked out by bitterness and revenge. I wanted to end him for lying to me. I had truly believed he loved me. And I realised maybe he still did. It wasn’t until I caught him again, a gentle young sapling on his arm with longing doe eyes that I promised myself he would pay. I would take what he had done to me and I was make him hurt the same way.”

“That sapling didn’t make it through the night. My Duke found him the next morning charred to a crisp with jagged lines of lightning across his body. He was cruel to me that evening, but not as cruel as he had been before. I held my resolve because I knew I would break him the same way he broke me. Eventually. With time.”

“And I did. I learned his ways and I had his Court at my feet, wrapped around my fingers. Of course it wasn’t long before I seduced him too with honeyed words and fleeting glances. Not long before he appeared at my back one evening, hands soft around my waist and lips eager on my neck. I took him sweetly by the hand to a secluded enclave and without a word or sound vacuumed the air from his lungs and watched him suffocate, silently screaming on the ground.”

“His Court turned a blind eye, but I wasn’t even a knight. I couldn’t take his place. A Count stepped up but before he could lay claim I found you. And here we are.”

Varyllis smirked at the end of the Knight’s dramatic tale, tapping her blackened finger tips against the armrest of her chair. She shifted her weight, allowing the Knight to adjust her position on the Countess’ knee.

“And after such a story you expect me to keep you around? To trust you not to murder me when I’m vulnerable?”

Fyianna chuckled, turning the Countess’ face to hers with a light brush of her fingers, “That’s entirely up to you, Ma’am. I am but your humble Knight.”