#sorela

It had been a perfect distraction. Tian had seen it before, the zeal of discrimination setting fires unto themselves for the sake of purity. He just hadn't anticipating something so terrible working out so well for him need to escape.

He'd made up his mind at the first whiff of smoke, cutting his way through smaller streets in hope of finding an exit that wasn't bottlenecked with frantic civilians. The screams were getting louder, the wails of children and adults alike reaching a pitch as the flames roared higher. Adrenaline coursed through his body at the sound of suffering as if he had been the one holding the torch.

As he came upon a quieter part of town, he lowered his blindfold to scan the city walls for a place to climb over. There was a small clearing behind a wheelbarrow that he could've easily lanced over. Tian moved to sprint towards it before he caught sight of the weathered, red-gold sign of Books and Scrolls and hesitated.

Sorela was a strong, dignified woman and in the same vein, she was stubborn. They'd only known each other for a short amount of time but Tian didn't need a decade to get the nagging feeling that she hadn't left.

When he burst through the doors, he might've felt proud of himself for being right if he wasn't mildly worried.

"Miss Sorela, you should get out of here. The city's on fire," he said, making his way towards the back where she usually sat. There was little hesitation in his footsteps as if his clumsy tomfoolery had all been an act. Tian clasped onto her shoulders.

"You can rebuild whatever is left, just how you did it the first time. There's no use in burning with the books."

Made some tiny changes to my sona and finally gave her a name - Sorela (like solfege - so-re-la)! She rules a province within the Snow Kingdom (which I imagine is way larger than what we see in Odyssey), but I…haven't thought of a name for that yet kdjfhg

I also drew some of the denizens of her domain! They're made up of snowflakes, snowballs and snowpeople. The snowflakes are so small and light that they generally let the wind carry them where they need to go, the snowballs walk around like normal, and the snowpeople tend to hop around from place to place.

Trafika PNS

“Sorela” is still alive in: 

couple commission for @escaped-mental-art​ of their friends’ characters! sorry that it was too late for valentines, but i hope you guys like it nonetheless! ;v; tysm for commissioning me!! <3

After the initial shock set in, Tian's mind raced to figure out his next steps. Killing was not foreign to him, nor was the disposal of a body. The fires that had wrecked the town made for the perfect cover-up as if some divine entity had woven this tapestry just for his inevitable backslide into his former self.

It was what came after that made his head spin when he'd never stopped to process the feelings that came with said murder. Venom had become efficient simply because he refused to stop and think about anything, but with the school gone and his past behind him, all he had now was time to wallow in his sins.

The sun had long disappeared by the time he emerged from the inn, using a window to scale down the side of the building to avoid having to answer any questions as to why he was covered in blood with no injury to be seen.

Tian walked aimlessly through the streets, naturally gravitating towards the docks in favour of finding some water to clean himself up before attempting to return to the Nowhere Inn where he could resume being a benign houseplant as if he hadn't tore out someone's aorta the night before. It sickened him to think about how he'd never shed his scales, deceiving all those around him who, for the most part, had given him the benefit of a doubt.

The sound of life by the docks stilled him from continuing. Someone had set up a small camp there to help the citizens of Novigrad who'd lost their homes. A noble cause that he had no business being apart of, so he turned and went the other way.

His feet took him to the front doors of Books and Scrolls as if magnetized to abrasion. If there was one person who wouldn't handle him gingerly, it would be Sorela. And if he lost his mind in her presence, surely she'd have little hesitation with ending him on her doorstep.

Tian waited patiently by the door after knocking, the warm light in the windows telling him of her presence inside. He bowed his head like a pitiful dog who'd pissed the carpet when she opened it. "I apologize for intruding at this hour, Miss Sorela, but I don't suppose you could let me use your washbasin?"

Tian rarely stuck around long enough to make lasting friends. If anything, he much preferred being unremarkable and bland, but there was a kind of petulance that struck him in the face of his elders. Or at least those who looked like them. 

Sorela was a savvy business person with a sharp tongue and while he hadn’t sensed anything strange about her, he was willing to try his hand at easing it out if there was any. He’d first approached the shop as a hapless wanderer, looking to set up shop somewhere. It was his manners and good graces that spared him his head, but then he came back the next day with a satchel of herbal tea. And then the next with a salve that helped with sore wrists, testing her patience a little more each time.

The closure was more opportune in this sense, for he’d fallen into an easy pattern with a matron who more or less didn’t care about who he was as long as he didn’t track grout into her store. Tian made sure to wipe his boots off outside before entering every time.

“Hello? I’ve brought more tea,” he called out into the store. It smelled like old parchment and musky leather, a warmth emitting from somewhere deep in the shop that he’d yet to find the source of. Tian cocked his head around a shelf, seeing little but some light emanating through the windows. 

“Don’t tell me you’re sick of me already. Didn’t you hear? There’s a town closure,” he said mirthfully into the shop. He played blind, but his footsteps were calculated, familiar enough with the layout of the store by then to avoid tipping over any unbound papers. 

“Unless...” He lowered his voice conspiratorially in jest, “Unless you’re a mage, in which then....your secret’s safe with me.”