The Tent [Open to Anyone]

[♥Aerith♥]

<sup>A soft cooling whirl of wind blew into the tent, rustling it's flap gently. The calming rays of the twilight sun spilled into the tent, lighting up tiny particles of dust. A young 17-year-old girl sat on a wooden chair, eyes closed.


Apparently, she seemed to be deep in thoughts and no, she was not dozing off. Her long brunette hair cascaded over her broad shoulders and her strange pair of violet eyes. Then, as if she had a nightmare, Athena, her name, she jerked her eyes opened. Athena breathed in deeply and looked around.


Beside her on the table was an enchanted rod, given to her by her mother. It's tip were set a few sparkling white crystals shaped like diamonds (the middle one is the biggest and the ones surrounding it are smaller) that floated above the rod. Inside the crystals was a silver mystical liquid; a powerful, yet strange magic essence that aided the mage in battle with Aeons, spirits which a summoner summons. Athena, was part-mage and part-summoner, having descended from a long line of mages.


"We must win this battle..." she thought confidently and picked up her rod, the crystals twirling around.


Athena stood up to her full length, the folds of her long skirt tumbling down like the waves of an ocean. She raised the flap of the tent and strolled out silently, drowned in a myriad of thoughts.</sup>

[Frost]

The young female warrior pushed open the flap of the tent, walking hurriedly in and picking one of her swords off the ground. It made a slight clinking sound as it made contact with her other sword which was also strapped to her back. She'd forgotten that this weapon was left here yesterday in the midst of preparation for a farce battle, a form of training that she'd subjected herself to. She muttered some inaudible words to herself, her stormy eyes blazing, reflecting the glow of the rising Sun as its rays filled the tent. Morbid images from the previous night's nightmare still played repeatedly in her head. Morbid images from her twisted childhood. She paused, still gripping the weapon as the memories replayed in her head. The nightmare had highlighted that particular day when her father had gone missing. A day that was so long ago, but it seemed like just yesterday.

"Father? Father!" The young girl ran back and forth outside the village, her grey eyes full of limitless worry. Her half-sister stood beside her, eerily silent as they both stared out into the entrance of the Aravaen Forest, the largest forest in the realm. But its entrance was within walking distance from their village, and that was the last time they saw their father. "He won't come back." The half-sister muttered. "And I don't care." "What?!" The young girl's eyes turned to the elder one. "You don't care if Father returns?" She thought of all the great things Father had done. Teaching them swordsplay, and spear skills. No other dragon warrior took that much time for their children! But the elder one's voice cut into her momentarily happy thoughts. "No. I don't." The elder one said. Her eyes began to glow an eerie red...

She snapped out of her thoughts. Finally getting her sword into the straps upon her back, Draconia Blackrose turned her gaze to the young mage perched upon the wooden chair, obviously deep in thought. Maybe she had morbid nightmares too. "Mage." Draconia choked out emotionlessly. "I was just about to head out for training at the training corner of the camp. Would you like to come along?" Draconia lifted her eyes to the top of the tent and sighed. "It's better than just sitting here thinking." Thoughts wouldn't cause actions to take place. At least, that was what she thought from the beginning, since her father disappeared.

[♥Aerith♥]

<sup>Athena snapped out from her reverie and glanced up at the female warrior who had offered to go with her to the training grounds,"Umm..I guess so." she replied, her eyes still in a dreamy unfocus. Athena and the mysterious young warrior headed for the grounds, both still thinking about their own childhood. The crystals on her rod chased each other around at certain time intervals, indicating the Mage's thoughts and worries.


"I still have to think about the battle. I have already joined the Light Army. There is no turning back. But...What if we lose? I'm only seventeen..." a sickening pang hit her,"Athena! Don't go thinking about that now!" a small voice inside her reprimanded sharply. Athena shook it off and continued to walk slowly to the training grounds. It seemed like an eternity to her.

"What is your name?" Athena blurted out to the warrior, her eyes gleaming brightly.</sup>

[Frost]

The dragon warrior looked at the young mage, stormy grey eyes questioning. "Well, I'm only twenty years old. So what you're saying is, we're all too young to die. But our lives are in the hands of fate, and all we can do is trust fate to do what it has to do." She nodded grimly, acknowledging the fact that the mage would also train at the training grounds. "And my name is Draconia. Draconia Windia. Don't ask me about my last name if you're planning to." She turned away and headed towards the training area.

ooc-Will post at Training Area. ^^

[Dawnwings]

Siting in the tent, Dornovarn ran a hand through his dark hair. The light from lantern flickered over the maps before him and he looked them over again. They weren't beaten, not theoretically. Not yet.

"If all the gods are on our side, we may win this," he muttered to himself, his hand running over his face tiredly. There was only so much he could do so long before the battle. The men, and women, were as ready as they could be, hardened by the war that had got them to this point. The tent flap rustled as a figure came through the shadows. Katarn, apprentice spymaster, smiled sadly as he saw his friend. Dornovarn looked worn and tired as he sat in the seat of a leader.

"I've news," he began, unsurprised when Dornovarn didn't look up. As Katarn told all he knew, he pondered at the paradox before him. It was said that the name as incredibly important as the bearer would be shaped by it. How was it that the Fates had decreed that the man to lead the Light was to be known as a Dark Warrior?
Seeing the coldness in the dark blue eyes of Dornovarn, Katarn dismissed the question as irrelevant. Here was a man who would lead, and would win, because he gave himself no other option. Katarn was glad the others had left before they could see their leader knock over the pieces representing units of warriors.

[♥Aerith♥]

<sup>It was nearing midnight. The dark navy blue sky soon turned into a shade of black, with twinkling stars shining above the Realm and a full moon, emitting a silver light in the skies. A pretty 25-year-old lady strolled slowly along the tents of the Light Camp, her mind deep in thoughts. Upon reaching a tent, she raised the flap of the tent and stumbled across it's threshold.

A strange distinct aura of elegance seemed to come from her. Her name was Elaine Sylveria Alexandros, once the Princess of Aravaen. The long folds of her light blue gown fluttered slightly in the cold night breeze. She shivered and sat down on one of the wooden chairs quietly with eyes closed.</sup>

[Phantasy]

<sup>He just wanted a look. Just a quick one. No one would see. Tip toeing past the tent flap the small silloheutte peeped his head round the side and slid into the tent. There was a very graceful lady in front of him, and he scoffed out loud. If he was seen, maybe, he could pretend he had come to ask if there were any other errands to run.

Yes that was a good enough story.

The boy withheld tangled icy blonde hair, which spilled loose curls down to frame his chin, soft features resided on his face, somewhat mitigated by his straggly hair. Many rustic findings are nearly always imbedded in his locks. He was filthy, and obviously low in society, for his trousers were so stained it was literally impossible to tell their original colour, and weave, a tattered cloak has many holes in it. He looks very small and insignificant most of the time, with a wasting frame and a thin face he is little to look at. His lip has recently been split and there are two scars running from the bottom of his cheek down his neck, around them his pale skin is pinched and puckered, showing that no treatment had been given when he had attained them.</sup>

[♥Aerith♥]

^{"Uh?" The princess had awoken, eyes wide after hearing a sudden noise coming from outside the tent. She had been trained to listen to things that others would not care about,"Who's there?" Elaine stood up, brushing a few strands of her dark hair back,"I order you to come out now!" she said a little louder, knowing that most still respect her for being part of the Royal Family. Elaine raised her defences and took a few steps closer to the entrance, eyes sparkling from the bright moonlight that spilled over the Light Campgrounds.}

[Phantasy]

^{Taled stepped out into view, his katana drawn, why had he drawn it? Well...just incase she decided to chop of his head, he wanted to go down fighting. Plus, he felt powerful just to hold it. When he saw her he made no bow to respect her, he just looked up blankly, frowning slightly as if he couldn't care less that he was standing in front of some one so important. Though it was hard not to guess exactly who she was.}

[♥Aerith♥]

^{"Who are you?" Elaine asked, staring at his katana with slight apprehension,"What business do you have lurking around the Light tents in the middle of the night?" she questioned him again, eyes flashing furiously, the locks of her hair tumbling down below her shoulder.}

[Phantasy]

^{"Taled Mullion." He stated cooly, his frown deepening when he had seen he had made her very angry, which was despite the fact he was not keen on royalty, was not a very clever thing to do even in his books. "I...I..uh..." he stumbled over the words, what was he doing there? Even he couldn't remember.}

[♥Aerith♥]

^{"Do you have anything to do here? If not, please take your leave as I am in need of some privacy." Elaine replied politely, still staring at the katana. She put her right hand behind her back and opened her palm, the Mystical Staff, a legendary weapon, materialized in it. Elaine prepared herself in case that Taled might attack her of some sort. Elaine pretended to look normal, which was what the Court Magician taught her as one of his tricks to fighting for an advantage.}

[Frost]

A brief flutter of a crimson cloak announced the arrival of Virae Varentaine Cerverius, the ninth Shadow Soldier of the realm, and most possibly the last. Her leather boots made soft thumps against the grass as she approached the tent, pulling the flap as high as it would go, then stepping in with barely an audible sound. Her crimson gaze drifted lazily across the two people who stood inside, and nobody could see her smile vaguely to herself, as her scarf obscured the lower half of her features. She tilted her head slightly lower, before moving to a corner of the tent and taking a seat upon a wooden chair.

Virae observed the exchange of words taking place within the tent, her crimson eyes drifting again back and forth as the words continued to roll into the still air. She did manage to catch the word "privacy". Did the young princess need privacy? But for what? Virae herself had also rudely intruded the tent, but to be honest, she didn't really care. She didn't want to add anything to the conversation, mainly because she didn't speak much anymore since her dear father was murdered.

All she could think about was her promise.

[♥Aerith♥]

^{Elaine looked over at the Soldier who had just entered the tent with a casual glance, and then back at Taled,"Are you a Soldier in the Light Army?" she asked, although she knew that he was too young to be in the Army,"Looks can be deceiving though..." Elaine clutched her Staff tightly in her hand, it's gold surface gleaming brightly.}

[Frost]

Hidden in shadow, standing by light. Virae recited. It was the motto of the Shadow Soldiers, and all new recruits there were made to recite it before they were bequeathed their official title. She took a deep breath and continued softly. Secrets never revealed without fight. Her voice was strangely hypnotic. Of course, Virae as a child had been recognized as "poetic", although she didn't really think so. She ran a pale finger over the blade of Fate, her trusted sword. The blade was clean, free from any red stains, for she had cleaned it from all the sin of killing, removing all the crimson. But the sadness in her heart could never be removed. She refused to accept the fact that she was the last. The very last.