[𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨: INCOMPLETE. ongoing, slow updates + being focused on !]
𝐓𝐏𝐊 ━━ "RAINING GHOSTS WILL SOON BE CAMELOT'S CLIMATE AS THE WAR RAGES ON..."
IN WHICH ... two apprentices from polarizing sides find solace with one another as conflict sta...
✧ this act takes place in the pre-series , camelot-related era. warning : this act deals with more serious stuff bc camelot and war and evil shadow lady ! tws will be placed on the beginnings of chapters if needed.
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𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆'𝘀 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋.
ॱ० ❛♛ ॱॱ ✦ॱ ॰ॱ ໌ ॑ ०ॱ໋ ✸ ✦࡞ ॱ❜ ✶०ॱ ✩♚໋ॱ
"¿MAMÁ?"The daughter asked her mother, as the ship continued to sail. "Mamá, ¿a dónde vamos ahora?"
The daughter had such a queer look in her wide eyes. Curious, yet knowing— the expression seemed too old for a twelve year old, yet the girl was much younger than that. She never spoke unless truly necessary, as she found it hard to find a voice. Sometimes, she managed. Curled, dark hair fell to her shoulders, as she was dressed in old robes and rags that seemed a bit too big for her. Yet, it was starting to get colder. It made enough sense.
The cold didn't bother her much, though. She just liked the feeling of being small.
"My child, we're docking at Camelot," The mother replied. "I've a friend I'd like to meet before we go back to the Franks."
Tristabelle tilted her head in curiosity.
The mother smiled. "Her name's Morgana, Tristabelle. I think you'd like her."
The daughter slowly shook her head.
Tristabelle was skeptical, and her mother was fond of that. She was just like her father. Skeptic, impassive, crafty, and wise beyond her years, though she was much quieter than her parents and wasn't one to find enjoyment among others unless thought otherwise.
She liked books and liked quiet. Simple.
The little girl wandered off and walked down from the forepeak of the boat to the starboard of the lower deck, calm amongst the chaos that was the crew of mariners and phantoms climbing the ropes and reading the maps and hoisting the ship's sails. She never got motion sickness or any dizzy sessions. She was used to it. And, surprisingly, she didn't rock back and forth as she walked on normal land, similar to her parents.
She could see just a hint of land beyond the waters as she rested her arms on the edge of the railing by the nets, made of thick rope. Maybe a tower. A castle. Maybe young royals wandered the halls and friendly mages casting spells for village children. Maybe this kingdom was good to its villagers and civilians, unlike the others Tristabelle had seen, the places her parents would pull off daring heists to get riches for the poor villagers. She supposed that possibly, not all kingdoms had greedy, blackhearted kings.
Maybe the king of this kingdom was kind. Maybe he helped his villagers, saved them from actual bandits and ruffians. The poppet didn't consider her family as an actual band of thieves. Rather, she supposed they were marauders... the good kind of marauders that look out for villagers. They were against rulers, against how corrupt they can be and how neglectful they are to their people.
Tristabelle hoped the royals ruling over the kingdom were a good few. Maybe the king's name was Aethel. Maybe Aethel was a good man, with a few children and a good influence over his people. Maybe Aethel's wife was a kind spirit. Maybe she lived long, maybe she had a say in the kingdom's urgent matters, and maybe she was a strong one. Maybe there were festivals full of feasts and friends, who found amusement and fun with each other during celebrations.
Maybe people gathered in the village square daily, to have lighthearted conversations and trade goods. Maybe the royal children would come play in the village and meet other peasant children. Maybe it was like in the stories she'd find. Maybe it wasn't a broken kingdom. Tristabelle had seen many kingdoms, but they weren't all like the ones in the stories. But, hopefully, Camelot was different.
Well, that's only what she supposed. It was only a story illustrated in the little girl's thoughts. Nothing more. She had only read about those kinds of kingdoms in books, frankly.
"What's our muñequita thinking about, now?"
Tristabelle's father appeared beside her, crossing his arms and leaning them on the ship's railing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and slight curls were found at the ends of his ebony hair. He was always thoughtful and interested in what his daughter had to say. A charming fellow, he was.
"Camelot. Dangerous?"
The father sighed, saying, "Bit. Arthur, Lancelot, Zhang, Galahad... The king and his cavalry don't take kindly to people like us."
"Crime?"
"No. They don't like beings of magical quality."
Spellcasters? ¿Hechiceros? Tristabelle expected hatred for her family's supposed criminal activity, but not disdain for them being born as they were. They hadn't a choice to be magical, did they?
She could see the slightest frown on her father's face after he had said so, along with rime starting to form at his fingertips, and in return, she couldn't help but be a bit scared of whatever Camelot could bring. Nevermind that, she was even more scared. A bit sad. Her parents did best to shield her from any of this discrimination, but it still was prominent enough for her to know. She didn't like it.
"But..." Her father continued on, looking up to the stars, "your mother may just have a way in. She always does."
Tristabelle nodded.
"Ren!" The two overheard one of the crew members call to the father. "Ay, yi, yi. Our route plan might need a little editing."
"Coming, Ximeno." The father turned around and called back. He then patted his young daughter's head, saying, "We can talk later about this, little marauder. We can't exactly stop the ship in the middle of the ocean."
Tristabelle simply returned with another nod, soon watching her father walk off to the upper deck. She turned back around, looking over the railing, slightly frozen over where her father's arms rested. He must've had quite an amount of hatred for Camelot, as the poppet skimmed her hand upon the ice. It was cold. An angry kind. She could feel his bitterness.
At least her parents would keep her safe. They always seemed to know what to do. They had proficiency in their magic and their combat. And they were kind. They were loving. They provided for the unfortunate.
Fear still lingered in her head, even so.
ॱ० ❛♛ ॱॱ ✦ॱ ॰ॱ ໌ ॑ ०ॱ໋ ✸ ✦࡞ ॱ❜ ✶०ॱ ✩♚໋ॱ
⚠︎ BAILA SPEAKS ! ⚠︎ _____________
&& two poor kids' pre-series is finally starting off !!! sure , it won't update as often as the other books ( since i might focus on those more ) but it's starting , at least <3<3<3
