I
{{ Hello, My Name Is ;;
- Amelia [ :: Ah - me - lee - ah :: ]
Charlotte [ :: Shar - let :: ]
Sauveterre [ :: So - vey - tair :: ]
{{ For Those of You with Short Attention Spans ;;
- Amie && Lia && Seraphina
{{ I’ve Been Around These Parts For ;;
- I’m c o u n t i n g on both my hands and feet now,
running out of digits as the days tick by
-- x N I N E T E E N Y E A R S
{{ Femme Fatale ;;
- I don’t care much for dresses,
but that doesn’t make me any less of a G I R L!
{{ Butterflies in My Tummy ;;
- Any B O Y who can keep up
with me, darling!
{{ Scorpion Sting ;;
- What will you be getting me,
on the F I F T H of N O V E M B E R?
II
{{ Love Is ;;
What a wonderful world where I
can even touch the sky!
¤ The sun and the moon and the stars
¤ Reading – anything she can get her grubby paws on
¤ Machinery and tinkering with gadgets
¤ Pushing her boundaries and being kept busy
¤ Organization – can’t have those parts running around all higgly-piggly now, can we?
¤ True confidants
{{ Don’t Tread on Me ;;
The road is long and winding,
But I’d go out of my way to avoid these
♦ Irresponsibility and indecisiveness
♦ Opening up to new people
♦ Blind justice
♦ Overpowering scents
{{ What My Time is Worth ;;
There is nothing quite like the feel
of pages under your fingers and
of oil beneath your fingernails…
¤ “I’m an inventor – there’s nothing I like better than pulling things apart and building them back up. Oh, and the explosions are rather…awe-inspiring as well.”
¤ “Sarcasm is a hobby, yes? It’s a full-time job for me.”
¤ “My scrapbook isn’t just for blueprints. There’s poetry in it, too – but I’ll deny it in a heartbeat.”
{{ Don’t Look Under the Bed ;;
I’m not afraid of anything.
Well – sometimes, late at night, there are things that go
B U M P
inside my head.
♦ Injuries that would prevent her from flying
♦ Not knowing the answers
♦ Losing her sense of identity
♦ Being forgotten…another heartbeat in time
{{ Clairvoyance ;;
I know I’ll get there!
Someday…
¤ “I write my own destiny – and for better or worse, I’ll be damned if I don’t try my hardest to make my story the stuff of myths and legends.”
¤ “I’m gonna make my mommy proud – and when I dance for her again, I’ll dance among the stars.”
¤ “I might rule Miragh one day, and if I do, I’ll do it as a man, not a king. My inventions could help the world…”
{{ Love Is ;;
What a wonderful world where I
can even touch the sky!
¤ The sun and the moon and the stars
¤ Reading – anything she can get her grubby paws on
¤ Machinery and tinkering with gadgets
¤ Pushing her boundaries and being kept busy
¤ Organization – can’t have those parts running around all higgly-piggly now, can we?
¤ True confidants
{{ Don’t Tread on Me ;;
The road is long and winding,
But I’d go out of my way to avoid these
♦ Irresponsibility and indecisiveness
♦ Opening up to new people
♦ Blind justice
♦ Overpowering scents
{{ What My Time is Worth ;;
There is nothing quite like the feel
of pages under your fingers and
of oil beneath your fingernails…
¤ “I’m an inventor – there’s nothing I like better than pulling things apart and building them back up. Oh, and the explosions are rather…awe-inspiring as well.”
¤ “Sarcasm is a hobby, yes? It’s a full-time job for me.”
¤ “My scrapbook isn’t just for blueprints. There’s poetry in it, too – but I’ll deny it in a heartbeat.”
{{ Don’t Look Under the Bed ;;
I’m not afraid of anything.
Well – sometimes, late at night, there are things that go
B U M P
inside my head.
♦ Injuries that would prevent her from flying
♦ Not knowing the answers
♦ Losing her sense of identity
♦ Being forgotten…another heartbeat in time
{{ Clairvoyance ;;
I know I’ll get there!
Someday…
¤ “I write my own destiny – and for better or worse, I’ll be damned if I don’t try my hardest to make my story the stuff of myths and legends.”
¤ “I’m gonna make my mommy proud – and when I dance for her again, I’ll dance among the stars.”
¤ “I might rule Miragh one day, and if I do, I’ll do it as a man, not a king. My inventions could help the world…”
III
{{ Inside My Head ;;
The following are excerpts from interviews conducted with Amelia Sauveterre’s family, friends, and mentors, designed to craft a better understanding of the inner workings of her head – as even the girl herself is not entirely sure quite what is happening in there.
“Lia has always run with the boys and the dogs, and as such is not your typical ingénue.”
Astrid Sauveterre stated, a hint of a smirk plastered on her petal-pink lips. She passed a cup of tea beneath her nose and inhaled deeply. “My daughter is a rough and tumble roughhouser who I really could only ever get to sit for dinner and sometimes not even that. If she wasn’t in the workshop with her father, creating a somehow functioning jumble of cogs and parts,” – she smiles here – “she was in the library or studio with me, squirming in my lap as we read, bouncing at every magical spell, or dancing with an innate grace that I could never even hope to possess. She’s always had an uncanny and sometimes worrying desire to mix things and watch them blow up.” Her fingers tapped against the hard wood of the kitchen table. “Chemistry, alchemy, physics, and magic are her passions. Amie loves to see how things work and make them function a whole new way, and I’m sure that contributes to just how determined and curious she is. But secretly – and please don’t tell her I said this – I’d always wished that she’d have pursued theatre and dancing professionally!” she exclaimed in a wistful tone. “To see that girl sashay…well, you would not believe that she would ever choose to be a Seraph over a ballerina.”
¤¤¤
“Amelia…Amelia is a handful.”
Sighed Aurel Sauveterre. He looked up from his tinkering, setting a small screwdriver designed for delicate work aside and spoke bluntly about his daughter. “A wonderful handful, don’t get me wrong, but she is as dynamic as she is brilliant. When she was younger she loved to work with me, and in the past few years her skill in inventing has surpassed mine. The girl can make anything broken fixed, anything faulty efficient, anything old new again. She’s ingenious, but she can get rather stubborn and very frustrated when she can’t instantly wrap her mind around something, though that is not to say that she can’t be patient when need be. Amie is well-spoken – unlike me – because she is well-read, and intellectually, in testing, in contests, in battles of wit, she’s never been outdone.” He grinned. “Like me.”
¤¤¤
"Amie? The girl has more screws loose in that head of hers than in all of James’s work.”
“What the hell? Please, Alexandre, you couldn’t tell a screw from an elephant if I drew you a blueprint.”
“Is that so? How about I show you the difference between a hook and a jab right here – ”
“Guys, can’t you control your aggression for five whole minutes in front of the nice reporter?”
“SHUT UP, ETHAN!”
“What the hell? Please, Alexandre, you couldn’t tell a screw from an elephant if I drew you a blueprint.”
“Is that so? How about I show you the difference between a hook and a jab right here – ”
“Guys, can’t you control your aggression for five whole minutes in front of the nice reporter?”
“SHUT UP, ETHAN!”
Alexandre and James broke out simultaneously. They erupted into argument and several minutes later were finally calmed by the realization of their interviewer standing quietly by. “She’s…a little eccentric, but we like her because she could beat us up if provoked,” Alexandre said, breaking the silence. In the shadow of the great city of Miragh, the three boys loitered by an open air market to watch the sun set. His hands worried around a lovingly worn leather bound book in his hands. “She did buy me this book for me to do my sketches in, though,” he added in a low voice.
“Don’t listen to him,” James interjected, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “He talks tough, but we all know he loves ‘er. But it is true. Lia’s a tomboy and even though we’ve all trained with her for the longest time, we’ve never been able to beat her at anything. She’ll try anything new, and we’d probably forget she was a girl if it wasn’t for the – ”
Ethan gasped. “James, don’t be crude!
Rolling his eyes, James continued, “Anyway, she’s always got our backs. I’ve never met anybody so loyal, anybody so ready to stand up for me.”
“And she always patches James up after he gets his a** whooped,” Alexandre mentioned with a scoff. “…And me, too.”
“She’s actually very modest. You’d think she was a totally normal person, someone who wasn’t appointed to the nobility and now to the Party to search for Dragon Air. She’d never rub your nose it in. She doesn’t even talk about her own achievements unless…well, unless you get her riled up.”
“Yeah, Ethan’s right. And it takes a good deal of effort of being snobby and general bitchery to get her to that point, but Lia can put anyone in their place. She gets mean when she’s defending people.” Alexandre put his arms around his friends, laughing. “She’s an angel, meant for something much better than riffraff like us.”
As could be expected, this caused another round of yelling – though more jovial than argumentative.
¤¤¤
“Amelia was my first friend, and…I don’t really know how I’ll fare without her.”
Fretted Brigitte, brushing her younger sister’s hair. “Chloé, turn left. Thank you. When I was younger, I was terribly shy – and admittedly, I still am. But I would never have grown into who I am without her.
“You see, when we were children, I was alone and without friends, and after…” she lowered her voice, “our mother died,” her voice returned to a normal level, “I receded into myself even further. It was Amelia who pulled me from that, who showed me the beauty of expressing myself. Somehow, her personality is freeing – she did not teach me to be myself, but she taught me how to see my own soul. When she became a Seraph, I was devastated: that is until I remembered something Amelia once said to me. ‘Brigitte,’ she said, taking me by my shoulders, ‘I can see time because it is what my soul was meant to do – to protect the aspect of time in this world, to represent it for all of fLaellia to see. You…your soul…they’re so much different than mine, and so much more special. Find what you can see,’ she said, ‘and I know it will be something as incredible as you are.’ So I have spent this time, knowing that she will go soon – and realizing she may not come back (though she will, she is my Amie and will refuse to die) – trying to become as in tune with her as I can…because I must learn again to be myself without her.
“Chloé, run along for a moment, all right, darling?” The younger blonde nodded to her sibling and dutifully trotted out of the sunroom. The young woman folded her hands in her lap, balancing the hairbrush on her knees. “I feel as though without her, her compassion and gentility, her hope and her encouragement, her happiness and humor, my soul will not be able to see what it must.”
¤¤¤
“My Seraphina is a chameleon. Strong as the day is long, adaptive as sure as the night is dark.”
Said Calogero, an air of pride surrounding his voice. “Her father could teach her everything she needed to know to invent; her mother everything needed to cast; but I, I can take credit for teaching her the art of war.” A twinkle entered the man’s bright snowflake colored eyes as he touched the handle of the sword at his hip. “Her natural grace and flowing movements, her quick reflexes and adaptability, her mind for strategy and her pattern of logic…I simply helped her to combine all of these gifts into an aptitude for battle. She was never bested by any of my students – and my pride will not allow me to fight her myself.
“Amelia is a good problem solver and decision maker who strives to be without bias when coming to conclusions. It is a treat for her to examine all of the evidence and still be able to make a split-second choice.” The stately fencing instructor chuckled. “My Seraphina…she is a wise girl even in her youth, and she often runs here at the strangest hours of the night to show me the newest way she has found to improve her Knight or incorporate her vision of time with magic.
“She is inquisitive and a role model, a sarcastic little devil who cannot be imitated and cannot be bested. It is sad to see her go, taking her whimsy and ambition with her,” he said with a toss of his head, “but there are methods of contact which I am sure she will not hesitate to use.” A broad grin came upon his face, as he asked the interviewer, “Anything else?”
{{ The Truth, the Whole Truth, && Nothing But the Truth ;;
“I was born to a couple that was very much in love. Unfortunately, they were both Seraphim – and thus had a predisposition to being…strong willed.”
It was never expected that Amelia would become a Seraph. With two headstrong parents who each had crests and dragons and Knights of their own, it was taken for granted that the newborn Amie would grow into a powerful Sorceress given the wealth of magic in her veins, a talented inventor that would bring her knowledge of the art to the natural ingenuity of the Miragh people. Surely, though, with the state of fLaellia at her birth, with the witness of her parents’ playful spars, with the choices made available to her, Amelia Charlotte Sauveterre would never choose the path of the Seraphim.
As everyone was about to learn, Amelia was anything but expected.
¤¤¤
“When I was a very little girl, I had some problems with my sight. Well, kind of.”
“These don’t help, Daddy,” she protested, offering the pair of carefully crafted glasses back to her father. The poor child, strangely unable to see much of anything above eye level, was on the verge of tears. “Nothing helps! Mommy, Mommy, please fix it.”
Her mother frowned deeply, lines of worry crinkling her delicate brow as her pained daughter clung to her skirt. “I simply don’t understand it, Aurel. We have tried everything.”
Glancing briefly to Amelia, her blue-black eyes clenched against the light and the enigmatic “blue fog” she saw so distinctly that it obfuscated the rest of her vision, the well-built man raked his tree bark brown hair from his face. “The glasses don’t help…,” he repeated, turning the frames in his palm. Astrid, on the other hand, stroked Amie’s hair, murmuring soothing sounds. It had been only recently that they had learned of her affliction: the mysterious haze that clouded her eyes and draped everything in a cloud of “fuzzies”, as Amelia had described it. She confidently said that it had been with her for all of her life, but only thought to mention it when she had mistaken a white object for the color blue. The youth thought it was a natural view out onto the world.
Aurel snapped the glasses in his hand. “I’m going back to the workshop,” he grunted, trudging away from the pair.
“Come with me, Lia,” instructed Astrid, taking her by the hand, “If inventions can’t help, maybe magic can.”
¤¤¤
“Thankfully, when I was around six years old, aforementioned vision issues were remedied. Again, kind of.”
“Amelia, do you know what time is?”
The small girl put a finger to her lip in thought, scraping the delicate flesh of her face with short, glass-like nails. “Time is…silver. Silver and blue.”
Clearly a little disappointed, the father smiled down at his child, shaking his head in a way meant not to condescend her, but in his realization that perhaps she was a bit too young. Maybe she was still too tiny for formal magic training and her hands still too petite for mechanics. “Not quite, honey. Maybe - ”
“Time is silver and blue,” she repeated adamantly. “Seconds, like when the clock goes tick, tick, tick, are all blue, but years and lots and lots of years are silver. They change in between.” Amie nodded knowingly, reaffirming the argument in her mind. “And lots and lots of time, as far back as I can ‘member, it all turns white.”
Time, to Amelia, was a tangible concept.
Abstractions – love, liberty, sorrow – were just that to man, concepts from thin air. Concrete examples for the senses – green, crisp, round – were specific, touchable things appealing to his eyes and ears and not his heart. It was that adieu to the spirit that led him down a path of moral query, of listening to words from outside rather than from within his core; evil sprung from the warping of the mind, not from the corruption of the soul! Not since man had first slain his brother had feelings been seen, been heard, been realized as being with us on our plane of consciousness.
And suddenly, they were again.
“People can’t fly all by themselves because time is like a great big ocean and it fills up into the air. We feel all the time pressing on our bodies and more runs from our fingers into the sky. But dragons can fly ‘cause they’re souls, and souls don’t let time hurt them. And that’s why the Land Beyond the Sky is so far away. ‘Cause time keeps getting in between us.”
She was so in tune with her soul that time manifested itself and presented itself to her. That was when Astrid and Aurel realized that their only child was not destined for anything quite so ordinary.
¤¤¤
“Training in magic and honing the precision of my inventions allowed me to ‘tame’ this time that I saw: we couldn’t honestly figure out why I saw time as an actual substance, or why it appeared to leave our bodies for the sky, but I learned to manipulate it in my eyes. Once I was eleven, though, I knew I would no longer be content with staying on the ground, when I could fly and be immersed in the time I felt so connected to.”
“I’m sure of it,” Amie stated, absolute resolute. She would not be shaken from this decision, come hell or high water. “My magic is perfectly solid, and I’ve read everything there is to be read about Seraphim, and I’ve already thought up some modifications for my Knight – ”
Astrid smiled behind Aurel’s back, encouraging her daughter’s dreams though her husband held up a firm hand to halt Amelia. “Pick something more plausible for your birthday wish, Lia.”
“Daddy! This is it! This is what I was meant to do!”
“Aurel,” interjected Astrid, just as he was about to speak. “You and I have always encouraged her dreams – and we can’t very well tell her that this is out of the question when we’ve done the very same,” she added, rubbing the jeweled crest on the back of his hand. Whispering then, she spoke with an air of admiration into his ear. “Look at her, my love. She knows.”
He looked, and she did know. Amelia understood what it all entailed; many a time he had carried her from the library where her eyes had grown weary over the pages of a book and she had been carried to sleep, many a time she had told him as he tucked her into her bed, “I’ll fly someday, Daddy, I can do it…” Yes, she’d known all the myths and the fairy tales and dreamed of grandeur, but she’d read about the mechanics of Seraphim and the cost taking to the air came at, she’d understood that she would not be so human anymore, and she understood that it was a dangerous game to play.
“Please, Mommy, please, Daddy…” The birthday girl dropped to her knees in sheer desperation, a raw display of how badly her heart longed for it and how badly it would break if she were denied it.
The wood was cold under her knees, Amelia remembered from that moment of silence. The November air drafted in through the window and chilled her to the bone.
Astrid closed her eyes and smiled. “Yes, Amelia. Yes.” Aurel nodded.
¤¤¤
“Following this life-changing decision came intensive training on my part – to be able to learn this new ‘trade’ that I’d chosen, I began to schedule out my weeks in advance. By the time I was sixteen, I had developed a routine that worked me hard and yielded victories in competitions.”
“Amelia,” called Brigitte as she hurried down the academy stairs after her friend, “Amelia, do you have any time next Saturday? I’m planning a garden party and my heart shall be absolutely shattered if you aren’t able to come.”
“Oh, you know I can’t stand those dresses you make me wear,” she sighed, tossing a hand carelessly in the air and grinning. She reclined against the railing of the steps, dropping her heavy messenger bag to the side. The soft brown leather of the case was scratched and distressed, the shoulder strap stained and the metal clasps and buckles tarnished. It overflowed with books and loose pages and an errant piece drifted away unnoticed in the flighty springtime breeze. Amelia smiled then and added, “What time were you thinking of? I’ve got a skirmish with Alexandre in the late evening; we want to practice our nighttime battles for the tournament.”
“You are always so busy,” she sighed, defeated. “One day it is strength training, another it is target practice, some days you do not even attend classes and do not think I don’t know you are out there flying all day!”
Amie’s smirk spread wider on her face. “And it still leaves too little time for tinkering with my inventions.”
“I am being serious. Couldn’t you slow down a bit, if only for me?”
Face falling, the Seraphim looked away. “I…I know, Brigitte. But I’ll be there, and I promise I’ll let you do whatever it is you do to my face and hair with all of those wicked concoctions of powders and oils.”
Brigitte beamed, hopping one and clapping her hands together enthusiastically. “For joy!” she exclaimed. Suddenly her face turned stoic and she stared intently at the Seraphim. Her hands made strange gestures and her eyes squinted as the blonde sized her up. “I’m thinking something pink, Amelia, something very, very pink.”
A little piece of Amelia died inside as she suppressed a groan and was led away by her obsessive friend, snatching her runaway sketch from the snares of a rosebush as they passed.
¤¤¤
“When I earned my victory in the MiStERY tournament – I went entirely undefeated, and Ethan swears that no one was able to even touch me – we had a grand party to celebrate. Friends and family and even admirers (imagine me, being asked for an autograph! It surprises me every time.) crowded the streets to rejoice in my accomplishment. But not all were quite so thrilled.”
“Seraphina, you have done it!” were the first words Calogero exclaimed to her, sweeping Amelia into the air and kissing her brow. He was exuberant; his brilliant star bright eyes shone with pride and happiness and he squeezed them shut and they cried together. Lia was astonished at the sheer amount of noise in the world so suddenly – she could hear everything as perfectly and clearly as if they were notes penned on a staff to be played by the world’s greatest symphony. The raving excitement of the crowd, the sobs of her mother, the cheers of her friends, the light chuckle of her father and the whispered, “That’s my girl,”…they filled her ears and swelled up into her eyes and she saw the words behind them.
And yet, there was no girlish squeal, no gasp of wonder.
No sound at all from Brigitte.
¤¤¤
They had long ago left the stadium where the battles had been staged, and it seemed as if all of Miragh had turned out for both the final melee and now for the subsequent party. More people than she could count (or could ever hope to remember the names of, but that was beside the point) had patted her back, congratulated her with a shake of the hand, greeted her with a gift for her grand performance. Her arms were repeatedly laden with tokens of appreciation, for quite everyone understood the gravity of the search for Dragon Air. Each time Amelia followed the same routine; she gratefully refused the gifts with a smile but had them forced upon her all the same, and she would profusely thank them for their generosity, and they would assure her that it was no trouble at all, and she would express her gratitude again, and they would engage in idle chitchat for several minutes until Amelia politely excused herself and resumed her desperate search for Brigitte.
Hours had passed with no sign of her best friend. The Seraphim was getting worried, and worry turned to anxiety, and anxiousness just led to pure frustration which always led to the only times Amelia really cried. Trying to ward off the tears, she tore through side streets and dark alleys, taking no precautions as she raced to nowhere in particular – anywhere to find Brigitte.
Her head was down and her arms shielded her eyes and still nothing yielded itself to her to relieve her of this sudden burst of anguish. Internally, she knew she was headed for the marketplace, where a shortcut would carry her to Brigitte’s favorite place in the world.
“She’d like the blue one better, you oaf, it’s her favorite color.”
“But the black one is more functional.”
“But girls like pretty things! It’s not gravitational laws, Alexandre, it’s girls!”
“Which are more confusing!”
“James, Alexandre, I’m sure she’ll like anything we get her…”
“Shut up, Ethan!”
The three were standing next to a very exhausted looking vendor, arguing over what to buy Amelia as a congratulatory gift. All four men were quickly thrown aside as the girl came barreling through them all, vaulting over the stand into a dark alley that couldn’t have been absolutely safe, but the twisting and uneven path would lead quickly to the heart of Miragh.
She had run with suck reckless abandon that her ankles were twisted from tripping and her arms bruised and scratched from the bludgeons of the narrow walls. Finally, her insides protested under the threat of bursting from her abdomen and Amie was forced to stop sprinting and slowed to a brisk and stealthy walk as she peered around the next bend.
There sat Brigitte, seated like a proper lady with her ankles crossed on the ledge of the small pond. Amidst the urban jungle, a stream from the palace gardens reached out to the city and pooled quietly below a gap in the buildings, providing a fantastical view of the palace far beyond.
“You’re leaving me, Amelia. You’re leaving me and your mother and your father and your friends to go on some ridiculous fairy tale quest. You’re leaving.”
Taking a deep breath, Amelia steadied herself and sat beside Brigitte, making an attempt to take her friend’s hand. The latter pulled her hand away as if she’d been bitten and angrily flicked blooming tears from her eyes. “How can you be so…so stupid? You could die, Amie, you could die! And you’re not afraid! You’re not terrified, but you don’t realize how selfish you are being to go off on this…this thing! You should be horrified at the possibilities, not daydreaming about how you’re going to be a superhero! Don’t leave me, Amie, you’ll die!”
“You’re right, Brigitte. I might die.” The blonde gaped, but the Seraphim continued. “We want to be fearless.” Amelia looked gravely at her dearest friend. “We all want to conquer the world and live the adventure. But most of us sit here on the ground and live in our terror, crushing us with the cold, immobilizing effect of an avalanche. And I just can’t give into my fears; I can’t just stand by when I can go…and when I actually have the opportunity to change the world.”
There was a long, crushing length of silence. Space pressed between them and moved them worlds apart. Finally Brigitte dropped her head away from Amie and braced her fingers against her eyes, the digits of the other hand clenched in resignation.
Through her sobs, she managed one shrieked outburst. “I know, Amelia, I know; you don’t get to be a champion coming to garden parties with other ridiculous girls dressed in pretty dresses who aren’t freakishly tall and keep their hair long and braided and don’t see ‘time’ that doesn’t even exist and don’t run around rolling in the dirt with those disgusting boys all day!”
And with that, Brigitte shot Amelia a horrible, horrible glare and turned and ran off into the night, leaving Lia stunned and hurt in her wake. The clacks of her pristinely polished black dress shoes sounded louder than they should have as they pounded away along the cobblestone alley. The hollow tones resounded in Lia’s mind as she sat there, trying to drown out the shattering of her own heart breaking.
IV
{{ Windows to the World ;; Quicksilver && sapphire
{{ Untamed Mane ;; Like a raven’s wing
{{ Measuring Up ;; 176 cm [ five foot nine ]
{{ Never Ask a Lady ;; 53.5 kg [ one hundred eighteen pounds ]
{{ Smile! ;; Photogenic
{{ Mirror, Mirror ;;
“My male friends have always been a little blunt. To give you an idea of my physique, they mistook me for an effeminate boy when I cropped my hair and dressed for tournament training.”
While her arms and legs are well-defined and she works hard to keep them this way, the perfect word to describe Amelia’s body would be lithe. Everything about her radiates flexibility, a full range of motion, and an ability to squeeze through any tight spot. Time of each training session is spent stretching. She is symmetrical and proportional, though she has been known to complain about having to literally look down to her female acquaintances. Lia approaches six feet tall and while this means her legs are rather long, she has had trouble making friends with girls who see her more as an abomination of nature than just gifted in the height department.
Her body follows more the pattern of a V than that of an hourglass, with shoulders of a medium breadth and narrow hips. Amelia’s chest is something she goes to lengths to camouflage as it can sometimes impede her fighting ability, but she does appreciate the delicacy of her face.
With high cheekbones and a dainty jaw coupled with bright eyes and a straight, fine nose, Amelia’s physiognomy could never be mistaken for that of a man’s. Her brilliant optics are shaded like polished silver in moonlight, with blue, black, and silver hues blending into a swirling pool. Her hair, though perfectly black like the depths of an inkwell, is rarely able to make up its mind on its texture: some days it makes the choice to be pin straight and others wildly wavy, but Amelia generally keeps it lengthened to just past her shoulders in order to tie it back more effectively. When she attempted to keep it the shortness of a bob, it was continually in her face and grew so frustrated she took to wearing a scarf wrapped over her head until her mane had grown back. Her bangs are swept sideways over her left eye and she consistently has to push them away from her line of sight.
V
{{ My Soul Displayed ;;
I appreciate your courtesy, your well-learned politeness
But you got yourself into your own mess
You know the demon’s in the design
A good idea at the [ T I M E ]
But you got yourself into your own mess
You know the demon’s in the design
A good idea at the [ T I M E ]
“I’m gonna need a helmet for this thing, aren’t I?”
Working from the top down, Amelia’s Knight has a modest headpiece that does not cover her entire head or face. A circlet headband is attached to a pair of silver framed goggles, tinted sapphire blue to repel the glare of sunlight. The goggles also enable her to distinguish the blue hue of the ‘time’ substance she sees from other things of similar texture, such as smoke. The headband wraps around her skull to form a protective barrier that winds around her neck. A strip of fabric folds beneath this leather cover, and can be brought upwards to protect Lia’s mouth, nose, and cheeks from debris or cold climate.
¤¤¤
“James, one more pun on ‘breastplate’, and you will find yourself admiring the soles of my boots.”
“Point taken, Amie.”
“Point taken, Amie.”
Beneath all of her silver-blue armor, the Seraphim sports a fitted black bodysuit that runs from her neck to her hands and ankles. The tight material forms half-finger gloves on her hands and loops around the bottom of her foot to keep it in place. Two tapered shoulder guards are connected to a low chest plate that is open on the back, but closed entirely around her stomach and form a downwards point over her hips. Under the breastplate, two crossing straps hold her black quiver firmly against her body, attached to her back with her small bow. By reaching behind her and giving the silver bow a rough tug, it will disconnect from its space surrounding the quiver and be at her disposal.
¤¤¤
“My arms and legs are my main weapons, so they can’t be too weighted down.”
Metallic gloves cover Amelia’s hands and fingers and extend up to her elbows in sharp points. There is a space in both her armor and bodysuit for her crest to come through. The gloves are thicker metal on the tops of her hands and her palms are fitted with a thin, flexible plate to allow her hands better range of motion.
A black belt with a big silver buckle lies askew around her hips under her armor, holding up a pair of black shorts over the leggings of her under armor. While the belt is attached to the sheath for her rapier, the shorts contain a variety of pockets for various holding purposes, but there are two leather loops on either side for her two curved daggers to be held firmly in place. The shorts end at her mid-thighs and only her bodysuit remains until her knees.
Knee-high combat boots run up the Seraphim’s shins, but they must be lightweight in order to allow Amelia to move quickly and efficiently. The bottoms are fitted with sharp treads for better traction.
{{ Fear My Wrath ;;
“Calogero says that I should relieve him of his leadership at the studio. If I return alive, that is.”
Calogero, while never revealing how he was taught himself, pushed Amelia to the breaking point during her training. Her flexibility and agility had been coached by her mother, but Calogero merely capitalized on her existing skills to teach her every method of fighting he had been taught or learned himself – with specific focus on fencing, hand to hand combat, and archery. Amelia can move swiftly and precisely, dodge any blow, and counterstrike accurately. Calogero beat into her that the best defense is not simply a good offense, but having a good defense if the offense should fail. Amelia anticipates her opponent’s movements and always has a back-up plan should her carefully calculated first plan go poorly. Sometimes, though, she will fail to listen to her instincts and over think things, which is what really leads her into trouble.
{{ Blacksmith Babe ;;
Amelia’s main weapons are her rapier (sheathed at her hip) and bow and quiver (strapped across her back), but will toy with a variety of weapons if they strike her fancy. She appropriates the ones she fights well with to fit her Knight and fighting style, such as a pair of short, curved blades designed to be wielded one in each hand as a last resort if hand to hand combat would be ineffective.
Because she is also an inventor, Amelia can repair and forge her own and others’ weapons if need be. She prefers only to experiment with her own equipment, though, in the case that something backfires.
{{ The Résumé ;;
“My first tournament was the GREEn Tournament and ensuing GREEd Challenge – they let me in even though I was a little too young. Thank goodness, too, because that’s where I first met Alexandre. I have been in many battles, though, and do not care to waste your time, so I will only list here those notable for some reason or other.”
GREEn (Gentle Reconnaissance Experience Entrance) Tournament
The entrance exam for novice Seraphs (ages 13 to 15) to participate in a simple reconnaissance expedition. Entrants are divided into random groups and engage in tournament play. Winners of this bracket go on to the GREEd Challenge.
¤ Youngest Entrant [age 12; exception made due to skill level]
¤ Winner of bracket
GREEd (Gentle Reconnaissance Experience Eductors) Challenge
Winners of the GREEn Tournament move to this division (ages 13 to 15), where they are again divided into random groups. Instead of fighting against one another, however, entrants must demonstrate teamwork and problem-solving skills in order to work together and execute a series of reconnaissance related tasks. The team with the greatest number of tasks completed in the shortest period of time is declared the victor.
¤ Member of Victorious Team
¤ Youngest Entrant [age 12; exception made due to skill level]
¤ Leadership Credit [As voted on by judges]
¤ Most Valuable Team Member [As voted on by team members]
MiStERY [Miragh State Evaluation Regarding Youths]
A highly exclusive melee battle for those ages16 to 20. Participants, in order to gain entrance, must score a perfect grade on a written test, write an advanced paper on the costs and benefits of a specified strategy, and be evaluated in one on one combat by a judge not only for victory but for their teamwork with their dragons. The evaluation is conducted in tournament play until there are four finalists, who then duke it out in a battle royale for the victory. The winner of the MiStERY tournament is named to the party to search for Dragon Air.
¤ Perfect score on written exam and essay
¤ Swiftest victory in individual combat
¤ Overall tournament champion
VI
{{ Rhythm of the Heart ;; Cause = Time – Broken Social Scene
{{ Label Me ;; The I N V E N T O R
{{ Puppeteer ;; P h a n t o m I n k
