ROLEPLAY HQ - power-within

It was dark. The depths were prone to darkness. With a name like the depths, that isn't surprising though, is it? Yet with a name like Sol, one would be surprised that the young one had never so much as felt the sun kiss her skin nor heat her back. Sol. In likeness to the sun. It was almost a humorous name for one so pale. Most fae were pale though Sol knew not whether they had always been blessed with that trait or whether it was a side effect of being kept underground for so long. Yet even among Fae, Sol was yet to be the palest. With silvery hair that lacked even a hint of blonde and grey eyes that seemed not to hold even a fleck of color within, it seemed a name in likeness to the moon would be more fitting. Names. One used to say that names had as much power as words did meaning. Sol disagreed. She read a book once that quoted, "What's in a name? That by which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Such a line had left her pondering for many days. She had apt time for pondering. It was a statement in which she aligned much closer to and yet also left her frustrated. For if she was Luna and not Sol, she would still remain the same person but perhaps at the very least her name would align more closely to her own likeness. In human culture, as Sol understood, it were the parents who chose their children's names. Imbuing both meaning and history into their children's names in order to provide them with a name that would suit them throughout their entire life. Sol had not so much as met her mother and father. Most fae had not. Those who were raised in the depths ranged from ages 2 until 18. The only above such age were the mortal guards and who kept watch over them. A hard breath forced it's way into her lungs as the cold air stung at her. It was often cold in the depths, the kind of cold that clung to the ground and sent chills climbing your spine all the way from your toes up. "Oi! Keep going! I didn't say to stop!" His voice cut through

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the air and nearly sent chills even colder up her spine once more. Once a day the Smiths would come down to enact "training" as they called it. Their training consisted of running until the air burned right through their lungs, strength training that made their legs shake the day after and occasional lessons. Yet their lessons never taught them enough, the mortals wouldn't have it that fae became educated enough to overcome them. Or at least that was Sol's opinion. They were purposefully stunting their growth so that they would live in their submission for the rest of their existence. Something stung down her back, sharp pain biting right into her skin and forcing a pained yelp right out of her chapped lips. She shivered and fell down to the ground, her vision blurring for a moment. "I said, don't stop." A cruel voice growled at her, it's source grabbing her by the arm and roughly lifting her to her feet. Sol lifted her gaze to stare up at the Smith, a rough looking man in his late 20s. By his side stood a fae boy not much older than herself with a thick metal collar around his neck. In the collar a glowing stone seemed to shimmer, draining his magic from him. The fae boy looked ill, but she knew who he was. Lysander. He had been in the depths until about 3 years ago. Sol shivered and attempted to pull from the Smith yet his grip was too forceful. "Are you going to run?" He asked, his breath smelling of garlic and fish so pungent that she nearly wanted to vomit. She gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching as she glared up at him. "I'll fucking beat the defiance in your eyes away. And if it isn't me, your Master will without such hesitance." He growled at her, voice gravely and filled with grit to intimidate. He roughly threw her back to the ground and grinned. "Run, Fae. Before I make you regret looking at me with such hatred." She pushed off her feet and began to run. Reluctantly giving in. Once more, powerless in the face of the strong, the Smiths.

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@OriginalMeta

Merrick grew up in a small town on the outskirts of the kingdom. From a young age, he showed a remarkable aptitude for magic, effortlessly picking up spells and incantations that took other children years to master. However, despite his talent, Merrick was never particularly ambitious. He was content to simply go with the flow, letting life take him where it may. This attitude often frustrated his parents, who saw the potential for greatness in their son. They encouraged him to pursue his magical studies more seriously, but Merrick remained nonchalant. He was more interested in spending time with his friends and exploring the woods and fields that surrounded their village. As Merrick grew older, his talent for magic continued to impress those around him. He was offered apprenticeships with some of the greatest mages in the kingdom, but he turned them all down. He was content to simply practice his magic in his own way and on his own terms. Eventually, word of Merrick's talent reached the smiths at "the depths." They saw in him the potential for a great smith, one who could channel the power of the fae more effectively than anyone before him. They offered him a position as a smith, and despite his lack of interest in the work, Merrick accepted. Merrick was a quick study at "the depths," and he soon learned the techniques for creating a desmos. However, he remained lazy and nonchalant about his work, preferring to spend his free time exploring the facility and its surroundings rather than dedicating himself to his craft. Despite his lack of effort, Merrick's innate talent for magic made him one of the most promising smiths in the facility. The other smiths, jealous of his success, resented him and his seeming lack of dedication to their work. Merrick himself was unfulfilled by his work at "the depths." He saw the fae as nothing more than tools to be exploited for human gain, and he had never questioned the morality of what he was doing. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

The Depths had a horrid scent to them. Horrendous enough that most shuddered at the way that it grew more potent the deeper that you went in. Some said it was the scent of fae. Perhaps that was their way of dehumanizing them. For while they took the shape and form of humans, those who walked the depths would never give them the credit for their striking similarities. For if they ever noted the ways in which they were similar, then the atrocities that they had caused to their kind would only morally twist their hearts. In the eyes of the Smiths, it was best to ignore morality. Best to learn to ignore the screams from within the Depths, to bar your heart, and welcome the power that came from within them. Magic. They said it was the only thing in this world purer than the Church's light. That was what they claimed at least. Yet the ones who had the highest connection to it were the Fae, creatures more aligned with magic than the humans themselves. While with amplifiers known as Faerie stones allowed them to harness power that was not known to themselves, most humans could not control the same magic that Fae provided to the world. Even with the usage of such stones, most humans could only pull of basic spells to help with the ordinary tasks of every day life. It was those who could pull of more than just basic spells that were encouraged to become smiths. Those who could bend the magic of the outside world to their wills, manipulate it through the usage of their tools. Through the usage of faerie iron. "Come on." A young man urged him forward, his eyebrow raising as he looked at the nonchalant expression on his face. "Merrick.. take it seriously, will ya." He rolled his eyes, "Admiral Ricaud wanted to see you... have a little talk to you bout the ceremony today...." He sighed, leading the young man deeper into the depths. Up until now, Merrick had only been considered one of the students. While a quick study, like any other student, Merrick had been requ

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ired to go through the necessary course to become a Smith. And while lengthy, it worked each aspiring smith towards the goal of one day gaining their own Desmos. During training they were granted communal usage of 5 desmos between 15 students. Pale quiet things they were. Hardly said a word. They had been broken in and used, their eyes lacking any light and the energy levels low compared to the younger Desmos that most high ranking officials dragged behind them. The corridors were a maze. A natural labyrinth. That was the truth of the Depths. It wasn't uncommon for rookie cadets to get lost in the corridors that twisted and turned, most never even seeing the true depths, never seeing the quarters that housed the unclaimed fae and those who were too young to be claimed as Desmos. Yet Jackson, the young man, seemed to navigate them well, even if he had only graduated from the academy two years ago. After a bit of walking, Jackson pulled to a stop in front of a door, his gaze flicking behind him, "Admiral's office. Go on in." He would whisper before knocking loudly, "Admiral! Stormborn will be coming in!" He yelled out before giving Merrick a wink of good luck before disappearing into the corridors once more.

The scent of whiskey hung thick in the room, his gaze lifting when he heard a young voice. Admiral Ricaud had long been in the Smithing business. Most Smiths were in the prime by age 20. Each would reach his induction Ceremony when he turned 18 after approximately 5 years of training at the Academy. Until they were 20, most would go through training with their Desmos partners to ensure that they were properly able to utilize their powers. By the time they were 20, those who could not properly utilize a Smith weapon would be weed out. Today was the day of the Smithing Induction Ceremony. About 20 or so potential Smiths would be graduating to finally be given a Desmos. For the fae, it would be a frightful day, for Admiral Ricaud, this would be fun. There was nothing more enjoyable than hearing their screams after all. By age 40, most Smiths had retired from the front lines. No longer going on adventures but instead working in the depths to train the Fae youth to prepare them for their days as Desmos. Admiral Ricaud had been in charge of the depths for a few years now and was a well known face to the Fae. Upon hearing the voice, Admiral Ricaud looked up, his dark eyes seeming to be lit with amusement. "Ah yes. Merrick. I've heard much of your skill." He grinned and stood up. Admiral Ricaud had a rough face, scars traversing the skin like that of a weathered warrior. Behind him on the ground, his Desmos hesitantly pushed to their feet. Their Desmos was a young female of about 29, her traits dull and her eyes tired. Around her neck, a collar connected her to a leash that was locked to Admiral Ricaud's sword which was sheathed by his side. He hummed and walked over to Merrick, his stance intimidating and filled with command. He looked at him and gave him a prompt nod. "Your instructors were much impressed with you. The others have already arrived. I was starting to think that perhaps you were not as great as their high esteem may have granted." He motioned to follo

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w, dragging the fae Desmos behind him without any such regard to how he yanked her forwards. "You and the other students who have turned 18 since the last Induction Ceremony will now have the opportunity to choose your Desmos partner." He explained, leading him to a line of about 18 Smith students, some of which he would know and others that he would not. With a smile, Admiral Ricaud stepped in front of all of the students, pacing as he began to talk. "Welcome, young Smiths to your Induction Ceremony. A day of great strength, a day of pride and joy for every young Smith that is blessed enough to make it this far. You each have grown so much throughout your journey's so far, each traversing many perilous tests to get to the point in which you have finally earned your Desmos. Today you will be granted power. Power that you each must learn to wield within your own hands." He laughed, yanking the Desmos behind him forward with a smug smirk as she yelped and stumbled forwards. "Today you will be given the opportunity to choose your own Desmos. I will call you each forwards when it is your turn." He turned promptly and pressed a button, the gate in which trapped the fae within the Depths urged open. A siren began to wail as it did so, as if warning the fae to freeze where they were. It was such a painful screech that some of the Smith trainees would wince, shivering as they walked forwards behind Admiral Ricaud who was motioning to follow. After leading them in, the gate would close, a painful cry escaping from the old metal bars. Within the gates, the trainee Smiths going through induction would be met with about 28 fae, all appearing to be about 18 or so in age. "OI! In a line, all of ya!" Ricaud yelled at the group of fae, many of which quickly abided by his orders and fell into a line, paling as he roughly dragged his sword across the stone floor, his weapon crying out as the blade scratched the stone loudly. "Mister Stormborn, you will have first pick."

Fear was an emotion far to prevalent within the depths. It was almost pungent the way that fear exuded from so many of their pores. While she hated it, Sol too was fearful of the reign of the Smiths. It was hard to not fear them, for so much of her life, she had known these powerful knights as the route of her own suffering. The Smiths were unfeeling creatures. They had no guilt for the torture that they pushed further onto the Fae. Or perhaps they were not unfeeling, just unfeeling and unsympathetic towards Fae. Sol was not sure. She had never seen a Smith act overly warmly to another Smith. Just their sullen drunk laughter as they enjoyed the pain they continued to dig deeper into Faekind. The taste of blood. The taste of salty blood lingered in her mouth as she clenched her jaw, her teeth aching in pain from clenching so hard. Her body ached with pain, ached with the exhaustion from having run for so long. It was as if they wished for them to be tired today. A sort of numbness often ran over them after a long day of training. Exhaustion that nipped into their bones and left them without any energy to fight back. She could feel it clinging to her already, shaky breaths pushing through her chapped lips as she continued to press further to avoid further angering them. It was four more laps before she heard the siren sing out. A blaring screech that sent chills down her spine, tickling each ribcage on the way down as if to further numb her body. Ears overwhelmed with such a painful sensation, Sol lifted her gaze towards the gate and watched as it pushed open. Several fae stepped away from the gate anxiously, nervously avoiding any contact with whomever stood at the gate. The sound made her blood run cold, her gaze flicking to the side as to remain entirely on guard. One must always be on guard when in the presence of such cruel creatures. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure from the lack of air as she had been running for several hours now. *OI, In

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a line, all of ya!* His voice rang through the air. Demanding. Unrelenting. Sol recognized that voice far too well. Far too many times had the source of that demanding rough voice had his way with punishing her. She bit at the inside of her lip and the taste overwhelmed her once more. She had to fight of the numbness, had to fight off the weakness that was attempting to envelope her. Her back still ached from the whip from earlier, skin still hot. Pain was a reminder. Pain tied her to reality whereas the other fae were exhausted and lifelessly made their way forward without such question. Sol paused in place, her gaze locking to the young Smiths who had walked through the gates. Was it today? She shuddered as a hand placed on her shoulder from behind. “Go on.” The same Smith who had been in charge of her training from earlier smirked, the kind of evil smirk that oozed with sadism. She swallowed and stepped forwards into line, standing up straight as the Admiral directed the young Smiths to begin their choice. Fear. Once more. Fear so tangible that she nearly could feel it curling it's spindly fingers around their throats, twirling it's long untrimmed fingernails against their thin backs, setting each and every individual hair on their arms on edge. She could see it in their posture, many of the fae nearly cowering in their place. The stories that most of mankind told of fae spoke of creatures with bright eyes and powers so strong that they could easily intimidate any man. Yet the creatures in front of the Smiths looked nothing more than pale beings not far off from themselves. For fae resembled mankind closely save for the glowing stones that were embedded in the back of their necks.

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Sol was among the palest. Her paleness seemed fitting, as if she was meant to be pale from birth. A lack of color so drastic that it seemed she could fade into the background should she want to. It seemed she didn't want to. Her eyes still had fight in them, daring to stare forward where the other fae directed their gazes downward. She would not lower her head for him. As the first of the newly made Smiths was urged forwards, she could feel the other fae begin to crumble. Such a sensation felt as if it were adding a pressure onto her shoulders. Their weight lingered on her. She swallowed and let her tooth push deeper into her cheek once more. Blood. She had grown accustom to the taste no matter how disgusting. When one needed to root themselves to reality even if it meant pain, it was among the easiest of solutions. Further, it was hard for them to notice should she not wince at her own teeth pushing into her skin. She would not let them win, she would not let them know her own fear. She would not crumble. @OriginalMeta

Merrick followed Admiral Ricaud as he led the way deeper into the depths, the scent growing more potent with every step. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the Desmos that followed behind them, the collar around her neck a stark reminder of her enslaved status. He pushed the thought away, knowing that it was best not to dwell on such things in the depths. As they walked, Merrick's thoughts turned to the ceremony that was to take place. He had been looking forward to this day for years, ever since he had first learned about the power of magic and the art of smithing. He had always known that he was destined for greatness, that he had a talent for magic that few others possessed. And now, after years of hard work and training, he was finally about to receive his own Desmos. As they walked towards the ceremony room, Merrick couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. He knew that the fae would be present at the ceremony, and he couldn't bear the thought of witnessing their suffering. He had heard stories of how the fae were treated by humans, and it sickened him. But he also knew that he had to put his emotions aside, for the sake of his own future as a Smith. As Merrick was called forward by the admiral, his gaze fell upon the gathered fae. Among them, his eyes were drawn to a particularly striking figure with skin as pale as the moonlight. He couldn't help but admire her ethereal beauty, a testament to her otherworldly origins. Without a second thought, Merrick nonchalantly pointed towards her, selecting her from the group. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about her, something that set her apart from the others. As he made his way towards her, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of getting to know her better. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Withering away. It looked as if you looked upon them for too long they would entirely wither away. Thin and pale figures with lifeless eyes, scars climbing up and marking their color drained skin. Many bore rough looking wounds along their arms and backs, whip markings curling around the curves of their arms and even their necks. She was the same. Rough scars climbing along her skin like vines that would not be torn from her, eyes focused ahead towards the line of young Smiths in front of her. Among the fae, Sol seemed to shine. Despite her paleness, she naturally seemed to stand out. It was strange, but she had not broken. At least not entirely. As his finger lifted to her, Sol could feel her stomach sink just a tad lower. She bit down harder into her cheek as he spoke, her canine teeth digging sharply into her cheek as if she could wish away the reality that stood in front of her. She couldn't. She was aware of that. Her eyes narrowed coldly as she watched him, watched as he began to walk towards her, approaching her with an excitement in her face that sent chills up her spine. Sol was a petite girl. As all of the fae, she was thin. Thin enough that it was clear they were not fed to be strong. They were fed just enough to survive, enough to remain. She did not look strong like the look in her eyes. She looked frail, petite and delicate, only averaging about 5'3 in height. She wore a thin white dress as all of the other female fae did and bare feet without shoes. All of them were dirty, sweat still dripping from their training. It was clear they had not notified the fae of their fate on this day. It wasn't a feeling she wanted to accept. Fear. She had always viewed herself as different from them. She read often, she worked hard, she refused to accept the fate they had all been raised for. Or at least she claimed she had. All throughout her youth that is what she claimed. Yet in the face of this Smith, Sol felt helpless. Despite the power that emanated from

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her, Sol had not the power to truly protect herself. Nor did the rest of them. She was just like the rest of them. Sol's gaze lifelessly drifted towards Admiral Ricaud who had pulled over a wheel barrel of iron looking collars for the fae. Faerie Iron. Sol was entirely aware of what it was. Her gaze flicked back to the gate as if there were even a glimmer of hope at escape. There was not. A knot crawled into her throat and tightened roughly so that it felt as if she couldn't breathe. She didn't want to give in. She had hardly watched as the young Smith was guided to grab the chains and collar before returning to approach her, her gaze refusing to meet his as he continued to approach her. @OriginalMeta

Merrick couldn't shake off the sinister feeling that loomed in the air. As he surveyed the scene before him, the young Smiths standing in front of the withering fae, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. The scars on their skin and the lifeless look in their eyes only added to the ominous atmosphere. However, amidst the bleakness of the scene, there was one fae who seemed to stand out to Merrick. Sol, with her pale skin and petite frame, seemed to radiate an unexplainable power. He felt drawn to her in a way that he couldn't quite understand, as if there was some kind of emotional pull that he couldn't resist. Merrick observed Sol's reaction as he nonchalantly pointed at her, watching as her stomach sank and her eyes narrowed coldly. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of thoughts were running through her mind in that moment. As he approached her with the iron collar in hand, Merrick noticed a flicker of hope in Sol's eyes as she glanced towards the gate. But he knew that escape was futile, and the sight of the faerie iron collar only added to the sense of dread that lingered in the air. As Merrick guided the young Smith to collar Sol, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew what they were doing was wrong, but he also knew that he didn't have the power to change it. It was a feeling of helplessness that he shared with Sol, despite the fact that he was on the other side of the situation. The emotional pull that he felt towards her only intensified, leaving Merrick with a sense of confusion and longing that he couldn't quite explain. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Bzzzzzzzz. The hum of the collar put every hair on her body on guard. She shivered and stepped away as he stepped closer towards her, shaking her head as he outstretched the collar towards her. She knew nothing good could come from a thing that made such a sound. Faerie iron was the natural enemy to fae. The only thing that could control their power and entirely leave them helpless. It was even the thing that kept them locked in the depths. Her fingers curled into a fist as she stepped away, wanting to run and never look back. Yet as she took a step back, a hand urged her forwards, pushing her closer to the Smith carrying the collar. "Go on. Accept it." It was the same Smith from earlier, his lips pulled into a cocky smile, his eyes dripping with arrogance as he enjoyed the power that he held over the helpless fae. He chuckled chidingly as she attempted to pull her shoulder away from her. "Aw now, don't be that way. I'm sure your new Master won't like that. Will ya, Merrick?" The Smith looked at him as he wrapped his arm around the fae girl, quite physically demanding his power over her own as he held her in place for Merrick to collar her. "No." She muttered through clenched teeth. "I'll never accept it." She growled, her gaze sharpening into a glare as he brought the collar towards her, wrapping it around her neck. Only once did her eyes soften, fear resonating in her eyes as she felt him snap the collar into place around her neck. A cold snapping sound. It blinked several times as it connected, slowly beginning to shimmer as it did around all of the Desmos's necks. She gasped out audibly, her head lulling forward from the weight. It was like all of the energy was sapped from her. She gasped and nearly stumbled forwards into the young man, an overwhelming weakness seeming to take over her. Her eyes felt blurry. She couldn't focus. She bit her lip harder. Blood wasn't enough. Pain wasn't enough. The taste swelled in her mouth as she stumbled forwards,

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her body feeling as if the energy was already being drained from it. Was this why they never fought back? Numb. She felt overwhelmingly numb. @OriginalMeta

Merrick watched as Sol was collared, feeling a sense of unease settle in his stomach. He couldn't stand how helpless she looked, how powerless she was with that collar around her neck. But as the Smith turned to him, asking him to question her, he realized that many people were looking at him, waiting for his response. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady himself before addressing Sol. "As a fae, it is your duty to obey your Master," he said in a harsh tone, though his eyes softened as he looked at her. He hoped she could see the understanding in his gaze, the unspoken message to endure for a bit longer. Merrick couldn't help but feel guilty for the role he played in this, even though he knew he had no other choice. He hated how the Desmos treated the fae, using them as nothing more than tools for their own gain. But he couldn't let his emotions show, not when so many were watching. Merrick stood there silently, watching as the fae girl stumbled under the weight of the collar. He had been a Smith for years, and he knew that this was what it meant to be a Smith. To control the fae, to keep them in check. But looking at Sol, he couldn't help but feel unsure. He had never seen a fae so helpless, so vulnerable. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Sapped of energy, Sol felt numb. Numb in a way she had never felt before. Not numb in the sense that she couldn't feel her own pain. The opposite even. While earlier she was able to ignore the pain in her back from earlier, now it blared so hot that she felt that her entire body was on fire. The feeling of blood overwhelming her mouth did nothing either, just a rough stinging in the side of her cheek where she had consistently bit into. She had hardly realized she was falling until she was on the ground, her hands shaking as she pushed herself back up with what little energy she had. She swallowed and let her gaze fall to the chain, shaky breaths escaping her lips as she watched her magic begin to be drained towards his weapon. A pale blue light trickled along the chain like a stream, weaving along the chain as it left her body. It was like having your blood taken yet in a way it was so much more. She was sure if he did it for long, she would have nothing else to give. Her body swayed back and forth softly as she stood there, her gaze lingering on the young man as he demanded obedience to him. Now she understood why the others had grown so quiet, so obedient. How could one truly fight back when they could not think straight. When they didn't have the energy to stand up straight let alone fight against their master. She bit harder but the pain felt as if it were sending shocks down her spine. Perhaps without her magic her natural healing wasn't working any longer, no longer able to feel as immune to pain.

The admiral seemed amused, his eyes lighting up as he watched the once fiesty fae fall towards the ground almost lifelessly. "As you can see, it feels it's magic being sapped near immediately. For all Smithing weapons are made of Ionite, a strong metal that is aversive to the creatures. Ionite is a metal in which we can hone their magic with, thus we also call it Faerie Iron" He explained to the students, slowly walking over and standing over the girl as she pushed herself back towards her feet. He smirked and moved his hand towards the girl, lifting Sol's chin roughly so that she could not pull away. "If you look closer, you can see that even the contact of their skin to this metal is aversive to theirs." He motioned, allowing Merrick to see the way in which it seemed to be burning at her skin. "Now, Young Merrick. You may return to your dorm. During the next week, you will have ample time to begin training your Desmos. Do not pity the creature or look down upon it. It is simply a battery for your weapon... and there are plenty more where she came from. So if it breaks... do not worry, it can be replaced." He smiled, "Now be on your way. Jace Thornburn, please step forward, It is your turn." @OriginalMeta

Merrick stood there, feeling a knot form in his stomach as he watched Sol being mistreated. He knew that this was what it meant to be a Smith, but looking at her now, he couldn't help but feel unsure. He had always been fascinated by the power that came with the ability to control the fae, but seeing it in action was something entirely different. As the admiral dismissed him, Merrick hesitated for a moment, looking back at Sol with a mix of guilt and helplessness. He knew that he couldn't do anything for her now, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving her there to suffer. He took one last glance at her, meeting her eyes briefly, hoping that his expression conveyed that he was sorry and that he hoped she could endure for just a bit longer. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, feeling the weight of the collar and what it meant for him as a Smith. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

It was like an out of body experience. As the young Smith motioned her forward, it felt as if her body were not her own. She knew not whether this was a symptom of the collar or her own weakness, her feet slowly beginning to move without much thought as she followed behind him. She didn’t even look back. She assumed most wouldn’t, yet for many there might become a day where they miss the depths for the sun shone too brightly up above. The Smith’s pace was helpful, and while he was stopping, she was easily able to keep up. It was clear that she felt poorly, her skin somehow appearing even paler than before. She swallowed and wet her lips, a reminder of how thirsty she was after all of that running. Their walk felt as if it took forever. She couldn’t keep track of time nor did she fully recognize the extent of his stalling on her behalf. As they entered the Smith's dorm room, Sol let out a soft sigh, leaning one hand against the wall to hold herself up. She felt worse than she had ever before. Worse than after their lashings when her body had been swollen and covered in wounds that felt like they would never heal. Yet unlike humans, fae had healing powers that helped them from even getting severely ill. It was why many considered the immortal prior to their enslavement. Yet pain still felt the same to fae, and just as intense did exhaustion. And without their magic, fae struggled to thrive. She let out a shaky breath and attempted to work her energy back up but found herself overly reliant on the wall for her stability. "Congratulations." It was the same phrase that everyone on their way to the dorm had said to him. As if he had done so much to deserve such praise. He had simply collared a slave who had no choice. It wasn't as if he had tamed her at all. She glared at him in resentment, "Must be such a wonderful moment for you, innit?" She glared, "Are you proud?" She snarled at him, clearly angry but ready to speak her mind now that she was in private. <@3

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@OriginalMeta

Merrick looked at Sol as she leaned against the wall, clearly struggling to keep herself upright. Her words were laced with anger and resentment, and he could feel her hostility towards him. He couldn't blame her. He knew that he had collared her without her consent, and he understood the unfairness and cruelty of the situation. But he also knew that he had no choice, as it was part of his training as a Smith. He looked at Sol with a somber expression, feeling the weight of the situation. He didn't feel proud or accomplished. In fact, he felt conflicted and guilty. He didn't want to be responsible for enslaving another being, but he also didn't have the power to change the system he was born into. "I'm not proud, Sol," Merrick said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't want this for you or for anyone else. I know it's unfair, and I understand your anger. But I had no choice. It's part of my training, and I have to follow the rules set by the Admiralty." He took a step towards her, his gaze earnest. "I want you to know that I don't see you as just a battery for my weapon. I see you as a living being, with your own thoughts, feelings, and rights. I wish there was something I could do to change the situation, but for now, all I can do is promise you that I will treat you with respect and do my best to make sure you're not harmed." Merrick paused, his expression filled with empathy. "I know this is hard for you, and I'm sorry. But please understand that I didn't choose this, and I will do my best to make it as bearable for you as possible." He reached out a hand, offering it to Sol in a gesture of goodwill. "I hope we can find a way to coexist, despite the circumstances." @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Anger. Years worth of it. An entire lifetime worth of it. And it wasn't just her lifetime. It was all of theirs. All of the fae that they had enslaved, their children and their grandchildren too. The weight of it was heavy. It weighed on her shoulders too. A rage that was deeply ingrained into her that she couldn't allow herself to even relax in front of the man, too fearful of showing him her weaknesses to even take a seat despite how much she was struggling to remain on her feet. Her hand clutched at the wall reluctantly as she pushed herself to stand up straighter, her gaze held forwards. Her glare sharpened as she waited for him to speak, waited for his wretched words to stab into her again. Yet they didn't. They weren't wretched. A knot tangled in her throat as her expectation was turned on it's head. "You--" She paused, her voice cracking as she glared at him as he claimed that he wasn't proud of himself at all. She had not known a singular smith who would admit that they did not agree with the precedent that set fae as slaves and Smiths as their masters. Those who were tasked with controlling them. "If you aren't--" She shook her head, "You did have a choice. Y-You always have had a choice. Do... you really think that you didn't have a choice?" She hardened once more, scoffing at him. "Did they drag you? Whip you if you didn't agree to their terms? Perhaps they starved you? Said that food was a privilege that you had not yet deserved." She raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down, "No... you had a choice. Don't you dare claim that you had no choice... take responsibility for what you're doing. Take responsibility for what you're doing to me." She was shaking, her hand clenched as she attempted to hold back her anger. Her resentment. "I see you as a living being" She wanted to scream at him. To ball up her fists and fight back. And yet... as he spoke, she grew silent, her gaze cast down. *"All I can do is promise you that I will treat you wi

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th respect and do my best to make sure you're not harmed." Her jaw clenched as she lifted her gaze to him. "Not harmed?" She rolled her eyes and let out a weak laugh, shaking her head, "Do you think you're not harming me at this very second? That you're innocent? That you wouldn't hurt me for your own gain?" She glared at him and motioned to the collar. "Do you not recognizing that you are killing me at this very second? Not harmed? D-Do you not realize that you are taking years off of my life right now? N-Not a battery? Really? You're choosing to watch as I... and my people... are killed to fight your battles." "And don't bullshit yourself... take responsibility." Her hand slipped and she let her shoulder fall against the wall, her ice blue eyes staring right through him. "You didn't choose this? I don't want to hear that bullshit. You chose to become a smith... to become, using your kind's terms, a murderer. Nothing more... nothing less. You have a power my people were never granted. Freedom. Don't you dare for a second think that you didn't have a choice... you chose this path yourself." @OriginalMeta

Merrick's eyes widened at the anger and intensity in her words. He had never encountered a fae who spoke to him like this before. He took a step back, feeling the weight of her words sink in. He couldn't deny the truth in her words. Becoming a smith was his choice, but it had felt like the only option he had at the time. His family had been struggling to survive in the slums, and becoming a smith had been the only way to provide for them. "I... I didn't mean to suggest that I had no choice," he said, his voice low and uncertain. "I understand that I made a choice, but at the time, it felt like the only one I had. I wanted to provide for my family, to get them out of the slums. I didn't realize the true cost of becoming a smith until it was too late." He looked down at the collar around her neck, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. He had seen fae collared before, but it had never felt real to him until now. Until he was the one holding the chain. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew that his words sounded hollow, but he didn't know what else to say. He felt trapped between his duty as a smith and his growing empathy for the fae. He didn't know how to reconcile the two. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Truth. Sol had once read that there are two ways to be fooled. The first was to believe what wasn't true. And the second was to refuse to believe what was true. Another novel once claimed that Truth was not for comfort. It was for liberation. Truth was not a medicine but a killer. Perhaps that was why she chose to wield it as her weapon. In this moment, it was the only blade she had to bare at him. It's effect was fatal. Or at least in the emotional sense. She could see it in his eyes. A strong blow to his ego. That was what she could consider it. It might not have physically hurt him, but it did do a number to his sense of identity. Would he be able to live with it? The look in his eyes said that potentially no. His voice agreed with that sentiment. He was unsure, his voice shaking. Did he regret it? Sol watched him, her gaze focused on him as he attempted to redeem himself in her eyes. She knew she was being cruel. She was angry after all and while she understood that he too had circumstances that she could not understand, that didn't make it enough to wash away her resentment towards her situation. Her situation which had always left her trapped. Her situation that left her body aching each and every day, which had only gotten worse today. She swallowed and looked at him, "Guess we all have our reasons..." She noted, her eyes softening. No longer having the fight in her to stand, she pressed her back against the wall and slid down to sit on the ground, her breaths heavy as she admitted weakness. "The slums.." She started, her gaze softening as she looked at him, "Are they like they are in the books?" She asked, biting her lip ever so slightly. "Were... you starving as well?" She questioned softly, her voice coming less harsh as she truly questioned him. In the books she had read, the slums were a place where even humanity suffered. They were kept in poorly developed areas of the cities, hardly given food or opportunities to make ends meet. People were b

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orn, raised and killed in the slums. Violence and crime ran rampant. They were a dangerous place where most didn't want to go. Sol had assumed that they were fiction. After all, it always seemed as if the fae were the only ones who suffered. At least that was how it seemed in the Depths where the only people they ever saw were Smiths. She winced as she shifted, causing the collar to shift it's weight against her neck. It stung. It felt worse than stinging truly but she did not know the words to describe it. She assumed that it was because the words she used were not her own. This language not her own natural tongue. She knew a few words in true fae but it was a dying language. Not even those in the Depths knew much of it any longer. She was sure it would disappear with their kind one day. She leaned her head forwards against her knees tiredly, ignoring his quiet apology. @OriginalMeta

Merrick observed Sol as she slid down the wall, her breaths heavy with exhaustion and pain. He could feel the weight of guilt settle in his chest, knowing that he had caused her more suffering. He knew that he couldn't take back what he had done, but he could try to make amends. He took a step towards her, but hesitated as he saw the collar around her neck, a symbol of her enslavement. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the image of her suffering. When he opened them again, he saw the vulnerability in her gaze as she asked about his life in the slums. He nodded, "Yes, they're like they are in the books. It's not a place where you want to grow up or live in. I was fortunate enough to have a family that loved me and did what they could to keep me fed, but there were times when we had to go without. It was a struggle, but it made us stronger. We had to learn how to fend for ourselves." Merrick paused, choosing his words carefully before continuing, "But that doesn't excuse what I did to you. I was wrong, and I am truly sorry for what I put you through. I don't expect forgiveness, but I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make it right." He took another step towards her, crouching down to meet her gaze. "I want to change the system, but to do that I need power." Merrick waited for Sol's response, hoping that she would accept his apology and his offer of help. He knew that he had a lot to make up for, but he was determined to do right by her. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Slums. She had read about them. After all, all of the books that were hosted within the Depths had been written by humans and not fae. She wasn't sure if fae had such books. She had once heard that most faerie stories were told by word of mouth, passed through countless story times and dances that they shared with one another. The humans had found it primitive. She found it to be magical. Though, of course, she quite enjoyed reading a good book as well. They had practically been the only thing that kept her from giving up. While dusty, their sentiment sent her imagination ablaze and kept her heart intact. They taught her how to dream when all seemed dark. In the books that she had read, they spoke of different troubles than the ones she faced, and yet often the feelings that came with them were the same. They had not to worry about whippings or running endlessly, but they felt agony when their people were hurt. They felt despair when they were kicked. Frustration. Powerlessness. She was sure that he was one of them too. Even if she wasn't sure that she wanted to admit such. He too had feelings. Emotions. He too felt despair. Sol lifted her gaze tiredly as he stepped forwards, watching as he hesitated and stopped in his tracks. She had never seen a Smith hesitate. Not even as they brought a whip down on a young one's back. Not even as their pained cries echoed loud and clear through the depths. Not as blood dripped down their backs. She swallowed and shifted, her gaze lingering on him as he spoke. The Slums. She had thought they were fake. After all, the Smiths were wealthy. It was evident from the clothes they wore. That and how clean they were. They were strongly built and well fed so that they could properly fight. Their muscles never knowing a day of starvation nor harsh fatigue. Yet here he was, telling her that they were in fact real. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger..." She said softly, her voice almost coming as a whisper as she let her head

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lean against her knee tiredly. "I read that in a book once...forget the title." She shrugged, "Thought it was bullshit." She sighed and lifted her head to press it against the wall. "Whatever doesn't kill you in the depths... probably just leaves you in pain." She closed her eyes, knowing her words were coarse and rough but not caring enough to make them sound nicer. "I don't expect forgiveness but I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make it right." His words were strange. Strange enough that she opened her eyes and looked at him again, surprised as he had moved to crouch down and meet her gaze. She swallowed and looked into his eyes, hesitating slightly. "Well... you've got power now." She softened slightly, "I'll trust you... just... know that power comes at a price." She smiled weakly, a deep breath pushing through her nose, "It always has a price."

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@OriginalMeta

Merrick listened intently to Sol's words, feeling a sense of understanding and compassion towards her. He knew that the fae were treated unfairly and that their suffering was a result of the Smiths' greed and thirst for power. It made him sick to his stomach to think about the whippings and pain inflicted on innocent creatures like Sol. He couldn't help but feel responsible for her well-being now that she was in his care. The weight of his new role as a smith and owner of a fae was heavy, but he was determined to make a difference. When Sol mentioned that power came at a price, Merrick knew she was right. He was already feeling the weight of the expectations placed upon him as a Smith, and he knew that his actions would have consequences. "I know that power comes with a price," he said, his voice steady and resolute. "But I am willing to pay that price if it means making things right. I want to help you and the rest of the fae. I want to create a better future for all of us." He paused, looking at Sol with a determined expression. "I know I can't erase the past, but I can do my best to make sure it doesn't repeat itself. I promise to treat you with the respect and kindness you deserve, and to fight for your rights as a fae." Merrick wasn't sure if Sol would believe him or if he was even capable of making a difference, but he knew he had to try. He wanted to prove that not all Smiths were cruel and heartless, and that change was possible. As a Smith, he had been raised to believe that the Fae were nothing but creatures to be used for the benefit of humans. He had never questioned this belief until he had taken ownership of Sol, and seen the pain and suffering that the Fae endured on a daily basis. He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of anger and frustration towards the higher-ups in the Smith hierarchy. They preyed on the poor humans in the slums, using their families' well-being as a tool to manipulate them into joining the ranks of the Smiths. The whole sy

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stem was corrupt, and Merrick couldn't stand it. If he had his way, he would take down the entire system. He was confident that there were other younger Smiths who shared his feelings, who had grown tired of the cruelty and oppression that the Smiths inflicted upon the Fae. But he knew that it wouldn't be easy. The older Smiths held all the power, and they weren't likely to give it up without a fight. Merrick knew that he had to be careful. He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself or his beliefs, lest he be labeled a traitor and punished severely. But at the same time, he couldn't sit idly by and watch as the Fae suffered under the weight of the Smiths' cruelty. He looked at Sol, who sat beside him, her eyes tired and her body weary from years of abuse. He felt a deep sense of guilt wash over him, knowing that he was part of the system that had caused her so much pain. But he was determined to make things right. "I know I can't undo the past," he said, his voice low and earnest. "But I want to make things right. I want to do everything in my power to help you and the other Fae in the Depths." Sol looked at him, her expression guarded. Merrick could sense her wariness, her reluctance to trust him. He couldn't blame her. After all, he was a Smith, and she was a Fae. But he was determined to show her that he was different. "I know you don't trust me," he said, his voice soft. "But I want you to know that I mean what I say. I want to help you. I want to help all of you." He knew that it would take time to earn her trust, but he was willing to wait. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

Words. They were powerful. Sol knew that. A famous quote had told her that much. She knew not the book that she read it in any longer nor whom had spoken it and yet with every word she spoke, she was reminded that her words alone were enough to bring a momentum that she would never have otherwise. A momentum she could see having weight in him. She could see it in the way that he held himself, the weight that he was beginning to recognize that he had accrued simply by placing that collar around her neck. Power comes with a price. They were her words. Though, of course, she knew that they had been used by many others before. Funnily enough she was aware of the fact that they were the words of a fairy tale she had once read. She had always liked reading. Though that made it harder for her to remember where the things that she had learned came from. Words. They had always been powerful to her as well, powerful enough to give her the strength to fight back. The strength to imagine a world where she was not confined. Would he be able to introduce her to such a world? Sol's eyes softened as he lowered himself down towards her, his gaze locked with hers as he attempted to truly level set with her on his feelings. "To fight for your rights as a fae." They were words she had never expected to hear leave a Smith's lips. Perhaps he was a different kind of Smith though. She was beginning to wonder if she was being delusional due to exhaustion or whether she truly could trust him. Perhaps... she could even attempt to believe in him and the world that he wanted to create. The world that he could only create should she be willing to help him. "I want to help all of you." A soft smile curled along the young fae's lips as she tiredly looked at him, her eyes softening as she nodded. "Then... I'll be your strength." She whispered, "If you'll let me." She lifted her head and looked at him once more, her smile sweeter and kinder than one would expect. "I'll be the str

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ength that helps you...without you... I have no momentum. But without me, you have no power to truly fight. " She lifted her hand towards him, offering him to shake it, a formal acknowledgement of partnership in human terms as she knew it. She wasn't sure if she was doing it correctly, but she had seen the other Smiths do it on many occasions. They spoke of it in books as well. A distinctly human form of marking agreement and yet she hoped it would be welcomed, her eyes intently locking on his as she awaited his hand to shake hers. @OriginalMeta

Merrick felt a jolt run through him as he heard Sol's words. He couldn't believe that he had found someone who understood him so deeply. Someone who shared his ideals, his dreams. The young fae's words resonated with him on a deep level, and he felt a sense of purpose wash over him. He knew that he had to do something, to make a change in the system that had been so oppressive for so long. As he looked into Sol's eyes, he felt a connection with her that he had never felt before. He could see the strength and determination in her gaze, and he knew that he had found someone who would be his ally in the fight against the corrupt system that had taken hold of their world. He took her hand in his, feeling the warmth of her touch as he shook it firmly. "I accept your offer, Sol," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "Together, we will make a difference. We will fight for the rights of the fae and put an end to this oppression. I know there are other Smiths who share our ideals, and we will find them and band together to make a change." Merrick knew that the road ahead would not be easy. There would be obstacles and challenges, but he was determined to see it through. He had found a purpose, a reason to keep fighting, and he knew that with Sol by his side, they would be unstoppable. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.

A difference. Change. They were words that carried weight with them. Sol knew that. After all, change was not made in a day. She was sure that she had read that somewhere. Though she no longer truly remembered where. She rarely remembered where she had learned the quotes she had engrained into her mind. Yet even with the exhaustion that was gnawing into her, she couldn't help but remember them. His hand was warm. She had expected it to be cold. Most fae felt colder, just as their skin lacked the same color that the human beings did. It was as if everything had been sapped from them, including their warmth. She shivered against him and let him shake it, her own grip much weaker than his firm grip. She felt weak in his grasp, her will wavering as she wondered if their working together would truly bring about the change that she longed for. She wanted to believe in it, and yet that didn't make her any more confident as she wished. I know there are other smiths who share our ideals. Her gaze weakened as she nodded, the look in her eyes unsure. "R-Right..." She nodded softly, biting her lip as she curled her legs closer to herself. "May I rest now...? Just... for a bit" She asked, knowing they most likely had training to do despite her exhaustion. She swallowed and looked at him, still unsure of their relationship or the dynamic that they held. Whether she was meant to call him by name or consider him a Master like the others whom had come before her. Was she like the others who came before her? @OriginalMeta

Merrick's grip on Sol's hand tightened slightly, as if to offer her some support and reassurance. He could see the weariness in her eyes, the toll that her experiences had taken on her. He understood the need for rest, for a moment of respite in the midst of their shared determination. "Of course, Sol," he said gently, his voice filled with understanding. "Rest is important. You've been through a lot, and you deserve some time to recover." He released her hand and sat back, giving her space to find comfort and rest. As he watched her curl up and seek solace, he couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward her. He knew that he couldn't undo the pain she had endured, but he was determined to create a future where no other fae would suffer as she had. He wanted to be a source of strength and support for her, to help her heal and grow. "You are not like the others who came before you," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You are unique, Sol. And together, we will forge a different path. We will challenge the system and fight for a world where fae and humans can coexist with equality and respect." Merrick settled himself next to Sol, leaning against the wall, keeping a watchful eye over her. He knew that they had a long journey ahead, and it wouldn't be without its challenges. But he believed in her strength, in their shared determination, and he was resolved to make a difference, not just for Sol, but for all those who had suffered under the oppressive rule of the Smiths. In the quiet of the moment, he let his thoughts drift to the future they would build together, where their combined strength and unwavering spirit would bring about a transformative change, one that would shake the very foundations of the corrupt system that had held them captive for far too long. @꒰celestial shae ꒱ ༉‧₊˚.