A brown haired Sin'dorei makes her way into an abandoned orphanage within what is now the Ghostlands. She grew up here. Her first years anyway. She looks around, remembering it all. Only now, it is collapsing on itself, cobwebs are in the corners and the baby cribsare empty. The entire building devoid of sound except the footsteps of that one lone Elf. She sighs as she looks at what appears to be a bloodied cabinet. Ophelia looks over the cabinet until she finds the B. Locked. She curses and unslings her rifle from her shoulder.
The Elf takes a moment to aim before blowing off the lock and kicking open the cabinet. “Bala'dor. Bee'nor.” She goes past the names until she reaches the one she looks for. “Blacktear.” She opens up her files, only to find much of it rotting from not being used for years. She curses under her breath and starts reading what is still readable. “Unknown man brought the child. Said he found her in a carriage to the north with two dead bodies near it. Male and female. Both brown of hair. Child is a week old at most.” Ophelia speaks to herself. “Investigation came up with nothing. Why even travel with a week old baby? It doesn't matter. This is the seventh child that comes in with a story that can't be verified and without a name. We named her Seven for the time being.” Ophelia flips through the rest of the pages, most of them rotten so terrible they can't be read anymore. She keeps flipping until she finds the page on the day of her adoption. “Seven got picked up today. A human female, brown haired and infertile. Dramina Blacktear. She took the child and left Elven lands with her. Light knows why she didn't choose a human child. I'm just glad to be rid of the little b***h. Always crying for attention, always trying to find a way to make our lives miserable. Oh, how I hate her.”
Ophelia frowns at the pages. “Assholes.” She mutters to herself before returning to the pages. “Two days after Seven, or Ophelia as her new mother called the brat, a white haired male came looking for a child. A very specific child. The description perfectly fits the little brat, Seven.” The Elf looks over the pages with some interest, no longer skipping the partially unreadable parts. “He demanded classified information. He got nothing and swore this wasn't the last we'd have seen of him.” Once more the Elf skimmed through the many pages. Occasionally cursing under her breath. Taken the ruined book, Ophelia made her way outside and to her wolf, sighing softly. She patted the creature, jumped into the saddle and rode off. As she rode, she felt as if someone was watching her. Yet she rode on, not caring about the feeling. Something about the feeling was odd, however. As if she felt it before.
The Elf takes a moment to aim before blowing off the lock and kicking open the cabinet. “Bala'dor. Bee'nor.” She goes past the names until she reaches the one she looks for. “Blacktear.” She opens up her files, only to find much of it rotting from not being used for years. She curses under her breath and starts reading what is still readable. “Unknown man brought the child. Said he found her in a carriage to the north with two dead bodies near it. Male and female. Both brown of hair. Child is a week old at most.” Ophelia speaks to herself. “Investigation came up with nothing. Why even travel with a week old baby? It doesn't matter. This is the seventh child that comes in with a story that can't be verified and without a name. We named her Seven for the time being.” Ophelia flips through the rest of the pages, most of them rotten so terrible they can't be read anymore. She keeps flipping until she finds the page on the day of her adoption. “Seven got picked up today. A human female, brown haired and infertile. Dramina Blacktear. She took the child and left Elven lands with her. Light knows why she didn't choose a human child. I'm just glad to be rid of the little b***h. Always crying for attention, always trying to find a way to make our lives miserable. Oh, how I hate her.”
Ophelia frowns at the pages. “Assholes.” She mutters to herself before returning to the pages. “Two days after Seven, or Ophelia as her new mother called the brat, a white haired male came looking for a child. A very specific child. The description perfectly fits the little brat, Seven.” The Elf looks over the pages with some interest, no longer skipping the partially unreadable parts. “He demanded classified information. He got nothing and swore this wasn't the last we'd have seen of him.” Once more the Elf skimmed through the many pages. Occasionally cursing under her breath. Taken the ruined book, Ophelia made her way outside and to her wolf, sighing softly. She patted the creature, jumped into the saddle and rode off. As she rode, she felt as if someone was watching her. Yet she rode on, not caring about the feeling. Something about the feeling was odd, however. As if she felt it before.
I will not be forgotten. This is my time to shine. I've got the scars to prove it. Only the strong survive. I'm not afraid of dying. Everyone has their time. Life never favored weakness.
Welcome to the pride!