The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
For people like Citra, who considered proximity to the Eldouir hazardous to her general health and well-being on account of their gifts and penchant for violence and unpredictability, stumbling upon one of the redheads was always a mistake - and with their increased activity in Elderkeep, it now happened more often than she would prefer.
But perhaps that wasn’t entirely surprising. Without a dyr to act as a second set of eyes and ears, she could rely only on her human senses, which meant she had to keep her eyes and ears peeled for signs of trouble before she accidentally walked into something she’d rather avoid. Sometimes it was easy. Screams and the rush of people away from a certain area made it clear that it would not be in her best interest to approach. Other times, it was less obvious.
After five years in Elderkeeo, Citra thought she had seen it all. As it turned out, she was wrong.
The teenager glanced around the corner to see a redheaded girl with too many arms throwing knives at some poor target. Nope. Even if the hair color wasn’t warning enough, extra limbs and various other unnatural mutations were enough to scare Citra away. She ducked back out of sight. There were plenty of other roads to take through Elderkeep.
She knew she could be creepy. It was something that she took excessive pride in, as the knives were left forgotten when she'd practically skittered with legs numbered to match her arms to see this new person who had peeked and then hid from her. The number of legs had her raised a little taller, but not much, to be more looming as her head tilted down at the Dresmondi. Almost like a spider with the way her head tilted around the corner.
Citra had been fast, but not fast enough. Unaware that the redhead had noticed her, she retraced her steps and was partway down the street when a curious voice called out from behind her. Heart thumping, she turned. Like a horrific creature out of a nightmare far too imaginative for her mind to conjure up - no, Citra was stuck with mundane re-livings of her past and present - the redhead peered at her from around the corner with altogether far too many limbs.
The teenager froze, her hand falling instinctively to the hilt of the dagger on her thigh before she jerked it away quickly; she did not trust an Eldouir to care about the difference between a response to a general threat and a threat to their authority, and no one threatened a redhead without paying the price in blood and flesh. Citra did not move closer but neither did she back away. Instead, she gave a one-word answer to the many-limbed Eldouir: “Citra.”
It wasn't a name that she recognized, then again it wasn't like Yeva bothered to remember many of them unless they were particularly interesting to her on a personal level. Of course, the fact that there was no critter around this particular one was only slightly intriguing.
"Citra. Rolls off the tongue rather nicely." And it sounded like she rolled the name around on her tongue as she said it, like she was tasting the name itself.
Dark eyes narrowed slightly from where she stood. The teenager didn’t like the way the redhead said her name, as if it was something to be toyed with and eaten. This one was weird. They were all dangerous, but this one was disconcerting. Perhaps it was the way they seemed to be of a similar age yet in such drastically different circumstances or the extra limbs or the scuttling and peering that reminded her very much of an overgrown spider, but this one was entirely unnerving in a way that the others weren’t.
“It’s my name,” Citra reiterated in response to the observation. She might have picked it herself, but the Eldouir didn’t need to know that and all its implications. And speaking of names… “What’s yours?” Like any sensible occupant of Elderkeep, she knew that red hair meant trouble, and she recognized the most dangerous and volatile of them. Though she knew of this one’s penchant for bizarre bodily forms, Citra knew little else to accompany it. Compared to the redheaded men who had a reputation for destroying lives simply because they could, growing extra limbs, while unnerving, had seemed relatively tame.
Yeva blinked at Citra (it really was a good name; she liked it), peering down at her as she wondered if the Dresmondi really didn't know who she was. Or if it was a trick, a ploy. She leaned down just a tiny bit closer. Maybe she would be more interesting and would wind up as another plaything if Yeva wanted. Though she had Eirrwen but... Hm.
Yeva. Citra’s eyes narrowed slightly at the revelation. She had heard the Eldouir mentioned before, often in association with whispered comments about a creepy child, but until now, she’d never had a face to put to the name. Yeva didn’t look much like a child to the other teenager, but they were right about how unnerving she was. Resisting the urge to take a step back, Citra held the redhead’s gaze and wondered where to go from here. Although she wanted to turn and run, to put as much space between her and this unfamiliar danger, she didn’t dare turn her back on the Eldouir: right now, they might have been at a stand still, but predators gave chase when their prey ran. Instead, she posed a question: “Is there something you want?”
Well, this one was interesting and had some spunk, the way that she didn't back down from holding her gaze. A little grin spread across her lips. If there was one way to never lose Yeva's interest, it was to make yourself interesting to her. Which, unfortunately for the Dresmondi in general, did not always mean good things.
"You're interesting. Why are you scurrying about the training yards?"
Citra swallowed. She didn’t want to be interesting. She wanted to be forgettable. But she had no idea what she’d done to draw the Eldouir’s interest and then keep the her attention. “I didn’t know these were the training yards,” The teenager explained, the desire to flee growing within her the longer she remained under the redhead’s stare. Yeva’s smile unnerved her; she didn’t know what there was to smile about, and she didn’t think she wanted to know either. “I thought these streets led somewhere else.” A brief pause, then an escape attempt disguised as an offer: “I can— I can go, and be out of your way. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Yeva continued to smile. Citra didn’t dare take her eyes off the redhead, even as her unease shot skyward with the words that reached her. A fresh wave of adrenaline set her heart racing as her fingers flexed slightly by the dagger on her thigh, a fight instinct that rose up within her at the threat standing before her. But the flight was stronger, and finally, feeling like a mouse staring down a cat, the teenager retreated a single step. “Still,” She insisted, another attempt at talking her way out of the noose that seemed to be tightening around her neck. “I’m sorry for intruding.”
She didn't miss the step back and her grin pulled a little wider. This was fun, that little dance of 'will they or won't they run', and it often ended in her favor. And while the chase was fun, the aftermath was even better. (Her and Azazel definitely shared some traits.)
Where Yeva’s grin stretched a little wider, Citra’s expression had long since frozen into something far less entertained. Though she tried her best to hide the apprehension that coursed through her, she was undoubtedly betrayed by the tension in her small frame and the unblinking intensity - born only of fear - with which she watched the Eldouir’s every move.
The redhead insisted that Citra wasn’t intruding now. Dark eyes flicked from Yeva’s face to the numerous arms and legs that sprouted from her torso. Did more legs make the Eldouir any faster? Citra didn’t know, but the urge to run grew stronger with every heartbeat. Yeva might give chase, but the teenager was fast. She’d outrun people before. “I still wouldn’t want to distract you any more.” Another attempt, accompanied by another step back. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than talk to me.”