The Grove
The Grove
Everything was simple in those days. Provincial life for the elves in Indigo Grove went on as if nothing ever happened outside their boundaries. The farmers would collect their fruits, berries, and nuts from the treetops, the children would play throughout the branches of their Great Oak, and the women would weave glosamer from the spun down of the White Hart that visited the forest floor of their little Grove. Only the chosen hunters were able to venture outside the protective circle of trees in their woodland home. Hunters were chosen at birth, having been born with the distinctive characteristics that mark all hunters, eyes as emerald as the leaves that block the sun and hair the color of chestnuts.
It was common knowledge that being a hunter was dangerous, but since nothiad had happened to any of them in centuries, they grew bold and lost their sense of caution in their exploits. Not until the disappearance of a cherished member of their community on a hunt would their wariness be restored.
They called him Aramis de\'Willow. A hunter in his first year and just past his seventeenth summer, he was thrilled with the wonder of being able to see things that his brothers only dreamed of, the wilderness that lay just outside the confines of their protective ring of trees. After being on ten hunts already, he fancied himself an expert already in the ways of the hunter and his arrogance grew with each passing hunt. The thought never crossed his mind that those lumbering giants called humans would be a danger to him or his kind. All of elven-kind was slender and graceful, two requirements for their treetop life. Aramis was tall for his people, being just over five s tas tall, where many humans averaged at around six spans. It was a legend among elven-kind that the reason that the humans started the last Race War was that they were jealous of the preternatural beauty possessed by all members of elven-kind and of the fine glosamer that they produced. The legend spoke of the cruelty of humans during the Race Wars, how whole groves were ural butn wrn wrapped in fine silks and laces with tiny bells hanging from his chestnut hair the elf was a truly beautiful sight to behold. The only thing visitors ever complained about was the constant look of sadness in the deep greens ofs of the dancer, no matter what beat he danced to. It was said that the elf used to run through the halls of the palace, his bare feet making not a sound as his silks whispered against his skin, every morning to gaze through the massive westward windows as if searching for something he can never find. This one boy, the cause of a war, trapped forever in a cycle of loneliness in a place of strangers who speak a language he\'ll never know, always wishing for that simple provincial life of farming the trees and hunting the Hart.
§ 3& k á‚ Magik¡ R **~Different~**~I don’t own Yu but but I do own my characters.~
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Deep within the cryptic plantation of the Amazon, there lies a secret.
A secret so protected that nobody knows it exists except for a select few.
What is this secret?
Well, it’s a school.
What is so interesting about an ordinary high school?
The difference is, it’s not ordinary.
This school is ‘Kami’. A school for those who were born gifted and can not live normally among mortals just yet.
Gifted. If you defined that word for this particular school you would see the word, ‘magic’.
For that’s what all the students had in common. They were all gifted with different arrays of magic and each had there own type of mystic powers.
Everyone was different in one-way, or another.
If mortals ever did find out about Kami the punishment would be death, slowly and torturously.
That was policy.
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In this school there were five students who ascended above all others in academic and physical achievement.
Well, most of them.
They were Yami, Marik, Bakura, Joey and Isis.
Yami was 17 years old and was a graduated shadow demon of the magic school. He had spiky tri colored hair that stood on end and pure red crimson eyes. Black bat like wings were retracted during most of the time at the school. Having control over any and everything that included shadows and the night gained him a lot of respect and fear among the smaller groups. The only reason he hung around the school still was because you needed to be 18 to go out into the mortal realm.
Marik was also 17 though older than every one of the males. He had graduated as a vampire but barely passed his classes thanks to his reckless and sometimes psychotic behavior. Spiky blonde hair and mystifying violet eyes made him look even crazier than he was. This male was aloud off the school grounds and into the forests to go and hunt animals once a weak. The rest of the days, he had to drink what came from the cafeteria. He had come from the land of Egypt with his younger sibling older sibling, Isis.
Bakura was 16 ¾ and despised being the youngest in the group. He had to finish one more month of schoolwork before he could graduate and turn 17. The teen was an ice demon and rose above everyone in his classes. Long spiky white hair fell down to his shoulder blades and dark brown eyes dared anyone to try and take him on. Bluish black leather wings were hidden in his back. Often, he got in trouble for ‘misusing’ his powers of controlling and creating ice and snow, but he didn’t really care. Being best friends with Marik gave him a ‘silent but deadly’ nature.
Joey was known as the class goofball. The 17-year-old still had classes but that was only because he started at the school a bit late. He, at the start, was a disobedient shape shifter who didn’t listen to anyone. He had dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes. His attitude changed over the years when he met Bakura who introduced him to everyone else. The teen could only shape shift into animals but he was very good at it. His favorite past time was turning into a bat and chasing the ‘goody goody’ Tea around the school.
Isis was a 17 going on 18 illusionist.ural but when wrapped in fine silks and laces with tiny bells hanging from his cnut nut hair the elf was a truly beautiful sight to behold. The only thing visitors ever complained about was the constant look of sadness in the deep greens ofs of the dancer, no matter what beat he danced to. It was said that the elf used to run through the halls of the palace, his bare feet making not a sound as his silks whispered against his skin, every morning to gaze through the massive westward windows as if searching for something he can never find. This one boy, the cause of a war, trapped forever in a cycle of loneliness in a place of strangers who speak a language he\'ll never know, always wishing for that simple provincial life of farming the trees and hunting the Hart.