Julia/Roy's Sword

Julia stretched out on the bed in her dorm. The walls were plain, the sheets were coarse and only white by virtue of being bleached every few days, the furniture was so crude it seemed deliberate, and her roommate never shut up, but it was hers. She had earned her scholarship, she had chosen her courses. This was her life.

The day was warm, and she was wearing as little as she dared, wishing she knew more ice spells so she could cool off. More then that, she wished there was some sort of release.

She sighed, running her hand through her dark hair. She wasn’t sure she liked it. It was straight, and shiny, and all her friends liked it, but it wasn’t her. There was nothing about it that differentiated her from everyone else with dark hair. It wasn''t hers, it was just generic dark hair.

Stretching her long legs over the side of her bed, she got to her feet and padded over to the door, which she checked was securely closed, and then locked. Just in case she cast hold portal as well. Most wizards agreed it was a useless spell, but when you were a nubile young girl who half the students drooled over and liked your privacy (or rather, didn’t feel like giving anyone a free show), then it was worth the effort of learning a few safeguards.

Taking a deep breath she reached into her bag and retrieved the sword.
The sword was who she was. It was who her family was. Where they came from, and what they were. Her father may have forgotten that, but she never would.

She could barely heft it, but she held it up nonetheless, admiring it’s functional elegance, it’s raw simplicity. In it’s own way, it was prettier then any rose. Running her hand down the edge gently, she gasped as it cut through the skin, a single bright bead of blood running down the edge. A bright flush crept over her cheeks, giving her dark skin a warm look.

She clutched it closer, enjoying the cold feel of the metal against her warm, yielding flesh. “You’re not my knight." She said huskily, her green eyes wide, undoing the clasp at the back of her bra. "You’re not my saviour. You’re me. And I am you.”

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