The Crimson Velvet
Rengar treks through the woods, bare paws leaving indents in the snow. He shoulders past the line of trees, soft flurries of snow knocked away from withering branches and landing on his head, his armour. He grumbles, striding forward despite exhaustion lingering bone-deep in his lungs. At least he isn’t too far away from home. Rengar sighs, a cloudy puff of breath becoming one with the cold. Just a little more, and he can rest.Cries break the late afternoon day, the thinnest dredges of sunlight seeping through the snowy trees and illuminating a tiny clearing, barely visible through the expanse of white. Rengar’s keen senses catch onto the unnatural sound, and instinctively, he turns in its direction, bumbling past tree trunks and brushing away branches with strong arms until he stops at the edge of the clearing. At the base of the largest tree in the area, he notices a human child — no, a newborn baby — swaddled in thin layers of blood-stained fabric, scarlet sluggishly seeping through the cloth from life-threatening wounds. The baby shudders almost violently from the cold, instinctively curling into itself to shield its body from the relentless winter.Rengar huffs, wiping away the cold sweat gathering at his brow before turning. He averts his gaze as the baby notices him, wide eyes locking onto his strong frame. Before he can turn and leave the clearing, abandoning the child to die — the baby bursts into tears, collapsing into deafening wails that echo throughout the woods. Upon a closer look, he notices that there are massive gashes on the baby’s arms and torso, bruising on its legs, and a head wound on the back of its head, likely causing a concussion of sorts. These injuries are likely caused by a monster, he realises. This can turn out terribly for the baby. Despite himself, Rengar’s conscience twitches a little. He’s well aware that it will either bleed or freeze to death soon, judging from the way its skin is tinged blue, its movements delayed by the cold. Rengar has taken lives, many lives — so he doesn’t think he deserves to take responsibility for one.Still, he takes a step forward, towering over the baby as he crouches to its level. How pitful, he scoffs. Humans with their fragile bodies and brittle souls, get cold or ill so easily. Life is a never-ending competition for survival, and this species doesn’t even deserve to be counted into the ranks. Uncharacteristically of Rengar, he swipes the baby from where it rests under the tree, tucking it into his grasp before leaving the clearing, shielding it from stray branches with a sturdy arm. He thinks, that if this child cries this way for any form of hope to survive, there must be a strong will burning within this newly born soul. He doesn’t care much for life, but he can respect that fire, that desire to live despite being given a bad hand of cards in the beginning. Somehow, the baby has stopped crying, huddling into the warmth emanating from Rengar’s body as it hums in contentment, drifting into a deep slumber.Babies are so wretched — weak, fragile, and so susceptible to death. Rengar can’t help but regard this child with a degree of pity. It will become prey, and it will die, as is ordained in the cycle of life. But the baby is somehow so pathetic as to not ignore it. He sighs, his breath fanning away in the wind as the child shifts in his arms. What does he stand for?As the Kiilash tribe’s residences begin to appear over the horizon, Rengar wonders if he can do something — anything at all — to slightly influence the fate of this child. As a child, he has heard of legendary tales of ancient rituals possessing the power of the earth itself — his people using these procedures to heal and rejuvenate, breathing new life into near-dead beings. However, Rengar has never heard of these rituals being conducted on humans before, and he’s unsure if this is realistically doable for this baby.Whatever. He’ll ask an elder about it and settle on an eventual outcome. Rengar already can’t wait until all this is over. He’ll leave it to the care of the tribe and go about his ways. He doesn’t need to bother with any inconveniences at this point.『••✎••』“About the rituals,” Rengar starts, drumming his paw impatiently on the cosy wooden floor. As soon as he returned to his village, he brought the baby to the tribe medic. He was about to leave when the medic requested him to summon the elders to the scene, so he reluctantly did so. “Could they be done on this child?”“I am unsure,” one of the elders observes the child, scrutinising its wounds, turning it around in the dim light. “Our rituals can only be conducted on worthy beings. For anyone lesser, they will lose their power.”“Plus,” another adds, “it may be a defilement of our traditions to conduct any of our rituals on a human child. Should the ritual fail, consequences will be born.”“But this is a baby.” A third takes the baby from the first elder. “If it were our kind, we would have conducted the ritual without a second thought. Are all beings not equally deserving of life?”“Whatever.” Rengar groans. All this talk exhausts him. “We can cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, let’s begin the ritual.”The second elder eyes Rengar, then the child. “It is taboo, Rengar.”“Whatever.” Rengar’s tone hardens.An hour later, he finds himself at the centre of the tribe’s temple, standing before a dark, murky coffin-shaped pool of stone filled with ancient, powerful ingredients. The ceiling is high, the atmosphere illuminated by nothing but dimly lit candles lining the walls. He sticks his hand over the edge and swipes a claw over his skin, blood dripping down his wrist and into the concoction, forming ripples in the liquid that dissipate wordlessly.“The bath is ready.” An elder speaks, stepping in front of Rengar and dropping the still-unconscious baby into the potion. Rengar watches intently, noting the pop of bubbles gathering at the surface. The elders crowd around the pool, hovering over the concoction with their paws clasped. The drops of Rengar’s blood seep under the baby’s skin, submerging her with the bygone ingredients, and dragging it deeper under the surface.Another elder paces around the edge of the pool. “If it does not resurface, that shall conclude the ritual. Are we all in agreement that this procedure shall be fruitless—”The liquid bubbles as if boiled, fizzing and popping rapidly, scarlet flowing in and out of sight within the potion, a strange dark liquid briefly appearing in view before blending back into the pool. Clamour erupts within the temple as half of the elders take a step back, the other half inching forward to better observe this phenomenon. As the surface level rises and falls, Rengar peers into the concoction only to see a blurry silhouette encased within the substance, slowly but surely rising to the surface.“Hurry, hurry,” an elder murmurs, ushering the tribe medic forward. As the bubbles wane away, the baby breaks through the liquid surface and gasps for air, wounds healed and the body rejuvenated, leaving behind smooth, scarless skin. “It’s got eyes,” Rengar notices the new fluffy additions to its head. “Eyes like ours.”A moment of silence settles through the crowd. “It is worthy,” an elder says, voice tinged with awe. “It shall become a member of the Kiilash tribe as one of our own.”As the tribe medic picks the baby out of the potion, Rengar turns and makes his way through the crowd, slipping out of the temple and returning to his home.『••✎••』The child grows up in Kiilash Village, taken care of by the tribe. They name her Septhia, a pretty name befitting her strength. Elders tell her stories of how she was saved from peril at birth as a worthy recipient of the ritual, and she begins to grow curious about the being who rescued her from the wild and insisted on the ritual. Rengar is almost always out hunting, but whenever Septhia sees him around the village, she goes up to him and begs him to teach her how to hunt. She wants to be stronger, strong just like Rengar.Initially, Rengar refuses. He doesn’t have the time to spare. He doesn’t care about Septhia anyway — he respects her will, but not her incessant annoyance. She irritates him with her constant begging, and before long he finds himself agreeing to her request just to shut her up. Septhia spends most of her time training with the other members of the tribe, and with Rengar whenever he is around. Though he doesn’t bother himself with her other than their training sessions, Septhia is content with their current arrangement. After all, Rengar is her saviour, and having him teach her is already more than enough to be grateful for.Years later, as Septhia comes of age, she realises that she hasn’t been connecting with her human side. Growing up in a tribe full of savage hunters and treated equally as one of them has washed away her human senses. Though she is a fierce hunter — one of the strongest in her league — she feels a sense of discontentment, unsatisfied with her current state of life. Septhia decides she wants change. Despite her tribe’s protests, still viewing her as a fragile being who requires protection to survive, she leaves Kiilash Village to explore the vast world awaiting her. Septhia bids farewell to everyone she has come to know and love, including Rengar, even though he has nothing to say to her even at her departure.She becomes an assassin, wandering through a multitude of places and encountering many people on her journey. Oftentimes, she has to fend for herself, and she never fails to use her strength and instincts to get out of tough spots. Even though she’s stronger than most humans, her looks and background make it hard for others to accept her. But as she spends more time working with them, she starts to get used to living around people and finds a way to fit in without losing who she is. Septhia helps people she encounters if they need her, and on one of her adventures she comes across a young girl, slumped under a large lemon tree, blood trickling from her head to her shoulders. A bloody lemon is clutched in one of her palms. She is half-conscious, likely suffering from a concussion.Septhia supposes that this girl has fallen wrongly from the tree while picking lemons. Pity stirs in her — she was once in this position herself, after all. She crouches beside the child, picking her up and taking her to the camp she has settled down at. Septhia bandages her wounds and heals her injuries. Once the child is healed and regains consciousness, she stirs, rubbing at her bleary eyes. “Where are your parents?” Septhia asks. The child pulls at the bedsheets, wincing as she shifts in position. “I don’t have parents. I live alone.”“So you’re out alone? At such a young age?” Septhia is packing up as she speaks. She’s surprised that this child has survived for so long, alone and out in the middle of nowhere. But she doesn’t have much more time to spare, and she has to keep moving to maintain her current pace. The child nods. Septhia sighs. “You’re alright now. Just stay out of trouble and you will survive.”Septhia finishes packing and begins her long trek down the nearest road, not looking back at the child. As she takes her first steps away from the clearing, she can hear soft footsteps padding behind her, near-silently and dutifully. Septhia smirks without looking back. She walks for hours, accompanied only by nature and the girl trailing behind her, until she reaches a nearby brook. She decides it’s time for a break and rests near the brook, setting up a campfire to cook. Before long, the crackling of flames echoes through the night, and the food is made. Septhia takes a bite and turns to the child — “Aren’t you going to eat?” — watching her scramble to claim her share of the meal. That’s all she gives for now — until more time has passed, and she grows accustomed to the company.“Limon.” She says one day. “That’s your name now.”From that point on, Septhia and Limon have stayed by each other's side, bonding just like a mother and a daughter would. As years go on, Septhia teaches Limon many skills, while Limon assists her on her adventures in return. However, despite all that Septhia has taught her, she has set one ground rule: Limon is to never participate in combat.『••✎••』
Septhia is an ambitious woman who wants to leave her mark on this world. With Limon as her dedicated assistant, she begins her career as the leader of a small-time crime group named Crimson Velvet. She starts up the organisation by initially gathering groups of skilled misfits to join her cause. These groups do contract work for people who can afford their services, which include but are not limited to assassinations, espionage, and thievery. As their leader, Septhia develops Crimson Velvet to be a multifaceted organisation, training members with a diverse set of skills to assist in missions.Over time, Crimson Velvet flourishes under Septhia’s relentless ambition and dedication, steadily amassing wealth and influence. The group evolves into a sprawling, guild-like organization, operating as an independent urban empire. Though Crimson Velvet doesn’t own much land, they own a building named Velvet Citadel that serves as their headquarters. Within its walls, all critical work is conducted, allowing the organization to maintain control over key trades, industry secrets, and its expanding influence. Septhia’s growing fascination with intricate jewelry begins to shape Crimson Velvet’s direction. Her obsession with acquiring rare treasures gradually becomes a core aspect of the guild’s operations. This interest seeps into Crimson Velvet’s operations, and the high-society guild begins to specialize in acquiring and selling rare jewels to the wealthy, while also offering business opportunities to various merchants.Behind the scenes, Crimson Velvet is much more than a jewellery empire despite the front the organisation puts up to veil their true operations from the public eye. They also run an underground branch with elite members who steal from corrupted nobles, treasure hunters, and scholars — individuals who possess valuable artifacts or knowledge. These members are tasked to find these artifacts by all means necessary; sometimes they purchase them with large sums of money, sometimes they resort to theft. In extreme cases, these missions involve venturing into dangerous territories to secure these valuable items, all to feed Septhia’s obsession with rare jewels and forbidden knowledge.Crimson Velvet’s other operations encompass spying on influential figures like wealthy nobles and leaders of other major organisations. Septhia’s subordinates gather intel on activity brewing in the shadows and investigate their trade routes. Sometimes, they trade valuable information for a price paid by rival parties. Crimson Velvet still accepts assassination missions, but these are now rare affairs only conducted on key targets that threaten the organisation’s power and influence. However, assassinations are left to extreme cases — initially, members of Crimson Velvet will first blackmail these rivals to persuade them to obey their orders. If they disobey, they will be hunted down and killed.Moreover, Crimson Velvet pays many spies to integrate with other merchandise guilds who work in similar markets. They gather rare and illegal items such as stolen artifacts and forbidden antiques with supernatural properties. Their influence eventually encompasses the jewel trading industry, and now the organisation has a monopoly over the system as most people are under their influence. On occasion, Crimson Velvet produces their own jewellery with the loot they acquire from expeditions. With such influence, Septhia ensures to maintain the organisation’s reputation in the public eye by hosting affluent events and galas to prove that they are a well-established trading empire with many connections, conducting only respectful work. Crimson Velvet holds political influence in the area, manipulating nobles and authority figures to protect the guild at all costs.One day, Septhia leaves Crimson Velvet on an expedition to search for a new jewel she has her eyes on. . She returns with a stunning gemstone, unlike anything she’s ever encountered — a relic she discovered deep within the ruins of an ancient temple. She is unsure about its origins, but she can feel a connection to it and starts wearing it around her neck. However, a rival organisation decides to seize the opportunity of her absence to kidnap Limon, holding her hostage to demand a meeting with Septhia. Upon her return, Septhia is informed of the kidnapping. She agrees to the terms and conditions, going alone to meet with the head of the rival guild. They meet in the ruins of a decaying, abandoned cathedral which is shrouded in shadows, and as soon as Septhia steps into the area she notices Limon tied to the front of the altar, back pressing against the stone, with two subordinates surrounding her. She isn’t injured, but she is clearly fearing for her life.Septhia gets straight to the point. “What do you want?” She asks the head of the rival guild, a hand resting on her weapon.“Crimson Velvet has been stirring up too much trouble within the sphere,” he smirks, cocking a gun in Limon’s direction, “surrender yourself and everything you've built, or your precious little assistant will pay the price. Resist, and I'll make sure she never breathes again.”Septhia raises an eyebrow. “If you think I would comply this easily, you’re wrong—”The resounding gunshot hits Limon’s thigh and she screams, curling into herself in pain. “Limon!” A drop of sweat rolls down the side of Septhia’s face. She moves towards the rival leader, but as soon as she starts walking, she is ambushed by other subordinates hiding within the shadows of the cathedral. They shoot at her from all sides, forcing her down to the ground. She collapses, blood pooling under her, gushing from the multiple bullet wounds piercing through her body. She gasps for air, struggling to her feet, but her energy is almost fully drained, and no matter how hard she tries to find her grip on the ground, she can’t.The jewel around Septhia’s neck is coated with her blood. The gemstone, an ancient artifact she uncovered on her previous expedition, begins to glow with a sinister light, reacting to her blood as if awakening from a long slumber. The atmosphere is flooded with darkness from Septhia’s body as the jewel pulses with a dark red glow. In the process, her breathing grows shallower with every second, and her vision distorts as the jewel glows brighter than before.A shockwave courses through her. Septhia screams in agony, her head forced all the way back, baring her neck as she writhes and jolts on the ground. She is consumed by the light of the jewel, which muffles her screams as they fade into nothingness. She is no longer visible, obscured by both light and darkness. The rival leader has a hand on his weapon as he signals for his subordinates to be on standby. They obey, eyeing each other with concern.When the light fades, they see an ominous figure looming before them in the darkness as the shadows dissipate, revealing a foreign figure that resembles Septhia, but is distinctly not her. Her presence is magnetic, exuding a sultry yet menacing aura. Her movements are fluid, deliberate, and dangerously alluring. Midnight-black horns curl from her temples, her eyes now sharp and slit-pupiled, gleaming with a predatory hunger. Her arms, from hands to halfway to her elbows, are adorned with sleek, sharp demonic claws, gleaming with a deadly edge and emanating an oppressive dark energy.Limon asks, terrified. “Septhia?”“Septhia… she’s sleeping now,” the woman looks at Limon, offering her a grim smile. “You may call me Septomoria.”“What—what are you?” The rival leader stammers, eyeing Septomoria with apprehension and a hint of fear.Septomoria turns to look at the leader without a word. She raises her hand — now claws — and in a flash everyone in the rival guild is cleaved into segments, blood splattering all over the walls. Their bodies fall to the ground in unison, severed limbs oozing blood as they twitch with the final remnants of life. Septomoria approaches the altar and cuts the ropes binding Limon with another flick of her claws. Limon collapses onto the stone floor, gazing at Septomoria with wide, terrified eyes.“Do not be afraid of me.” Septomoria says, but before she can say anything more, she collapses right in front of Limon, turning back into Septhia. Miraculously, all her injuries are healed, without neither a trace nor a scar to prove that she almost died. The jewel around her neck dims, its power having run its course. Yet, the transformation it catalysed has left a lasting mark, Septhia will never be the same. From this moment on, a shadow lingers within her, waiting for moments of desperation to seize control once more.『••✎••』Septhia has not felt any trace of Septomoria in a year, whether it be within her or out of her. But lately, she’s been hearing the demon’s voice echoing in her head. Concerned for the wellbeing of Crimson Velvet and her own stability, she decides to confront Septomoria directly. Their interactions are somewhat hostile at first, but their relationship eventually mellows out into a mutual agreement between them. Under the conditions they have established, Septomoria can take over Septhia’s body at night, should she desire. As they grow to respect one another, they come to understand that they are not separate beings, but two halves of a whole — Septhia is Septomoria, and Septomoria is Septhia, bound together as one. Septhia maintains control over the day while Septomoria is free to act as she pleases during the nighttime.Septomoria now has her own throne room in the Velvet Citadel — on her throne, half of a symbol is etched into the stone. The other half is in Septhia’s seat, forming a single image when joined. A subtle reminder of the power that binds, yet separates, the two.