Quick note up ahead: there are some spoilers to Dark Souls in this, major spoilers for Fairy Tail, and AU elements to the latter. Though that is mainly me improving or changing the... lacking parts of its plot and filling some holes.
The flame burned bright, an end and a beginning.
Then from the dark they came, and found the souls of Lords within the flame.
With the strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons for dominion of an unformed world. From this first spark sprang forth the age of fire. Yet without the betrayal of Seath the Scaleless, it may have never been. An Everlasting Dragon working with the gods to tear his kin from the heavens, forever brandished as traitor and lauded by their slayers.
Alas, that was history, however ancient it may be; one could not quite tell the passage of time in this frozen realm. Snowfall covered distant valleys in a white blanket, though it lay empty near the unseen walls. Derelict suspension bridges harbored the only entrance, leading up to a fortress cresting the central mountain peak. Dozens of feet had disturbed the snow here, bare or armorclad; wingbeats announced predators sailing by, thin humanoids bearing black wings and razor sharp beaks.
Through this serenity strolled grace, beauty crafted into eternal marble. Covered in ivory fur thick enough to be mistaken for cloth, her bare feat left tracks several times the size of any other resident. A thick tail emerged from the fur, idly swaying with her gait; amber eyes gazed at the world, their pupils slitted.
She came to a halt when the muted sound of scrabbling feet reached her ears; a barely clothed body approached, empty eye-sockets pointed straight at the larger woman. Her frame was emaciated, nearly empty of blood and devoid of skin, a living mummy more than a person. The human woman waved a chipped steel sword, mindlessly shambling ahead as instinct drove her to attack. The woman in white sighed imperceptibly before raising an ebony scythe; her assailant did not react to the fearsome display. A surge of draconic might ran through the weapon as it swung, the sound of displaced air followed by a thud.
"Another taken by the Darksign," Priscilla murmured, standing vigil as the Hollow bled her final drops of blood from where she was bisected. "May thou rest peacefully, now." The undead did not reform to rise again, for the dark hole previously marking her chest had flickered out. Others watched the proceedings from a distance, humans and monsters both; no one objected when Priscilla gathered the human's halves in one hand and her meagre possessions in the other.
Taking a detour to the outer wall, she gently deposited the corpse in a dedicated pit; several crow people floated down to inspect their next meal, the closest of which received gentle pats. A few appreciative croaks sounded while another took the remaining clothes and weapon off her hands. Priscilla did not much care what happened to them from then on. A blast of arctic cold froze the blood and grime on her hands, which she then brushed off before continuing her stroll.
The many actual crows cawed at her as she passed. Soon enough, she was weighed down by tiny bodies as they landed on her shoulders. Smiling indulgently, Priscilla settled down and let them pick crumbs of dirt from her fur. They shuffled around until they were satisfied with her, allowing careful pets by fingers larger than their heads. Other undead stumbled by, awkwardly greeting her with bows or a few words; she inclined her head at each one with a faint smile, content that only one had hollowed entirely. They were banished just like her, or sought shelter in the world the painter god Ariamis made. They were welcome to stay.
After several hours, Priscilla once again traversed the stone bridge leading to her tower; it guarded the only exit, with her being the gatekeeper. Though she understood how to leave the painted world an age ago, she had since stayed. There was nothing beyond its walls for her. Rather, Priscilla saw off those who wished to leave with a smile and a bid of good luck. Few ever went, for proper death was too enticing a prospect. No one but her could administer it to the undead, so many braved the isolation they abhorred.
Settling down with her legs arranged sideways, Priscilla wound her tail around herself and began to watch the unchanging snowfall for a time. Her mind was calm and at peace, Priscilla likely the happiest of all beings in this forsaken land.
A year passed like this; the unchanging sky and weather accomodated her serenity, the only sign of activity an occasional breeze playing with Priscilla's fur. She sat motionless, eyes staring ahead unblinking. Her mind moved beyond the realm of words, slumber, and waking alike. A moment of eternity passed as she immersed herself in her birthright.
Then, all of a sudden, her tranquil world shattered. The dark skies became bright red and shudders ran through the air. Pure power erupted in front of Priscilla, the dragon flinching back and making to stand; a sudden vortex aborted the motion, lifting her off the ground before she could get her bearings. She barely managed to snatch her scythe and frantically hooked it around a dilapidated windowframe. Its blade cut through the stone without so much as slowing. Whirling through the air, Priscilla screamed as the sky swallowed her; everything became dark and her senses were assaulted by alien powers. She fell, up and down at the same time.
It was but a moment of utter disorientation, followed by surprise when something eerily familiar blurred past in the other direction. It carried the scent of fire that made her blood boil in instinctual rage; that moment, too, passed as fear and worry wormed their way back to the forefront. Priscilla whimpered through her endless fall, only for it to end as suddenly as it began. There was light.
She landed hard on loose earth, momentum driving a tear into the ground as her fur was stained brown. Impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her a heaving mess.
Once her recovered, Priscilla lay silently, face buried in soil. Her scythe clattered on the ground as she slowly rolled over and stared at the canopy above; undisturbed, as if half a ton of dragon did not just arrive violently. The air was oddly rich and dirt clung between the scales on her forehead.
Moments later, a soft caw distracted her from the irritating sensation; Priscilla stood slowly and took in her surroundings, but found herself alone with exception of a single crow. It watched from a nearby tree, meeting her gaze at eye level. She reached out hesitantly. The bird snuggled against her finger without hesitation, which calmed her somewhat. It then hopped onto the offered digit with another caw. Priscilla pet it absently. The motion calmed her racing heart and anxiety. She left the painting; or rather, someone or something tore her from it. It made no sense.
Bidding the crow to take distance, she carefully cleaned her fur again by freezing the dirt solid and picking clumps out of it; her feathered companion immediately moved to assist on her back. During the mindless work, Priscilla took stock of her situation; the light was different here, brighter than at home. It felt like actual sunlight where it broke through the foliage. Trees surrounded her, their leaves vibrant as they formed a thick canopy. A forest, the very first she ever beheld. Some anxiety returned with that observation; Priscilla had no idea where she ended up. The scents were unlike anything she ever smelled before, the trees were unfamiliar, and there was an actual sky. A world without boundaries or limits, it made her want to dig a hole and hide in it. Although draconic pride would not let her follow such impulses, it could merely dull the worry, not disperse it.
Once done with her fur, she quickly picked up her scythe; the familiar feeling grounded Priscilla and she reflexively moved her tail. The dagger she always carried was still there too, instinctively squeezed between her tail's base and back. It made her relax further, knowing she had something familiar in these unfamiliar circumstances.
After a time spent studying her surroundings, bereft of life for all native critters fled her presence, Priscilla began to walk. The crow rode on her shoulder, its presence silently appreciated.
Her quest for a way back met with failure; in fact, she found nothing and no one in the sprawling woodland. Before she knew it, the bright light dimmed and faded entirely. Priscilla could still see as her eyes cared naught for a lack of illumination, yet a part of her feared the night regardless. The irony of an Everlasting Dragon being afraid was not lost on her, but the steady undercurrent of anxiety carried any amusement away. Priscilla fell still, hoping that dawn would come in time; her crow friend made a nest in her fur to roost, cawing once more as if to reassure her. Her lips twitched into a faint smile before she turned invisible, decision made to wait for daybreak.
Meanwhile, Priscilla's mind raced as she tried to figure out a way home; she wanted to go back to her serene isolation, undisturbed by any worldly matters. In her developing trance, she even missed the first light of dawn.
Despite her experience thus far, the forest was not deserted; quite the contrary, in fact. Life settled back in at the perceived absence of a potential predator. Only to stir once again when another, equally as terrifying being stalked the area in search of herbs. Clad in a crimson coat whose high collar ran out in tooth-like protrusions, an old human woman marched with practiced ease. Wrinkles born from decades of frowns and sneers had dug deep into her expression, underlining her piercing red eyes. Dull, dark pink hair crowned her head, bound into a tight bun with but two strands freed to frame her face.
The elder's gait was purposeful and strong; that was, until she noticed a giant footprint she knew had not been there the previous day. Large enough to fit either of her boots at least four times. Another sneer worked its way onto her features.
"Gods damn you, Makarov;" she quietly cursed at no one, "you have been doing this for thirty years and it hasn't been funny just as long. How immature can you be? Can we not go two months without ominous footprints?" Her reflexive anger faded somewhat when, just before she dismissed the matter, it occurred to old Polyushka that these were not imprints of boots, but of naked feet. Moreover, they stopped just before where she stood. As if whoever made them took flight right there; a glance to the untouched canopy told her to discard that option.
Then a single caw drew the elder's attention upward, where a crow peered down at her; it sat in mid-air, which told Polyushka all she needed to know. Once she clearly noticed the bird, it took wing and left her with whatever visitor there may be. Polyushka sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "That better not be you, Makarov. If you learned invisibility just for another stupid prank, I will personally mix laxatives into every drink you have for the rest of your life."
Yet no matter how much she cussed, Polyushka knew it was not him; Makarov did not know any such magic and was rarely inclined to learn something new at over eighty years old. Before her stood an invisible giant who had yet to react to her presence. Carefully reaching out toward the footprint's position, her hand quickly sunk into some kind of unkempt yet silky material. Whatever it was, Polyushka grabbed it tightly and pulled with all the force in her aging body. A feminine gasp sounded from above and she let go.
This was followed by a quiet rush of displaced air before a new footprint appeared two metres distant. The occurence repeated when Polyushka thoughtlessly made to follow; she managed to hear a faint rustling this time, though. Straining her ears further, she barely noticed soft breathing that the forest's ambient noise hid thus far.
However, as her patience with the phenomenon waned and she remembered this was, in fact, a person, she transitioned into a glare. "Stop playing games and reveal yourself already!" she snapped at the intruder. "Who are you, what are you doing in my forest?"
Nothing happened at first; the silence remained long enough that she already made to rant further, but a soft, meek voice began to roll through the twilight before she could: "Apologies, fair dame, I was unaware this be thy demesne. Wouldst thou find it in thy heart to forgive mine transgression? 'twas a blunder most involuntary, I assure thee."
Her scowl faded in favour of abject confusion. Polyushka stared into the air, trying to parse that sentence; she barely managed by the time the unknown woman continued: "I find myself abroad and bereft of familiar landmarks. Wereth thou willing to provide directions, I shall avaunt at once."
She slowly put down her basket, freeing both hands to rub her temples; it was too early for that kind of nonsense. Halfway between annoyed and resigned, the elder could not muster much heat for her response: "Show yourself."
The stranger complied this time, appearing from one moment to the next; despite being prepared, Polyushka was bewildered nonetheless. Her surprise then persisted due to the sight itself; a woman clad in thick, silvery furs of an animal she could not name. The giant scythe she held casually gave Polyushka pause, but there was not even a hint of aggression in her posture; in fact, she seemed to shy away even though the human woman had to crane her neck for eye contact. A pushover then, or someone delicate; neither of which she was ready or willing to deal with.
Seeing that the stranger wilted visibly under her prolonged stare, a stray branch poking the back of her head and tangling itself in her snow white hair, Polyushka rallied the tiny bit of compassion in her old heart and forced her expression to soften. Results were mixed at best. "I am not angry, I just don't like people. You did nothing wrong." The giantess relaxed notably, meaning she was doing well enough. "So, to clarify: You don't know how to get out of the forest?"
"Y-Yes."
"Then how did you get here?" Her question came out a bit sharper than intended, but there was no adverse reaction this time. The girl, and Polyushka could not think of someone this meek as a woman, hesitated.
"I doth not know. Matters of the arcane befell mine home, tearing myself away and into thy demesne."
"I see. Magic, then." By herself, she figured this one must be far from home. The way she spoke was difficult to follow at best, though she could infer enough from the parts she did know. After pondering the issue for a minute, she heaved another sigh. "Follow."
Polyushka began to walk, her social battery exhausted to the point she did not even check if she was followed. Not that she really had to, considering how the girl's feet audibly sunk into the ground with every step. The branch that tangled in her hair earlier broke off, then was idly pulled out of its prison and discarded. They walked the forest without issue, it being familiar to the elder after living in it for decades. And if nothing else, Polyushka could at least appreciate that her mystery visitor did not speak needlessly; she followed as softly as possible, barely audible despite her size.
Half an our passed in silence before they reached the forest's edge; once the canopy broke up and only singular trees covered the path ahead, one could see a city not far distant. Sturdy stone structures grasped several stories high, making for an imposing sight even at a distance. Polyushka pointed at it, idly noting how the girl squinted against the direct sunlight. "This is Magnolia. Go there, the wizard guild Fairy Tail can probably help you find the way home. Just ask for directions if you can't find it, it's the most gaudy building in town."
The stranger stared as if she never saw a city before, lips moving silently. Moments passed like this, then she bowed her head. "Thou art most kind, fair dame. Thou have mine gratitude."
Polyushka waved her off and brusquely turned around. "Yes, yes. Now get going."
And she shuffled away. Polyushka snuck a glance after a few steps, but found no trace of her; only a trail of footprints slowly meandering toward Magnolia. She huffed, shook her head, and continued to walk. This was not her problem anymore.
Meanwhile, Priscilla had halted her approach to once again squint at the massive city. The sun shone brightly, which she took to meaning that Lord Gwyn was still in good health. Once her eyes adjusted, she studied her destination, noting it to be easily twenty times her homely fort's size. The buzz of countless voices reached even the place she stood, yet unseen. Priscilla did not quite want to reveal herself again; while the lady of the woods did not have much of a reaction, she could hardly fathom an abomination such as herself being welcome among the residents.
Only now did she realise that the human never gave her name, and neither did she. Then again, did it matter? Priscilla chased the question away and wondered whether she could just move toward the countryside. If she sought Anor Londo of her own devices, she ought to find it eventually; then again, the gods would not tolerate her presence outside the painting. Which led her attention back to Magnolia. A part of her demanded she march in and challenge the people with her presence, slaughter them if they objected. Priscilla ignored that part with practiced ease, rather listening to the one that was truly her and not racial instinct; by herself, she did not expect a warm welcome. She hoped for acceptance, though; it had been a long time since her banishment, perhaps things changed.
Ever so slowly, her feet began to move again. Invisibility faded away as she approached the town, finding a well maintained stone road to wander on; going by its size, she assumed that to be the main road while passing between the first buildings. Priscilla took careful steps, intimately aware of the many stares her appearance gathered; being over six metres tall where even the largest human barely passed two did its part in that. Thankfully, there were no terrified screams or attacks; some tiny humans pointed at her with bright eyes, but normal-sized ones dragged them away.
Once it became clear the inhabitants were more curious than afraid, Priscilla's tension faded somewhat. She allowed herself to be distracted by the surrounding splendor. Magnolia was like a new world entirely, filled with more people than she ever saw in one place. Well-crafted stone and wood buildings lined every street, ranging from properly built shops to living quarters; many a road followed channels of clear water on which boats carried loads across town. They fed back into the bay Magnolia was built at. Tiny humans congregated around more exotically garbed individuals in the streets, shrieking and laughing about tricks they performed. She never heard anyone or anything
shriek in delight before.
Priscilla wandered the streets aimlessly, uncertain where to go and uncomfortable at the thought of interrupting any humans; they all appeared so busy, always moving and in need of being places. She did listen to their conversations however, soaking up whatever the locals were interested in; some terms were quite strange to her ears, yet now that her nerves settled, Priscilla realised that the forest-dwelling human had been confused by her way of speaking also. So for her first hour or two, she adopted the local idioms as best as she could. It would be put to the test sooner than she expected.
"Do you need help?"
The question tore her from wandering and observing. Priscilla glanced around the ground, but found no one nearby.
"Up here!"
Raising her eyes, she spotted a human woman sitting on a rooftop, kicking her bare feet. A light pink dress ran down her entire body, fastened to her neck by a red ribbon. Luscious, pale blonde locks ran down her back like a river, their tips pooling on the roof around her. She appeared somewhere in-between regular size and the tiny ones, with a bright smile and brighter, green eyes.
Surprised, Priscilla needed a moment to gather her bearings. "Indeed, I...." She trailed off in an uncomfortable pause, sorting through the new vocabulary. "Um, I seek a place called 'Fairy Tail'? Doth thou, ah, do you know the way?"
If the stranger was bothered by her anxiety, she did not show it. If anything, her smile grew a size. "Of course!" she responded cheerfully and made to point. "You follow the main road thataway, then turn left at the crossroads over there. You can see it from here, actually. Up there, the large building. That's the guild hall."
And it was true, Priscilla could see an imposing as well as gaudy building from where she stood. The large cathedral sitting toward Magnolia's center had been her only other candidate, though she doubted it before already. She knew cathedrals. "Oh, I see. Thank you kindly. May I ask thy-" She turned back, but the human was gone. "-name....?"
After a confused glance at her surroundings that yielded no trace of her mysterious helper, Priscilla put the matter aside and followed the instructions given. She grew a smidgen more confident as she walked the streets; people gave her enough space to walk and even minded the tail, some even waved at her. In those cases, she waved back shily.
The guild hall soon arrived before her, larger than most buildings in town bar the cathedral she noticed earlier. Priscilla studied it for a minute, noting the large sign she could not read, and a guild mark heralding its affiliation; this one reminded her of a bird riding an arrow downward, if more abstract. It was held in a bright crimson. The doors stood wide open, allowing laughter and conversation to carry outside.
This was when another issue presented itself: the gate only reached Priscilla's belly. She crouched to peer inside, but even that yielded precious little, making her wonder how to enter.
For the second time in an hour however, someone took notice of her predicament and spoke up: "Need some help?" The question drew her gaze to a male human with spiky, orange hair. He was clad in dark pants and an orange shirt, over which a leaf green jacket sat. His glasses glinted in the sunlight while he waited for Priscilla's response, wearing an easy smile that she returned tentatively.
"Indeed I do, kind sir. Yonder building, is this Fairy Tail?"
In her relief, she completely missed the confused blink about her phrasing. The man nodded slowly. "Sure is. Why don't you come in?"
"Um, I would. However...."
She motioned for herself, which visibly confused him. "Can't you just shrink back down?"
"Pardon?"
"Uh... I mean, you're using body alteration magic, right? For the tail and everything?"
Now it was her getting confused; the suggestion appeared to make sense to him, but she never heard of such among the soul arts. "Tis not magic I ever witnessed, much less learned."
The human stared up at her for a long moment. His gaze wandered down her body, befuddled. "Wow. Okay, uh, that could be a problem." He paused to consider and took a few quick steps to peer inside, nodding to himself. "The ceiling is a lot higher, so you can probably stand inside. Just, you just need to get through the door."
Priscilla glanced between him and the door, then back. Heaving a troubled sigh and mumbling about the indignity of it, she bent down to finally receive her first real sight of the guild hall. No one obstructed the entrance once the man moved aside, at least. Small mercies. Clutching her scythe in one hand, Priscilla crawled into the building, well aware of the momentary silence; all conversations halted as people watched her entrance, though they quickly returned to their own matters. She rose as soon as she was through the door, thankful for a high ceiling. There were at least another two metres of space, allowing her some comfort.
The immediate issue settled, she took in the room; it was warmer inside as dozens of people ate, drank, spoke and laughed, or played cards on one particular table. They were dressed in a variety of colours and cheerfully displayed various kinds of magic to each other. Even though she towered over the room, no one seemed to think much of it.
As the atmosphere washed over her, Priscilla's attention was drawn by the people with the cards; they sat closest to the entrance, surrounded by a small crowd that watched a clearly female human turn them around one after another. The images meant nothing to her, though they certainly held some kind of gravity to the buxom brunette slapping the table. "See!" she slurred, paused to down her entire tankard, then slapped the table again. "It's been like this all day! Death reversed, Emperor reversed, Wheel of Fortune reversed! This just can't be right, drawing only major arcana and only in reverse. It's like the world's going to end!"
"Maybe your magic just fails?" a blunette commented from the small crowd, one finger on her lip as she studied the cards. "Fortunetelling was never all that precise, right?"
Her comment earned a stink eye and a soft bat to her shoulder, which transitioned into a wave. "Levy, sweetie, magic doesn't just
fail for no reason. I've drawn about every bad constellation of major arcana and that's got to mean something." A certain tension rose with the brunette's insistence, though Levy did not appear convinced.
"Well," a white-haired woman interjected as she passed by, carrying three plates at once on her arms, "no one can see the future in detail. Maybe Natsu did something silly and changed fate forever, and now it has a headache."
She chuckled and twirled away, askance stares following her. Cana mutely shook her head, just as Priscilla decided this line of conversation made little sense to her. A weak pressure against her leg brought someone else back to mind; he leaned against her while looking like he had a religious experience. His unintelligible mutterings faded when Priscilla addressed him: "Art thou alright?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah." A whispered "so marvelous" was lost to her and he shook his head, then waved over the barmaid. "Hey, Mira. Is the master around?"
Now that she treaded nearby, Priscilla took notice of her charming, wine red dress and kind disposition. The woman smiled just as easily as everyone else seemed to, shaking her head in response. "Afraid not. Friend of yours, Loke?"
"Nah, we just met. She wanted to come here for some reason and had some trouble getting in." He trailed off at that point, gaze growing distant again until Mira snapped a finger in front of his face. "Oh, sorry. Anyway, I don't know what you need, but Mirajane here can probably help you. If not her, then Master Makarov."
Priscilla inclined her head in greeting, somewhat surprised that the woman before her did not seem the least bit intimidated by their size disparity. Rather, she beamed up at her. "I can't say if we can help just yet, but I can certainly try! What do you need?"
Others became attentive as she spoke, following their conversation while Priscilla pondered how to relay her issue best. "I seeketh, er, seek guidance more than anything. I find myself far from home. Doth thou, ah, do you know which way Lordran lies? Or Anor Londo, perchance?"
Mira's eyebrow scrunched as she pondered the question. Unfortunately, she ultimately shook her head. "I am sorry, but I don't think I ever heard either of these names before. Did anyone else?" A quick round of no's followed from the people around them, which made Priscilla deflate. Mira comfortingly patted her knee. "Again, sorry. But if you're that far out, did you find the guildhall by chance?"
"Not quite," she returned hesitantly. "A kind lady told me to come here."
"Oh? Anyone I know?"
"I doth not know. Her claim lies on the nearby greenwoods." She motioned in the direction she believed the area to be and Mira mulled it over.
Before she could respond however, another woman snorted and bent over in laughter. "Ahaha, P-Polyushka?! You met the old crone and say she's kind!?" She kept laughing throughout, drawing chuckles out others. "This is the best joke I heard all year!"
"Shush, Laki," Mira admonished the purplette. "Granny is nice enough if you don't bother her too much. And our visitor is a polite one. Actually, what's your name? I'm Mirajane."
"I am Priscilla, and I am grateful for your kindness."
They exchanged smiles, one bright, one still somewhat hesitant. Mirajane studied her for another moment, humming to herself. "Say, Priscilla. Do you have a place to stay, or something to do until you find a way home?"
"Not as such, though I shan't be without clues for long."
"Hm. One more question then: are there people missing you, wherever your home is? Anyone waiting for you?"
This one brought her to think. Priscilla lived all her life in an ethereal prison, populated by crows and the forsaken who hoped for salvation from eternal torment. They would miss her, if not for her own sake. Hesitantly, she shook her head. "...I do not think so. But it was always so tranquil."
Mirajane nodded in response. "How about you join Fairy Tail instead?" she proposed gently, much to Priscilla's shock. "A life lived alone is not worth living, in my opinion. And even if you rather leave later, we can help you along the way."
An unknown kind of warmth surged through her entire being, constricting her throat with never felt joy. Such kindness from virtual strangers, offering her a place to belong where no one ever wanted her before. Priscilla nodded mutely and Mira's smile grew two sizes. Neither woman paid attention to Cana's exclamation in that eternal moment, for the Death in front of her flipped itself upside down. Upon checking the card, a flummoxed Cana found The World instead.