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theaurorfileshq · 4 years

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C A S S A N D R A A S T O R - R E Y E S / A U R O R S E R G E A N T

AGE: Thirty

BADGE NUMBER: S01B24

BLOODSTATUS: Pureblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: Eyebrow scar, walks with a slight limp and aided by a cane.

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Excels in Defence Against The Dark Arts/Uncomfortable knowledge of the Dark Arts in general, can resist the imperious curse, strong moral compass and a heart of gold.

(-): A tendency to hold back from using destructive spells even if doing so puts her at risk, legitimately desperate for approval from authority figures, inability to produce a patronus.

BACKGROUND:

–– In her younger years she feels like a shadow incarnate. A ghostly slip of a thing in a family of ghoulish, graceful monsters. Cassandra is the youngest of four, and the only girl in the family. There is not a day that goes by where she doesn’t know her place. The Astor-Reyes family are traditionalists to the core. Her mother teaches her the rules with a deceitful gentleness. Little girls should be seen and not heard. Little girls should stay out of the way. Little girls need to do whatever their father and brothers tell them. Even when she was small, she knew the foolishness of it. Cassandra was far too hungry a thing to sit still and pretty while her brothers worked. Like all shadows, she longed to come into the light and swallow it whole.

–– She proves herself a prodigy from a young age. Her magic comes out early, unbound and unrestrained. It’s clear to all that little Cassandra is a power-house. A forest fire in a pretty dress, a scorching blaze with very polite table manners. In the early days, before she learns how to focus herself, her magic almost sparks and crackles with its fury. She still remembers the day her father leans down to kiss her forehead and whispers “you’re going to burn the world down, aren’t you, Cass?”

–– Despite it all, she still feels like a shadow. Her power, her raw talent, only get her so far in her father’s eyes. She is allowed to study from his books, secret and forbidden to so many others. He practices spells on her so that she will build a natural defence, so that she will know how to protect herself with magic and muscle memory. When she takes any real interest in his work, she is shut down. Business isn’t for little girls. When she tries to engage with her brothers on an equal playing field, she is pushed away. Experimental magic isn’t for little girls. They look at her with sharp eyes, predators in the making. They’re how Cassandra knows what monsters look like, she’ll reflect, a decade later.

–– Her grandfather never leaves the house. He is a reclusive soul, she thinks, with an edge of longing. Oh, how she would love to stay at home forever with books for company. He has an edge in his eyes, and he stares out the window for long hours at a time. Cassandra is his favourite, she knows, in the way children often do. He is more gentle with her than the others, he humours her more than anyone else, and drives her brothers away when they bother her or tease her. She asks him why he never ventures outside the gates of their garden, and he tells her that he is a trapped soul. He says it like a story, fairy tale slow and full of wonder. He has an enemy, you see. An enemy who outwitted him and bested him in battle. An enemy who feared his power. So her grandfather had to barter away magic and some small level of freedom in exchange for the chance to stay with his family. It seems awfully noble and romantic to Cassandra, but she won’t know for many years the extent of his thwarted dark deeds.

–– She didn’t realise that her family was strange until a couple of years into her schooling. She joins the Horned Serpent house without a second thought, and struggles to make friends even among her like-minded compatriots. People seemed to shy away from her at every turn, so she closed herself off in return. She focused on her books, and her grades, and the polite small talk she could make with those who knew her from before school began. Other noble, honoured pureblood families. She hears it whispered one day, after a talented display of hexes in her Defence class, far more advanced than anything the others could produce. ‘I bet she’s evil, like the rest of them.’

–– The Astor-Reyes family has a bad reputation, and she was foolish not to see it sooner. She didn’t realise she was wrong, to know the things she did. She didn’t realise she shouldn’t have studied the darkest of arts from an early age. She didn’t realise it was wrong to gaze into the abyss, and wish it would touch you in return. They all saw it as a thing that hurt. They didn’t know that the knowledge could be a powerful and rewarding thing. They didn’t know that it could be as gentle as a father’s kiss. It had never hurt her, she’d never seen it damage anything, not really.

–– At seventeen, she has the aura of a wispy, flighty thing. Delicate, darkly beautiful. Her family had a bad reputation, but all she’d been able to do was go with it. After school, she begs her father to let her help him in the family business. She understands now what he does, and that it isn’t strictly speaking legal. Yet she wants to help, regardless. He’s just a businessman. He gets things that people wants. He sells them. Trinkets and artefacts and treasures. It’s just stuff, she thinks, in her still teenaged brain. What are people going to do? Hurt themselves with it? Though she’s older, and undeniably the brightest of his children, he tells her no. She should be focusing on marriage, like a good little girl. She should find a husband and carry on the family line, in one way or another. For the next three years she entertains the ideas, entertains suitors and boyfriends and girlfriends. She has not great longing to be a wife to any of them, and shakes them off as best she can.

–– It’s a strange thing, to be willingly blind. To believe that you have honour when you know, deep in your heart, that something is very wrong. She gets the impression that her family is spiralling around a drain, that something too dark and too dangerous is creeping in. Her eldest brother is a dark shade of the man she used to know, frantic and cloying and obsessive to an extreme extent. He inherits control of everything, in the end, when her father is arrested for his crimes and locked away. She watches the auror squad come and take both Andre and him. Brother and father gone, a dwindling family left behind. She answers questions and feels the heavy judgement of their gazes. Micheal Astor-Reyes becomes the head of their family in a deft blow, and though he only lasts a matter of weeks in the role, she wishes it had been over quicker. Her brother is a cruel man, a foul beast. Experimental and half-crazed like a character in a no-maj novel, Frankenstein the doctor, or Frankenstein the monster –– one and the same, wrapped up in the visage of a man she tries very hard to love. She watches him, far too often, his words and his deeds. She watches and wonders: is this wrong? She wonders it often enough that the litany shifts without her notice, a resigned and shaky: this is wrong.

–– Micheal almost blows her up, in the end. Him and his experimental magic. She should have been wary when he let her into the room, when he asked her to act as witness to his greatest deeds. She knows that he could have easily killed her, down there in his lab. His necromantic obsessions, his fascination with death and how to best it. That kind of spell can do far more damage than it did to her, when it backfires. She knows it could have killed her –– it killed him, after all. She’d seen his burned out husk, seen what was left of him, twitching until he faded away. A great deed. She’d known she was hurt, but it didn’t occur to her that she ought to cry or to scream or to call out for help. All she’d wanted in the moment was to lay down and fall asleep.

–– They bury her brother in the family crypt, and it’s a mark of her own strength that she attends the ceremony. Fresh from her sick bed after two weeks of healing. Intensive as the attentions of her healers had been, Cassandra still feels weary. Bone tired. Achey inside and out. ‘Dark magic often leaves a profound mark on the psyche.’ She needs help to stand, her leg still healing far too slowly for anybody’s liking. The help takes the shape of her Grandfather for the extent of the day. He keeps her steady, somehow steadfast and strong even in his old age. Her mother sobs and weeps, wrapped up in her seemingly endless sorrow. It still doesn’t occur to Cassandra that she ought to cry. She plays picture perfect hostess next to her mother after the ceremony, shakes hand after hand, and accepts condolences she doesn’t want. She plasters on a grim smile, as sad as she can manage.

–– It’s only the three of them in the house, quite suddenly. Cassandra, her mother, and her grandfather. Andre and father will be locked up for a very long time. Micheal is dead. Alexander departed in the weeks after the funeral, galavanting around Europe in a desperate effort to make a name for himself divorced from the rest of his despicable family. Cassandra feels more like a ghost than ever. A broken thing, gripping the cane her mother gifted her as she strives towards independence. She lost her wand, during the accident. It snapped beneath her when she fell. She ought to get a new one, she knows –– but she isn’t ready to face the world, she isn’t ready for them to look at her, yet. She sits in the dusty, unused Drawing Room instead, and makes fitful attempts to master simple spells wandlessly. The ancestral portraits watch her in wry amusement, until one speaks up –– ‘You’re not going to get anywhere like that.’ It’s Cassandra, the elder Cassandra. A great aunt she’s never given much thought to. Grandfather had always described her in unflattering tones, far too priggish for his taste, a stoic and upstanding citizen. His distaste for her is why she was condemned to the old drawing room, rarely used even by her mother. ‘I do believe my old wand is somewhere in the attic, gathering dust. Go and fetch it so we may all cease watching you struggle like a foolish child.’

–– She thinks a lot about the elder Cassandra in the weeks that follow. Using her wand. Gazing at her portrait. Reading about her, however much there is, in the family records. She seemed more noble than anything else, to Cass’s young eyes. Never married. A patron of various charities. Master duelist and stalwart believer in duty and honour. She had been the one who turned her Grandfather in to the Auror’s, who condemned him to a life of imprisonment in his own home for his unholy deeds, condemned him to a life without a wand. Then, the elder Cassandra had died young. She has no proof to back the chilling hunch, but there is something in Cass certain that her death was far from natural.

–– She thinks a lot about honour. Right and wrong. What kind of person she wants to be. She thinks, and then she stops thinking at all and begins to act. She moves their hoard of dark artefacts and distasteful books up to the attic, out of sight and out of mind. She opens all the windows and lets the light in. Then, with steely determination, she applies to auror training. Her career begins in fits and starts, wary eyes following her everywhere she goes. Her name carries weight, her family’s bad reputation still at the forefront of everybody’s mind. She doesn’t cower from it, this time around. She holds her head high and promises herself she’ll never quit, that she’ll never stop trying.

–– Cassandra is a good Auror. It turns out that she has a talent for it, more than she’s ever had with anything else. She graduates from the Academy in New Orleans at the top of her class, after having worked herself to the bone. She felt the rush of the accomplishment, felt ready to dedicate herself mind body and soul to the job, with a newly crafted sturdy moral compass in her heart. A lot of people still don’t trust her, even after years on the job – they think the darkness will win out, that she’ll default back to it if the going gets tough. All she wants is to prove them wrong, once and for all. All Cassandra wants is to be good, to help people, to make a difference in this world. She knows she’s going to succeed.

#cassandra astor reyes #written by wren #aurorx

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gaasaku-fanfests · 6 years

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Desert Heart [Part I]

Title: Desert Heart Author: keltoi-oak Rating: T Word Count: 17886 Summary: Returning to his homeland in order to face the hardest trials of his life, Gaara encounters a water nymph who proves to be much more than she seems. Warnings: None Author's Note(s): AU/Fantasy. This threatened to turn into a multi-chapter monster, so I was forced to compress it into a three part fic. Managed to incorporate all the prompts. All in all, had a blast writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt chosen: chosen, survival, bells . (all three) Partner: thefreckledone

PART I

The deepest part of his being came alive.

Unrestrained and potent, it was a response he had no control over.

The harsh wind, the scorching sun, the biting feel of the sand as it scraped over every inch of exposed skin. It all triggered something within him that had long lain dormant, a visceral reaction that had his lips curling up in a smile.

Gaara was home.

The long years of wandering the world dissolved, as if time had stood still all along. All the strange and exotic sights he had encountered faded into the background, unable to compete with the view before him. The deep and constant feeling of not belonging ceased, unexpectedly sudden, and was replaced by profound certainty.

The desert made his heart sing and his soul fly.

It was a coming back to himself, a return that made him realize he had been living a half-lived life.

Standing on top of a tall crag, he overlooked the tall and endless dunes before him. As arid as the landscape seemed, its hidden energy thrummed with vitality in his perception, fuelling the exaltation pouring from deep within.

Outsiders might marvel at how people could actually live in what they considered barren land but desert dwellers knew different. Those who inhabited this wondrous realm of sand and rock were aware of the undercurrents of life everywhere. Because of the challenges to survival out here amidst the biting squalls and intense heat, one had to look beyond superficial appearances and discover what lay underneath. Adaptability and an open perspective were essential; inflexibility in one’s way of thinking would lead to death. Instead of standing against the relentless wind, it was best to bend to it and adjust. The dunes themselves personified this principle: grain by grain they shifted with the gales until their massive structures moved to new places.

It was imperative to blend, to flow; only by doing so would the sand and stone reveal their secrets.

Movement flickered out the corner of his eye. Gaara saw a lizard scurrying between boulders, moving with swiftness and ease on the scalding rock. It stopped and flicked its tongue in the air, its senses tuning in to its surroundings as it remained perfectly still. Grey scales glinted in the sunlight a moment later as the reptile squeezed with ease between a stone and a brittle bush, disappearing from view.

A full grin on his lips, Gaara followed the lizard’s example. It was best to take a moment to connect to one’s environment before deciding on a course of action.

He turned towards the open landscape once more and closed his eyes. Letting his inner barriers drop, he allowed his chakra to unfold, free of restraint.

And the entire desert answered.

It began to pulsate in response; the sand, the rocks, the plants, the animals, and even the air. All seemed to stop for a breath only to turn their full attention in his direction. Vibrating as it came into sync with his chakra, the entire desert zoned in on Gaara. It brought with it a barrage of sensations: the thirst of cacti roots, the slow breath of slumbering jack rabbits, the accumulated heat of the rocks, the flight of sand in the breeze. An overabundance of stimuli flooded him and he felt it all simultaneously.

For someone with lesser training, the response would have been overwhelming. It would be easy to lose one’s self in the consciousness of the surrounding environment, easy to be pulled in completely and forget one’s body and mind. Treating the land with respect was the prudent thing to do.

Instead, Gaara released his chakra even more and drank it all in, allowed the desert to flood his consciousness fully.

How he had missed it.

The energy swept up, surrounded him, pulsated in tandem until it matched the beat of his heart. The rocks vibrated while the sand lifted to dance around him, all in a single rhythm. Gaara spread his awareness as far as it could go, allowing himself free rein for the first time in what seemed an eternity. Indulging, he relished in the sensation of being one with the desert.

It was the welcome he had dreamed of and more. It was a relief to realize that his synergy with the desert had not diminished in the least; as a matter of fact, it seemed enhanced. Every single cell in his body seemed to tap into the vitality of the environs and respond in kind. His long years of chakra training had fine-tuned his powers, allowing him to savour every sensation the desert threw at him. He could now discern the small details within the desert’s awareness, he could latch his focus unto what he chose and filter out the rest if he wanted.

Gaara had come a long way since those childhood days when it was the sand doing it all. He keenly remembered the first time it had cocooned around his body in order to protect him. It had happened spontaneously, with no effort of his part. Years had passed before he realized he could command the sand to do his bidding.

What a wake-up call that moment had been for those who were opposed to his existence.

Annoyance coiled in his solar plexus for a moment at the memory, dampening his enthusiasm somewhat. But it was not long lived. As was its tendency, the desert responded to his mood and a tendril of sand detached itself from the swirls surrounding him only to sweep through his hair in a playful stroke. The irritation evaporated instantly and he reminded himself of who he was now.

The rejected child unable to control his own power was long gone.

In his place stood a man in full command of his abilities, one who had returned to his homeland in order to claim his birth right to rule.

The desert pulsed in agreement.

Smiling once more, Gaara pulled back into himself slowly, allowing his connection with the surrounding landscape to diminish gradually. Opening his eyes, the colours all around him seemed more vibrant than before, his senses keener. He stood there and took in the view a while longer, his eyes sharp and alert for any movement among the dunes.

He knew well the others would have felt his chakra emanation. It was impossible for anyone with any kind of energetic sensibility in the area to remain oblivious to his display. Luckily, Gaara was completely past caring at this point. If the other participants had volunteered for the trials, they had to be aware of the risks. It was only fair he give them fair warning of who they were up against.

After all, the title of Chieftain could only be claimed by one.

Kneeling down, Gaara rummaged through his pack for one of his canteens and took a long drink. It was time to replenish his supply and the desert had provided the information he needed. One of the advantages of being able to commune with the environs was knowing exactly where water could be found. He had tuned into the sound of a trickling stream coming out from under the ground somewhere north-east from where he was standing. It was well-worth exploring not only as a source of water but as a possible encampment. Since he would be living out in the arid wilds for the foreseeable future, it was key to find a base camp where he could return to after the challenges that would begin the following day.

Shouldering his things, Gaara made his way down the crags and headed off at a leisurely pace.

– XXXXXXXX –

Someone had called her name.

Or at least she thought they had. Coming out of the deepest sleep she had ever experienced, Sakura was unsure if it had been a dream voice or if it had actually been someone.

She did not remember ever dreaming, though; and she could not remember when the last time she had encountered another person was. For a moment she remained in drowsy confusion. But it wasn’t long before sleep, that steadfast friend, attempted to pull her back under. She was rather inclined to follow it. Slumber was always so serene, so peaceful; it demanded nothing of her. Giving in to her desire, she began to lose consciousness again, dissolving herself once more into oblivion.

But then she felt it again, a vibration that definitely sounded like her name. It was more forceful this time, shaking everything around her, breaking into her sanctuary like if wanting to collapse its hidden structure. The echo of her name was lost as the tremors increased in intensity, until the only thing she could perceive was the quaking.

It was impossible to go back to sleep.

As disorientated as she was, it took a moment to stretch her consciousness but eventually she managed to come into full awareness. She took in the pool where she slept, felt the air of the cool underground grotto that was her haven. There was no differentiating where the water began and she ended, so she made an effort to pull into herself. As she did so, she realized the tremors were coming from the life-energy of her surroundings; it was responding to something. Never had she felt the environs react in such a way… or at least, she could not remember if she ever had. Finally extracting her consciousness from that of the water, she floated within the pool, a nearly translucent silhouette of a woman.

Focusing, she listened, trying to figure out what was happening.

In that moment, she realized the water was singing. That was what had woken her up. It had called out her name in invitation, willing her back to consciousness so she could partake in whatever was happening. The joy emanating from the water became almost tangible and to her attuned senses, Sakura felt it permeate throughout her entire frame. She allowed the water’s delight to flood her and she found herself smiling.

Now that she was awake, it did not allow her to remain still. The current that constantly passed through the pool increased its flow, pulling Sakura with it. She allowed herself to be tugged along, rising and rising through the earth until she reached the surface. Pouring out of a cavity at the base of a large stone, she came out with the water into daylight.

She blinked, her eyesight taking a moment to adjust after being immersed in darkness and sleep for so long. The water carried her forward, cascading down a few rocks only to fall into an open pool.

Once her eyes cleared, Sakura lifted her head above the water and had a look around. Tall stones in the shape of a crescent moon surrounded the pool; this provided enough shadow throughout the day for a pond to form. Along the rocks, bushes, cacti, and succulents grew in abundance. There was a desert willow to one side, cradled in stone. Her heart lifted at the display, as tuned into the plant life as the water she lived in.

The sand was never far away, though. It came right up to the water. The space between the rocks left by their crescent shape offered an unimpeded view of the vast desert surrounding the small refuge. Gathering the water beneath her, Sakura lifted herself into the air in order to get a better view. Once she was above the upper level of the rocks, the sweeping landscape flooded her senses: it was all so grand, from the high crags to the widespread dunes to the endless sky.

From one moment to the next, the experience became too much. The environs pulled at her with so much intensity, she could not help but recoil reflexively.

Sakura willed the water to lower her quickly, not stopping when she reached its surface. She kept sinking, down and down, until she reached the bottom of the pool. There she remained for long moments, gathering herself. The feel of the water all around her soothed her, calmed her overloaded senses. She could not remember when the last time she had been exposed to the vastness had been. It made her feel uncertain and only triggered the impulse to retreat all the more. In her view, it was best to remain safe within the water’s haven.

Having taken in the landscape as she had, she had not been able to pinpoint the source of the water’s joy. The vibrations had diminished significantly; there was only a soft echo of its song within the pool now. Whatever it was that had happened, it seemed to be over.

Thanking the water for sharing its delight with her, even if only for a while, Sakura made her way upstream. She went up the small cascade and proceeded towards the small hollow where the water came out to the surface. Merging with it, she attempted to follow it back into the opening and return to her underground sanctuary. Sleep, her loyal friend, was waiting.

But her intentions were thwarted.

The water, it seemed, did not want her to go back.

She tried to force herself into the hollow again; did it once more and several times after that. But the current simply increased its flow, frustrating every single one of her attempts. When Sakura thought she had finally managed to return underground, the water practically spat her out.

‘What is going on?’ she thought, perplexed at the water’s behaviour.

It was necessary to change tactics. If at the moment there was no way to go back down, she might as well sleep out here. Flowing with the cascading stream, she returned to the pool and sank to the bottom once more. Curling into her preferred position, Sakura made herself comfortable and prepared to doze off.

But, to her utter surprise, sleep evaded her. A couple of hours later, she was still wide awake.

‘Now this is truly bizarre,’ she thought.

She floated in the middle of the pool, crossing her arms in front of her as she tried to make sense of the day’s events. There was no doubt something very strange was occurring. She blended her consciousness with the water but all she could pick up on was the lingering song and the prickle of excitement that had come along with it. The pool was happy; this was as much as Sakura could discern.

Shrugging, she moved to float on her back, looking up at the sky from beneath the surface. It was changing colour now, blue blending into bright orange and magenta with the setting of the sun. It was a beautiful sight and Sakura let herself enjoy it from the safety of the water.

A while later, her reverie was brought to an end when a loud thud resounded from up above. Something very heavy had just dropped unto the sand.

She became completely alert, remaining very still. A few moments later, a face peered over the edge of the water and looked down into its depths.

‘A man,’ she thought, surprised. Instantly curious, she willed herself into transparency and rose slowly to get a closer look.

His hair was crimson, a colour that rivalled the deep reds of sunset. The vibrant jade of his eyes she instantly related to a rare hue the water would sometimes assume. There were dark rings around them, though, making him look slightly tired. There was stubble on his cheeks, giving him a dashing look of desert wanderer.

Sakura found herself smiling up at him, taken in by the myriad details of his face. Knowing she was invisible, she allowed herself to stare as much as she liked.

He leaned closer and ducked his head into the pool. With his hands he washed his face and pulled out for a breath. After a moment he went under again, this time rubbing his scalp and getting the water into his hair. He repeated the process several times until he seemed satisfied. He shook his head to get rid of the excess water before leaning down to take a long drink.

Sakura rose nearer to the surface so she could see him better.

By then he was sitting back on his haunches, breathing deeply, a contemplative look on his handsome face. Lifting a hand through his damp hair, he pulled it back. She caught a glimpse of a tattoo, as red as his hair, on his forehead. From beneath the water, she could not make it out clearly. She was about to risk floating at the very surface to catch a better glimpse when he moved once more.

He ducked his head beneath the pool again but this time he leaned in deeper. Once under the surface, he opened his brilliant jade eyes.

And looked straight at her.

– XXXXXXXX –

He knew he wasn’t imagining things.

There was a woman in the water. She just wasn’t what one would expect.

Gaara pulled his head out of the pool and took a deep breath. Any visitor not tuned in to the subtle energies of the sheltered oasis would have missed her entirely. Her form blended perfectly with the water, utterly translucent. Lucky for him, he always made it a point to notice things beyond the apparent. Certain things had given her away.

Like the quality of the lush succulents and cacti growing all around the rocks. He noticed them the instant he stepped into the shelter of the stones. They were quite common throughout the desert but not in clusters of such great sizes. They were positively thriving here, radiating life-energy in sparks. Not to mention the flourishing brittle bushes and the tree cradled in the stone’s embrace. Although plant life would always gravitate towards water sources, the growth around this particular pool was something out of the ordinary.

The clearness of the water was another detail that did not escape him. Oases in the desert tended to be rather murky; it was inevitable with all the sediments coming up from under the earth as well as those brought by the constant wind. For a pool to retain such pristine clarity meant there were extraordinary forces at work.

So Gaara released his chakra subtly, tuning into the energies of the secluded pool and had approached the water with respect. It never did any good to garner the wrath of a djinn or a deva.

But what swam up to greet him was something else entirely.

“Water nymph,” he spoke, looking into the pool, “come to scrutinize the human, have you?”

No answer came.

“Don’t play shy, I can clearly see you down there.”

There was movement in the water and he realized she was sinking slowly towards the bottom.

He chuckled. “Well, well, quite the timid nymph you are. And here I was thinking you were planning to charm me into the depths in order to ravish my body before drowning me.”

A keen silence followed. But then the water splattered at the surface and he could see the silhouette of her head as it emerged.

“I was not!” came the indignant reply.

“Isn’t that what nymphs do?” Gaara asked, realizing he could make out her features a lot more clearly outside the water. His chakra allowed him to discern the traits of her face but he knew she would appear completely transparent to anyone else.

“No!” she exclaimed, clearly vexed.

Her eyes were large and expressive but he could not pinpoint just what colour they were yet. Her hair, much to his astonishment, was a soft pink. For a moment he thought his chakra-enhanced senses were playing a trick on him. But no, her short wet tresses reached her chin and their vibrant colour seemed to leap out at him.

“Or well, at least I don’t,” she added after a moment.

This statement was spoken with a certain degree of confusion. It made Gaara pause. He was rather certain of what she was, her chakra as a nature spirit vibrated quite clearly. Not only that but her face was exquisite, a vital trait of a nymph. And although it was partly hidden within the water, he was certain her body possessed the curves to lure any victim willingly into the depths.

He pinned her with an incredulous stare. “So you’re saying you’re a well-mannered nymph?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I am,” she replied, rising even more above the surface. She crossed her arms over her chest and half-turned her back on him.

Her movement allowed him the glimpse he had been anticipating. Yes, the alluring curves were there alright. There was no going around it, she was nymph through and through.

His body sang praises at the sight but his mind was not so easily fooled. Nymphs were sly and crafty; they knew very well how to use their cache of tricks in order to get what they wanted. Caution was always advised when dealing with her kind.

Yet now that he was convinced of what she was, Gaara gave in to the impulse of pulling her strings. From her responses, it was easy to tell there was a temper underneath her watery yet beautiful exterior.

“I apologize, then, for jumping to conclusions,” he offered with irony. “I’ve never heard of a water nymph who showed consideration for her visitors instead of stripping them bare, seducing them, and-“

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” she interrupted snappishly. “Besides, I’m not…”

Her words trickled away before she finished her sentence, her confusion returning.

Gaara looked at her more closely, noticing the shifts in her chakra. It had become suddenly muddled and dimmer, nothing like the sparks she had been eliciting moments before.

“So you’re not interested in me, is that it?” he prodded. “Not good enough for you?”

“I never said that!” she exclaimed, turning towards him fully and dropping her arms.

Gaara forced himself to keep looking at her face or else she would find out just how interesting his own body was finding hers.

The sparks in her chakra were back, though, and he focused on keeping them there. “So you admit I’m to your liking,” he remarked.

“Of all the conceited -” she began but didn’t finish, slapping the water with one of her hands in annoyance.

“I’ll take your lack of answer as a yes. You did, after all, come up to stare at me.”

“That was because you’re the first person I’ve seen in goodness knows how long!” she exclaimed. “Of course I was curious.”

“So just curiosity and not ill intention?” Gaara asked, doubtful.

“What drivel!” she replied sharply. “What would be the point of harming people who come searching for water in this scorching heat? Like if the dangers of the desert weren’t enough, I’m supposed to drown them when they finally find respite. It’s ridiculous!”

She placed her hands on her hips then, glaring at him. Her chakra an outraged swirl, there was no doubt she meant what she said.

He could not help smiling; she really was unlike anyone he had ever encountered.

“I’m sorry, I misjudged,” he told her, meaning it this time. “You are not only well-mannered, you are good-hearted.”

Her anger seemed to lessen, although she still looked at him with distrust.

“I may have made assumptions based on past experiences and of what I know of your kind,” he continued. “But like you said, the desert is full of dangers. Its magic can sometimes be as hazardous as its physical challenges.”

She turned her nose up in the air but nodded, lowering herself back into the water until her chin touched the surface.

“Do I have your permission to replenishment my water supply from your spring?” Gaara asked.

“You do,” she replied, still annoyed but magnanimous.

He nodded, turning round to rummage in his pack. Taking out all of his canteens, he approached the water once more.

Quiet descended over the pool, the trickle of the underground stream as it emerged and cascaded down the rocks the only sound. Out of the corner of his eye, Gaara saw the nymph throwing glances his way but she did not make any attempt to engage him in conversation again.

Since she was allowing him to partake of her pool, he decided to give her space. He did not, after all, want to truly anger her. She was part of the desert and as such, very much deserved his respect. Hence, he went about rinsing his canteens thoroughly before refilling them in silence.

But then he recalled the words she had flung his way, about him being the first person she had seen in a long time. She admitted to being curious. Gaara surmised he would not have to wait long.

His guess was right on target.

Once he was done replenishing his water, he stood up in order to arrange his canteens in his backpack, turning his back on the pool.

“How come you can see me?” she practically blurted out.

He did not turn round as he spoke so she would not see the smile on his face. “Ever since I was born, I’ve always been in tune with the desert. I’ve spent many years of training honing my chakra abilities, something that allows me to commune with the life-energy of the environs even more. It enhances all my senses. I can pick up subtle fluctuations that other people, even those with charka training, cannot.”

“Oh,” she replied. She seemed to mull this over for a moment before her next question. “So you’ve always lived in the desert?”

“I was born here and spent my childhood among the sands,” Gaara said, “but no, I haven’t lived here for a very long time.”

There was movement behind him, the water lapping against the rocks. He turned round to see her leaning forward against a stone at the very edge of the pond, her chin propped up on one of her palms.

Inquisitive indeed.

“Why did you leave?” she asked. “And why have you come back?”

Gaara chuckled. “Alright, curious nymph, let’s make a deal. I’ll appease your curiosity but only if you give me something in return.”

Her eyes narrowed but her interest could not be dampened. “Go on.”

“I ask for only two things. I’ll share my story with you if, first, you allow me to set up camp by your pool,” he said, “and second, you give me your name.”

The smile she gave him was brilliant, illuminating all of her face. Her chakra twinkling like stars in the night. Gaara felt something deep within himself respond; if she had truly harboured ill intentions towards his person, he would have been done for. Eagerly would he have followed her into the water.

He chided himself for being such a numbskull. About to confront the most dangerous challenges of his life, and here he was, reacting to the glamour of a water nymph like if is he were a dazzled teenager. He really had to get his act together.

“I’ll concede the first gladly. You can camp here for as long as you like,” she said. “But the second I’ll grant only if you give me yours in return.”

He moved closer to the edge of the water. Once in front of the stone she was leaning against, he knelt in front of her.

“Gaara,” he told her, bowing.

Retuning the gesture, she replied, “Sakura.”

– XXXXXXXX –

What a peculiar man he was.

Instead of lying down to sleep, he dozed upright with his legs crossed underneath him, like if he were meditating. Sakura was certain he was asleep, his chakra flowing peacefully around his frame as his body replenished its energy.

She would have thought he would drop down and snore the night through, relaxing into oblivion in order to properly rest for what was to come with the dawn. But instead his slumber was controlled, efficient even. It was as if his chakra was providing a steady and constant stream of rejuvenation, distributing it evenly throughout his body.

Her very nature was endowed with the special qualities of healing, hence, Sakura found the way Gaara rested fascinating.

In truth, if she was honest, this was not the only facet of his she found captivating.

Throughout the evening he had regaled her with his story. A tale of conflict and woe from a very young age followed by years of solitude and hardship, only to mutate into an anecdote of self-assertion with hope on the horizon.

He came into the world with the gift to commune with the land where he was born. His chakra and that of the desert were one. A true Heir of the Sands, a legendary title only bestowed upon few in the history of the Wind Clan. But this overwhelming power was something he could not handle as a child and hence, the future his father had envisioned for him evaporated as the years went by. Civil upheaval, family feuds, and irrational fear contrived to create an inverse reality: instead of a hero, Gaara came to be considered a monster.

He was openly shunned since chaos tended to erupt around him. His chakra was too powerful for him to completely command and would react in unpredictable ways. He came to be equated with destruction and was considered a menace. Despite the harsh training he received, Gaara progressed at a snail’s pace. This fell in with the conniving of those who opposed of him: an Heir of the Sands was destined to become Chieftain, chosen by the desert itself. But turmoil within the Clan had created a rift between factions and Gaara, as an innocent child, was caught in the middle.

Unable to understand the political undercurrents of what was happening, he began to lash out in anger. It was then the sand began to do his bidding, making everyone around him scurry to safety whenever they saw him approach. Feeding the discourse of fear was easy then. Words whispered in the right ears, opinions thrown about casually in order to instil discrimination; it was simple for those who did not accept him to spread hate like wildfire.

Things may have remained hostile but manageable had not Gaara’s father perished due to an unexpected illness. Since his mother had died a short time after giving birth to him, Gaara was left with no protection except for his young siblings. They were no match for the ruthlessness of the civil strife erupting around them.

The day his own family turned against him was the day it became too much. Gaara was attacked by his uncle, his mother’s twin brother, the man who had helped raise him and his siblings. Something within his young soul snapped and he found himself walking out of the village. Carrying only the clothes he was wearing, he left and did not look back.

Years passed, filled with a rage and frustration so deep it almost drove him to the edge. He rejected the desert, blaming it for his plight. So he travelled far and wide, finding work where he could, suppressing his chakra through sheer willpower. A true drifter for years until life made him stumble upon something he did not believe possible: friendship. A young man, one who had inherited the powerful chakra of a fox spirit, offered the nomad Gaara shelter from the rain one night at the temple where he lived.

The monks had taken one look at him – unkempt and gaunt yet emanating chakra through his very pores - and never allowed him to leave. No matter how many times he attempted to run away, the fox lad would always be sent to fetch him. Despite being well into his teens when he began, Gaara was subjected to the rigorous chakra training of the monk’s order. The average age of his drill companions was around 10 years old. Yet he continued to strive, persistently refusing to let the challenge throw him.

This was the part of the tale Sakura had enjoyed most. Gaara had spoken of transformation despite his inherent obstinacy, of the way he had learned patience one stumble at a time in the face of frustration. Of the way he had made room within himself to accept others, particularly his fox friend, and be accepted in return. His whole demeanour had changed when he spoke about this phase of his life and Sakura had marvelled at the way his expressions revealed the underlying passions he harboured within.

After much doing and forbearance on part of the monks, he settled in, lulled by the open acceptance of the temple residents and the stable routine of temple life. Although it took years, once he got the knack of it, his chakra control progressed in great leaps and he gained full command of his powers. He was allowed to leave the temple then if he chose, allowed to wander once more having attained a complete change within.

Gaara found the monks were right, he saw things very differently now. No longer a helpless and aimless youth, the world was a greatly altered place.

But once more, his wandering existence was not meant to be. News reached him concerning his homeland. The old Chieftain of the Wind Clan had finally died. Hence, the council was calling for a Sand Roam – a series of survival trials – intent on picking its new leader from those born within the clan.

Never would have Gaara believed the response the news elicited from him.

From one moment to the next, all doubt dissipated. He knew exactly what he had to do. After long years of wandering, it was now clear where his steps had been leading him all along.

Thus he had returned to his birthplace, causing scandal in some and relief in others within the Clan. But he was indifferent to the opinions of others now. The desert had given him its gift since his first breath and he was not about to throw it away. He would not allow the past to rob him of his truth.

Sakura wondered what the trials of a Sand Roam actually entailed. Gaara had not been able to tell her since he did not know himself. No one did. All he knew was that the challenges were brought by the desert itself in order to test the skills of participants in all aspects of life. Those who wanted to claim the title of Chieftain had to wander out in the dunes until the desert made its choice. They had to be prepared for anything.

When the sun rose, Gaara’s Roam would begin.

She openly wished him luck as well as strength. What he was doing was not easy. Returning to look his past in the eye and asserting himself was not for the faint-hearted. His courage and resolve were palpable.

For a moment, something stirred within her, a fluctuation of a memory almost remembered. As Sakura looked at Gaara while he slept, the feeling intensified. It was as if she could almost grasp an intrinsic part of herself she could not recall.

With one last look at the handsome redhead resting under the lee of the stones, Sakura sank down to the bottom of the pool, facing the open night sky under the surface. Even if she felt somewhat muddled and confused, for once sleep was out of the question. There was no doubt a part of her was enjoying the arrival of this unusual man who had unexpectedly come her way.

She could not wait to see what the following days would bring.

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