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Saphira al'Dren
Profile: At the age of fifteen, Saphira al'Dren is rather unremarkable. Born to a rich merchant, Saphira was always used to comfort (and usually getting what she wanted). In her heart, she knows she is spoiled, but she fervently denies it, and will continue to do so until she is on her deathbed. Whenever she is deep in thought, she will pull her mid-length, wavy amber hair over her right shoulder and weave it between her fingers. Her violet eyes are usually gleaming with an inner light that is only dimmed when she feels depressed. When angry, however, that light flares into a wildfire. Her mother was killed when Saphira was two years old, so her father has always had to care for her and her seventeen year-old brother, James. Saphira has always had a good education, something her father firmly believes in (Saphira personally thinks her father has fallen in love with her tutor). Saphira is generally shy, though with good friends, she is outgoing, mischievous, and daring (often getting her into trouble). She is naturally intelligent, but loves expanding her knowledge. She loves puzzles and is, oftentimes, thoughtful to the point of dreamy. Though she may be dreamy, she works hard, and is exceptionally determined, though some call it stubborn. When she isn't drawing or reading, Saphira loves riding her horse, Stardust. When she is not riding Stardust, she is practicing weaponry with her father, a former Queens Guard. She can hit a target from almost 100 paces away with a knife or bow. She prefers using knives and the quarterstaff. She despises using swords ever since she almost cut off her right arm practicing with one. Luckily, she was Healed, leaving her with a scar that her brother still teases her about. Biography: The wind blew Saphiras hair into her eyes. "Blood and . . ." she cut off, frustrated with herself. Her curses were worse than her temper sometimes. She smiled, her violet eyes lighting up, but the smile didn't last long. She felt her opponent's sword at her throat. "Concentrate, Saphira," her father chided, leaning on his "sword". It was a big stick, really, but it served for training purposes. "I'm sure a real enemy wouldn't wait for you to pull your hair out of your eyes." "Or your head from the clouds," her brother, James, muttered under his breath. "Oh, so you want to try me, do you?" Saphira taunted him, "I'm getting better with this bloody sword." "I would hope so," James smiled teasingly, "We don't want you to cut off your arm . . . again." Saphira frowned, her lower lip sticking out in her trademark pout. "I didn't cut it off, I just cut it. Badly." "Badly?" her brother exclaimed, "If you hadn't been Healed, you wouldn't even have a hand!" "And when I'm through with you," she threatened, holding up her stick, "you won't even . . ." Her father cut her off. "Enough, both of you. James, go study. You've been slacking off lately. Saphira, go through the sword forms, starting with Heron Spreads Its Wings." Saphira groaned. She hated sword forms. And swords, for that matter. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. It was nearly impossible. The sun beat down, warming her, teasing her. A breeze formed, gently billowing her hair in her eyes. It was a perfect day to practice anything but this bloody sword. She wanted to ride Stardust, to feel the wind in her face. She wanted to sit by the pond and read the book she was so engrossed in. She wanted to-
"Concentrate!" she scolded herself, "Be one with the sword. Let it become a part of you."
"Let it gently caress your flesh. Feel the icy cold metal as it bites into you. Feel it taste your blood." James intoned in her ear. Saphira jumped. She didn't know she had spoken aloud. She was frustrated that she didn't hear him sneak up on her, that she let him. She was better than that! She opened up to her anger, let it flow through her. She gathered it together and let it go. Suddenly, Saphira heard a scream- her brother! She opened her eyes to see him writhing on the ground, trying to beat out the flames that rushed all over his body. Her eyes widened. It couldn't be! She didn't . . . she would never . . . she did! She used the Power! Saphira looked up frantically, her breath coming in short gasps. Her father was trying to beat out the flames. The flames that she had started. Darkness rushed toward her. She welcomed it- anything to get her away from this horrid scene.
As her brother writhed in agony, Saphira fainted.
Her head hurt. The light, it burned her eyes. Saphira moaned, trying to shield her eyes when she remembered.
"James!" Was he alright? Or was he . . . No! James was fine. Saphira didn't kill him. She would've never . . . She thought for a minute. Up until a few moments ago, she would've never channeled. No matter how much it hurt, she was going to get up. She was going to find James, and he would be okay. Now she just had to get up . . . Oh Light! The pain! She moaned again. Oh, blood and ashes, it hurt!
Saphira felt a hand on her shoulder. As she opened her eyes, she saw that familiar face she hated and loved.
"James! You're alright!"
"No thanks to you," he teased, ruffling her hair. Saphira felt tears in her eyes.
"I thought I had . . . That you were . . ." she couldn't say it. She sobbed. "I was so afraid!"
As her older brother whispered sympathy to his hysteric sister, Saphira vowed that she would never use the power to hurt anyone ever again.
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