Short Story Writing 《 Discontinued 》

The Story of Cyra

3rd POV
12/5/21
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The life story of Cyra, the warrior with a gun.
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The city of Xiomara was one surrounded in mysticism. Though famously known as the "City of Women", it simply did not allow for men. It was populated by people of all kinds, dwarves, humans, elves, and fae, who came from all over, whether running from abuse, forced marriages, or they were left in the outskirts as younglings for the patrols to find by parents who hoped their child would gain a better future in the city. This was certainly the case for Cyra, born with catlip and a malformed eye that couldn't see.

Cyra had been left there as an infant like many, found by a patrol group (who tended to find a couple border children each week), and taken to a hospital to be healed. When that was done, she was taken to an orphanage, eaiting to be adopted by some caring soul.

She wasn't, at least for a good while. Its not as if she went unnoticed, with bright scarlet hair that gradiented into a sunshine yellow, an eye patch covering her deformed eye, and an absolute passion for trouble. One dwarven women acted in a way Cyra found annoying, so she used a lighter to set the woman's beard afire. Some girls gossiped about Cyra and she overheard, so she charmed some ravens and sent them to harass the girls.

One day, the orphanage held a fun little sports competition. Cyra wanted to show off her brute strength, but wasn't allowed to do much of anything after desecrating the rose bushes outside the front of the orphanage. She had been acting out more, feeling abandoned after her best friend Kaolinite, a dwarf girl (her age in dwarf years) had been adopted by a dward women who'd visited the city.

The Chief of Xiomara had been visiting the competition, unbeknownst by everyone, for she was checking how the people of her city were in person. She adored children, but had never before had one or taken one in. And when she came upon the competition, she watched for a bit as the children played games, answered quizzes, play fought with weapons, and witnessed Cyra challenge one of the older kids to a fist fight that she won so easily it was impressive.

When the competition had ended in the afternoon, the chief walked into the orphanage, her accompanying guards in tow, and asked to be made Cyra's guardian. And so, Cyra, at her furious age of nine, was adopted.

She grew up in a modest house in a small community. Despite being the village leader, they had no maids, and the city didn't use money so they weren't exactly rich either. She had to do her own chores and help out around the community where she was needed. The chief helped her use her affinity for chaos and make it useful for helping around, and for when she was old enough to join the Xiomaran Guard.

She took to the rifle the most, which surprised family and friends alike. Cyra loved it, knowing that sometimes the best way to cause chaos was from a distance.

When she'd reached adulthood, she'd gotten an undershave and used makeup that only enhanced the mischevious look that was constantly on her face.

She became close friends with a girl named Yolanda, who had short and spiky violet hair, and was skilled with dual curved blades. So close in fact, most thought they'd be married by the next summer, living in their own cottage by the lagoon they always spent time together at. And though they cared for each other greatly, Cyra never found herself attracted to people, even Yolanda. Besides, the redhead had different plans for her future.

The city had became to constricting. Too small. Cyra desired to see outside the city borders, to see men, to experience being a part of that world. Those around her told her it was a horrible idea, that her family and friends and community were here! The outside world was wrought with corruption and more monsters than Cyra had ever experienced in patrols. Their words did little to deter her. Only Yolanda got close, begging and crying for her best friend to stay.

Cyra packed up her things and left after week of that. She'd taken some clothes, food, and her gun.

She worked as a mercenary for most whomever would pay. She killed monsters, whther they were person shaped or looked like something out of nightmares. Cyra did indeed experience the corruption of the outside world. Someone payed her to kill a king who unfairly treated his subjects, hiarding wealth and punishing people harshly for minor crimes (as kings were prone to doing). She killed him for free. She took his massive black coat with red insides and luxurious fur hood, as well as the circlet off his chief advisor's head. Cyra considered it her crowning achievement.

She planned on one day reuniting with Kaolinite, and catching up with them. She wondered how the world had been treating her since they'd been separated, and what the dwarven tribe she was now a part of was like.

For now, she'd rest easy underneath the willow tree in the middle of this forest, resting comfortably on her giant coat, wearing her circlet and warrior's uniform, her gun within reach in case of its need.