Rel Verse

@relverse57.bsky.social

78 Followers 138 Following

Call me Rel! Currently living by the motto "You can't edit a blank page." 📝 🌠En Route to the Royal Academy 🪲 Watch out for the Bects! One major novel series in progress. Too many fanfics also on the go. 🫡

Kirsi smiled. “We’re gonna go explore the main atrium, right Antos?”
Antos gave her a long-suffering look. “She says that like it’s not a multi-day mission.”
Knax snorted. “You can’t have explored it all last time you were onboard. It’s good fun down there, never feels too crowded. I’m guessing your ‘welcome aboard’ gift is already burning a hole in your pockets?” Knax says with a grin, his eyes flicking to the General.
Kirsi blinked. “Wait, what?”
“Check your Voyage accounts,” Knax said, almost smugly. “You got your accounts set up right?”
Antos scrambled to pull out his phone and swiped through to the Voyage app. A low whistle escaped him. “Whoa.”
Kirsi’s eyes widened as she read her own screen. Gwen and Klein had sent then with some spending money before their Academy grants came in for the year. She thought it would be enough to get a couple of pieces of clothing and maybe a few bits stationery if she budgeted well enough. But now… “Oh-” The breath left her lungs, her ears felt warm as she looked at the figure in her account.
“I’d spend all of it if I were you, conversion rates out of the Voyage accounts aren’t too pleasant...I’m sure you’ll figure out something to spend it all on,” The General spoke with a smile beaming and he watches their reactions.

At the heart of the Temple stood the terrarium.

It towered nearly three times Kirsi’s height, broad enough that her entire home might even fit within its bounds. Behind its thick glass walls lay a careful imitation of wilderness - dense, shadowed growth giving way to pale sand at the edges, a suggestion of desert pressing in from beyond Hursia. A small pool shimmered at one end, fed by unseen mechanisms. There was no movement within, no sign of the being that dwelled there. But Kirsi knew better than to think absence meant emptiness. A Bect was rarely seen unless it wished to be. That did not mean it was unaware.

The General hums in agreement, his eyes scanning over Kirsi for a moment. “I am looking forward to hearing about the intra-school championship. Why Klein has never entered you into the intergalactic tournament I'll never know. Surely you could have pulled a few strings for her.” Villiers notes approaching the pair.

Kirsi remains rigidly fixed to his position, clutching her sword and doing her best to not make a simple fool of herself. She wasn’t sure if it was working and trying to ensure her face wasn’t slack and empty. She smiled softly at the General’s kind comments, but at the mention of the intergalactics she looked to Klein.

Klein chuckles. “Well now she has citizenship I’m sure the intergalatics are at the top of your list. Right, Kirsi?” He prompts.

She shakes her head and smiles. “Perhaps though I might be a bit preoccupied by the Academy. Like you said General, I think I’ll see how I fair in the intra-school championship first. My opponents have always either been Klein or someone who he taught. Not the most reliable sample size for testing my skill - not that Klein isn’t a wonderful teacher but rather-” Kirsi begins to over explain but the General raised his hand to silence her.

a cat biting, it's canine teeth like little fangs captioned "when a plot idea suddenly hits you"

They moved simultaneously, swords clashing with a metallic ring. Klein’s movements are fluid, his years of experience evident in every parry and thrust. Kirsi kept pace, matching him strike for strike. Her youthful agility allows her to anticipate his moves and counter with precision.

Klein’s eyes twinkled with pride and a hint of challenge. “Glad to see you’ve kept on top of your training.” He remarked, deflecting a particularly swift strike in between breathless gasps.

Kirsi grinned, sweat beading on her forehead. “I had a strict teacher.”

They circled each other, the rhythm of their dual a dance of light and motion. Klein feinted to the left, then lunged right, but Kirsi was ready. She sidestepped, bringing her sword down in a swift arc that Klein barely managed to block.

“You’re holding back.” Kirsi accused, her voice breathless but determined.

Klein’s smile was wry. “Am I?”

Haze filmed birds sheltering beneath awnings, leaves darkening as autumn crept in. Then the post office appeared—stone-built and charming, with uneven bricks and a squat green clock tower perched on top.

The footage cut to a scene of Haze sat alone on a bench in a park, a familiar teal letter in hand. “This is the secret. This is the letter I’ve been waiting on…” She takes a deep breath and opens the letter. The next breath she takes is mixed with a sob. The seconds tick by, for others perhaps they skipped ahead just wanting to know for certain. But Kirsi felt that same pounded in her chest. That same feeling of relief to know the future was certain.
“I’m in…” Haze says weakly to herself. She holds back a sob and then looks up at the camera. “I’m in.” She smiles, scrunching up her face to try and stop her already falling tears.

Some fridge magnet letters which read. “Pangram Fix Botched…Sulky”

“Are…Are you talking to each other?” The Captain asked, a bemused look on his face. “In your heads I mean-”

“Yes, Captain. I apologise, we-”

“-that is very impressive. How long have you been able to do that?”

“About two years now.” Kirsi explained with a slight nod.

The Captain hummed to himself for a moment as he leaned back in the headmaster’s chair.

“I bet you can’t wait to get out of here…After the cadets that is…”

“We’ll prove our worth to Lapurisia and we’ll-”

“-Have you ever considered applying to a Royal Academy?” The Captain interjected with a brow raised alongside his question.

Antos laughed.

Kirsi’s eyes grew wide and she restrained her face, shooting an accusatory look at her brother.

“I’m serious. With a bit of work-” The Captain began, brushing their folders back neatly. “-I think we could give you both quite a shot at it all.”

A drawing of a girl looking out of a large window. Inside the window is a gif of a star scape moving by.

The girl has white grey hair and is sat on the floor holding her knees. She sits between a bed and a desk in a small room - reminiscent of a hotel room.

meme formate of two frames
frame 1 - a person dabbing captioned "writing a really good argument scene"
frame 2 - close up of the persons face mid-dab they are secretly crying caption "both characters are in the right and i just want them to see eye to eye"

A drawing of a girl looking out of a large window. Inside the window is a gif of a star scape moving by.

The girl has white grey hair and is sat on the floor holding her knees. She sits between a bed and a desk in a small room - reminiscent of a hotel room.

picture of a cat with a buffering symbol over it's head. the caption reads "trying to explain the scene you just wrote without also explaining 30+ pages of lore"

Heart pounding as her foot made contact with solid ground she scrambled onwards, skidding into the cul-de-sac the gate to the front garden had been left open and half swung out onto the pavement. Darting around it she pushed open the front door, expecting the house to either be a bustle in worry or silent as the night. Instead the quaint scene of Gwen and Klein eating their breakfast filled the kitchen. Gwen was still in her night robes but Klein was in his captain’s uniform for the day. Kirsi’s eyes met his expectantly. He looks back with wide eyes.

“Has it come already?” He asks.

All Kirsi can do is breathlessly shake her head as her brother storms in after her, almost tripping over the threshold to the house. His eyes meet Klein’s who quickly rises to his feet at the sight of both siblings in such disarray.

“Wha-” Klein begins to demand as Antos gasps out an explanation.

“T-triple zero lander on the mac…” Antos says breathlessly, wheezing for air as Kirsi nods in agreement.

Klein rushes over to the kitchen window, craning his head in an attempt to see the airbase as he retrieves his communicator from his pocket.

“Triple zero, you’re sure?” He asks, a hard expression falling over his face.

“It’s the Prowl - I’m sure of it…” Antos says picking up a glass by the sink and pouring a glass of water.

“Antos, this one is for you,” Ms Repper says, holding out a thin metal bracelet. “Your biometrics will grant you door access, but if you’d prefer, this has a chip embedded.”
Antos accepts it gladly before Ms Repper turns to Kirsi and offers another. “This one is yours.”
Kirsi inspects the bracelet, turning it over in her hand until she finds the delicate engraving of her initials and the Ipuriasiro’s sigil. The silver metalwork gleams as she traces its edge, its weight slight but undeniable in her palm. It is such a small thing, and yet it removes a ritual she had never questioned. It isn’t just convenience…it’s trust and surely must have been an expensive addition.
It stirs a quiet nostalgia, memories of watching videos of Hazerial buying books with a chequebook, signing her name, transacting with something tangible. There’s something whimsical about it, a hint of what awaits at the Academy.

part of a well drawn horse labelled "the one specific scene I came up with"

the rest of the horse is crudely and labelled "building a whole story around it"

a drawing of a beetle wearing a little crown

Trainers now worn after months of pounding against the dusty track were weathered by the land's contours. The girl's legs were slathered in sun cream as her muscles bathed in lactic acid. Still, she refused to give up. Chest burning, face red and vision blurred on the edges, Kirsi was used to this feeling. This pulse of torture. The feeling of being alive. This morning, however, no one was watching her, no one was there to tell her to pace herself, to control herself.

The burn of it all kept her mind quiet, or at the very least drowned out her worries. The strain in her chest silenced the hiccupping sobs of fear that threatened her in the dawn. There was no use in trying to sleep last night as cheeks remained wet in worry, the hum of the air conditioner not enough to cover her worried sobs.

Today was the day of answers, some of the questions spiraling in her head could fall silent. And the path to her future…or at least the next 4 years of her life would become clear.

Artwork of two girls in matching uniforms. Their unforms consist of a dark green pinafore, long sleeved white blouse and blacks. They both wear lighter green cloaks which have an insect wing patterning.

“Villiers will have my head if he finds out I told you. Promise me Antos-“

“I promise.” I squeeze his hands tightly. “Anything for us to find Kirsi.”

“You’re a good lad.” He smiled softly and rose to his feet. “I’m locking you in now, under the guise of safety for the full throttle but…” He nods at me.

I nod back. It was odd for Knax to call out his own bullshit so blatantly but there something fulfilling about it. As though, we were finally on the same page.

“I would recommend laying down and putting your bunk rail up.” He advises before turning to leave.

I nod and watch him leave.

“So I’ve heard,” Bea said, glancing over with a smile that was just a little too quick to be accidental. “Mum mentioned it. Klein Serifage was a Galactic champion, right?”

Kirsi’s ears warmed. “Five times,” she said, then quickly added, “A long time ago.”

“Still counts,” Bea said easily. “Do you compete?”

Kirsi shifted her weight, fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. She hadn’t been allowed to - not without citizenship. Now that she was an Academy student, she technically could, though the thought felt distant. Unrealistic.

“No…Orissen 5 was a bit too of a far flung corner for any proper tournaments.”

“Well there’s quite a few fencers at the Academy. I’m sure they’d all love to spar with a Serifage.”

Trainers now worn after months of pounding against the dusty track were weathered by the land's contours. The girl's legs were slathered in sun cream as her muscles bathed in lactic acid. Still, she refused to give up. Chest burning, face red and vision blurred on the edges, Kirsi was used to this feeling. This pulse of torture. The feeling of being alive. This morning, however, no one was watching her, no one was there to tell her to pace herself, to control herself.

The burn of it all kept her mind quiet, or at the very least drowned out her worries. The strain in her chest silenced the hiccuping sobs of fear that threatened her in the dawn. There was no use in trying to sleep last night as cheeks remained wet in worry, the hum of the air conditioner not enough to cover her worried sobs.

Today was the day of answers, some of the questions spiralling in her head could fall silent. And the path to her future…or at least the next 4 years of her life would become clear.

The Ipuriasiro glided toward Praxus Port with the unhurried grace of a creature that knew its size. From the gym’s wide observation windows, Kirsi watched the ship’s reflection slide over the dark surface of the docking arms below. Even after two days aboard, its enormity still astonished her. The vessel’s bow and stern extended so far beyond the port’s span that she couldn’t imagine how the station’s machinery managed to hold it in place. The Ipuriasiro wasn’t meant for stops like this - too grand, too vast - and the near-empty docks below seemed to know it. But as a personal favour for the Royal First Battalion, Captain Jeosra did not hesitate at the opportunity the help out his ex-comrades.

<KIRSI!> The voice reverberated in her mind at first, loud and clear without drowning out the noise of the nature around her.

Before she could even start a reply the voice began again, “KIRSI!”, the voice boomed out loud this time as the birds chittered off in a panic. She sat up right, eyes blurrily focusing down the pathway to where her brother staggered towards her. His white hair was wind swept or perhaps just unbrushed from bed. His skin though as pale as hers was noticeably not slathered in sun cream. He’ll burn if he’s not careful.

<Are you okay? Are you hurt?> He asked calmer in tone now he could see her sat upright. Antos’ lips did not move as he mentally called to his sister. Allowing him to instead focus on his near breathless charge towards her.

<I’m fine. I’m fine. Don’t make a fuss.> Kirsi calls back silently dusting the sand from her hands as she wipes them together.

<You didn’t look alright. Racing off out the cul-de-sac like that. Did you get an email?> His voice remained calm in her head, even though his face was red as he huffed and puffed his way up the track. Still running despite knowing she is okay. The sound of his un-strained voice was calming, no matter the situation it always sounded the same. Face wrought in fear or anger, the voices heard between them sounded the same.

She had seen his face countless times before—but only on screens: in the news, in documentaries, and across social media. A few grey strands threaded through the mess of light brown curls on his head. His skin was darker than Knax’s, though both shared the same star-kissed sheen across their faces. Unlike Knax, however, his face revealed little of his age—almost perfectly smooth, and not, as many online had suspected, the work of social media filters.