Phantasia [Complete] [1-1++ APPROVED]

» Name: Fantasia Nevermore
» Titles: Phantasia
» Age: 15
» Gender: Female
» Affiliation/Rank: N/A

» Appearance Description: Let's start with the certain qualities of Fantasia that are particularly static at this point of her life: She is a below-average five foot and three inches tall female with a thin frame that boasts agility and alacrity. Despite being thin, there is a toughness in the girl's arms and legs that signifies strength. There is very little fat as muscle overtakes most of the mass. It is a combination of her childhood lessons and most recent lone training that gives her this attribute. The girl's weight is also below average with one-hundred and four pounds—a majority of muscle as well. It could be said her kind belonged with the elves, when one took a vacuous look at her. A slinky waist, just barely qualifying her body as a visage of an hourglass. It is clear her chest has begun developing for her transition into womanhood, but it has fallen in line with the wizened figure she possessed, keeping small well enough.

Fantasia's face is a reflection of her elfin body; a narrow ovoid shape with a pointed chin, albeit a pair of soft and smooth cheekbones. Thinly-plucked eyebrows adorned the top of her face, curving delicately above the cloudy gray eyes that spoke a story of youthful enthusiasm, yet somewhat plagued by a deep dark past. Her celestial nose is the definition of petite, even though most of Fantasia's image already is. Paired with thin lips that lie unpainted on her face, it was generally held in a tight line that was seconds away from an innocent smile as it was a slight frown. However one might take it, the final feature of her face was a large forehead—though Fantasia would be lying if she said she didn't prefer to cover it with her spirited wheat-colored hair.

Everything else is subject to change—referring of course to her style of hair and apparel. Her naturally fast-growing hair sees much adjustment, as it can be long at first, cut the next day, and long again a week later. Often time does she shift hair to the front of her face in the form of bangs, but on the infrequent occasion she parts it to the sides of her face in a fashion that creates a golden arc over her face. Her hair, as aforementioned, grows long quickly, and she has many choices to choose from when it does. From just allowing the lengthy locks to fall down her back, to drawing the strands into a pair of braids; there is no set hairstyle for Fantasia that speaks herself. Her clothing is much a different story. Though like most ordinary people she possesses a plethora of outfits, not one of them can be seen lacking a superiority of black. She wears the color in respect for those who have passed away; she wears it also as an omen to those she would destroy.

Most commonly worn is her combat guise with a hooded cloak compatriot. The underlay is fashioned like light armor, complete with pauldrons, bracers and knee-guards. The entirety of the suit mixes plates of sturdy plastic protecting the vital areas as well as commonly-attacked areas, with a toughly woven elastic fabric that allows for lithe maneuverability and minimal hindrance. The cloak boasts no such special features however, and is mainly a travelling drape.

» Appearance Picture:

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» Personality:

- Curiosity: Fantasia is a very inquisitive soul, always pushing forward for exploration, investigation, and learning. Looking at the facts; she was a small town human girl thrust into the overwhelming secret world of Souls—Shinigami, Hollows, and Demons, oh my. There is a thirst of knowledge about her to discover what the world truly has to offer, and she'll go at it eyes peeled and guns blazing. Her observational skills have improved quite well in her teens, allowing her to pick out things some people may or may not overlook. It'll serve as an excellent tool for her to use for learning. And as of her immediate being, curiosity is a major driving force behind Fantasia's antics and motives, second only to revenge.

- Vengeful: Ah, not the most pleasant of qualities about Fantasia; etched deep into the poor girl's mind are her tragic memories of loss, loss of her beloved parents. To hollows they perished in the most gruesome fashions, and such sights at such a young age were mortifying, shaping what would be of Fantasia's future self, for youth is the finest clay for molding. A lust for revenge would beset itself in Fantasia, a deeply inlying need for retribution, a goal to kill any and all hollows that she possibly can. No, this does not allow her to sleep with a clear-as-day conscious, but she will come to forgive herself in time, something she can never do for the hollows. Unpardonable actions committed, Fantasia shall bring her wild justice forth in an act of vengeance.

- Respectful: Whereas Fantasia holds only contempt for Hollows, she holds respect for the Shinigamis that have saved her life in the past, overly grateful for the chances at life they allowed, and in awe over the great power they possessed. She holds respect for those who have passed into the afterlife due to the actions of the Hollows, by wearing only black clothing in a state of constant symbolic mourning; such an act has been traditional in her home town of Irokisa. She respects her elders and mentors as they are superior... Rubeus, her first mentor hadn't let her down even in their last moments together. She will strive to show the same respect to any future mentors that take her up as a student. And the elderly who have acquitted prestigious positions and lived through life for so long are more than deserving of Fantasia's respect; she is likely to defer to such people.

- Bipolar: Though it could hardly be called a disease in Fantasia's special case, the girl's shattered soul has a vivid effect on her personality, causing it to sometimes enter states of being that are prone to mood swings. Extreme, rapid changes of emotion with little to no explanation—it is not always easy dealing with the multiplicity of identity within her mind. One wisp of herself can at any time be feeling a certain emotion and overpower Fantasia, causing the swift swing in nature. This factor of her has been contributing to her distance from normal people, estranging her like the lone wolf. But the truth is, as long as she holds her Anima Stone close she is never alone. One thing should be said: This trait can make for interesting conversation on the occasion.

- Outspoken: Another reason why Fantasia doesn't make any friends is this odd mental illness caused by the fractional state of her soul. Sometimes, without being able to help herself, she will speak her mind aloud about what should have stayed in thought form. This strange antic makes her talkative to begin with, as her thoughts generally reign free through her mouth. It also makes her a pretty damn honest person, only because it's so hard to make a lie with this tendency. Forthright and expressive, Fantasia does not hide within her mind even if her words are harsh or critical. Let it be known though, that she is not incapable of hiding her thoughts away...

- Tenacious: Like a leaden bus plowing through all obstacles, Fantasia is a determined soul. It is her perseverance that helps hold together the individual shards of her damaged Soul, and thus what creates this harmony between her and her army of doppelgangers. From her roots, she was always a strong girl, picking her goals and striving for them no matter what. And she has shown to be resolute even in the face of failure; in the face of loss and defeat. Further securing obstinate antics are her duplicates, ever present and willing to help her in her tasks. With the strength of a hundred... there's a point A and a point B, and it's doubtful that there's anything gonna stop her from reaching that second point.

- Graceful: Graceful in victory, graceful in defeat, graceful in form. In more ways than one, Fantasia carries this trait. It is not obligatory for her to show honor and respect to those who contest her irregardless of victory or loss, but she appreciatively chooses to. She has a disposition to be generous and helpful to those who need it, even should they shun her for her strange personality. In another form of the word, Fantasia shows grace in movement and in combat. There is a beauty about her style that seems effortless, though perhaps only those respecting the way of the sword would notice it.

- Haunted: Her past was unforgettable, burned into her mind with a scorching hot brand. There isn't a day that goes by in which Fantasia doesn't think of her lost family or of the malignant Hollows that caused their deaths. She is plagued by these tragic memories in times of weakness, oft shifting her mood for the worse, whether it be vehemence or sadness displayed. There are many triggers that end up causing a sudden recall of these memories in Fantasia, the biggest one being Hollows of course. And my is it not pleasant when that happens.

» Likes: Shinigamis (Yoruichi especially, though she doesn't know her by name), Company, Swordplay, Revenge, The Color Black, Her Mentors, Lightning, Creatures with Wings, Song

» Dislikes: Hollows, Loneliness, Area of Effect Attacks, Threats

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» Background: Fantasia's past is a story of deprivation, of determination, and the inspiration to become something more. All are souls in this world, but Fantasia's shattered spirit puts her in an entirely different class. Beginnings, as per usual, were humble for the young child. In the small detached town of Irokisa, she was born but a normal soul to the Nevermore couple of Lilianne and Ganbaatar. Lilianne was an onyx-haired beauty full of compassion and caring. She possessed a stunning quality of empathy, primarily the factor for marrying Ganbaatar in the first place. Ganbaatar was a dusty brown-haired fellow of simple needs, living with bare bone essentials in the oft-avoided town of Irokisa. He never expected to have found love in somewhat like Lilianne, but the chance was given, and love bloomed.

As aforementioned, Fantasia was born to the pair. This duo raised her with healthy morals and set noble examples for her as she grew up. Despite the shanty-town of a place they called home, the family was able to get through the times graciously without relying on Yen. It was the perfect equation for a bright and sunny childhood, but things could not be so simple for long regarding the young child; her life would take sharp turns unforeseen in the warm shack they resided in, reading stories together by the fireplace. No, not in a place like this. Irokisa was bound for the Hollows, once it was clear the protection here was slim. Hollows; one key of many to Fantasia's identity.

One would think the place safe: the population was meager, and those occupying the grisly place possessed souls lacking in taste, at least for those who would devour them. But the Shinigami's were an extreme issue for the Hollows, and in the isolated town of Irokisa, it was very unlikely that one would even appear and if they did, whether it would be a hasty response or not. Lastly, like beggars in the haggard slums of a city, they could not simply choose their meals. The insatiable Hollows eventually found Irokisa a prime target for meal time, and the first attacks were calamitous for the denizens...

When the Hollow appeared before Fantasia's very eyes, she was only six. She screamed at the top of her lungs, and her parents jumped away in surprise with shocked expressions written over their faces. The beast looked humanoid, wearing a deathly black cloak of some kind, and a bleach white mask depicting a sort of monster you would only see in a nightmare. She pointed at the demonic entity and kept on screaming and screaming. Her parents tried as they might to console her, but Fantasia just kept screeching in terror. Why weren't her parents noticing the beast? Why wasn't anybody? Everyone was staring rather at her, including the expressionless dark holes of the masked one that made for eyes. For a second the beast seemed to contemplate Fantasia's reaction, but that second quickly passed as the chaos began.

Fire. So much fire. The buildings spat flame out of their windows as the heat overfilled the insides; the tar of the streets melted into a sticky black liquid as the fire streaked violently across it. They did not see it coming, the poor citizens of Irokisa, even though Fantasia had. What they did see was the fire, but it was too late by then. Too many had burned... in fact, Fantasia and her mother were forced to witness as Ganbaatar became the first victim of the Hollow's torment. Lilianne tried to cover Fantasia's eyes but it was for naught. They fled the open streets to get away from the spitfire created by this Hollow, with the burning image of the man they both loved in their own way, scarred into their minds. Eventually the Shinigamis would arrive, but the damage had been done. Fantasia screamed herself into unconsciousness, a coma from which she would not recover until a few days.

After that day they did not speak of the man again, as though it were an unspoken rule. The stories were rare and no longer possessing that joyous note. Both of them were locked in a solace of grievance for the following year. Hollows would come again, but often time would run into a prepared Shinigami. No one noticed the passing of these souls when no damage was done. Not even Fantasia did, as she secluded herself to the indoors for the entirety of the year, even as Lilianne needed to leave for work and grocery. It was a short time of a peace, a somber tranquility that did good for the broken child. It was only after the anniversary of the attack had passed that Fantasia was able to overcome her depression. She pushed herself, as inspiration took hold of her one fateful day.

"Child, you're only seven," came the strong baritone voice. As he turned around to face Fantasia, it felt like looking up to a giant, his shadow encompassing her entire stature. He had shaggy brown hair mopped over a contrastingly chiseled face, broad and powerful. She distinctly remembered the rough shave he had on at that time, one that older woman might find attractive. Fantasia stood before him for a different reason, that being seeking his instruction and training. When Fantasia kept her silence and maintained a strong erect stance in front of him, showing that she would not back down from this, he continued. "I don't think you should be messing with weapons like blades, or weapons at all for that matter. You should go back home, Fantasia."

He knew her name. This was a small town, and such a fact was not extraordinary. But she was furiously and stubbornly holding her ground. "I was the only one who saw the demon, but I couldn't do anything! I couldn't protect Ga—... him, from the demon." So small, yet the girl's voice boasted exceptional volume and power, something unexpected from the broken girl she had been mere days before. This man, Rubeus by name, took surprise but still pointed out the reality of the situation, and discarded the wild belief of a demon having started the fire. Fantasia's response was vehement: "You weren't there!" she screamed, and the two pairs of eyes leered at each other with stunning intensity. Silence ensued.

The truth was, Rubeus was as compassionate as Lilianne was. He was a stone giant with warm heart, especially for this misfortunate youth who lost her father so early in life. He kneeled to better equalize the height difference between the two of them, and met her defiant expression with a suddenly consoling grin. "You think you can become strong enough to slay demons with a sword? You think you have such power in you?" The question was promptly answered by the young girl with a booming 'Yes'! With utter conviction she believed she could acquire the power to protect the ones she loved. Rubeus acted out of the kindness of his heart, taking her up as a student initially just because of his sympathy.

As time passed, it became apparent that Fantasia's lessons were transitioning from acts of pity into genuine training sessions. She showed definite talent with the Gladius, considered a light sword compared to the other variants, but cumbersome enough for a youngling like Fantasia. Despite that weight, there was an unrefined grace and vigor about the way she swung the sword, that showed enough promise to convince Rubeus of her beliefs. Months would pass as Rubeus pushed Fantasia forth, faster than any student he had ever instructed. None of them had ever had the sheer dedication to train like this before, and it was refreshing. No, he still didn't believe that wildfire was crafted a by a nonsensical demon as Fantasia had tried to tell him, but he did believe he could make her strong.

When Fantasia turned eight, it was clear what effect her training was having on her body. Muscle was building up in her arms in legs, and she was losing the chubbiness of her youth to her brutal self-imposed exercise. But while at home and not distracted by her mentor Rubeus, her mind was allowed to wander. Sometimes it steered clear of the mine field that was her tragic past... sometimes it did not. One sad night, as she and her mother sat together to eat, Fantasia had begun to simply pick at her food absently. When Lilianne finally noticed her aloofness, she begged the question of what's wrong. Her response, deathly silent as a whisper, was "Why did he have to die?" At first Lilianne hadn't heard, and so more loudly she repeated the question. "Why did he have to die?!" And like a dam giving way to water, the tears began to flow.

But Lilianne was already pulling her into her lap, holding her and whispering consolation to her. Most people would not know the answer to the question, but Lilianne knew what to say. "No, Fan, he did not need to die, but I know him. I know he wouldn't have wanted us to die with him that day, and the fire had come close. In fact, I'm sure he did something the moment he passed away, something that kept the flames away from me and you." Fantasia looked up with moist wide eyes, surprised at the thought of that. Lilianne would stroke her daughter's cheek softly as she continued. "He loved you very much, and wanted you to stay alive more than he. And when the time comes, where you grow up and live your life, you will be reunited with your father, and me as well. And we'll all be together once again. How does that sound?"

It was something Fantasia needed to hear, especially then. Her spirit was beginning to recover from the traumatic experience, and things were finally looking up again. For the next few years she would continue her lessons with Rubeus, gradually transitioning to heavier and heavier blades to work with. She enjoyed the time she had with Lilianne and her compassionate tendencies. And Hollows had stopped attacking... however, that last fact had deceived the Shinigami into a false sense of security. It was only a matter of time before the Hollows figured out that they were not dutifully watching of Irokisa anymore. And when, not if, it happened, everything Fantasia had begun to heal would fall to pieces, and end up worse than before.

The afternoon lit up with screams, terrible terrible screams. The Nevermore family could hear it as they had dinner, and it was enough for them to become curious enough for investigation. And as Fantasia walked out the door of their humble abode, deja vu struck with excruciating force. Frozen in place, she was now witnessing another hollow. It was like a giant snake covered in black wraps, and it possessed a sinister white mask just like the first hollow. Just like the first, it looked at her in a moment of contemplation, or at least she thought it did. But the next thing she knew, everything was playing in slow motion, including the blood-curdling screech that came from the woman beside her. A scream like just the rest. As Fantasia slowly turned her head toward her mother, she instantly regretted it.

Agony assaulted the poor girl as she laid her eyes on the gruesome sight. From every pour of her body, blood began flow out of her as her body wrinkled up like a used wrapper. Stuttering flashbacks of her father on fire shifted back and forth in place of her mother, doubling the pain that stabbed through her gut and heart. She had to jerk her head away from it all, and the world would deafen itself to her, quieting her mother's scream. She opened her mouth to yell, but nothing came out. She closed her eyes, but it only magnified the terrible images she was witnessing in her mind. As hope was draining out of her, Fantasia forced a burst of hatred and determination up, and started rushing toward the serpentine Hollow. She had it in her head to kill this thing with bare hands, and the Hollow shifted its attention to the young girl, preparing to unleash the same blood magic it had released on her mother...

A crack sounded in the sky, like lightning. But there was no storm, no clouds. Something came down though, and it crashed right into the top of the Hollow's head with an impact so hard that the tremors could be felt in the ground below. A plume of debris rose, and dust clouds shot outward from the site of impact, knocking Fantasia back clear off of her feet, onto her back with a rough thud. The particles filled her lungs and sent her into a fit of coughing and hacking, all while she tried to recover her standing. She pitifully waved her hand like a fan as though it would blow away the dust, but eventually it would settle by itself and grant Fantasia a clear view of what had happened. No longer did the beastly Hollow stand—it was crumpled up in the crater now existing in the middle of the street, seemingly dead. A dozen meters up above it, just floating there in the air, was a purple-haired woman with dark skin.

Yoruichi being her name, she turned to scan the town for the destruction it had caused. Bloody corpses lay strewn throughout the streets and most people had fled the site of the deaths in fear. But she was surprised to look down and see the young blonde child standing hardly far at all, looking straight at her. Now, normal humans would not be able to see her, or the hollow for that matter, but this young one was clearly looking directly at her. Several feet behind her was the dead body of Lilianne Nevermore, and she felt a pang of pity for the girl, knowing what she must have witnessed. "I'm sorry, child," she said, knowing that the girl would hear her. With that, she shot high into the sky and away from this place. Fantasia try as she might to crane her head high enough to track the mystery woman's flight, but something snapped, and she fell to the ground unconscious.

Fantasia awoke to a cotton warmth, and opened her eyes as she pushed herself up. She was in a... a bed, tucked underneath a duo of blankets and resting against some soft pillows. To her side, morning sunrise light shone through the blinds of the room's only window, casting a yellowish orange light across the room. Given her poor stature, the sleep was comfortable to say the least. There were no nightmares this night, and in fact she got through the sleep in a state of dreamlessness. The thing was, she had awaken in a stranger's house, and a bedroom that was not her own. That begged the question where she was. Still clothed in yesterday's grimy apparel, she made her way out of bed and upright, trying her best to shake off the morning grogginess. She quietly shuffled out of the door, to find the one man she needed at that time.

She buckled down to her knees, placing her face in her hands and sobbing as hard as she possibly could, releasing all the sadness that had pent up the prior day. Rubeus immediately stopped what he was doing and ran to Fantasia to wrap his arms around her and offer whatever consolation he could. For several minutes this situation persisted, a sad time indeed. Not until at least five minutes did the young girl think of quieting down, but when she did it was pure silence that now pervaded the room, besides her occasional sobbing gasp. Rubeus whispered his condolances for the loss of her parents, but he himself was in an odd position. Before Fantasia had entered the room, he had been packing his belongings into a travel suitcase. He did not know what to do with the girl if he did not plan to take her with him. He had also never experienced parenthood, which further explained his discomfort with the situation. He was compassionate all right, but he truly could not take Fantasia with him. He could not support her as well as himself.

"I'm sorry," Rubeus finally finished in a low hearty voice, before standing and returning to packing his things. Fantasia would look up with teary eyes for a moment, understanding what he was doing. Exasperated, she accused him; "You're leaving?!" to which he answered affirmatively. "But this is your home! You can't just go! And what about me?!" Rubeus' expression was austere, as he knew this conversation was going to have to happen the moment he took her off the beaten streets and gave her a proper place to rest. He exhaled and focused back on Fantasia. Sometimes, life was just not fair.

"I must... we must go. You remember when you told me that a demon caused that fire in the streets? Well now—and maybe I'm out of my mind for this—I believe you. Because what happened yesterday was not natural, with people just dying in such a way..." He shook his head when he recalled what he had seen, before continuing. "Whatever it is, this place is not safe; not right. There is no more business for my dojo here anymore. And it's not only me... everyone is leaving now. You should too." There was pause, after which Fantasia posed the question, "Are you taking me with you?" It was so unfortunate then, and almost painful, that Rubeus had to shake his head in response.

"W-What? What am I supposed to do?! What about my training? What about my family?" Rubeus cringed away from the tiny yet fierce voice coming out of Fantasia. He was silent for a moment, and his eyes glanced at the silver glimmer in the corner of his eye. Hanging on the wall was a sword passed down through his family, something that he knew wouldn't continue since he would not find love. But he took a long look at the weapon, and walked toward it with solemn slowness. He gripped the the handle of the blade and unhinged it from the wall, waving it around through the air as if to test it. After that, she walked toward the young Nevermore with sword in hand, bringing it above his head... And he cut the tension as he brought the tip plowing down into the wooden floor before Fantasia, causing her to jump. "Pull the sword out," he commanded.

Fantasia didn't bother arguing, and she wrapped her hands around the grip and started pulling it her way. The sword hardly bowed, and certainly did not dislodge itself from the floorboards; it had pierced the ground pretty deep. So she got up, and took a firmer grip. With all her strength she pulled and pulled, and after a quick moment the blade came loose and she stumbled back a step, surprised at how heavy the sword was in her hand. As soon as she had succeeded, Rubeus barked another command at her, "Now perform the first form, just like I showed you." One of his early lessons—Rubeus taught her certain successions of swings, that were just like dances in Fantasia's perception. She hesitantly started the graceful feat of swordsmanship, performing it in utter silence while her mentor watched. She tried her best to keep her movements fluid...

When the silence drew on too long, Fantasia stopped and began to inquire about why she was doing this, but Rubeus interrupted and told her to continue the form until it was done. Puzzled, she completed her task, and ended it with a bow toward him. Rubeus had seen what he needed. "There is nothing more I can teach you young Fantasia. That sword is a Claymore, one of the heaviest and most powerful swords in existence, and you have just shown me that you can wield it with adequate grace and finality. You are only ten years old, and you have shown more skill than I ever could have dreamed of. I am so proud of you, Fantasia." He put his hand on her head, and rustled her hair like Ganbataar used to do... a warm sentiment. "I cannot take you with me, Fantasia. But I know you can find your own path now... I know it."

So that was what it came to. Fantasia stood on the doorstep, watching the man depart from the house that was now no longer his. She held his family's sword by her side, now able to call it her own; a parting gift. She watched the horizon until she could no longer see the giant of a man, and with great finality, she realized she was truly alone now. She looked around the block, noticing that Rubeus wasn't the only one with the idea to leave. Adults and children alike were departing from their homes, or packing so that they could in time. Fantasia, though, would return indoors, choosing not to go back to her own home and be reminded of the loss of her parents. She was in a state of indecision, simply allowing time to pass her by, every day peeking out the window to see yet another family leaving Irokisa in the dust. Sometimes she was afraid she would see another hollow, but every time that thought came across her mind, something in the corner of her eye would draw her attention and she would jerk her head in that direction to catch a brief glimpse of a woman's figure, just floating in the sky and watching over her. Or perhaps it was her imagination, recalling the purple-haired one again and again. She could not tell.

Though she did not allow the weeks to pass with lethargy; Rubeus had told her that her swordsmanship was adequate, and adequate was not good enough for her. She needed to become unmatched, so that she could defeat every Hollow that ever threatened her, or that ever threatened anybody. So she would practice all of her forms with the claymore, and attack the various inanimate objects within the house with the weapon for training. Then for exercise she would do push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks by the hundreds. Every day she felt as though she had not improved, she would double the number of reps she would perform the next day and from then on. If she so much as stumbled or dropped her sword while practicing one of her forms, she would repeat her set of exercise immediately as punishment. She was no slacker.

But while she showed her strength during the day, her weakness came out at night, crying herself to sleep almost every time. The only good nights were dreamless ones, because whenever the dreams came, they swiftly distorted into nightmares. It was often that she dreamed too, causing her to be afraid of sleeping to the point of losing sleep throughout the entire night. How long would this pitiful loop continue on? A full month, it appeared, as it came close to Fantasia's eleventh birthday. She would find herself under her blankets but unable to fall to sleep. She was sobbing into her hands, tormented by her very memories of love and loss—a typical night it seemed. But through the girl's finger shined a glimmer that caught her by surprise. She brought her hands away from her face to see the source of the sudden light, and it appeared to be originating from her claymore resting against the wall across the room. A sapphire light was pulsing from the cross guard quite sporadically, painting the walls blue with each oscillation.

From what Fantasia could tell, as she drew out from under the sheets and closer to the blade, was that there now happened to be a blue gem embedded into her weapon; it had never been there before. As she crawled closer to it, the faster and brighter the gem began to pulse, and the dimmer and more ethereal the rest of the world around it became. When she was at the edge of the bed, she gained a state of weightlessness as she was now thrust into a void who's only occupants were Fantasia and her Claymore. A voice invaded her mind, sounding so familiar, "You are not alone." Just like that, the gem expelled a blue mist that quickly took the form of Fantasia herself. Within seconds she was looking at a complete copy of herself. "You have us," it said, as two more doppelgangers were brought into existence around her.

At first she was obviously confused by these events, thinking this was all just in her imagination. "B-But... you're just me. You're not real." They certainly looked real, flesh and blood copies of her. The first clone responded, as the Earth returned to reality, and the laws of space returned to her perception. And it became clear that they were real and present within her world. "We are real, Fantasia, and we are all you. We, together!" One tilted her head at her, another gave her a small smile. They were present not just in reality, but in her mind. For something unique had occurred to Fantasia, and that was the shattering of her soul. It had not been destroyed, but simply split into many many pieces. These clones were all her, and it was because of that that she easily accepted this truth of "We", not "I".

She slept in good dreams that night, and woke the following morning with a conviction in her mind. She dressed all in black, in respect for those who have died around her, and she packed lightly for the lone travels she planned to take, finally leaving her home town of Irokisa. Her Claymore... she found a black strap she could use to attach it to her back, and the weapon's respective scabbard. Only black clothing, she would take with her for apparel; but she was not picky with the food, taking what she could to survive out there alone. By noon that day before her birthday, Fantasia would be out of sight of the place. And thus would her four year journey to a better place begin. She walked across Japan from town to town, city to city, learning what she could and finding ways to survive to the next day. Never did her self-imposed training cease, and now she had her duplicates to always be there for her both in the physical and the ethereal.

By the time she had turned fifteen, and had followed the rumors of a safe place to the massive town of Karakura Central, Fantasia had become a new girl, almost a woman. She was incredibly fit, and well practiced with her clones though such prowess came almost naturally. As for company, the only company she kept were her clones; after all, her new strange personality estranged her from nearly everybody, not allowing her friends. But she had what she needed! And this Karakura Central... she felt as though she could and might settle down here for a new beginning. Maybe she could find somebody to continue her instruction, or perhaps help her with her newfound power.

This is Fantasia's continuing story of deprivation, of determination, and the inspiration to become something more. All are souls in this world, but Fantasia's shattered spirit puts her in an entirely different class. Her soul is in shards, all held together by one powerful epicenter. A motive of love, of determination, of vengeance...