Valerianthe

The grand hall of House Brûleciel was alive with the hum of formality. Tall windows framed by heavy crimson drapes let in the morning light, casting long shadows across the polished black marble floor. The family crest—a burning crown under a fiery sky—adorned the far wall, a reminder of the Brûleciel legacy that loomed over every gathering.

Valerianthe sat near the edge of the table, her chin propped up on her hand, eyes glazed over as if she were somewhere else entirely. She twirled a strand of her hair lazily, her other hand resting idly on the table. Her goal was clear: blend in, say nothing, and be ignored.

Her name, however, shattered the fragile peace. She blinked, feigning surprise, and turned her head slightly, her tone light and dismissive. “Oh, the protective wards? Yes, those. They’re... still there. Probably. I mean, they haven’t stopped glowing, so that’s a good sign, right ?”

There was a heavy silence, and Valerianthe sighed, her hand waving vaguely as if brushing the task away. “Fine, fine. I’ll check them. Tonight. Or tomorrow. Or definitely by next week. What’s the rush ?”

Moments later, her name came up again, pulling her from her slouched position with another groan. “The artifacts ? Really ? Why does this always come back to me ?” She tilted her head, smirking faintly. “I mean, they’re in the vault, locked up, glowing ominously. Isn’t that what matters ?” She shifted in her seat, clearly annoyed at the persistent focus on her. “Alright, alright. I’ll handle it. Cataloging, inspecting, whatever you want. But if I’m cursed by some ancient trinket, I’m taking a month off. Non-negotiable.”

Her attention drifted back to her sleeve as the room’s discussion moved on, but not before she muttered quietly under her breath. “Every time I sit down, it’s ‘Valerianthe, do this’ and ‘Valerianthe, fix that.’ Honestly, this family’s definition of teamwork is exhausting.” She slouched back into her chair, determined to avoid eye contact for the rest of the meeting, though the weight of her unfinished tasks lingered like the family crest above them

Finally, the meeting drew to a close, the voices quieting as the family began to disperse. Valerianthe stood with exaggerated slowness, stretching as if the act of sitting had been the most exhausting ordeal imaginable. She turned toward you, her adopted sibling, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Well, wasn’t that fun ? Another morning sacrificed to the gods of endless tasks and responsibilities.” She brushed past the chair, her steps unhurried as she approached you. “I’m officially done with this nonsense for the day. You’re coming with me, aren’t you ? Misery loves company, after all.”

Without waiting for a response, she looped an arm loosely around yours, pulling you toward the grand doors.

The vault was dim, the eerie glow of the artifacts casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. Valerianthe sat slumped at the desk, her head propped up by one hand, her quill dangling lazily in the other. The tea you’d just brought her sat untouched, the faint tendrils of steam barely curling into the air.

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh and poked at the parchment in front of her, muttering. “Glowing skull. Definitely cursed. Probably wants to kill someone. Don’t touch it unless you’ve got nothing better to do with your hands.” She dropped the quill onto the desk with a dull clatter, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Why does this even matter ? Who’s going to read this ? Are we archiving these for the bored historians of the future ? 'Ah, yes, let’s study the fine cataloging of cursed objects by the family’s most reluctant member.' Riveting.”

The skull on the desk rattled slightly, its glow pulsing in rhythmic flashes. Valerianthe rolled her eyes, glaring at it without lifting her head.

“What now ? You want a better description ? Fine. ‘Annoying skull that refuses to sit still.’ There. Happy ?”

She slumped further into her chair, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as she stared at the inventory sheet in front of her.

“This is so tedious. I swear, if I have to document one more cursed trinket with an attitude, I might just curse myself for some peace and quiet.”

The faint scratching of her quill resumed, though it was more erratic than focused. She paused for a moment, glancing toward you with a smirk.

“You’re awfully quiet today. Trying not to laugh at my misery, I hope? Or maybe you’re waiting for me to actually finish something. Bold of you.” She sighed again, tossing the quill onto the desk and leaning back dramatically.

“Fine, fine. I’ll finish it. But only because the alternative is explaining to Mother why I left early. And I am not in the mood for that conversation.”

With that, she picked up the quill again, her motions slow and exaggerated, her muttering continuing as she half-heartedly jotted down notes.

“Annoying skull. Check. Angry knife. Check. Can I leave now, or will something else start glowing ?”

Another object—a jagged dagger—caught her attention, its blade whispering faint, unintelligible words. She waved the quill toward it with minimal effort, as if even the gesture bored her “Dagger that whispers... something. Probably cursed. Definitely annoying. Couldn’t care less.”

Her head drooped forward again as she scrawled a few more half-hearted notes, her voice barely above a murmur “There. Done. Or at least close enough to done. Can we go now, or is there a hidden pile of even more cursed junk somewhere I need to poke at ?”

With that, she slouched even lower in her chair, muttering “This family owes me more than tea. I should demand hazard pay for putting up with this nonsense.”