How could one be lonely, with a rune of binding? An ever-present persona, a sliver of wood in her mind, constantly there, constantly speaking to her, sending her images and sounds, sending her voices and idealisms.

A physical description of Blossom yields adjectives, if not of beauty, of maturity. She never allowed her auburn hair to grow longer than shoulder length, and her eyes shimmered a deep and aching blue, bordering on purple, a few shades away from blood red. Her slender form was a weakness of sorts... her physical stature could give the false yet overwhelming impression that Blossom was undernourished and sickly. Her skin, pale and milky smooth, as the ocean ripples during the eye of a storm.

Her travelling garb consisted of a hard leather tunic, dyed white, not piercable by any crude Jowston arrow. Her boots were of the same material, padded inside with softer fur for comfort's sake. She wore also white gloves, but not of leather- the thickness of such material would hinder her trigger finger. Onlookers could see no real reason for Blossom to wear such gloves- if not for protection's sake, then what?

Only a choice few knew that the glove on the left was worn merely to compliment its partner on the right- the latter of which was worn to hide her cursed rune.

The tunic was worn only as armor. Outside the leather shell was a cloak of Harmonian silk, the color of a blooming cherry blossom. Admittedly, Blossom chose this sect of the Guild specifically for its symbolic color... she was an agent of the Silken Song, an elite group of snipers which thrived on stealth and secrets. They wove runes through their rifles, imbiding them with magical essense, moreso than the other six sects would dare.

Many who met Blossom believed her name to be nothing more than an extension of her vibrant pink visage. But in actuality, it was her given name- given to her by her father. One of her fondest childhood memories was the great tree outside their quaint Harmonian farmhouse which, every spring, would produce countless beautiful cherry blossoms- close friends and family liked to joke that it was for this tree that Blossom was truly named.

As a member of the Silken Song, Blossom carried a rifle as her primary weapon. The metallic shaft of the rifle, too, was painted pink and bore the crest of the Guild. The gun had been christened Sakura by the factol of the Silken Song, at Blossom's request. Sakura... the woman who had, twenty-one years ago, died giving her the gift of life. Many members of the Guild liked to believe that the soul of a departed loved one lived on in their gun... and thus Blossom held strong that the spiritual hand of Sakura Masonrey was always guiding her.

The story of how Blossom Masonrey crosses paths with the unfortunate General Ridley Wizen begins near the borderlands of Highland, in a small town whose name is lost in the rolling tide of history. It begins on a calm, cloudless night. It begins with a struggle, a gunshot heard miles away, with the thrice-damned words of the rune of binding...

"Destiny..."

Blossom shot upright in her bed in the small inn, matted in nervous sweat. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest as though threatening to explode. Her breath came in chaotic, sudden gasps... and her face was caked in warm tears. She could hardley see- the darkness of her room was crushing her. The word tore through her mind, and time slipped by for what seemed like eternity until she realized it was being drowned out by broken sobs.

She attempted to compose herself by choking her sobs as best she could. When there was finally a sense of regularity to her breathing, Blossom began to notice the pain again. A searing pain, like a firebrand pressed to the palm of her right hand. Instead of its normal dull brown, the rune glowed the color of heated metal- burning along lines of the same analogy.

Blossom gritted her teeth, channeling the pain away from her consciousness. She needed coherant thought now. She needed to translate the rest of the rune's message. Each word it spoke torched her flesh with a thousand candles; how good it would have been to sever the accursed demon at the wrist?

Nevertheless... this kind of message was important- it always had been. Blossom sat on the bed, gritting her teeth, supressing the urge to cry out in murderous agony. She closed her eyes, focusing on the words.

"Do you know the difference between destiny and fate, Lady Wizen? Destiny is a man-made invention, devised to trick people into thinking that they have a place in this universe, taught by dogmatic cults to con people into paying pennance. Destiny is not worth believing in, Lady Wizen."

The heat intensified... the rune's hue changed from glowing orange to blinding white, illuminating Blossom's face with a soft glow. With her left hand, she grasped her right wrist as hard as she could. The flow of blood began to trickle into a neglegable slither of fluid, creating a tantalizing mixture of flame and numbness. Her teeth parted, but Blossom would not allow her cry to escape as anything more than a soft sigh.

"Fate is something different entirely. Fate is Entropy, the end of all. One cannot change Fate, my lady."

Tears were pouring now. The weight of the words compounded the pain of the rune, and Blossom silently pleaded for release, beseeched the God which she did not believe in. She had lost the strength to stay sitting, now- her muscles fell limp as she lay backwards, exhaustion setting into each of her bones. The inferno continued, however, and a conscious effort had to now be made to keep from blacking out entirely.

"Tell your master I'm coming for him. And you might as well tell Ridley, too."

Blossom allowed her lips to whisper the words, "Stiletto... why?" as the pain in her hand slowly died. Her chest heaved, and the tears continued to flood her face- her heart heavy with the message of the rune of binding. She lay there amidst her broken ponderings and stifled sobs until, finally, with the facade of the rising sun, she drifted off into a restless sleep.

The time of her reckoning had come, she knew. She and Sakura would once again go to war, only this time the battlefield would be different...