In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
Shattered Grimoires is the work of the mind(s) of Ardere & Shattered Grimoire's staff. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. Black Clover is owned by Yuki Tabata and published by Viz Shonen Jump. All images belong to their original owners. The theme you are currently viewing was made by Eliza of ElizaCodes exclusively for Shattered Grimoires.
[break] The Cloversationist, an elite fashion magazine whose covers are usually graced by only the most attractive of wizards needs a model for their upcoming weekly issue. Go pose for their flamboyant photographer until he is satisfied!
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]Details
Minimum Number of Players: 1 [break]Minimum Word Count: 1,000 [break]Location: Town of Silva [break]Special Requirements: N/A
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]NPC Information
What NPCs are in this mission? Please fill out the template for any notable NPCs. While those you have to socially interact with during the mission are not required any enemy that is presented in the mission must be listed in here. [break][break] Up to Player [break][break]
While her peers resisted the urge to marvel at their surroundings by overcompensating with forced upright posturing, Amara was relaxed and carried herself naturally. This was like any other day for the young woman. But for many of her peers, this was an honor. Only those who were most accomplished in their studies were placed in this particular Arts and Culture lecture. It included weekly field trips. Each trip allowed for the class to visit a major cultural institution or business venue. Amara had been in the Noble Region for more than a month and a half now and she’d already settled into this lifestyle. This was her new normal.
As the group traveled under the leadership of Ms. Freya, Amara alone was a standout. The sun seemed to shine on her in a way that was so different from those around her. Her skin sang in the light of day. Her crimson dress draped beautifully on her form in stark contrast to her glowing, cinnamon colored skin. Her rosebud shaped headdress of similarly colored crimson fabric sat atop her crown framing her face with loose strips of similarly colored, yet translucent chiffon.
She carried herself with a natural, instinctual grace even the highest ranked noble women would admire. She could wear a popotatoe sack and still be the target of envy in the eyes of her female peers. Even now, the other girls in this small class each wore the latest fashions yet still couldn’t stand out like Amara could. Her homemade dress was equally as fine as theirs, and yet she spent barely a fraction of the yul that they did. Style, attitude, and a certain je ne sais quoi would forever set her apart from the other orphan girls in the Noble Region. These things would set her apart from even the noble girls in this region.
As the class walked through the Town of Silva, Amara was able to easily distinguish just who was a member of the actual Silva family. It was so easy given the fact that they all possessed naturally silver hair despite their age. She didn’t stare, though more than a few would watch her inquisitively as she passed. Though she couldn’t tell what they were thinking, she could fathom to guess. Why made that dress? She smiled lightly at the thought. She was proud of the fashions she made. Its length was just the right cut to give the illusion that she wasn’t walking, but gliding. And as she had her broom in one hand, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that she was gliding.
“And that is how this castle town is home to the most prominent and professional traders of our kingdom.” Ms Freya said. She’d been giving a history lesson on the development of the town for quite a while. Every so often it would provide context for the arts and culture facet of the day’s lesson. “It is perhaps the most well taken care of the city in the Kingdom, as decadent and architecturally developed as the capital itself.” She continued. To all in attendance, it seemed as though she’d been speaking for much longer than she had been. For Amara, it was because she’d heard, or rather read it all before. In fact she’d read far more about the town and its industries than Ms. Freya could cover in the few hours it would take to start and end her class. For Amara’s peers, they couldn’t wait until the end because of their final destination. They’d all hoped to arrive at their closing destination soon.
This highlight of this lecture was in getting to tour the headquarters of The Conversationalist, the kingdom’s most notable, cutting edge fashion magazine. The magazine was unlike any other. This magazine didn’t simply document fashion trends and highlight beauty trends. It was the only magazine of its kind. Every new issue dictated the future of Clover Kingdom’s fashion and beauty industry. Every beauty in the kingdom, male or female, desired the coveted cover and spread in this magazine. Every fashionista desired a peak behind the curtain so that they could get ahead of the curve and plan for next season’s looks. Rumor had it that the next issue featured the work of the legendary photographer Cecelia Amberglow who single handedly launched the fashion careers of beauties and socialites like Naomi Moss, Ashley Campbell, and Kate Graham, just to name a few. There were no photographers that could capture the dramatic, dynamic, awe inspiring looks of a subject like Cecelia Amberglow. And as talented as she was, no one outside of The Conversationalist headquarters even knew what she looked like.
“So this concludes our field trip.” Ms. Freya said as they arrived at their final destination. It was a four story building of stone and a few large floor to ceiling windows on each floor. This was The Conversationalist headquarters. This was likely where much of the photography for the magazine was performed given the amount of natural light the building would allow in. Murmurs began to erupt as Amara’s peers realized was was about to happen. “So here we are at The Conversationalist.” Ms. Freya continued. “You are free to tour their public gallery of current season’s trends.” She ended, waving the group towards the entrance. Amara’s peers entered in small groups.
Amara on the other hand, had her own ideas. She could see current season’s trends at anytime because they’re worn by nearly everyone in the Noble Region. And as mere orphans without respectable social stature, they wouldn’t be preview to next season’s looks. However, she could go to the nearest market to look for new fabrics that could give life to her own ideas. No doubt the Town of Silva had all manner or fabrics to choose from. She wouldn’t be surprised if this particular marketplace carried fabrics she’d never seen, fabrics from beyond Clover Kingdom’s borders. Of course, she wouldn’t know until she browsed.
She turned to leave when Ms. Freya blocked her path. “Interesting choice of ensemble today Amara.” She began. “Were you really not planning to go inside?” She continued. “You of all people may want to have a look and figure out just how to fit in for as long as you manage to stay in this region.” She smirked.
“Forgive me Ms. Freya.” Amara began, offering a polite curtsy. “I’m afraid I don’t feel up to it right now. I will see you for next week’s lecture. Good day.” She finished, releasing her broom before allowing it to float beside her. She sat atop her broomstick and ascended.
Though Ms. Freya was one of the few instructors at the orphanage that didn’t actively try to intimidate Amara, her attempt to get Amara to view the fashion and beauty gallery brought her mind back to how most of the others treated her. She was an outsider even though her mastery of etiquette alone allowed her to blend in with the upper echelons of the Noble Region more than any of her peers.
As she flew over the city, she could spot her destination. Colorful fabrics streamed the area. Every storefront, every colorful store awning told of the fact that she found the marketplace.
She began her descent to the street drawing stares from a few as she did. She somehow managed to pull her broom out from under her while maintaining her slow and controlled path down to the streets below. She landed with an elegance unheard of from one who was simply dismounting a broom. The display of refinement was not lost on one young man who watched her land. He peered at her through pale silver hair and light blue eyes. This was no doubt another Silva. He offered a dignified bow and barely there smile before an older woman with similar features nudged him so that the two might continue on their way.
Amara began to walk up the street, peering through storefronts, and browsing past street displays. Each storefront had skillfully placed mannequins wearing the latest fashions or popular jewelry designs. Hoop skirts, evening gowns, high heeled shoes, bejeweled belts and grimoire holders; she’d never seen so much fashion in one spot before. It took a while before she finally found what she was looking for.
The fabric store’s window display contained long pieces of silks and satins delicately draped over a dark oak wardrobe and chiffon and lace draped over a vanity.
She entered and was met by the clerk who was tending to the only other customer in the store. Whereas the clerk was ordinary in appearance, the other customer wore her lime green hair pinned back in a fun style that at first glance looked careless, however at second glance must have taken hours. Lime green feathers lined one side and a lime green crystal hair pin was placed on the opposite side. A single braid coiled atop her head like a snake held each hair accessory in place.
Amara walked the aisles and was met with a masterfully curated selection of all manner of fabric from every corner of the world. She browsed for no less than an hour, running her finger tips over anything that caught her interest. She could live in this store and be happy. However, she had to keep her funds in mind. When all was said and done she selected a few different fabrics, each jewel tones, each a more breathable silk. She held up each up to her form and draped them in different ways across her form. She had limited her choices down to three however, she could only afford two with the yul she currently had in her purse.
“Do you mean to say that you would mix amethyst, ultramarine, and light emerald in a single look?” The green haired woman said, interrupting Amara’s thought. “That’s outrageous!” The woman said, judgingly. “Not even you with your otherworldly beauty could pull that off.” She laughed condescendingly.
“I will create a dress with all of them.” Amara responded, unbothered by the woman’s earlier judgement. “I would block and shape the ultramarine and amethyst using light emerald accents.” She finished. She grabbed her fabrics and brought them to the register.
“It seems I will need to make a trip to the bank.” Amara said to the clerk, an older gentleman who looked at her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she could be trusted. “Do reserve these for me.” She said, staring back at him. He nodded but then his eyes darted to a point in space behind the young girl.
“Are you serious about creating such a garment?” The woman said to Amara from behind. Amara turned to face her. The woman tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Are you drawing inspiration from something crystallin….architectural? Why you’ll look like you’re wearing...” The woman paused. Her eyes widened as if she had some epiphany.
“You’ll look as if you’re wearing a dress made of stained glass!” She exclaimed. “Absolutely fabulous!” She continued, reaching up towards the ceiling. “Gregor give this girl whatever she needs!”
“Yes Lady Amberglow.” He said hurriedly.
Amberglow. Amara didn’t miss this. This woman was Cecelia Amberglow. Thee Cecelia Amberglow, master photographer from The Conversationalist.
“Yes...whatever she wants.” Lady Amberglow continued, lowering her arms. She began tapping her chin again. “Also more jewel tone silks. Ruby, citrine, as many as you have. And lace….give us lace! We must play with light and lace. The very notion lends itself to the idea of crystalline form and stained glass...and light...oh the light...and the patterns.” She went on. And as she did, Gregor scrambled around the store pulling fabric after fabric from his shelves.
“And you!” She shouted, pointing at Amara. “My muse! Deity of creativity! Spirit of color and beauty!” She continued. “I will have you on my next cover! You will shake the world and bring it to its very knees! You darling, are what I’ve been looking for!”
“...I…” Amara began, at a complete loss for words.
She couldn’t quite recall how she made her way back to headquarters of The Conversationalist. The moments leading up to her using her raw magic to create an incorporeal three-dimensional sketch of her dress were a complete blur. Something about free fabrics, payment, and dressmaking materials? She’d taken so many pictures of Amara on the flight back.
“Please Amara don’t pose.” Lady Amberglow said at one point. “Just be your natural graceful self please. Your beauty is natural, not posed.”
Lady Amberglow’s assistants used their thread and fabric magics to create the dress Amara had been thinking of. What would have taken Amara weeks of careful planning and time management was accomplished in mere minutes. It was as thought they pulled the dress from her dreams and placed it on her form. The dress hugged her frame, and yet the excess fabric allowed for optimum range of motion.
Amara could only guess how much time had passed, how many pictures had been taken. She attended her field trip in the morning hours, and now the sun was setting. Its light beautifully outlined the sixth...or seventh dress in jewel tones that mimicked the sun’s dying light.
“We’ve done it!” Lady Amberglow shouted in excitement. “This is some of my best work yet.” She said, prompting applause from her assistants. “I shall send you the very first print…” She continued. “Young girl, what is your name?”
“I am Amara.” The young girl said, almost confused as she realized that the two hadn’t made a formal introduction.
“Amara…” Lady Amberglow replied. “What a beautiful name. And which noble house shall I send the first print to?” She finished.
“Noble house?” Amara asked.
“Yes my silly muse...where do you live?” She responded chuckling.
“I see.” Amara began. “There is no noble house. You can send the first copy to the Clover Kingdom Orphanage’s main branch.”
“Orph...nage?” Lady Amberglow said, tapping her chin. “I’m so sorry, I don’t believe we’ve ever had an orphan in our magazine.”
“We can’t!” One of her assistants shouted. “The nobles would take The Conversationist for a joke.”
Cecelia was silent. She simply stared at Amara for what seemed like several minutes.
“Thank you.” The eccentric woman said, finally breaking the silence. “I will have your dresses and other belongings sent to you.” She finished, turning she left the room.
“This way.” Her outspoken assistant said. “I will show you the way out.”
The next week Amara was summoned to Headmaster Grimalde’s office. He’d inquired about the large shipment of dresses and fabrics that had arrived for her, hoping that she didn’t do anything that would bring shame to his place of business. He listened to her story. He drew his mouth into a straight line for the duration of her story. The entire time he sat upright behind his desk, hands folded before him, looking down at the young girl. Amara couldn’t tell what his thoughts or feelings were on the matter.
“I see.” Headmaster Grimante began. “You had quite an eventful day then. And as I don’t get the sense that you are a liar or one that would waste my time with fantastical tales...even if it was to save your own hide, I will believe you.” He stood and began to pace his office. “This could actually be a good thing, or it would be a good thing, if they actually used your image in their magazine. I highly doubt that they would use an orphan as it wouldn’t sit well with most nobles. You may return to your room.” He said, waving her off.
As the young girl walked the halls leading to her room, she ran into Ms. Freya. “Hello Amara, how are you today?” She said.
“I’m well thank you.” Amara said, offering her a graceful and polite curtsy. “And yourself Ms. Freya?”
“Oh I am well thank you. I went for a walk this afternoon and saw your shipment of lovely dresses. Such bold colors and strong design.” Ms. Freya continued. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like them. While I was looking for any clue as to who they belonged to I found this.” She revealed a legal sized envelope with waxed seal side up. “It’s addressed to you Amara. But this seal, the stamp is the logo of The Conversationalist.”
“This must be the next issue.” Amara said, taking the envelope from her.
“The next issue? But it’s not due to be released for another couple weeks at least. How would you have gotten an early release?” Ms. Freya responded.
Amara opened the envelope and pulled out its contents. There was a note:
Nobility do not have a monopoly on beauty, style, or creativity.
-C. Amberglow
She closed the letter to reveal the newest issue of The Conversationalist. Beneath that title “Her Name Is Amara”. There she was on the cover. Her unmistakable face, lit by the warm glow of the sunset. She smiled as she flipped through its pages. Her original dress photographed so beautifully. And the other dresses made by Cecelia’s assistants, inspired by her original design were just as lovely.
More impressive than all of that, was the work of Cecelia. Her pictures were no short of amazing. Each one of them was a work of art capturing such dynamism and movement. Each image of Amara performing even the simplest of tasks was shot so dramatically. Amara remembered adjusting her belt in one moment captured on film, yet the way Lady Amberglow captured the moment made it seem as though the young girl was midstep in a passionate unnamed dance.
“Amara?” Ms. Freya said hesitantly. “Why on earth does that look like you on the cover?” She finished.
It was only then that Amara remembered that the woman was still standing in front of her.
She began telling her the same story that she told Headmaster Grimante just moments before. Ms. Freya’s eyes lit up at the realization that a girl that she is responsible for teaching Art and Culture of the region to, was acknowledged by one of the most influential institutions in the Kingdom.
