Character Castle 2.5
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*Leana just wants to sit down and cry…* *leans her back against wall/sets down her pack* *stares at floor/waits for them to decide what to do* *glances toward John*
——
@this-is-not-an-alien @ragnarok 🦌Jominkreesa
'Forth now! And fear no darkness!'
Alessio was debating whether or not he had the mental energy to argue with Arsene about shopping when he heard Leana setting down her pack and he glanced toward her. She’d be able to talk sense into Ar…They were arguing over something stupid and she just wanted her father back. Alessio bit his lip.
What would Nithel do? He’d have something to comfort her with, wise words or just being there to listen. Wait, she hugged him when he was upset, so she liked hugs?
Or maybe he’d be overstepping a boundary.
But shutting up and ignoring it didn’t work, why was it so hard to do emotions?!
There was no way they were shopping after this, Arsene didn’t need a shiny new distraction (Alessio didn’t either), he’d just have to take command of the situation they needed to get moving. He’d just have to do that himself so Leana wouldn’t have to worry about it she had enough to worry about…
Resolutely Alessio took two steps toward her, rehearsing words of comfort and then lost all his resolution.
“Uh,” Hugs made people feel better?? “May I hug you? I mean would it be useful, or…?”
Alessio swallowed, turning a bright shade of red and stifling the urge to plan escape routes. How was Nithel so good at this??
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
“Uh, may I hug you? I mean would it be useful, or…?”
Leana’s gaze jumped from John to Alessio. *stunned a moment* “Sure.” *a bit comforted, by his concern* She breathed in slowly and proffered a half-smile, “Thanks.” *still wants to be going/but honestly grateful*
———-
@this-is-not-an-alien @ragnarok 🐒Jominkreesa
'Forth now! And fear no darkness!'
“Sure.” She said, staring at him a little stunned. But then she smiled a little crookedly. “Thanks.”
Alessio shrugged and mumbled something incoherent, not really sure how to respond to a thanks. Awkwardly, he kind’ve lightly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and brushed against her. He’d never learned it was ok to pull someone into a hug or squeeze or hug back or so this felt very unnatural and embarrassing. This was a failing grade in basic human affection and if he came into the slightest physical contact with another human being they were going to spontaneously combust in his arms and then he would die.
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
Arsene decided it was time. They’d go shopping, Crorie would find something she’d like, and they’d all get new equipment.
“If you like her, you should really buy her flowers.” Arsene told Alessio.
“What? No.” Alessio was now frowning at him.
“So you don’t like her?”
Alessio was now flustered, but then quickly countered. “What about you and Crorie? You seem to like her, aren’t you going to buy her flowers.”
Arsene felt his cheeks turning red, before he hurriedly answered. “We’re just friends.”
There was a lonnnnngggg pause in the room, before Arsene broke it. “We’re all going shopping for new equipment. This isn’t an option.”
Arsene had dragged them to the store. All of them were frowning at him (except for Crorie, she didn’t seem to care). The store manager said ‘Lord Amnesia has given you the right to take what you need’ and that they could search to the heart’s content. First off, Arsene was getting a new set of clothes (they somehow had the same ones he often wore. Probably this Amnesia’s doing) After all, presentation was everything. Second, he was getting new firearms, pistols to be specific. He preferred using these weapons, generally with rubber bullets for the non-lethal value. But if they encountered Old Snake, he wasn’t going to be caught with only non-lethal capabilities. Third, he was updating his gadgets, such as his grappling iron, his flash powder, and the bulletproof vest. They’d be useful for putting on a good show.
He made it clear that unless Crorie found something she liked, he was not leaving. He was reasonably sure that she was with Leana, but he couldn’t confirm it. Alessio was browsing over the weapons with Hades, maybe finding something that Leana could use. That weapon would probably be something simple, like an axe or a spear.
Arsene should probably check on them.
@this-is-not-an-alien @kimlikesartYou can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
“If you like her, you should really buy her flowers.” Arsene said a-matter-of-factly and Alessio stared up at him blankly. It should be noted in his culture flowers have no romantic connotations – they use gemstones with romantic meanings instead. There were some cultures that used flowers, but Alessio was willfully ignoring that.
“I – What? No!” He stammered, heat rising to his cheeks. Arsene was smirking infuriatingly.
“So you don’t like her?” He peppered.
“No! – I mean yes – but not –“Alessio viciously tugged at his hood before remembering it wasn’t on his head and turned an every deeper shade of red and didn’t dare glance in Leana’s direction.
“Why don’t you buy Crorie flowers!?” He blurted and Arsene flushed.
“We’re just friends.” He lied hastily.
Alessio – the human lie detector – gave him the stare of judgement.
“We’re all going shopping for new equipment.” Arsene changed the subject. “This isn’t an optio-”
“We are not going shopping!”
Alessio stood in the shopping isle his arms scrunched over his chest in protest looking like a wet cat. Piles of colorful boxes, bags, shapes and gizmos he’d never seen before splattered like a bazaar. The floors click-clicked too loudly and reflected like glass.
And he was trying not to peek glances at Leana.
He didn’t have a crush on her! He just wasn’t used to nice people, it was as simple as that, he just wasn’t used to it! It might be perfectly normal for everyone else, but it was unreal to find a gentle, determined, kind person who would actually talk to him like he was a person too and…
Alessio mechanically twanked his head against a wall repeatedly.
Then he stepped back, pretended nothing had happened and ignored Hades looking at him with an uninterested frown.
“So…you’re married?” Alessio attempted slowly still in mild disbelief and then half mumbled, “I thought you were like my brother’s age.”
His brother was a marriageable age but Alessio had never actually thought about that and now he was slightly baffled by it. Maybe possibly because he still remembered Leander in his teens and early twenties when he was still little and didn’t quite connect the dots that his brother was technically an adult. He hadn’t quite caught on that decent people could also be adults.
Alessio narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the weapons lined in the isle, long enough somebody working there apparently cleared his throat.
“Can I help you find something?” He said
“What do you get out of this?” Alessio asked
“I was told to provide what you need for your Trials free of charge.”
“Nothing’s free of charge.” He retorted “Are they enchanted or cursed?”
The man looked like he was trying hard not to roll his eyes at wary teen. “No, they are not.”
“Do they actually work or will they malfunction the moment we need them?”
“They work just fine!”
“Then why are you giving them away?” Alessio insisted
“Because that’s my job! Lord Amnesia is funding it!” The worker finally snapped and stormed away, apparently done with this person.
That’s supposed to make me feel better…?
Several seconds passed as Alessio bit his lip.
“You mean the Lord Amnesia who kidnapped us and sent us here to die or live in agonizing torture in various ways for the purpose of scientifically extrapolating from our misfortune how to properly, sadistically entertain himself at our expense?” Alessio finally blurted innocently “That Lord Amnesia?”
A loud frustrated “Aghhh!” met him.
Alessio rubbed his arms and watched the weapons stacked on the shelves like they were going to attack him.
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
Leana didn’t know what to say about the boys’ banter, about girlfriends, crushes, and such. She was too tired, and too used to it, after being around so many men in camps. Though… she did imagine what the perfect gift, from a fellow, would be…
Leana followed/walked with everyone to a store full of things she’d never even considered existing. But, where she usually would have been overwhelmed by curiosity and excitement… she barely had the will to keep standing and not plop to the floor.
She found herself people-watching. Particularly John, and the man behind the counter, trying to imagine their stories. If they had children. Wondering about this Amnesia, who captured her father… Hearing Alessio mention agonizing torture and sadistic entertainment… didn’t help her imagination… An imagination both her parents had helped to flourish.
She lowered her eyes, and stared at the floor, quiet.
——
@this-is-not-an-alien @ragnarok 🦫Jominkreesa
'Forth now! And fear no darkness!'
Nathair (contin.):
With age comes understanding. Or maybe just deceitfulness.
Day in and day out, Yasha come in. And for some reason Nathair went along with it – even enjoyed it. He just talked, told Nathair what he should be doing and that was annoying but…at least someone was talking to him instead of at him. It was endless babbling honestly – some kid stole his lunch he’d have to kill him (that was a joke, he promised) one day he’d be alpha or he’d be king and he’d conquer the lands and rule and eat cakes all day, maybe one day he’d be a hero and save the world from the entire cult.
Nathair didn’t really think much of that. He didn’t care if he ever became a hero or got all the power he could. No, he was desperately clinging to the paper-thin ideal that he would never lose himself to the killing, he’d never lose his humanity. They could try to make a monster out of him but one day he’d escape and there’d be no more killing, no more blood on his hands. He’d just have a quiet, peaceful life.
But that was of course, just an elysian illusion…
Training started once they realized their perfect little weapon was behaving. He’d decided to play along – thanks to Yasha – just long enough to find a way out. That’s how you play the game after all.
It took ten years before they stopped bothering to chain him again at the end of every lesson. Another five before he was allowed to roam freely through the buildings.
By then Yasha wasn’t some idol or monster, he was…unpredictable and scary but he was a friend. Maybe more, maybe a part of Nathair’s sanity.
Clit-clatter
He could hear all the noises now, they stopped bothering to drug him constantly. Pairs of two held matches in the expansive grey hall, in the dark dimly lit with blurry, flickery blue fire. In a corner there’s some group playing cards again. Another clit-clatter of dice.
All the students who survive past fifteen were there to stay they’d get some privileges and freedoms if they earned it, they didn’t train in the halls anymore that was too basic too clean. So Nathair was “free” for the day, he’d earned it from his last mission.
Not that there was much to do other than train and play cards and get entangled in school-drama. Nathair hated all his peers and they hated him so he stayed away from everyone and waited for Yasha.
Stitches.
Nathair was scared of needles so Yasha kept trying to get him to sew. He’d already bonded with needles. The advanced students bonded with items and that enhanced their powers. But again, Nathair had a useless power and he was a late bloomer.
He couldn’t stand needles, he couldn’t stand holding them, he couldn’t stand thinking about them. Every cold sensation felt like a prickling snap through his bones again. Over and over again, Nathair punctured this doll he attempted to make. It looked loosely like his father and he kept stabbing it over and over and over and over and over, almost soothingly if his actions weren’t so stiff and frenetic.
Maybe memories were seeping into every stab maybe not, it wasn’t like he could use his power on himself. But it was almost like with every stab the emotions, the sensations faded to anesthesia.
“So…what’s that supposed to be?” The voice behind him made Nathair jump as a hand clamped on his head, ruffling his hair.
“Hey would you stop that!” Nathair snapped at the sparkling dark eyes. He huffed at Yasha like he wanted to strangle him – well that’s what he thought he looked like, he actually looked like an indignant puppy.
“Come on it’s shiny.” Yasha said and mock-smirked. “besides you can’t make me.”
Mmph. Nathair jabbed him in the stomach and pounced him with a growl. It knocked Yasha to the floor, but not before he dragged Nathair with him. They rolled, cackling with laughter. Then Yasha pinned him.
“Ack, get off!” Nathair complained, slightly miffed he never won a tussling match.
“Crybaby,” Yasha grinned, but got off him. Nathair swatted him on the head the moment he was up.
“Yeah yeah, kiss a ghoul.” Nathair grumbled…before remembering he was a half ghoul. That was awkward, hopefully Yasha didn’t notice. Nathair squinted at him suspiciously with exaggerated sass. “What’ve you been up to anyway?”
“Pft, murder.” Yasha snorted, propping himself on his elbows with a sigh. “when I take over we’ll run the world, and run it proper, huh? Nobody pushin’ us around.”
Yasha kept saying those words, he always did, but he actually meant them. It was a desperate, dying dream but not as ideal as Nathair’s. More realistic as always. They wouldn’t get out, might as well aim to get powerful and in that way, more comfortable.
“We could always just go,” Nathair muttered “run away to some place no one will ever find us again…start a new life…all over…”
He continued to jab the doll in his hands, staring down and sounding casual like he was maybe just joking. Yasha laughed brittlely.
“Right, and draekons’ll eat grass,” He said. “look, there’s nowhere to go, where would you go? Even if there was we’re weapons now, you get that? You don’t know how to do anything else I don’t know how to do anything else that’s over. You don’t…you wouldn’t be useful to them they’d just call us monsters and try to kill us, and what? You’ll just get out…of life?”
It just doesn’t work that way.”
“Yeah…it was a stupid thought…” Nathair went along with a shrug.
“Yeah, it was,” He laughed a little and jostled Nathair’s shoulder. “You outgrow it after a few years.”
Nathair didn’t mention how he’d already started trying to build a false identity outside during missions on the chance he might use it when he did escape, how carefully he planned a route to the North, which was far away from the current politics, or how he kept up studies as a wizard to have a profession that would excuse whatever “quirks” he didn’t manage to cover up. No, he didn’t mention any of that. After all, it was just a silly dream somewhere in the distant future.
So he just kept stabbing the frazzled, broken doll, mumbling an old nursery rhyme under his breath to distract himself from the needle in his hand. He could still feel it in his spine, in every bone of his body it was driving him mad.
“Hey so what’s that?” Yasha asked, perching on Nathair’s shoulder. Nathair jumped but Yasha already made a grab for the doll and got it before he could stop him.
“Ahh!!”
Nathair jerked around to snatch the item back but all at once Yasha started screaming, writhing on the floor. Inhuman screams that curdled his blood and froze his very marrow. Nobody around them made a move, they kept training, terrified to stop. Screams weren’t unusual, but there were looks. Yasha was powerful.
Nathair saw red even as he panicked, shaking his deathly pale friend viciously. In his haste he knocked the doll out of Yasha’s hand. He felt like dead weight, his skin was cold, foam on the corners of his lips but the screaming stopped when the stupid toy was out of reach.
Yasha’s body was stiff, so cold Nathair had never felt that kind of chill on any person pre rigor mortis. But maybe that was just his imagination. Maybe it wasn’t real.
He didn’t make a sound, nobody would help and anybody who came would do it for sport. Shock was blocking his mind from anything he could say, think or do. He just clutched Yasha and kept shaking him.
Yasha wasn’t still, he was trembling, but Nathair couldn’t tell if there was any life left. Then he could hear heavy, shaky panting. His eyelids fluttered some but…
Then Yasha bolted upright coughing and shivering madly, eyes bloodshot like a psychotic animal.
“The devil did you do to that thing!?!” He slurred in a screech.
“I didn’t do anything!” Nathair pleaded but Yasha started laughing like a maniac.
“The devil you didn’t stop me from grabbing it!?” He exclaimed in a hysterical voice. “Nice trick, you could play a pretty good game with that one. What’d you do, blend your ability with magic?”
“I-I don’t know what it did I didn-I didn’t do tha-“ Before he could finish Yasha clapped him on the shoulder and shook him.
“Next time, fair warning, ok?” He shook his head, clamping a hand over his eye. “Ugh…needles.”
He said the last word in a whisper like he was trying to keep Nathair from hearing it but he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to succeed.
“So,” Yasha looked him over seriously then. “you can project memories on dolls now, make people reexperience things? That’s useful, I knew I kept you for a reason. Who are you gonna use it on?”
“I…uh…I don’t know- I don’t know yet wh–“
“Right right,” Yasha swallowed with a wave of his hand. “You work on that, got it? Ha, that might put you in the favorite weapons list, like me, that’ll help you climb higher. I’ll tell you when I’ll need it.”
“…sure.”
“I’ma get a drink.” Yasha groaned and used Nathair as a prop to stumble to his feet. Then he staggered off.
Nathair glanced at the offending doll…with tattered brown eyes (the Necromancer’s eyes were blue…that’s what he’d drawn…Maybe the color had been burned out or distorted with the frays?)
The tiny stitches of the mouth seemed to almost be twitched upward just every so slightly.
And there was a tiny red drop, the size of a pinprick touching the fabric.
@ragnarok @hannahrenner @rusted-knightTo be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
Alessio fidgeted awkwardly, glancing at everything in the store. He stretched his hands, closing and unclosing trying not to touch anything. It was too good to be true and he didn’t know the drawbacks. Maybe, maybe “Amnesia” decided to give them resources to make their struggles later more entertaining. But he didn’t want to depend on anything an enemy provided. He didn’t want to trust anything or anyone or get attached.
Maybe that was why he had been so rude to that stranger.
‘Make friends.’ Nithel had said. Why had he said it like it was so easy!? Why was Arsene so friendly? Why was Leana so nice? Why was John so…nevermind…
Maybe it was something he could learn…to be nice?
Alessio closed his eyes and let out a breath. Everyone here wasn’t his enemy, he didn’t need to be hostile to everyone. In fact, he could try being nice and maybe he’d make friends…
He noticed Leana and ducked his head flushing scarlet.
Maybe she’d avoid him now, Alessio would if somebody looked like they had a crush on him. He really didn’t have a crush!! Or…he didn’t know! She was so brave and kind and…he really wanted a friend. Maybe they were friends, he didn’t know, he could still barely take the idea of feeling safe around other people, how was he supposed to know if this was natural!? After all…he couldn’t stop thinking about her but he couldn’t stop thinking about Nithel either and Arsene…Arsene was just weird…but he was friendly and…kind’ve funny. And John, well he couldn’t stop thinking about John because John tried to kill him and he still wasn’t fully adjusted to the idea that now he was…sort’ve a friend??
Maybe he should just…hide…from Leana…
That sounded like the cowards’ way out, lucky for him he was a coward.
He should apologize to her, she shouldn’t have to endure being the subject of their teasing like she didn’t have any say. So he should apologize and explain…that he didn’t have a crush and…unless he did…he didn’t know…
This was nerve-racking. Alessio opted for hiding.
He trailed behind John this whole time and now he peeked up at him again, curiously. Well. Nithel told him to make friends…
“So…how old are you?” Alessio attempted, seriously having no idea that was a rude question. He immediately glanced around aimlessly to avoid whatever look Sir Sca – John was giving him.
There were cloths hanging on racks a little off, most of them looked weird but some of them looked just like the cloths in his world. He hadn’t have a fresh set of cloths since…
…
Alessio blinked, and rubbed his forehead. That was making his brain hurt.
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
Alright, group count. Arsene was 90% sure that Crorie was in the clothing or weapon section, Alessio was talking to John, and Leana… was asleep? Yes, she appeared to be asleep. Arsene should have been more observant of that. Oh, look there was a blanket right there. Taking the blanket, Arsene put it on Leana, before deciding to mess with Alessio and John a little.
Skipping over to the duo, Arsene listened for a bit.
“So…how old are you?” Alessio asked.
Good question too. Wonder if Alessio could guess Arsene’s age.
It took John a few seconds to register the question. That mask made it harder to read his expressions. Why did he even bother wearing it? The design covered the top half of the face, seemed bird motif (in a way, but not directly), and was decorated. Ceremonial reasons perhaps.
“How old do you think I am?” John answered with another question.
This should be good. “Twenty three?”
Uh oh, he was covering his face with his hand. That wasn’t the right answer.
“I’m nineteen.” John says.
Hmm. Arsene would have looked like a ten-year-old at that age. At least to the humans.
“Hey, Alessio!” Arsene suddenly interrupts, just enough to get Alessio to jump in surprise.
Did Arsene ever tell Alessio that he had a wonderful frown on occasions like this? He should. Oh wait, age first. “How old do you think I am?”
Processing… Processing…
“Seventeen? Sixteen?”
Arsene smiled. This kept on getting better and better. “Try at little older.”
“Nineteen?”
Still smiling. “Try forty-five.”
@this-is-not-an-alien @hannahrennerYou can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
Leana felt something warm drape on her shoulders and glanced up just in time to see Arsene skipping away toward Alessio and John. She smiled a bit, He’s sweet, and adjusted the blanket. Will it be cold, where we’re going..?
She struggled to hold down mirth, as she listened to the men talk. That John was only nineteen, was shocking. But not nigh as much as Arsene being… forty-five… Leana’s eyes widened. My dad’s around that old. But she said nothing and hunkered in the blanket a bit more. She won’t sleep, but her eyes lower to the floor again, and more thoughts coarse through her head.
——-
@this-is-not-an-alien @ragnarok 🐜Jominkreesa
'Forth now! And fear no darkness!'
BURN
“Details. Now.”
The world warped into gray-gold sensations.
Sticky like honey.
Chalky like ash.
Warm like both.
Round and frail.
I feel my blindfold – it’s replaced the bandages. Finally. And the infection is gone.
“Hey.” Grimme calls – her voice is close and how did I not know she was coming? “Does that feel better?”
“Yep.”
I did not tell my body to do that.
Wait. I remember this. It was a bit after Grimme introduced me to Oscar. So that I could get “medical care.” Which really translated to “Make Oscar your dad.”
This is weird. They broke up ages ago. But apparently she can just drop off? Orphans she meets? And he takes care of them? And they coparent? And they’ve done this before?
“So. When am I going to meet them?”
“Who?”
“The other punks you adopted?”
I had only just started saying ‘punk’ – to annoy … to annoy … I’m annoying …
“What? Well. Um.” Grimme takes a breathe. “The last one tied a few decades ago.”
“HUH?!”
“Old age.” Grimme is cautious. “We have longevity. Oscar and I. Because of our talents. Okay?”
“Grimme!”
“He’s going to live with us he needs to know!”
Why’s Oscar here?
“You can’t trust him yet!”
Ugh. My head hurts.
And I’m shacking, hands covering my face, shame pooling in my gut like poison.
“Details. Now.”
Search is mad and has every right to be…
“Look. My parents were keeping secrets, okay? And I just got tired of it.”
“What does that have to do with selling me to a crazy cult?!”
“I think Grimme started it!”
Silence.
“This cult has been around for over 1,000 years!”
Crap. Oscar was right. They shouldn’t trust me.
“I’m not talking about the cult punk!” I say.
“Then what does Grimme have to do with anything?!” Search’s voice is laced with embarrassment and wrath.
Think fast.
“I don’t know! She doesn’t tell me anything! I’m trying to find out!”
Hey, the truth worked this time!
“I you this” Search screams and storms off. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. Thanks for saving me and shame on you for betraying me.”
“Technically I just betrayed an entire murder-happy cult.” I said.
“Ugh don’t remind me.” The final explosion overlaps with Search’s words.
“We should probably move.” I say. “If we don’t want This Place to fall on us.”
“I thought you said the next Shift would fix that!”
“Well I don’t want it to fix me!” I protest.
Then the world shifts again.
Why … why does this feel incomplete?
Why do I feel like I missed something?
This is going to come back and hurt me…
SEARCH
“Details. Now.”
I blink as the world ripples and fades into bluish glass. Then blink again.
I’m in … I’m in the Edgelands. And … where’s Burn?
He’s holding my hand. And trembling like a leaf during the dieback. [fall]
I’m … surrounded by glass-mirror people. Insubstantial forms fractured and fragmented through prisms and reflected in on themselves. This alarms me far less than it should.
This isn’t real.Yet.“So this is how we die.”
I try to see who said that – I know the voice like I know Burn’s. It fills me with love and burning and protection.
“Not without a fight that our people will write songs about.” I know him too. He makes me feel safe.
“Only if anyone’s left to sing them.” Burn mutters.
“Wh@t’^ ha%%en*n8?” I say.
But I’m not supposed to say that.
And there are consequences for breaking script, it would seem…
Fragmented mirrors spiral around me. The glass shards cut through and do no harm and it all happens in the space of a blink and
boom boom boom boom
I rock as the earth roars under me.
What idiot is blowing This Place up?! We’re all going to die!
“Punk blew up the catacombs!”
Burn… is underneath me? I’m entirely out of breath and we’re both sprawled out on the ground.
But I’m giggling hysterically like this body
(why did I think that?)knows what’s going on. “We … we made it! We’re alive!” Just follow the script I somehow know…“She’s coming back.” Burn blurts out.
“Who? Wh8’s c^m!n@ b#c%?” I turn to look at him.
Grimme. Why do I know he’s talking about Grimme?
Uh oh that wasn’t the script…
The world shifts again but barely. Just a smidge just barely and and and
And he’s still. Still and there’s blood and bruises and cuts and wounds all over him and he’s not moving
“Burn?” I shake him and he’s still not moving he’s not swatting me off he’s not moving
Was Dad like this?
No. No why did I think that? Dad’s fine. He’s alive
he was murdered“BURN?!”
He’s not moving.
“SEARCH?!”
Who… who’s calling me?
“SEARCH?!”
“Just hang in there.” I tell him, “Help!” I scream.
There is a crashing and stomping and a fell wolf leaps beside me out of the opalized trees and thick undergrowth.
I’m … not scared. The wolf is glassed over like everyone else is (except Burn. He’s crystal clear and I’m terrified.)
“Get 5e!p!”
That wasn’t what I’m supposed to say either. But I can’t think of anything else. Maybe there is no script here. I can’t understand and then then then
Then a glassy-figure thumps out from the trees. “Verily we have arrived!” he booms.
But then he freezes. “Burn!” and he’s limping forward why is he limping is there anyone not hurt here
The fell wolf whines, tail curling between her legs, ears flat, shaking her horns
(and a female fell wolf doesn’t have that many horns.)“Drake?” Burn’s voice is a fluttering, hoarse thing – and it’s not from years of smoking. It’s from pain. “I’m … I’m fine.”
Lier.
Wait. He was just unconscious, why is he moving?
Maybe he’s actually okay. Maybe I hope just
Don’t fool yourself.Burn falls back into the mud and leaves.
“Yeah. You look fine.” The fell wolf is gone and a child stands there instead.
“I’m not the one covered in mud.” Burn says.
How does he know that …?
“No broken bones. No large blood spots.” The large man is carefully examining Burn. Why do we have time for that they’re coming they’re
We blew them up. I’m the reason there was a booming?
No. You only suggested it.The stranger pulls Burn’s shirt up. He screams and pulls away. “Apologies friend. Please let me examine the wound.”
It’s a huge bruise. It covers his ribcage and bleeds sluggishly in the center.
Then Burn goes limp.
The world reals and rocks and tries tries tries to correct itself.
I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t want to be here. How did this happen and why?
“It may be poisoned.”
“You can’t poison a bruise.”
“No. but you can use a bruise to hide the injection site.”
Who? Where? What’s happening where’s Burn and and and
“It’s a massacre.”
“The dead that aren’t buried. We … we need … we don’t have time, so you’ll have to sink them in the river. Better than leaving them.”
“Don’t bother with the ones in the cave in. They’re taken care of.”
“GRIMME!”
“Shh. Shh.”
“She … went over the cliff.” Burn shakes with fever, twitching as, as, as who is that? Who is the stranger Burn lets touch him?
“I know.” I’m saying this. I’m up to my elbows in bandages and ointments and first aid kits. I’m … I’m tending to myself. I’ve been crying.
“I couldn’t save her.” Burn says.
“I know.” The stranger says. I love him. Why? Who is this?
“Did she … did she come back?” Burn looks hopeful, so hopeful. “She came back right?”
“No.” I say. Why am I filled with conviction?
Ugh the world’s changed again. I still feel panic but it’s … quieter. Numbed off because it’s been too much too much too much can’t feel it anymore
“Please. Please stay with me.” I’m not crying – but my cheeks are sticky and stiff from when I was.
Burn’s lying so limp beside me, wrapped up in blankets, sweat beading over his face, each breathe rattling in his lungs, and I’m scared so so so scared
The … the armed people are shifting nervously around us. We’re so few now. (What happened why were we here?)
We’re surrounded
by the Encompassing the robbers and theives and people who keep taking and taking and destroying and taking“Drop your weapons.” It’s the stranger who helped Burn. Who was with us before this stranger there are so many strangers I don’t know but we’re all linked we all need to do something …
“What?!” a voice that reminds me of Dad
he was murdered no he wasn’t I talked to him yesterday“I’m not surrendering to…”
And then the man whips around, slams the rifle barrel downward and knocks the roaring man backward.
“Enough have died.” A stranger I apparently love
(I love all of them so much how can iI when I don’t know any of them?)says. “Now is not the time to fight.”He shoulders the rifle before saying, “Tie them up.”
It takes a long second for the words to register.
And then my heart breaks.
(Why does it hurt so much coming from this man who’s name I don’t even know…)
Burn jerks suddenly. I grab his hand.
Then he’s still. Not even breathing. I search for a pulse but know I won’t find one
(Why am I not crying? Why does this feel so real and so fake?)
“ENOUGH!”
I scream as the glass fades again.
The disembodied voice is snarling. “That is not how this mirror is supposed to work!”
I flinch. Where is the voice coming from who is
Amnesia.
“You are not permitted to see the future.” He continues. Absolutely furious. “What are you that you can break the rules?”
I am silent.
“What. Are. You?”
“How far into the future?”
“Mortal you dare?”
“I dare.” I say.
“THEN DIE!”
But the room shimmers again. Becomes a checkerboard of black and white. Amnesia is gone. No longer the disembodied voice. No longer the intimidating presence.
Just … gone.
I take a deep breath.
Sometime in the future, someone I love will betray me.
And someone will kill Burn.
Unless you stop it…BURN
Search is weird. I’m weird. I just almost kinda not really relived that horrible day I sold her out but not really. It was a bad day.
But the crazy scheme worked.
(Why a lizard? Why is it always a lizard?! Can she just leave them alone?)
Um. What is this?
“Search.” I feel around with my smoke. She’s not here and then she is, taking me hand suddenly.
And then she’s hugging me.
“Wow! Punk! Not okay!” I squirm away but she’s not letting go. “Hey!”
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“And it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Um. What hasn’t?”
“Dad dying. You, Grimme. You’re all okay…”
Wait. “What?”
“What?” she asks, her voice tight suddenly.
“Mr. Rosewood… he did … murdered.”
Oh no.
“What … no, no it hasn’t happened yet.”
“It has! And you’re helping hunt me cause Goldbeard was murdered and maybe I did it but I don’t know why and I can’t remember and …”
Deep breaths. It’s okay. Deep breaths.
Why doesn’t Search remember
“Holes in reality.” I say. “If there are holes in reality, then … then you came from one further back then me.”
“What?” Search’s voice is tight and scared.
“That’s … that’s so stupid and creates so many paradoxes!” I scream. “Time doesn’t work like that! This isn’t even possible… we’re falling through holes in reality; it is possible okay so then what can we do to fix it?”
Search just takes my hand. “One step at a time.” She says.
“But what’s the first step punk? What is it?” My head hurts. My foot hurts. And her pack is still roiling with treacherous evil lizards.
Search shrugs. “Apparently, Amnesia can’t kill me.” She looks at me. “So. Why is that? I know you know why…”
Uh …
… “Actually I don’t. But I bet Grimme does.”
@this-is-not-an-alien, @ethan-leonard, @rusted-knight – Let’s play a game, shall we?[The room is dark, living shadow. You can see nothing save a throne, a mere silhouette in the darkness.]
[The room is still, silent, a tomb. You hear nothing but footsteps, slow and purposeful. They come nearer and nearer – or so you think.]
[The room shudders – this is why you think the echoing footprints come close – shudders like it would warp and fold and bend to the will of this person.]
[Friend or foe? How can you know?]
[Do. You. Proceed?]
{yes} + {no}
{if yes – approach the throne.}
{if no – turn back}
When life knocks you down, wait 'til it passes over you and then attack it from behind.
John frowned at him for several seconds (even with the mask his perpetual disgruntlement was almost audible).
“How old do you think I am?” He asked in a tone that made Alessio feel like anything he said next was going to sound stupid. Nevermind, forget that. Everyone here wasn’t his enemy, he was supposed to be trying this ‘nice’ thing to ‘make friends’.
“I don’t know, somewhere in your twenties?” Alessio attempted noncommittally, shrugging a little, and Sir Scary promptly facepalmed. He knew answering his question was a trap!
“Thirties?” He stammered, switching tactics to flattery because it was safer to guess older rather than younger for anyone less than middle-aged.
“I’m nineteen.” John said flatly.
Alessio blinked, visibly reassessing everything he’d assumed about the man. Devils. So he was younger than his older brother but older than him but only by two yea-
“Hey, Alessio!”
Alessio flinched out of his skin, before he glared back at Arsene. You did that on purpose and it’s not funny! Before he could voice his irritation, Arsene was already talking. It took Alessio a moment for his brain to catch up.
“How old do you think I am?” Arsene asked, impishly. His eyes narrowed accusatively at the robber.
“You are a small child.” He said with theatrical gravity. Arsene continued to smirk up at him until he broke. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”
His smirk was widening.
“Try a little older.” Everyone was making fun of him today. Wait, was it ok to annoy them back…?
“Nineteen?” Alessio asked suspiciously, weighing the pros and cons of deliberately returning his sass. That…seemed to be how Arsene showed affection?
“Try forty-five.”
“You’re hilarious.” He said, and stared at him for five whole seconds but Arsene only looked more and more mischievous. Alessio squinted at him. “How are you supposed to be that old? You’re a child!”
Nice wasn’t working but teasing seemed to be an apt substitute? Also, literally how was he supposed to be that old! There is no way possible Alessio will accept that Arsene could be an older bro – friend!
To be a light to the world you must shine in the darkness.
“You’re hilarious.” He said, staring at him for five whole seconds. Arsene just smiled. Said nothing. Just smiled.
Alessio came to the uncomfortable realization that Arsene was not joking. “How are you supposed to be that old? You’re a child!”
“Sherlock’s the same age as me, but I was born first.” Arsene added.
Smirking, Arsene presented his hand, shifting it into dragon scales. “I sure I’ve mentioned this at least once, but I’m not a human. I’m a dragon hybrid. Hence, I’m not obligated to follow the basic aging process.”
Wide eyed… “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a dragon changeling?”
…
Female Deer was sending him a weird look.
… “NOT YOU TOO!”
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
I feel like we’ll die if we approach the throne, but let’s do that anyways. My answer is yes.
You can only come to the morning through shadows: Tolkien
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