Member
LG
Vesuvius00
Crusader Lord
DJAtomika
Emeth
The World
Konan375
BlackRoseSiren
Force and Fury
Roslyn Wicke
"I want him to pay for what he did, but I can't do it alone."
Aftermath
Location: The Docks, Ersand'Enise; Woodland clearing, somewhere outside of Ersand'Enise
Beer + Spell Crafting= Chaos
Roslyn stuck out her tongue while she eyed up the beer filling the mug. When it reached the top, she cut off the flow. It sloshed over the edges and drenched her boot causing her to curse. Sighing at the mishap, she didn't bother shaking her foot off. Her eyes drooped while she fought off drowsiness weighing heavily on her. Ignoring the rising lump in the back of her throat, she tossed back the mug and drank deep.
Once it drained, she felt the lump raise again. This time with a distinct sourness in the back of her throat forcing her to push it back down. Moment it slipped, her beer was coming up in a wave and she couldn't let that happen. The girl sat there in hopes her stomach might settle.
"I just need," She took a breath, " a little... more."
Her fingers gripped the edge of a nearby barrel and dragged it closer. She lifted it, noting the lightness and groaned softly. In a weak attempt, she tossed it away. The thing rolled across the grass until it came to a stop a few feet away.
Xiuyang lifted up her foot and placed it on the barrel, causing it to stop. "...So this is where you were," she began severely. "...I've been looking for you, you know. No one would tell me what happened... I thought you were dead. Because, I thought, surely if Roslyn was alive, she'd be the first to come talk to me." Xiuyang looked at Roslyn's pitiful state with a pained expression.
She walked towards Roslyn, kicking her clutter out of the way. The girl reeked of alcohol. Was that how she herself used to smell? But, even she never drank like this... right? That smell, she used to like it, didn't she? Why now was it so... insufferable? "Come on. Eat this, or you might seriously die. You're not like me; you can't just drink and drink with no consequences." She offered her friend some bread.
Upon hearing Xiuyang's voice, Roslyn stiffened. Her face lifted up to make eye contact with her friend. A wariness bled from her gaze while she followed Xiuyang's approach, her movements a bit sluggish. Did she risk it? She wondered. Did it matter? A darker voice shot back, unbothered by the danger.
Her hand reached for the bread and broke off a chunk. It was surprising soft as she popped it in her mouth, speaking between bites. "I should... not," Roslyn struggled with the words before moving on, "Is that... really you?"
"Attagirl," she whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder softly.
"I'm me, of course. Who else could I be?" Her tone was serious, even if her choice of words was playful.
Roslyn's eyes found the ground as she accepted the touch, appreciating it in a way. Her fingers started to pick at the bread a bit before slipping in another bite. "I thought it was you back in Viiqii, but some thing felt off. Then again, I've been pushed to my limit recently."
She took a long breath, the headache edging in from dehydration. "I know what this looks like, but I promise. There's a method to the madness. Even if I've forgotten most of it."
Her posture began to gradually relax as she considered what Xiuyang said earlier. "Truthfully, I don't think anyone here would notice if I had died. Save for the school and staff."
Just like Ingrid said, the others didn't see much of that demon, she noted. "Yeah, well... most drunken ideas start out making some kind of sense, but then the hangover knocks it back into you," she replied, with the matter-of-fact tone of a mother softly scolding a teenager.
"Come on. I just told you I would notice... and, I would be sad. That goes without saying." She squeezed her shoulder a bit. "And since you're drunk and will probably forget all of this anyway, perhaps this is the time for a confession."
Xiuyang pulled up a barrel and sat on it. "The trust of the Solari is slow to earn, and never given a second time once mocked," she explained. "Our 'friends' all owe us a debt of gratitude, or vice versa. It's the only way we know how to make 'friends.' Dictating the terms of the relationship by who owes who what favors. It's kind of stifling." She sniffed, looking around for an untainted vessel to use, and began binding some water for Roslyn.
"You and me aren't like that, though. We're actually real friends. We don't owe each other anything. It makes me feel like... I'm doing something bad, like staying up past my bedtime reading a steamy romance novel. I'm sure father would disapprove." She cracked an impish grin.
"You're something special, Rose. Ciro agrees, and I've never seen his judgment of other people be wrong. So, cheer up." She offered to toast Roslyn with her own glass of water.
"Thanks," Roslyn set the bread in her lap and took the water. After clicked it with Xiuyang's, she brought it to her lips and let it ease her aches. Her eyes stared at the swirling water for but a moment.
The words were true as she tried to find a benefit that served a selfish purpose. None existed that she could find. A bit of light came into her eyes from the dourness aura within them. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're not getting tired of me unloading my burdens on you. I know you have your own."
She became quiet at the last statement. Her head turned to the moment the Grand Demon had picked her out among her friends and the words that followed. They haunted her because they were true, drawing a subtle anger in her chest. "I'm not sure it is a good thing because it seems a Grand Demon noticed too." Her hand crossed over and gripped her upper arm, kneading it slightly.
"Hmm... So a Grand Demon thinks you rely on me too much?" Xiuyang seemed to ponder a bit, tilting her head. Roslyn was drunk, so it was hard for Xiuyang to know the meaning of her words, or precisely what had happened, there. "Even if I paid Tku to commission it for me, I can't see myself portrayed as a Grand Demon of Arrogance. It might fit a true Solari like my sister Maria, but imagining little ol' me in the role is just too funny." She snickered. "So, I'd never say something like that."
She nudged Roslyn. "Everyone needs someone to share burdens with. For me, that's Ciro." She acted like she'd just suddenly realized something. "You won't get bored of me when you find someone, will you?!" She shook Roslyn playfully, but not enough to agitate a headache.
At the statement of being a Grand Demon, Roslyn scrunched her nose. For a moment, the distraction drew a smile and she tried to imagine a devilish Xiuyang. She brushed off the thought when she was nudged, turning serious again. She continued to listen as she was gently shook around. Her eyes widened and her arms wrapped about Xiuyang's to keep her balance.
"Uh, no, no... I don't think that's what I meant. Is it?" Her eyes narrowed back on her friend, her focus struggling to grasp the right words. A small headache began to bloom again causing her to groan. She leaned her head forward, lightly thumping her temple on Xiuyang's shoulder. "I need to fix myself. "
Her head turned a bit to glance at the water in hand. It sloshed causing her tongue to itch a bit for another drink, but she didn't take another sip. Instead, she answered in earnest at the friendly jab. "And no, I wouldn't get bored of you. You're one of the last real friends I have left. I don't want to lose you too."
"Lose me? That sounds like something else entirely." Xiuyang tilted her head onto Roslyn's. For some reason, known only to her, she was smiling. "I'll keep working overtime to prevent war from breaking out in the first place, but somehow, after everything that's happened to me, dying to something as mundane as a war sounds really anticlimactic. I'm almost starting to think Jamboi was right. Maybe the gods have destined me for something. ...Oh, there she is! Before I knew it, the Grand Demon Xiuyang was talking." She giggled.
A moment passed in silence, then she got serious. "Yeah. We still need to figure out what can be done about that thing you and your brother got."
Roslyn giggled at the 'slip' though she knew she shouldn't. Based on her experience, a Grand Demon was nothing to make fun of. " That's not the only. thing..." She slurred then made a decision. "G-give me a moment."
Roslyn took a deep breath. Annoyed at herself, she shifted the bread and mug off to her side. The glass spilled and soaked the wood of her seat. She ignored it and pushed up onto her feet before vertigo hit her like a hammer. Her balance faltered as her arm shoot to her sides, haphazardly righting herself again. Feeling a bit more confident, she stepped a bit away from her earlier spot. Her right hand waved sloppily behind her to keep her friend seated.
"S-stay there. Need. to.. do this."
Taking another breath, she focused on the drunken sensation. Her mana raced through her veins, attaching to the globs of foreign substance in her body. It began to collect in her mouth before she struggle to visualize what it might look like. Then a feeling washed over her causing her to coughed. Sweat poured across her pale skin and she shuddered, her hands clenched her neck. Her legs crumbled beneath her as she dropped to all fours. With another breath, she forced her mouth open. Finally, a faint thick fog poured out onto the ground like a faint blanket. It hung there before dissipating.
Curling her legs underneath her, the drunk haze began to clear in her head. She flashed a smile back at Xiuyang. "Much better. Now that my head is no long fuzzy, I can actually string my thoughts together."
With that, she pushed up onto her feet and dusted off her skirt.
"R-Rose?!" Xiuyang reacted with alarm at first, but she seemed to decide that the girl just needed to puke and looked away. "This time it's you. That's a new one." She smiled, but not for very long when she didn't hear any retching. "Uh. What was that? I'm guessing it's fine since you seem okay, but..." Her face betrayed concern.
Seeing Xiuyang's expression, guilt washed over Roslyn. She bit her lip and considered how to explain it. As she scratched the back of her neck, she took on a sheepish look. "Well, you see... It's a spell I'm working on. I did tell you there was a method to my madness earlier."
She moved in close again and sat back down. Using a bit of kinetic, she collected up the water and placed it back into the cup. "So... I have a certain way I need to learn magic. It's less logic and more 'feeling'. I learned temporal by counting my heart beat, feeling the pacing of my blood, and such. The spell I'm designing, it requires me to be massively drunk. That's going to be fun getting use to."
Grabbing her cup, she placed her hand over it and used binding to break down the debris within it. She took a sip then continued. "I'm still working on the details, but focusing while drunk is hard."
Xiuyang frowned thoughtfully. "I kind of get it. I learned Temporal with this," she said, pointing to her beanie. "But, Rose, can't you try something a little less dangerous? Being drunk all the time is... not good," she understated, not needing to lecture a brewer on the effects of chronic drunkenness.
Roslyn rolled her tongue against her cheek. Her eyes stared forward as thoughts plagued her, memories from the bog playing in her head. A spark anger hissed in her core when she replied. "Yes, I could, but it would take longer."
Her eyes found the water, continuing while her voice cracked. "However, it's less dangerous than facing a Grand Demon. Or being left behind. Or..."
A tear streaked down her cheek and fell onto her hand causing her to stop. Her palm lifted to wipe them away as she struggled to finish her sentence. She knew the others running was the smartest thing, but it still hurt. Hurt more than she had ever felt before. Belthagor's words were even worse because they weren't false and she hated it. Hated herself.
"He said things and wanted to 'uplift' me. I think he wanted to change me and I couldn't stop him." She sniffled a bit and managed to collect herself, leaning into Xiuyang's shoulder. "It's silly, but I keep thinking he might come back to finish it. Doing this, I can fool myself into thinking I'm safer than I feel. Even if I'm killing myself doing it."
"Rose... Rose!" Xiuyang shushed her softly. "It's alright. He won't come here—the Zenos would kick his ass, and I would too. You're safe, and you're still the Roslyn I remember. If he did something to you—if he did—you're still here. You haven't lost yourself yet. Don't finish the job with alcohol. Please," she begged softly as she silently wept.
As her words slowly failed her, she resorted to squeezing Roslyn even tighter, as if she were an emotional sponge that couldn't help but absorb heartache, and a warm embrace and a good cry was the only way to wring it out of her, before it consumed her.
Roslyn couldn't stop now that she had begun. The emotions bled out against her efforts to hold them tightly as she buried herself into Xiuyang's gesture. So much had happened that she drowned in it, her mind and heart left raw by the friction of her experiences. Some times it left her cracking on the inside, her smiles and joy masking them from others. It never seemed to last long enough.
After a bit, her sobs began to die. Roslyn's tears dried up leaving her eyes red and itchy. She refused to move and drew strength from the hug. A meekness remained in her tone, but a sense of strength lingered there too. "That's the problem, you and the Zenos weren't there. You won't always be there. So I have to do something. But..."
She took a breath. "There might be another solution. What if I carry some really strong alcohol on me? For the spell. If I can get a large amount of a strong beer in my system, I can make it into what I need. This way I'm not drunk all the time."
Her eyes looked upward toward Xuiyang's chin. "Would that work? I still need to do research, but I could use someone around to make sure my judgement doesn't slip."
"It's true. I can't always be there. But if you must, I suppose that's... better," Xiuyang allowed, her eyes evasive.
Roslyn let a silence pass between them. She knew the answer wasn't going to satisfy Xiuyang, but she hoped the compromise was enough. Noticing Xiuyang's avoiding her eyes, she reluctantly lifted upright. She toyed with the cup in her hands. "It's the best I can promise. Or I just do nothing and stay afraid for the rest of my life."
Her eyes stared forward as she touched on the topic left behind. "Coming back to my family's curse, I did learn more about it. My mother was keeping a few secrets and it relates to it." Her eyes shifted to Xiuyang's reaction to her words. "I'm not sure how to feel about it."
Xiuyang hid her pained expression from Roslyn. She knew that feeling of not wanting to live in fear despite her feeling of powerlessness. She could not speak a word against it. "She was keeping secrets? What kinds of secrets?" she asked severely. Keeping secrets from one's daughter was likely not something Xiuyang saw in a good light, to put it mildly.
Not wanting this information to go farther than here, she released a sound bubble around them. Once she felt it settle, she started with the biggest secret. "She was a temporal mage who had cut ties from her family. Her great grandfather had learned temporal and each generation gradually built upon it."
She leaned forward, sipping the water again. Her fingers shifted though her hair as she tried to recall the whole conversation. "She wanted to protect Garith and me from it. It seems the curse started when they try to change their past. They... ran into something that marked her father."
Her hand rolled up her sleeve as she stared at the mark. "Strangely, it seems I'm the only one sensitive to temporal. She didn't recall anyone having the same reactions I do."
"Something that ambushes and marks temporal mages. I've seen one," Xiuyang replied soberly. Before Roslyn could ask if she had been marked as well, though, she continued. "That sounds like what's been happening to those poor folks still trying to conduct trade by portals. Most have given up, as it's simply too dangerous."
Ciro called that one brilliantly. I still haven't found out how he knew about it, Xiuyang realized as she pondered to herself.
"How did you learn about this, anyway? You found an old diary somewhere?"
Roslyn became tense when Xiuyang didn't seem surprised. Her eyes shifted making her wonder if her family had been one of the earlier cases. The thought didn't stay long when the subject moved to another one, a more uncomfortable one. "Sort of... "
Licking her lips, she decided to trust her friend as she revealed the next secret. "It started off with notes my brother found in my mother's study. Mentioned some of her adventures during her first year at school. Before the, " she gestured to her mark, "...Made magic harder. During one of them, she mentioned the Skull of Ahn-Eshiran. That's why I went to Viiqii."
"An odd item of slight importance," Xiuyang replied with a bit of mischief in her tone. "I knew Sister Laska was up to something. ...You think it can help?"
Roslyn couldn't help cracking a smile over the thought. "It did. Gave me a few answers, but I need to head home soon. She mentioned a hidden cellar underneath her study and I need more answers to things she didn't know."
She took another deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time. "It was hard to believe mother managed to keep it safe and hidden for years. I guess I never really knew her like I thought I did."
Xiuyang pondered for a moment how little she really knew about her father, in spite of how much time they'd had together when she was young. There were secrets of the Solari that she knew, and it stood to reason there was yet more she didn't know.
Two different feelings battled for dominance in her heart. "I feel like I want to go with you, as a friend... but also, as someone whose family has so many secrets... I feel it's wrong to interfere." Confusion played out on her face as she spoke honestly. "It's your decision. No matter what you find, though, I'll be here for you."
Xiuyang polished off her third glass of water and plonked it down, looking straight ahead rather than at Roslyn. "I can't lie to you... well, I can, but not very well," she japed, though her face was dead serious. "I might be even busier than usual for a while. I need to investigate this doppelganger that appeared in Viiqii. It attacked my friends, but to put it in another light, it attacked students of Ersand'Enise with a weapon that was stolen from me, while bearing my likeness. That kind of coincidence can't be easily overlooked. I have a responsibility to ensure that if anyone on Solari payroll is responsible, that they face justice—harsh justice." She scowled.
Roslyn struggled to breathe in her head. Every time she broke the surface, something new came along and dragged her back down. At this rate, she realized, she was going to drown in her own head if she kept it up. Considering her friend's words, she weighed the options before her. "I won't lie. I want you to come because I'm scared and I need someone I can trust. But..."
She ignored the withering of her hope, speaking the truth as she heard it. "It sounds like you have your own problems to solve. Ones that are bigger than enduring an overly grateful father and stick in the arse brother o' mine. That said... if you ever need help, ask me. I won't hesitate."
Her form rose up as she kicked the dirt in frustration. When this war ended, she wondered what might remain when the dust settled. Who might still see her as a friend and not let bitterness taint what was once something cherished. The harsh reality of loss weighed heavy in her heart. "Since it might be a long time before we see each other again, is it wrong to ask you to waste some time with me? I'm going to miss you, a lot."
She held out her hand. "And when we meet again, we need to sit down and talk about... everything. Is that a deal?"
There was that pained expression on Xiuyang's face again. She forced a hollow smile to express something that was genuine. "I'll make the time. One way or another, I'll be there for you. Alright? So please, don't call it a waste while I'm still right here." She hugged her friend once more. She'd lost count and it would not be the last time. "We'll both make it, Rose. The gods aren't done with us yet."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I forget some times how painful words can be." Roslyn apologized when she saw Xiuyang force a smile. It wasn't hard to notice how her friend seemed stretched so thin and she regretted adding to that.
She hadn't expected the hug, but she accepted it so damn willingly. Xiuyang had a way to sound hopeful in dark moments and she prayed those words were right. "I'm gonna to believe your statement, Xiuyang. So neither of us better sabotage that."
She gestured for them to sit back down. The two drove back into conversation and savoring the fleeting moments they had, subject spanning from her family to the spell. Both left with a smile and the bittersweet understanding their lives would change. A small hope lingered in their hearts that their connection would survive whatever life threw at them next.
Once it drained, she felt the lump raise again. This time with a distinct sourness in the back of her throat forcing her to push it back down. Moment it slipped, her beer was coming up in a wave and she couldn't let that happen. The girl sat there in hopes her stomach might settle.
"I just need," She took a breath, " a little... more."
Her fingers gripped the edge of a nearby barrel and dragged it closer. She lifted it, noting the lightness and groaned softly. In a weak attempt, she tossed it away. The thing rolled across the grass until it came to a stop a few feet away.
Xiuyang lifted up her foot and placed it on the barrel, causing it to stop. "...So this is where you were," she began severely. "...I've been looking for you, you know. No one would tell me what happened... I thought you were dead. Because, I thought, surely if Roslyn was alive, she'd be the first to come talk to me." Xiuyang looked at Roslyn's pitiful state with a pained expression.
She walked towards Roslyn, kicking her clutter out of the way. The girl reeked of alcohol. Was that how she herself used to smell? But, even she never drank like this... right? That smell, she used to like it, didn't she? Why now was it so... insufferable? "Come on. Eat this, or you might seriously die. You're not like me; you can't just drink and drink with no consequences." She offered her friend some bread.
Upon hearing Xiuyang's voice, Roslyn stiffened. Her face lifted up to make eye contact with her friend. A wariness bled from her gaze while she followed Xiuyang's approach, her movements a bit sluggish. Did she risk it? She wondered. Did it matter? A darker voice shot back, unbothered by the danger.
Her hand reached for the bread and broke off a chunk. It was surprising soft as she popped it in her mouth, speaking between bites. "I should... not," Roslyn struggled with the words before moving on, "Is that... really you?"
"Attagirl," she whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder softly.
"I'm me, of course. Who else could I be?" Her tone was serious, even if her choice of words was playful.
Roslyn's eyes found the ground as she accepted the touch, appreciating it in a way. Her fingers started to pick at the bread a bit before slipping in another bite. "I thought it was you back in Viiqii, but some thing felt off. Then again, I've been pushed to my limit recently."
She took a long breath, the headache edging in from dehydration. "I know what this looks like, but I promise. There's a method to the madness. Even if I've forgotten most of it."
Her posture began to gradually relax as she considered what Xiuyang said earlier. "Truthfully, I don't think anyone here would notice if I had died. Save for the school and staff."
Just like Ingrid said, the others didn't see much of that demon, she noted. "Yeah, well... most drunken ideas start out making some kind of sense, but then the hangover knocks it back into you," she replied, with the matter-of-fact tone of a mother softly scolding a teenager.
"Come on. I just told you I would notice... and, I would be sad. That goes without saying." She squeezed her shoulder a bit. "And since you're drunk and will probably forget all of this anyway, perhaps this is the time for a confession."
Xiuyang pulled up a barrel and sat on it. "The trust of the Solari is slow to earn, and never given a second time once mocked," she explained. "Our 'friends' all owe us a debt of gratitude, or vice versa. It's the only way we know how to make 'friends.' Dictating the terms of the relationship by who owes who what favors. It's kind of stifling." She sniffed, looking around for an untainted vessel to use, and began binding some water for Roslyn.
"You and me aren't like that, though. We're actually real friends. We don't owe each other anything. It makes me feel like... I'm doing something bad, like staying up past my bedtime reading a steamy romance novel. I'm sure father would disapprove." She cracked an impish grin.
"You're something special, Rose. Ciro agrees, and I've never seen his judgment of other people be wrong. So, cheer up." She offered to toast Roslyn with her own glass of water.
"Thanks," Roslyn set the bread in her lap and took the water. After clicked it with Xiuyang's, she brought it to her lips and let it ease her aches. Her eyes stared at the swirling water for but a moment.
The words were true as she tried to find a benefit that served a selfish purpose. None existed that she could find. A bit of light came into her eyes from the dourness aura within them. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're not getting tired of me unloading my burdens on you. I know you have your own."
She became quiet at the last statement. Her head turned to the moment the Grand Demon had picked her out among her friends and the words that followed. They haunted her because they were true, drawing a subtle anger in her chest. "I'm not sure it is a good thing because it seems a Grand Demon noticed too." Her hand crossed over and gripped her upper arm, kneading it slightly.
"Hmm... So a Grand Demon thinks you rely on me too much?" Xiuyang seemed to ponder a bit, tilting her head. Roslyn was drunk, so it was hard for Xiuyang to know the meaning of her words, or precisely what had happened, there. "Even if I paid Tku to commission it for me, I can't see myself portrayed as a Grand Demon of Arrogance. It might fit a true Solari like my sister Maria, but imagining little ol' me in the role is just too funny." She snickered. "So, I'd never say something like that."
She nudged Roslyn. "Everyone needs someone to share burdens with. For me, that's Ciro." She acted like she'd just suddenly realized something. "You won't get bored of me when you find someone, will you?!" She shook Roslyn playfully, but not enough to agitate a headache.
At the statement of being a Grand Demon, Roslyn scrunched her nose. For a moment, the distraction drew a smile and she tried to imagine a devilish Xiuyang. She brushed off the thought when she was nudged, turning serious again. She continued to listen as she was gently shook around. Her eyes widened and her arms wrapped about Xiuyang's to keep her balance.
"Uh, no, no... I don't think that's what I meant. Is it?" Her eyes narrowed back on her friend, her focus struggling to grasp the right words. A small headache began to bloom again causing her to groan. She leaned her head forward, lightly thumping her temple on Xiuyang's shoulder. "I need to fix myself. "
Her head turned a bit to glance at the water in hand. It sloshed causing her tongue to itch a bit for another drink, but she didn't take another sip. Instead, she answered in earnest at the friendly jab. "And no, I wouldn't get bored of you. You're one of the last real friends I have left. I don't want to lose you too."
"Lose me? That sounds like something else entirely." Xiuyang tilted her head onto Roslyn's. For some reason, known only to her, she was smiling. "I'll keep working overtime to prevent war from breaking out in the first place, but somehow, after everything that's happened to me, dying to something as mundane as a war sounds really anticlimactic. I'm almost starting to think Jamboi was right. Maybe the gods have destined me for something. ...Oh, there she is! Before I knew it, the Grand Demon Xiuyang was talking." She giggled.
A moment passed in silence, then she got serious. "Yeah. We still need to figure out what can be done about that thing you and your brother got."
Roslyn giggled at the 'slip' though she knew she shouldn't. Based on her experience, a Grand Demon was nothing to make fun of. " That's not the only. thing..." She slurred then made a decision. "G-give me a moment."
Roslyn took a deep breath. Annoyed at herself, she shifted the bread and mug off to her side. The glass spilled and soaked the wood of her seat. She ignored it and pushed up onto her feet before vertigo hit her like a hammer. Her balance faltered as her arm shoot to her sides, haphazardly righting herself again. Feeling a bit more confident, she stepped a bit away from her earlier spot. Her right hand waved sloppily behind her to keep her friend seated.
"S-stay there. Need. to.. do this."
Taking another breath, she focused on the drunken sensation. Her mana raced through her veins, attaching to the globs of foreign substance in her body. It began to collect in her mouth before she struggle to visualize what it might look like. Then a feeling washed over her causing her to coughed. Sweat poured across her pale skin and she shuddered, her hands clenched her neck. Her legs crumbled beneath her as she dropped to all fours. With another breath, she forced her mouth open. Finally, a faint thick fog poured out onto the ground like a faint blanket. It hung there before dissipating.
Curling her legs underneath her, the drunk haze began to clear in her head. She flashed a smile back at Xiuyang. "Much better. Now that my head is no long fuzzy, I can actually string my thoughts together."
With that, she pushed up onto her feet and dusted off her skirt.
"R-Rose?!" Xiuyang reacted with alarm at first, but she seemed to decide that the girl just needed to puke and looked away. "This time it's you. That's a new one." She smiled, but not for very long when she didn't hear any retching. "Uh. What was that? I'm guessing it's fine since you seem okay, but..." Her face betrayed concern.
Seeing Xiuyang's expression, guilt washed over Roslyn. She bit her lip and considered how to explain it. As she scratched the back of her neck, she took on a sheepish look. "Well, you see... It's a spell I'm working on. I did tell you there was a method to my madness earlier."
She moved in close again and sat back down. Using a bit of kinetic, she collected up the water and placed it back into the cup. "So... I have a certain way I need to learn magic. It's less logic and more 'feeling'. I learned temporal by counting my heart beat, feeling the pacing of my blood, and such. The spell I'm designing, it requires me to be massively drunk. That's going to be fun getting use to."
Grabbing her cup, she placed her hand over it and used binding to break down the debris within it. She took a sip then continued. "I'm still working on the details, but focusing while drunk is hard."
Xiuyang frowned thoughtfully. "I kind of get it. I learned Temporal with this," she said, pointing to her beanie. "But, Rose, can't you try something a little less dangerous? Being drunk all the time is... not good," she understated, not needing to lecture a brewer on the effects of chronic drunkenness.
Roslyn rolled her tongue against her cheek. Her eyes stared forward as thoughts plagued her, memories from the bog playing in her head. A spark anger hissed in her core when she replied. "Yes, I could, but it would take longer."
Her eyes found the water, continuing while her voice cracked. "However, it's less dangerous than facing a Grand Demon. Or being left behind. Or..."
A tear streaked down her cheek and fell onto her hand causing her to stop. Her palm lifted to wipe them away as she struggled to finish her sentence. She knew the others running was the smartest thing, but it still hurt. Hurt more than she had ever felt before. Belthagor's words were even worse because they weren't false and she hated it. Hated herself.
"He said things and wanted to 'uplift' me. I think he wanted to change me and I couldn't stop him." She sniffled a bit and managed to collect herself, leaning into Xiuyang's shoulder. "It's silly, but I keep thinking he might come back to finish it. Doing this, I can fool myself into thinking I'm safer than I feel. Even if I'm killing myself doing it."
"Rose... Rose!" Xiuyang shushed her softly. "It's alright. He won't come here—the Zenos would kick his ass, and I would too. You're safe, and you're still the Roslyn I remember. If he did something to you—if he did—you're still here. You haven't lost yourself yet. Don't finish the job with alcohol. Please," she begged softly as she silently wept.
As her words slowly failed her, she resorted to squeezing Roslyn even tighter, as if she were an emotional sponge that couldn't help but absorb heartache, and a warm embrace and a good cry was the only way to wring it out of her, before it consumed her.
Roslyn couldn't stop now that she had begun. The emotions bled out against her efforts to hold them tightly as she buried herself into Xiuyang's gesture. So much had happened that she drowned in it, her mind and heart left raw by the friction of her experiences. Some times it left her cracking on the inside, her smiles and joy masking them from others. It never seemed to last long enough.
After a bit, her sobs began to die. Roslyn's tears dried up leaving her eyes red and itchy. She refused to move and drew strength from the hug. A meekness remained in her tone, but a sense of strength lingered there too. "That's the problem, you and the Zenos weren't there. You won't always be there. So I have to do something. But..."
She took a breath. "There might be another solution. What if I carry some really strong alcohol on me? For the spell. If I can get a large amount of a strong beer in my system, I can make it into what I need. This way I'm not drunk all the time."
Her eyes looked upward toward Xuiyang's chin. "Would that work? I still need to do research, but I could use someone around to make sure my judgement doesn't slip."
"It's true. I can't always be there. But if you must, I suppose that's... better," Xiuyang allowed, her eyes evasive.
Roslyn let a silence pass between them. She knew the answer wasn't going to satisfy Xiuyang, but she hoped the compromise was enough. Noticing Xiuyang's avoiding her eyes, she reluctantly lifted upright. She toyed with the cup in her hands. "It's the best I can promise. Or I just do nothing and stay afraid for the rest of my life."
Her eyes stared forward as she touched on the topic left behind. "Coming back to my family's curse, I did learn more about it. My mother was keeping a few secrets and it relates to it." Her eyes shifted to Xiuyang's reaction to her words. "I'm not sure how to feel about it."
Xiuyang hid her pained expression from Roslyn. She knew that feeling of not wanting to live in fear despite her feeling of powerlessness. She could not speak a word against it. "She was keeping secrets? What kinds of secrets?" she asked severely. Keeping secrets from one's daughter was likely not something Xiuyang saw in a good light, to put it mildly.
Not wanting this information to go farther than here, she released a sound bubble around them. Once she felt it settle, she started with the biggest secret. "She was a temporal mage who had cut ties from her family. Her great grandfather had learned temporal and each generation gradually built upon it."
She leaned forward, sipping the water again. Her fingers shifted though her hair as she tried to recall the whole conversation. "She wanted to protect Garith and me from it. It seems the curse started when they try to change their past. They... ran into something that marked her father."
Her hand rolled up her sleeve as she stared at the mark. "Strangely, it seems I'm the only one sensitive to temporal. She didn't recall anyone having the same reactions I do."
"Something that ambushes and marks temporal mages. I've seen one," Xiuyang replied soberly. Before Roslyn could ask if she had been marked as well, though, she continued. "That sounds like what's been happening to those poor folks still trying to conduct trade by portals. Most have given up, as it's simply too dangerous."
Ciro called that one brilliantly. I still haven't found out how he knew about it, Xiuyang realized as she pondered to herself.
"How did you learn about this, anyway? You found an old diary somewhere?"
Roslyn became tense when Xiuyang didn't seem surprised. Her eyes shifted making her wonder if her family had been one of the earlier cases. The thought didn't stay long when the subject moved to another one, a more uncomfortable one. "Sort of... "
Licking her lips, she decided to trust her friend as she revealed the next secret. "It started off with notes my brother found in my mother's study. Mentioned some of her adventures during her first year at school. Before the, " she gestured to her mark, "...Made magic harder. During one of them, she mentioned the Skull of Ahn-Eshiran. That's why I went to Viiqii."
"An odd item of slight importance," Xiuyang replied with a bit of mischief in her tone. "I knew Sister Laska was up to something. ...You think it can help?"
Roslyn couldn't help cracking a smile over the thought. "It did. Gave me a few answers, but I need to head home soon. She mentioned a hidden cellar underneath her study and I need more answers to things she didn't know."
She took another deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time. "It was hard to believe mother managed to keep it safe and hidden for years. I guess I never really knew her like I thought I did."
Xiuyang pondered for a moment how little she really knew about her father, in spite of how much time they'd had together when she was young. There were secrets of the Solari that she knew, and it stood to reason there was yet more she didn't know.
Two different feelings battled for dominance in her heart. "I feel like I want to go with you, as a friend... but also, as someone whose family has so many secrets... I feel it's wrong to interfere." Confusion played out on her face as she spoke honestly. "It's your decision. No matter what you find, though, I'll be here for you."
Xiuyang polished off her third glass of water and plonked it down, looking straight ahead rather than at Roslyn. "I can't lie to you... well, I can, but not very well," she japed, though her face was dead serious. "I might be even busier than usual for a while. I need to investigate this doppelganger that appeared in Viiqii. It attacked my friends, but to put it in another light, it attacked students of Ersand'Enise with a weapon that was stolen from me, while bearing my likeness. That kind of coincidence can't be easily overlooked. I have a responsibility to ensure that if anyone on Solari payroll is responsible, that they face justice—harsh justice." She scowled.
Roslyn struggled to breathe in her head. Every time she broke the surface, something new came along and dragged her back down. At this rate, she realized, she was going to drown in her own head if she kept it up. Considering her friend's words, she weighed the options before her. "I won't lie. I want you to come because I'm scared and I need someone I can trust. But..."
She ignored the withering of her hope, speaking the truth as she heard it. "It sounds like you have your own problems to solve. Ones that are bigger than enduring an overly grateful father and stick in the arse brother o' mine. That said... if you ever need help, ask me. I won't hesitate."
Her form rose up as she kicked the dirt in frustration. When this war ended, she wondered what might remain when the dust settled. Who might still see her as a friend and not let bitterness taint what was once something cherished. The harsh reality of loss weighed heavy in her heart. "Since it might be a long time before we see each other again, is it wrong to ask you to waste some time with me? I'm going to miss you, a lot."
She held out her hand. "And when we meet again, we need to sit down and talk about... everything. Is that a deal?"
There was that pained expression on Xiuyang's face again. She forced a hollow smile to express something that was genuine. "I'll make the time. One way or another, I'll be there for you. Alright? So please, don't call it a waste while I'm still right here." She hugged her friend once more. She'd lost count and it would not be the last time. "We'll both make it, Rose. The gods aren't done with us yet."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I forget some times how painful words can be." Roslyn apologized when she saw Xiuyang force a smile. It wasn't hard to notice how her friend seemed stretched so thin and she regretted adding to that.
She hadn't expected the hug, but she accepted it so damn willingly. Xiuyang had a way to sound hopeful in dark moments and she prayed those words were right. "I'm gonna to believe your statement, Xiuyang. So neither of us better sabotage that."
She gestured for them to sit back down. The two drove back into conversation and savoring the fleeting moments they had, subject spanning from her family to the spell. Both left with a smile and the bittersweet understanding their lives would change. A small hope lingered in their hearts that their connection would survive whatever life threw at them next.
A Brewer and Gunslinger Walk into a Bordello House
Roslyn's boots crossed the threshold of the Vermilion Swirl. The strong smell of incense smacked her hard causing her nose to sting. It wrinkled in reaction as she forced her hand to rest at her side. A few curious eyes turned her way making her anxiety swell, her throat constricting. She pushed it down and forced herself to breathe. Last thing she wanted was to draw more attention than needed.
When she found an empty table, she sat down and pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket. Her eyes drifted through the list of places. Blackfield Arsenal, Hedda's Lake Gazebo, Vermillion Swirl, and the Groove. She had hoped to find Desmon in one of them, but so far the first two ended up being dead ends. Odd to her since the first was Desmond's own business. With a deep inhale, she put it away. At least with the Groove she might knock off something from her agenda today. First she needed to recall where Niallus told her the secret entrance was.
The thought of her least memory of him sent an ache rippling through her chest. While his body might life, she suspected the man she knew had died. She shifted her mind from the depressed thoughts to the task at hand. Hopefully you're here Desmond.
Desmond took a sip from his glass, the vermillion liquid touching his lips as he saw a woman come to his side. He gave the lightest smile as she leaned in and began to whisper to him. After a moment she pulled away as she allowed her hand to glide across his shoulder.
Desmond's smile faded in that moment as he began to drink from his glass once more. This time he guzzled it down and finished the wine within moments. He took a deep breath in as he began to stand up, then let out a deep sigh as he turned to the public bar.
'First Sven, now her hu?'
Desmond lightly patted his sides as he left the private bar and made his way to the front. There he saw Roslyn sitting there, seeming almost normal, a fish out of water, yet there was something else there, he just couldn't put his finger on it.
The moment he neared he lightly had his arms out as a gesture of surprise, "Roslyn! Hey, what are you doing here? You seem out of your element".
Roslyn's resolve battled with her nerves, her eyes flickering about the brothel. Not the first time she had been in one, but usually she had someone to sit beside and chat with. This time she didn't and that only increased her wariness. In the back of her mind, she knew she looked more like a lost puppy than someone that belonged. As if reading her mind and becoming her savior, Desmond appeared with a gentleman's gesture.
Her posture relaxed as she took it. "You're not wrong. You would think after accompanying the Mage Hunter Society to a few brothels, I would be better at this."
Letting him take the lead, she continued. "Actually, I was looking for you all day. You're a hard man to find when you want to be. I wanted to see if I could commission you for a specialized weapon. Or you can point me to the right direction to someone that can."
Desmond's head tilted as he began to sit down, "A weapon? What kind are we talking about?"
The moment Desmond sat down next to Roslyn, he made a light gesture to the bartender as she began to quickly pour Desmond a glass of wine.
Roslyn slid in across from him as she spoke.
"From what I understand, which is little mind you, a rifle. Or something long distance and can really hurt. I found some layered toxic darbonite in Viiqii that could be useful. I don't..." She took a deep breath to steel her courage. "I don't know who else to trust with this. Truthfully, I'm still questioning the fact I'm okay at all."
She took a deep breath as she tried not to bite her lip. "I shouldn't have made it out at all."
Desmond listened as he tilted his head, "A rifle with Toxic Darbonite?" Desmond took it in, it would be an interesting tool. He just isn't sure a weapon made of such a toxic material could work to transfer the toxicity well. Yet that isn't his thoughts right now.
"You're right, you shouldn't have". Desmond took a sip in that moment before setting down his glass and turning to Roslyn as he continued, "So, how did you?"
"That is the question I've been asking myself for days now." She inhaled, forcing a smile on her lips. "I remember bits and pieces. Honestly, I was surprised I had the courage to come here. Laska visited me shortly after and not even my dorm feels safe now."
She paused to collect herself, but her voice came off as strained."Where do you want me to start? From after you left or before we met up again?"
Desmond thought for a moment as he then answered, "After those of us who could went through the portal".
"Okay, but no promises I won't be a sobbing mess. The nightmares still keep me up and I haven't figured out how to stop them." Roslyn replied then moved on. "When the portal closed, Esmii and I tried to fight back. He batted away our attempts like they were nothing. Our bodies followed him against our will over to Niallus. He was impressed and from the sound of it, aimed to use him to replace the demon he killed. "
Roslyn pushed back the tears blurring the edges of her eyes. She wouldn't cry, she told herself. " He exhaled a strange, thick haze. It went to Niallus first, then Esmii and me. Before it covered me , I saw Niallus stand upright. However, it wasn't him. Those eyes... They weren't his. "
Her hand hit the table with a heavy thump. Anger erupted in her tone as she recalled her helplessness. "I-I couldn't stop it. I wanted to, but... When my friends needed me most, I couldn't do anything."
Desmond began to nod his head as he listened. He set his hand on her back as he comforted her, "I understand".
He knew the feeling she must be going through. It is a feeling that he assumes most who have ever touched the Forked tower must have felt.
The sheer weight of the world and what is just beyond it. Desmond can only imagine the sheer terror someone like Roslyn is feeling. Her first brush with that terror came from one of the strongest horrors, a demon of unimaginable power.
Desmond then asked, he needed to know, "What happened after that?"
She took the comfort he gave and let it sooth her ruffled emotions. "It's a bit foggy after that. I don't know how to describe it, but I felt stuck is the best way to describe it. His essence pushing in to me, suffocating and... "
Roslyn shuddered at the memory of it. "It was like he was slowly loosening something inside of me or something. Someone approached. I could sense that much. They were strong and then suddenly Sven- no, he twitched. It was like someone had taken his limbs and twisted them into different angles. The expression... I can't forget it. Pure pain. I can still hear the bones cracking."
Her eyes turned to him. "After that, I passed out and woke up where you found us. Sven was not far away and looking normal. Like whatever happened was undone?"
Her head shook at what she had just said. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I think someone saved us. I'm not sure who, how or why. Even worse, I don't think he's gone. I'm scared he's still out there and if we cross paths..."
She trailed off, but the meaning was clear. Her luck could only last so long and she didn't know if anyone could save her for a second time.
Desmond nodded his head as he thought, he would be the worst person to lie to, or even speak to in that matter. Roslyn wouldn't know but demons would, Desmond is touched by the gods. Even minorly, he had received blessings, and had went to hell and killed a Grand Demon there.
A demon should be able to smell the stench of Zagnath's blood on him. Yet Roslyn came to him. He was curious why. If she was a demon, it would have aimed for a better time, not working up to him, yet even then, what if it tried?
Desmond took another moment, Niallus was gone. He was possessed and then someone tried to exercise the Grand Demon. He couldn't figure out who could. Laska never spoke of such a thing, however, Roslyn wouldn't lie about this. A demon would not ever dare say that the Grand Demon of Pride could be exercised. They would never say he could be overpowered. As those are the demons he would be facing.
Yet the question still stood, why was Roslyn here? Desmond took a breath in and exhaled as he said, "I see, that is tough. I don't know how much I can help with your fears of the demon, but I can at least help you with this gun of yours".
Desmond gestured towards the bartender who produced another glass of wine for Desmond and a pen and paper, "After all, more protection is better than none, yeah?"
Desmond said with a smile. He couldn't trust Roslyn fully, yet a gun like this would be trivial for a demon of the caliber that they faced. So there was no harm in making it.
"I figured the same thing. The smoking bandit is good, but I need something more. I don't know much about killing demons. I just hope it helps with the nightmares and everything else."
She was quiet for a moment then added. "I do have another question. How do you stop being scared? You don't seem to be scared of anything, unlike me." Roslyn chuckled to try and ease her mood, but it didn't help. Not like it used to.
Desmond nodded his head as he began to draw, it was a simple rifle all things considered. He began to write things about metals she would have never heard of. White and silver metals that he names strange things that seem while strange, legitimate to the uninitiated. It was something Desmond was making up names of metals as if they were magic metals meant to help fight demons. It was in that moment she brought up the question he knew would come.
Desmond chuckled, "Scared? Me?" It would have been expected for someone like him, a larger than life adventurer who seems always in the center of danger. Venturing to the absolute edges of existence. What would he have to fear?
"You don't stop being scared. You never do".
Desmond turned and looked to Roslyn, "I may seem like I'm not, but that's because I've learned to use it. I'm actually afraid of a lot of things. Many things that could seem almost trivial for someone with actually usable magic".
He chuckled once more as he looked back to his paper.
Roslyn leaned in and glanced at the paper. She wasn't an artisan in the same vein as him, but it was comforting to see him take it seriously. Her eyes met his when he turned to her again. It wasn't hard to see how handsome he was, reminding her of Vel. Charm practically bled from his appearance. A part of her wondered how many women's hearts he had broken in his lifetime. A lot, she'd bet.
Her eyes lingered on him as if to see below the surface into a deeper truth. Of course, Desmond was impossible for her to read. Taking his word at full face value, her tension loosened and her voice became warmer. "Sounds like a skill I need to learn. I just freeze, which is far from helpful."
Her attention turned back to the paper. "I suppose I should ask about the price for this. My current funds are a little thin, but if you're willing to barter, I'm open to it. Otherwise, it will need to come in smaller amounts over time."
Desmond shook his head as he chuckled, "It is a skill you are already learning".
He shifted the paper over for Roslyn to see, as he had written some ideas he had if the Toxic darbonite would be used. One says it would coat a bullet in the material, giving the toxicity to the bullet. Where others tell of the ways where the darbonite is either unusable or will detriment the user and not be effective at all. Such as spreading the toxicity to the user instead of to the target or having it where the darbonite could create a chain reaction like atomic mages would do with uranium and cause an explosion large enough to incinerate the user in an instant.
"When you have fear, you are filled with motivation. This motivation is to either get away from the fear or prepare for it. And it is that motivation that allows you to get over lesser fears and do things that need to be done. Like you have right now. You asked me to make you a weapon with something you know nothing about other than that it is incredibly toxic and that it was the source of many problems. You didn't think of the complications or what it would do to you. Because that did not matter in the face of a greater fear". Desmond shifted as he continued to work on the piece of paper.
"We can barter for this if you'd like. How about a favor for a favor? I'll make you this and then later down the line you do a favor for me?" Desmond spoke with a small smile as he began to write up the bullets he will be making from the toxic darbonite. As this would be the best and most efficient way to use the darbonite while the rifle will be made of many high quality materials.
Roslyn took in the lesson given and reflected on it. He made it sound simple, but her experience knew otherwise. "That makes sense, but how do you face that greater fear? I don't want to be helpless like that again. Do I find a bigger one? What's bigger than a Grand Demon?"
She paused, reining her tone and anger in. It has been a struggle to control all her emotions lately. Even Xiuyang noticed after their last conversation. Would she ever feel normal again? And if so, when? Moving onto the mention of barter, she smiled and nodded.
" That works out well then." a hint of a tease entered her voice, "I think I can trust you to be a gentleman, rather than a scoundrel, can't I?"
Desmond chuckled, "Well, you build up to it. As fear looms, you prepare for it. You figure out what about the bigger fear scares you. You break down the greater fear into smaller fears. Such as, if you are afraid of his physical strength, then figure out a way to get around it. The greatest way to conquer fears is to understand where it comes from. As once you understand your fear, you then know how to beat it".
Desmond turned to Roslyn and then chuckled, "Oh are you sure I'm not a scoundrel?"
Roslyn appreciated his kindness as she quipped back, clinging onto that positive feeling. Her hand rested on her chest, her lips pouted with playful insults, while still sporting a cheeky smile.
"Oh my, is that a confession? What would your lady friends think? I'd have a mob raising the five hells at my dorm door claiming otherwise." Upon hearing herself, she burst out laughing. Her hand rose to keep her giggles modest and quieter. "I sounded silly even to myself."
She straightened up and came back to his earlier words. The cheer dimmed underneath her seriousness. "I think my biggest fear is losing control. I don't want to hurt my friends or watch them be hurt, intentionally or not. I don't have many and now I've lost two." She turned back to him, hopeful for answers. "How do you fight against something like that?"
Desmond laughed lightly with Roslyn. He continued to write upon the piece of paper. It was quite simple for him. He was using much of his already gained knowledge and skills to quickly write up how to use a trip hammer and convert it into a machine to press and push out small disks of toxic darbonite that can be attached to bullets when molded.
Desmond looked to Roslyn out of the corner of his eye when he heard what fear she was trying to fight. Desmond stayed straight faced as he spoke, "Losing Control? Well that is truly a big fear. I suppose it is one that many of us fight. And for a few more, fail at".
Desmond thought for a moment as his thoughts stirred. It was a fear he had. A grand one that has been the one that ruled him for his life.
"I believe that the only way to fight a fear like that is complicated. It's a hard one to fight, yet there are things you can do. Prepare for everything you can think of, be ready for what you could expect. Collect as much information as you can. Let's say if you were to go to a new town, read up on local maps, figure out the local fauna, the flora, know what are the favored drinks in the area, anything you can think of". Desmond spoke as he lightly gestured off into nothing.
"After that? Be ready for what you can't. This world will always surprise you. However with your preparations you now know more about your situation, which you can act upon. But, always remember, you may not be able to control your situation, but you can control how you respond to it. Fear of losing control is normal, yet freezing up is you giving up control, involuntarily or not. Always try doing something in a situation. Even if it is you doing something brash or 'cowardly'". Desmond said the last part while making quotation marks with his hands.
"To act at all is you still having control. And sometimes that is all the control we can exercise on this world"
Roslyn made a mental list in her head of Desmond's suggestions. She silently vowed never to freeze up again, even if her body wanted to. The price wasn't worth it.
"Nothing worth it is easy, is it?" She repeated her father's words once spoken to her. "I honestly never thought about it in that way. It makes me feel hopeful that I can fight back. As much as he frightens me, I am also angry. I want him to pay for what he did, but I can't do it alone."
Her determination radiated in her gaze, not quite matching her softer features. Something clicked in her core causing her to fight that passive nature she had. "Will you help me?"
Desmond let out a light laugh at the last bit of Roslyn's speech, "Help? Darling, I was already preparing".
He shook his head and chuckled, "I suppose working together on this would work out well".
"I'm glad to hear that." Roslyn found her tired of being helpless and she wanted to do something rather than accept it. How she'd accomplish that, she didn't know, but she'd figure it out. Somehow. "Now... I just need to get better at changing the direction of my shots. It's trickier than I expected."
Desmond began to laugh, "I suppose that might be something you work on before anything else". Desmond pulled from his coat a magus as he placed them onto the counter for the bartender as he stood up and spoke to Roslyn, "Here, let me show you a trick I learned-", he began to tell her about how he learned how to change the trajectory of bullets using heat differentials and bullet rotation.
When she found an empty table, she sat down and pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket. Her eyes drifted through the list of places. Blackfield Arsenal, Hedda's Lake Gazebo, Vermillion Swirl, and the Groove. She had hoped to find Desmon in one of them, but so far the first two ended up being dead ends. Odd to her since the first was Desmond's own business. With a deep inhale, she put it away. At least with the Groove she might knock off something from her agenda today. First she needed to recall where Niallus told her the secret entrance was.
The thought of her least memory of him sent an ache rippling through her chest. While his body might life, she suspected the man she knew had died. She shifted her mind from the depressed thoughts to the task at hand. Hopefully you're here Desmond.
Desmond took a sip from his glass, the vermillion liquid touching his lips as he saw a woman come to his side. He gave the lightest smile as she leaned in and began to whisper to him. After a moment she pulled away as she allowed her hand to glide across his shoulder.
Desmond's smile faded in that moment as he began to drink from his glass once more. This time he guzzled it down and finished the wine within moments. He took a deep breath in as he began to stand up, then let out a deep sigh as he turned to the public bar.
'First Sven, now her hu?'
Desmond lightly patted his sides as he left the private bar and made his way to the front. There he saw Roslyn sitting there, seeming almost normal, a fish out of water, yet there was something else there, he just couldn't put his finger on it.
The moment he neared he lightly had his arms out as a gesture of surprise, "Roslyn! Hey, what are you doing here? You seem out of your element".
Roslyn's resolve battled with her nerves, her eyes flickering about the brothel. Not the first time she had been in one, but usually she had someone to sit beside and chat with. This time she didn't and that only increased her wariness. In the back of her mind, she knew she looked more like a lost puppy than someone that belonged. As if reading her mind and becoming her savior, Desmond appeared with a gentleman's gesture.
Her posture relaxed as she took it. "You're not wrong. You would think after accompanying the Mage Hunter Society to a few brothels, I would be better at this."
Letting him take the lead, she continued. "Actually, I was looking for you all day. You're a hard man to find when you want to be. I wanted to see if I could commission you for a specialized weapon. Or you can point me to the right direction to someone that can."
Desmond's head tilted as he began to sit down, "A weapon? What kind are we talking about?"
The moment Desmond sat down next to Roslyn, he made a light gesture to the bartender as she began to quickly pour Desmond a glass of wine.
Roslyn slid in across from him as she spoke.
"From what I understand, which is little mind you, a rifle. Or something long distance and can really hurt. I found some layered toxic darbonite in Viiqii that could be useful. I don't..." She took a deep breath to steel her courage. "I don't know who else to trust with this. Truthfully, I'm still questioning the fact I'm okay at all."
She took a deep breath as she tried not to bite her lip. "I shouldn't have made it out at all."
Desmond listened as he tilted his head, "A rifle with Toxic Darbonite?" Desmond took it in, it would be an interesting tool. He just isn't sure a weapon made of such a toxic material could work to transfer the toxicity well. Yet that isn't his thoughts right now.
"You're right, you shouldn't have". Desmond took a sip in that moment before setting down his glass and turning to Roslyn as he continued, "So, how did you?"
"That is the question I've been asking myself for days now." She inhaled, forcing a smile on her lips. "I remember bits and pieces. Honestly, I was surprised I had the courage to come here. Laska visited me shortly after and not even my dorm feels safe now."
She paused to collect herself, but her voice came off as strained."Where do you want me to start? From after you left or before we met up again?"
Desmond thought for a moment as he then answered, "After those of us who could went through the portal".
"Okay, but no promises I won't be a sobbing mess. The nightmares still keep me up and I haven't figured out how to stop them." Roslyn replied then moved on. "When the portal closed, Esmii and I tried to fight back. He batted away our attempts like they were nothing. Our bodies followed him against our will over to Niallus. He was impressed and from the sound of it, aimed to use him to replace the demon he killed. "
Roslyn pushed back the tears blurring the edges of her eyes. She wouldn't cry, she told herself. " He exhaled a strange, thick haze. It went to Niallus first, then Esmii and me. Before it covered me , I saw Niallus stand upright. However, it wasn't him. Those eyes... They weren't his. "
Her hand hit the table with a heavy thump. Anger erupted in her tone as she recalled her helplessness. "I-I couldn't stop it. I wanted to, but... When my friends needed me most, I couldn't do anything."
Desmond began to nod his head as he listened. He set his hand on her back as he comforted her, "I understand".
He knew the feeling she must be going through. It is a feeling that he assumes most who have ever touched the Forked tower must have felt.
The sheer weight of the world and what is just beyond it. Desmond can only imagine the sheer terror someone like Roslyn is feeling. Her first brush with that terror came from one of the strongest horrors, a demon of unimaginable power.
Desmond then asked, he needed to know, "What happened after that?"
She took the comfort he gave and let it sooth her ruffled emotions. "It's a bit foggy after that. I don't know how to describe it, but I felt stuck is the best way to describe it. His essence pushing in to me, suffocating and... "
Roslyn shuddered at the memory of it. "It was like he was slowly loosening something inside of me or something. Someone approached. I could sense that much. They were strong and then suddenly Sven- no, he twitched. It was like someone had taken his limbs and twisted them into different angles. The expression... I can't forget it. Pure pain. I can still hear the bones cracking."
Her eyes turned to him. "After that, I passed out and woke up where you found us. Sven was not far away and looking normal. Like whatever happened was undone?"
Her head shook at what she had just said. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I think someone saved us. I'm not sure who, how or why. Even worse, I don't think he's gone. I'm scared he's still out there and if we cross paths..."
She trailed off, but the meaning was clear. Her luck could only last so long and she didn't know if anyone could save her for a second time.
Desmond nodded his head as he thought, he would be the worst person to lie to, or even speak to in that matter. Roslyn wouldn't know but demons would, Desmond is touched by the gods. Even minorly, he had received blessings, and had went to hell and killed a Grand Demon there.
A demon should be able to smell the stench of Zagnath's blood on him. Yet Roslyn came to him. He was curious why. If she was a demon, it would have aimed for a better time, not working up to him, yet even then, what if it tried?
Desmond took another moment, Niallus was gone. He was possessed and then someone tried to exercise the Grand Demon. He couldn't figure out who could. Laska never spoke of such a thing, however, Roslyn wouldn't lie about this. A demon would not ever dare say that the Grand Demon of Pride could be exercised. They would never say he could be overpowered. As those are the demons he would be facing.
Yet the question still stood, why was Roslyn here? Desmond took a breath in and exhaled as he said, "I see, that is tough. I don't know how much I can help with your fears of the demon, but I can at least help you with this gun of yours".
Desmond gestured towards the bartender who produced another glass of wine for Desmond and a pen and paper, "After all, more protection is better than none, yeah?"
Desmond said with a smile. He couldn't trust Roslyn fully, yet a gun like this would be trivial for a demon of the caliber that they faced. So there was no harm in making it.
"I figured the same thing. The smoking bandit is good, but I need something more. I don't know much about killing demons. I just hope it helps with the nightmares and everything else."
She was quiet for a moment then added. "I do have another question. How do you stop being scared? You don't seem to be scared of anything, unlike me." Roslyn chuckled to try and ease her mood, but it didn't help. Not like it used to.
Desmond nodded his head as he began to draw, it was a simple rifle all things considered. He began to write things about metals she would have never heard of. White and silver metals that he names strange things that seem while strange, legitimate to the uninitiated. It was something Desmond was making up names of metals as if they were magic metals meant to help fight demons. It was in that moment she brought up the question he knew would come.
Desmond chuckled, "Scared? Me?" It would have been expected for someone like him, a larger than life adventurer who seems always in the center of danger. Venturing to the absolute edges of existence. What would he have to fear?
"You don't stop being scared. You never do".
Desmond turned and looked to Roslyn, "I may seem like I'm not, but that's because I've learned to use it. I'm actually afraid of a lot of things. Many things that could seem almost trivial for someone with actually usable magic".
He chuckled once more as he looked back to his paper.
Roslyn leaned in and glanced at the paper. She wasn't an artisan in the same vein as him, but it was comforting to see him take it seriously. Her eyes met his when he turned to her again. It wasn't hard to see how handsome he was, reminding her of Vel. Charm practically bled from his appearance. A part of her wondered how many women's hearts he had broken in his lifetime. A lot, she'd bet.
Her eyes lingered on him as if to see below the surface into a deeper truth. Of course, Desmond was impossible for her to read. Taking his word at full face value, her tension loosened and her voice became warmer. "Sounds like a skill I need to learn. I just freeze, which is far from helpful."
Her attention turned back to the paper. "I suppose I should ask about the price for this. My current funds are a little thin, but if you're willing to barter, I'm open to it. Otherwise, it will need to come in smaller amounts over time."
Desmond shook his head as he chuckled, "It is a skill you are already learning".
He shifted the paper over for Roslyn to see, as he had written some ideas he had if the Toxic darbonite would be used. One says it would coat a bullet in the material, giving the toxicity to the bullet. Where others tell of the ways where the darbonite is either unusable or will detriment the user and not be effective at all. Such as spreading the toxicity to the user instead of to the target or having it where the darbonite could create a chain reaction like atomic mages would do with uranium and cause an explosion large enough to incinerate the user in an instant.
"When you have fear, you are filled with motivation. This motivation is to either get away from the fear or prepare for it. And it is that motivation that allows you to get over lesser fears and do things that need to be done. Like you have right now. You asked me to make you a weapon with something you know nothing about other than that it is incredibly toxic and that it was the source of many problems. You didn't think of the complications or what it would do to you. Because that did not matter in the face of a greater fear". Desmond shifted as he continued to work on the piece of paper.
"We can barter for this if you'd like. How about a favor for a favor? I'll make you this and then later down the line you do a favor for me?" Desmond spoke with a small smile as he began to write up the bullets he will be making from the toxic darbonite. As this would be the best and most efficient way to use the darbonite while the rifle will be made of many high quality materials.
Roslyn took in the lesson given and reflected on it. He made it sound simple, but her experience knew otherwise. "That makes sense, but how do you face that greater fear? I don't want to be helpless like that again. Do I find a bigger one? What's bigger than a Grand Demon?"
She paused, reining her tone and anger in. It has been a struggle to control all her emotions lately. Even Xiuyang noticed after their last conversation. Would she ever feel normal again? And if so, when? Moving onto the mention of barter, she smiled and nodded.
" That works out well then." a hint of a tease entered her voice, "I think I can trust you to be a gentleman, rather than a scoundrel, can't I?"
Desmond chuckled, "Well, you build up to it. As fear looms, you prepare for it. You figure out what about the bigger fear scares you. You break down the greater fear into smaller fears. Such as, if you are afraid of his physical strength, then figure out a way to get around it. The greatest way to conquer fears is to understand where it comes from. As once you understand your fear, you then know how to beat it".
Desmond turned to Roslyn and then chuckled, "Oh are you sure I'm not a scoundrel?"
Roslyn appreciated his kindness as she quipped back, clinging onto that positive feeling. Her hand rested on her chest, her lips pouted with playful insults, while still sporting a cheeky smile.
"Oh my, is that a confession? What would your lady friends think? I'd have a mob raising the five hells at my dorm door claiming otherwise." Upon hearing herself, she burst out laughing. Her hand rose to keep her giggles modest and quieter. "I sounded silly even to myself."
She straightened up and came back to his earlier words. The cheer dimmed underneath her seriousness. "I think my biggest fear is losing control. I don't want to hurt my friends or watch them be hurt, intentionally or not. I don't have many and now I've lost two." She turned back to him, hopeful for answers. "How do you fight against something like that?"
Desmond laughed lightly with Roslyn. He continued to write upon the piece of paper. It was quite simple for him. He was using much of his already gained knowledge and skills to quickly write up how to use a trip hammer and convert it into a machine to press and push out small disks of toxic darbonite that can be attached to bullets when molded.
Desmond looked to Roslyn out of the corner of his eye when he heard what fear she was trying to fight. Desmond stayed straight faced as he spoke, "Losing Control? Well that is truly a big fear. I suppose it is one that many of us fight. And for a few more, fail at".
Desmond thought for a moment as his thoughts stirred. It was a fear he had. A grand one that has been the one that ruled him for his life.
"I believe that the only way to fight a fear like that is complicated. It's a hard one to fight, yet there are things you can do. Prepare for everything you can think of, be ready for what you could expect. Collect as much information as you can. Let's say if you were to go to a new town, read up on local maps, figure out the local fauna, the flora, know what are the favored drinks in the area, anything you can think of". Desmond spoke as he lightly gestured off into nothing.
"After that? Be ready for what you can't. This world will always surprise you. However with your preparations you now know more about your situation, which you can act upon. But, always remember, you may not be able to control your situation, but you can control how you respond to it. Fear of losing control is normal, yet freezing up is you giving up control, involuntarily or not. Always try doing something in a situation. Even if it is you doing something brash or 'cowardly'". Desmond said the last part while making quotation marks with his hands.
"To act at all is you still having control. And sometimes that is all the control we can exercise on this world"
Roslyn made a mental list in her head of Desmond's suggestions. She silently vowed never to freeze up again, even if her body wanted to. The price wasn't worth it.
"Nothing worth it is easy, is it?" She repeated her father's words once spoken to her. "I honestly never thought about it in that way. It makes me feel hopeful that I can fight back. As much as he frightens me, I am also angry. I want him to pay for what he did, but I can't do it alone."
Her determination radiated in her gaze, not quite matching her softer features. Something clicked in her core causing her to fight that passive nature she had. "Will you help me?"
Desmond let out a light laugh at the last bit of Roslyn's speech, "Help? Darling, I was already preparing".
He shook his head and chuckled, "I suppose working together on this would work out well".
"I'm glad to hear that." Roslyn found her tired of being helpless and she wanted to do something rather than accept it. How she'd accomplish that, she didn't know, but she'd figure it out. Somehow. "Now... I just need to get better at changing the direction of my shots. It's trickier than I expected."
Desmond began to laugh, "I suppose that might be something you work on before anything else". Desmond pulled from his coat a magus as he placed them onto the counter for the bartender as he stood up and spoke to Roslyn, "Here, let me show you a trick I learned-", he began to tell her about how he learned how to change the trajectory of bullets using heat differentials and bullet rotation.
Mahal Agha
"I did what I had to do to."
The Palaparese Revolution: Chapter 4.1
Location: Palapar
Grief Among the Burning Ashes
"It should've been you... Not her!"
Ruslan's grief stabbed at Mahal when she brought out a dead Dalma. In her vain attempts to retrieve her, the woman had bled out and turned stiff shortly after. She was no longer among the living, but now returned to her gods. There was no time for a proper burial or funeral as the fire spread quickly. They fled to safety toward the harbors.
Mahal kept a silent watch from her seat on a nearby crate. Her leg swung back and forth, eyes stared in the distance. As much as she needed to process her emotions, there was no time. It wouldn't be long before they fled home.
She didn't even know if it was worth it.
Puno was still with Tku while Ngiti and Diyablos joined them later. A reddish tentacle curled about her neck as her ground octopus perched on her shoulder. She hadn't spoken since they left the capital. Instead, avoided attention and kept her head low. Her father was volatile now and she didn't have the strength to deal with his venom or grief.
Lunara felt numb. Flashes of torn flesh, children ripped from mothers, mothers cut from husbands, and families burned alive. Eschiran spared none but the dead; a prejudice for the living. Those who survived would not count themselves lucky, they were fractured beyond repair.
Her fists clenched tight, her jaw locked, and veins pulsed across her brow. She was a fool. A fool to think her ideals could temper Eschiran's demands. Her peace proposal, fragile as glass, had shattered against the hard edge of reality.
One of Lunara's hands clasped her chest. Hope, she tried to grip, was always last to leave the box, a jewel she began to realize as her grip tightened was no jewel for her's to keep, it was a lie she ever had it. The weight of the massacre moved her hand and crushed it, while Palapar's flames burned the box to ash.
She replayed the night endlessly, searching for meaning as her hope was consumed by hellfire. It was futile. She couldn't stop the slaughter, couldn't change the unyielding, couldn't save her family. Only failure lingered-her mistakes, her naivety, and the unrelenting memory of piling corpses with her mother's face agape stretched out beneath it all.
The will to heal was gone. Guilt festered into anger, anger boiled her peace, leaving only hatred in its wake. She was a bull before the matador, taunted and surrounded by jeering ghosts. Her furrowed brows betrayed any gest of transformation-certainty dissolved into doubt. There were no allies, no trust. Only suspicion for the rebels did not act alone that night, for only that fact was certain.
Lunara roughly wiped her tears from her soft cheeks. She would refused to be seen as weak. The branch would be replaced with the blade. And it would start with her sister. The closest of them all.
When Lunara approached Mahal sitting on a crate, the moment felt alien. It was as if Mahal was no longer known, a character on a stage holding a mask before the audience. Lunara stopped a foot away, stretching her hands out to cup Mahal's. Her gaze was low but trailing upward until Mahal's was met. There was no warmth, no tenderness. Only cold, unyielding resolve. These were no longer eyes of a dreamer. They were the eyes of someone who had crushed hope and replaced it with hate-dark and consuming as the blood-soaked streets of Palapar.
"How did you know?"
Upon feeling her sister's touch, Mahal didn't react at first. Her reflected a hollow acceptance of the situation as she debated on the words to share. Truth or lie? She weighed their risks, especially with her connection to things. A dread curled in her heart at the thought of Lunara disowning her or worse blaming her for Dalma's death. Their father did even if it was out of grief and pain. Her leg stopped its swinging as she made her choice.
"I'm sorry. I should've made Dalma go before me," She didn't want to answer that question.
Lunara could tell when her twin sister evaded a question; she could see it... no... she could feel it. No matter, she didn't blame Mahal for going before Dalma. She blamed herself. But as for Lunara's question - it was repeated, "How did you know?"
Unlike with their father, Mahal couldn't simply disappear. She inhaled then hardened her resolve. Her mind thought about that night before the gala and her role in it all. A hint of regret stirred in her chest, but she pushed it down. It didn't change anything.
"People can only be pushed so far before they fight or die. Nothing changed, so violence was going to happen." Mahal paused for a moment to consider her next words. "As for how did I know? I... I just had a feeling. "
Mahal couldn't look her sister in the eyes when she spoke. The words, desperate and empty, slipped out before she could stop them.
Lunara’s hands tightened around Mahal’s. She could tell her sister wasn’t being honest. But why? Why was she lying? What was she hiding?
“A feeling?” Lunara tilted her head, “you felt danger in the middle of a gala hosted by Palapar’s elites?” What an odd place to have a feeling of urgency to get Lunara out of there like Mahal tried. But maybe it was just a feeling or perhaps there was something more deceptive afoot.
Lunara decided to push to the next inquiry and see what reason Mahal might fetch in response, “Ok, what about your late night trips, where have you been sneaking off to?”
Lunara's hand trapped Mahal in place, both figuratively and literally. Fear surfaced in her eyes behind the walls she kept as her heart raced in her chest. "I'm more aware of my surroundings than you are. Something was off about the staff and about the place. My... instincts wanted to leave."
It occurred to her that since she returned home, she had fallen into the same patterns she hated. At the mention of the late night trips, Mahal became silent for a moment. That twitch to run stirred in the back of her mind. She pushed it down. "Back at home? I've been fixing up a cabin in the mountains. A place I can escape father. Sikauq is also kept up there because it's cold enough."
She suspected that wasn't the exact trips Lunara had been hinting at. However, her sister had failed to be clear and she took advantage of it to avoid an outright lie.
Lunara offered her sister another plank before burning the bridge, "Are you telling me the whole truth about the Gala and your late night trips?"
One last chance, Mahal realized, to tell the truth. It was clear to her that Lunara knew she was hiding something. In her grief and pain, what would would her sister do? It did even matter? Her eyes raised to distant fires bellowing throughout the city. Shadows scrambled for violence or safety while screams faded into the night.
Sensing her master's struggle, Supok rose onto her paws and rested her head on Mahal's knee. She whimpered until a hand petted her. Her muzzle fell into a pleased grin, eyes filled with hope and loyalty.
"No," The word sliced through the silence. Her hand pulled away from her sister in shame, "But the less you know, the better."
Lunara felt the words sever a connection like the hands her sister now pulled away. Again, no different than her father and no different than her mother and no different than Oanona when it came to lies. They all lied. They all thought Lunara stupid.
Maybe she was. Maybe she was a fool. To believe in her family. To believe in her ideals. To believe in hope and reason. Maybe all there was in this world were serpents and those who slayed them.
She refused to be a serpent.
“Who are you to know what is better for me.” Lunara stepped back, “a liar has no claim to wisdom.” She turned away, “and no sister of mine will remain a sister if she remains to hide truth in the weeds like a snake hides its bite from its prey.”
Mahal sat still while Lunara vented her rage. Her fingers clenched against her thighs underneath her pet's jaws. Anger rippled across her skin as she tried to reign in her temper. Did Lunara truly believe that talking would solve everything? She had two weeks to change things and nothing happened. Did she think the rebels would wait patiently until she solved it all?
"At least I'm willing to do something instead of expecting talking to solve all my problems." Mahal snapped back. "You had two weeks and what changed? Nothing. Even father knew it wouldn't."
She shot up, facing her sister, while her tone grew in volume. "Why did I think you'd understand? It doesn't occur to you that not every problem is solved with conversation or waiting. I did what I had to do to. Someone has to."
"Two weeks?" Her sister's shortsightedness struck her.
"You believe because you couldn't see change in two weeks that what happened to Ceboyan was okay?" Lunara cued in on her sister's attitude, "You think Dalma didn't deserve more than two weeks? That her death was justified and all those who were murdered for a rebel call to change?"
Lunara stepped further away, "You think that murdering solves problems?"
She paused and a reflection on Mahal's comment cycled back to Lunara, "Wait. At least you're willing to do something, what did you do Mahal!" Lunara's voice cracked at the idea her sister was a part of the massacre.
"No. That's not what I meant, and you know it. Stop twisting my words." Mahal breathed heavily as her eyes started to see red. Her hands came up and brushed through her hair, trying to sooth herself. At the mention of murder, she shouted out the first words on her mind. "It's better than suffering!"
Unlike her, little perfect heir lived the sheltered, ideal life. She never had to fight with their father during his dark moods. Never laid in a pit, slowly starving until Selim or her mother came to retrieve her. How long was someone expected to endure pain before they finally died?
Idly, a soft tentacle brushed her cheek. It twisted about and curled into her neck, fixing itself there. A weak attempt to calm her from Diyablos. "Why didn't you listen?"
Lunara ignored Mahal’s deflection to answer by asking a question of her own. Instead Lunara put pressure on whatever Mahal was hiding. For lies that are beneath the skin will purge when cut and pressed on.
“Better than suffering.” Repeating the words of her sister. “You believe this murder is better than suffering?” Lunara was shocked. Her hands balled into fists, “Are you going to go door to door when all this is over and look into the eyes of all those who lost their loving mothers, honest fathers, or innocent children and tell them those lives were worth sacrificing because it was better than suffering? Do you hear yourself Mahal!”
Lunara’s eyes watered at the thought of every family who had already paid for the ignorance of the minority both elites and slaves. There were no winners in revolutions or wars. There were only the tragedies caught between the two sides who justified the guilt stained on their blades.
Lunara concluded Mahal’s defensiveness meant she had a hand in what happened and that would not be forgiven if true,
“Why are you defending this murder Mahal. Tell me and speak plainly, did you have something to do with it?”
Mahal's lips pressed tighter at Lunara's words. For a moment, she thought she heard wrong. That Lunara put higher value on the elites over the very people she decided to fight for. She tightened her fists as she stood her ground. Unlike Lunara, she couldn't let the tears run free. Tears didn't solve problems. "Do you think the elites went around and did that? No. Instead of taking the warnings seriously, they held a celebration! Does that sound like people who want change?"
A lump formed in her throat at Lunara's question. At first, she didn't know how to answer it until it clicked. "Cause I know their pain. Especially when the pleads to stop don't matter."
She shook off the pain. While she knew about the possibility of bloodshed, she wasn't the designer of it. Her main goal was to get her sister and those that matter out of there before things went into motion. As long as she cooperated, their home became spared from the chaos to come. "I didn't plan it, if that's what you're asking. I was trying to get you and Dalma to safety."
Mahal wasn't wrong in her efforts to vilify the elites. Many did not want change, which made them elites. It was those who did and died instead.
"Your pain?" Lunara paused, "Is it over? Has your pain subsided since the massacres? Do you feel better?"
A piece of Lunara was breaking. She felt it flake off. The family was divided; her sister, if not a murderer, was an accomplice, and her father may have been right about the world and, in effect, right about Lunara's place in it. Maybe the world didn't need idealism and a strong voice of reason. Instead, it needed realism and an iron fist clothed behind a velvet glove.
"You didn't plan it. Are you serious! Are you trying to say that because you didn't plan it somehow thats better? This means you knew and you only thought about myself and Dalma's safety. Not the children and mothers, or the lives who'd be lost after it spread onto the streets."
Lunara's voice turned up, "Guards!"
"I don't know!" Mahal shot back. Truthfully, she barely had any time to process her own emotions before the argument. Her mind raced with conflict and inside, she felt torn. She never intended on anyone she knew getting hurt and the guilt had began to crush her.
At this point, it felt like everything she cherished started to slip from her. The final nail happened when her sister turned away then shouted for the guards. Mahal's foot stepped back as her mask crumbled. An expression of pain mixed with horror flooded her expression. If her father discovered her hand in this... she'd grew pale at the thought of his wrath.
Instinctively, rather than by thought, Mahal drew. Torch lights dimmed instantly as she attempted to silence her sister. She pivoted on the ball of her foot and uttered a command to Ngiti and Supok to run. The Nikanese smiler hesitated causing his companion to head butt his flank, moving him into motion.
Lunara felt the pressure before she saw her sister's movement. Then, Mahal attacked. Lunara quickly sliced her hand up cutting Mahal's kinetic force in half to split around Lunara. Mahal had missed but not for lack of trying.
"What are you doing?!" Lunara shocked and emboldened by her decision that Mahal needed to be contained.
Lunara's guards would arrive shortly as the sounds of their feet beat the ground nearby.
"Don't do this Mahal!" Lunara pleaded as she too began drawing in her gift in case the situation escalated.
Mahal didn't answer. She had already taken off alongside her hounds as her failed delay still bought her some time to escape.
Lunara couldn't let Mahal escape. Her sister had to answer to her hand in the massacre at the Gala. As much as it pained Lunara, it was what was right.
Mahal saw stars for a moment when her sister's attack hit her head. Her feet stumbled a bit as Diyablos swayed, his movement righted her balance. In her perpherial, Ruslan and a few gaurds had been alerted to their fight. If Lunar delayed her long enough for him to arrive... she'd never see the light of day again. She focused on arcane and magnetic causing her image to distort then split off into illusions.
The illusions dispersed as Lunara's magnetic hit them still hot on her heels.
Mahal put on a kinetic burst of speed while her binding strenghtened her muscles. The attack still hit causing her pace to slow and stumble again. "Just let me leave!" Mahal hissed as she tried to dive for the water only to feel Lunara's magic rip her back from the edge. In desperation, Mahal magnetized her sister's feet to the ground.
“And what? You’ll stop aiding murderers? You and I both know if I let you go, you’ll go right back to the same lot who burned Ceboyan!” Lunara began to feel the weight of her feet heavy.
"What do you think will happen if I'm taken in? I'm good as dead. The Virangish and elite won't care if you have the right people or not. They will just want someone to pay for it, no matter their role." Mahal shot back as she rushed forward. She was nearly to the water's edge and out of her sister's range. Once she made it there, her sister would lose her.
Lunara adjusted her approach. She didn’t want to hurt Mahal. She didn’t want to regret having scarred her. She just needed her contained from hurting others, to prevent her from making a decision like the massacre. A short sighted action that achieved war - not resolution, peace, freedom, or justice.
Before Mahal could escape Lunara swiftly released a low vibration frequency wave to distort Mahal’s hearing which would cause her to become disoriented, stumble, and left waiting for Ruslan and the guards to arrive.
Mahal heaved heavily, feeling her feet wobble a bit. It reminded her of the first time her ear had been ruptured during her father's spars. She drew in mana and poured it into her legs. Then she leaped with arms stretched out for the water. This was her last chance.
Splash. Diyablos and her hit the water then vanished.
Lunara did her best… or did she? Was there a part of her that didn’t want to capture her sister. A part of her resisting to unleash everything she had to ensure Mahal’s escape was stopped. A part that didn’t want to see her sister chained up. A part of her that would soon be put to rest as the days to follow would certainly bring these two to opposing ends again.
“Why?” Lunara said under her breath, “you’re forcing my hand, why?” She shook her head, “next time, you’ll not be treated as my sister but as an ally to murderers, an enemy, and I’m sorry.”
Lunara’s fist clenched, a tear dropped from her cheek and onto the cold floor. It was done. She turned to Ruslan with a face of resolve. They’d need to prepare for war.
Fin.
Ruslan's grief stabbed at Mahal when she brought out a dead Dalma. In her vain attempts to retrieve her, the woman had bled out and turned stiff shortly after. She was no longer among the living, but now returned to her gods. There was no time for a proper burial or funeral as the fire spread quickly. They fled to safety toward the harbors.
Mahal kept a silent watch from her seat on a nearby crate. Her leg swung back and forth, eyes stared in the distance. As much as she needed to process her emotions, there was no time. It wouldn't be long before they fled home.
She didn't even know if it was worth it.
Puno was still with Tku while Ngiti and Diyablos joined them later. A reddish tentacle curled about her neck as her ground octopus perched on her shoulder. She hadn't spoken since they left the capital. Instead, avoided attention and kept her head low. Her father was volatile now and she didn't have the strength to deal with his venom or grief.
Lunara felt numb. Flashes of torn flesh, children ripped from mothers, mothers cut from husbands, and families burned alive. Eschiran spared none but the dead; a prejudice for the living. Those who survived would not count themselves lucky, they were fractured beyond repair.
Her fists clenched tight, her jaw locked, and veins pulsed across her brow. She was a fool. A fool to think her ideals could temper Eschiran's demands. Her peace proposal, fragile as glass, had shattered against the hard edge of reality.
One of Lunara's hands clasped her chest. Hope, she tried to grip, was always last to leave the box, a jewel she began to realize as her grip tightened was no jewel for her's to keep, it was a lie she ever had it. The weight of the massacre moved her hand and crushed it, while Palapar's flames burned the box to ash.
She replayed the night endlessly, searching for meaning as her hope was consumed by hellfire. It was futile. She couldn't stop the slaughter, couldn't change the unyielding, couldn't save her family. Only failure lingered-her mistakes, her naivety, and the unrelenting memory of piling corpses with her mother's face agape stretched out beneath it all.
The will to heal was gone. Guilt festered into anger, anger boiled her peace, leaving only hatred in its wake. She was a bull before the matador, taunted and surrounded by jeering ghosts. Her furrowed brows betrayed any gest of transformation-certainty dissolved into doubt. There were no allies, no trust. Only suspicion for the rebels did not act alone that night, for only that fact was certain.
Lunara roughly wiped her tears from her soft cheeks. She would refused to be seen as weak. The branch would be replaced with the blade. And it would start with her sister. The closest of them all.
When Lunara approached Mahal sitting on a crate, the moment felt alien. It was as if Mahal was no longer known, a character on a stage holding a mask before the audience. Lunara stopped a foot away, stretching her hands out to cup Mahal's. Her gaze was low but trailing upward until Mahal's was met. There was no warmth, no tenderness. Only cold, unyielding resolve. These were no longer eyes of a dreamer. They were the eyes of someone who had crushed hope and replaced it with hate-dark and consuming as the blood-soaked streets of Palapar.
"How did you know?"
Upon feeling her sister's touch, Mahal didn't react at first. Her reflected a hollow acceptance of the situation as she debated on the words to share. Truth or lie? She weighed their risks, especially with her connection to things. A dread curled in her heart at the thought of Lunara disowning her or worse blaming her for Dalma's death. Their father did even if it was out of grief and pain. Her leg stopped its swinging as she made her choice.
"I'm sorry. I should've made Dalma go before me," She didn't want to answer that question.
Lunara could tell when her twin sister evaded a question; she could see it... no... she could feel it. No matter, she didn't blame Mahal for going before Dalma. She blamed herself. But as for Lunara's question - it was repeated, "How did you know?"
Unlike with their father, Mahal couldn't simply disappear. She inhaled then hardened her resolve. Her mind thought about that night before the gala and her role in it all. A hint of regret stirred in her chest, but she pushed it down. It didn't change anything.
"People can only be pushed so far before they fight or die. Nothing changed, so violence was going to happen." Mahal paused for a moment to consider her next words. "As for how did I know? I... I just had a feeling. "
Mahal couldn't look her sister in the eyes when she spoke. The words, desperate and empty, slipped out before she could stop them.
Lunara’s hands tightened around Mahal’s. She could tell her sister wasn’t being honest. But why? Why was she lying? What was she hiding?
“A feeling?” Lunara tilted her head, “you felt danger in the middle of a gala hosted by Palapar’s elites?” What an odd place to have a feeling of urgency to get Lunara out of there like Mahal tried. But maybe it was just a feeling or perhaps there was something more deceptive afoot.
Lunara decided to push to the next inquiry and see what reason Mahal might fetch in response, “Ok, what about your late night trips, where have you been sneaking off to?”
Lunara's hand trapped Mahal in place, both figuratively and literally. Fear surfaced in her eyes behind the walls she kept as her heart raced in her chest. "I'm more aware of my surroundings than you are. Something was off about the staff and about the place. My... instincts wanted to leave."
It occurred to her that since she returned home, she had fallen into the same patterns she hated. At the mention of the late night trips, Mahal became silent for a moment. That twitch to run stirred in the back of her mind. She pushed it down. "Back at home? I've been fixing up a cabin in the mountains. A place I can escape father. Sikauq is also kept up there because it's cold enough."
She suspected that wasn't the exact trips Lunara had been hinting at. However, her sister had failed to be clear and she took advantage of it to avoid an outright lie.
Lunara offered her sister another plank before burning the bridge, "Are you telling me the whole truth about the Gala and your late night trips?"
One last chance, Mahal realized, to tell the truth. It was clear to her that Lunara knew she was hiding something. In her grief and pain, what would would her sister do? It did even matter? Her eyes raised to distant fires bellowing throughout the city. Shadows scrambled for violence or safety while screams faded into the night.
Sensing her master's struggle, Supok rose onto her paws and rested her head on Mahal's knee. She whimpered until a hand petted her. Her muzzle fell into a pleased grin, eyes filled with hope and loyalty.
"No," The word sliced through the silence. Her hand pulled away from her sister in shame, "But the less you know, the better."
Lunara felt the words sever a connection like the hands her sister now pulled away. Again, no different than her father and no different than her mother and no different than Oanona when it came to lies. They all lied. They all thought Lunara stupid.
Maybe she was. Maybe she was a fool. To believe in her family. To believe in her ideals. To believe in hope and reason. Maybe all there was in this world were serpents and those who slayed them.
She refused to be a serpent.
“Who are you to know what is better for me.” Lunara stepped back, “a liar has no claim to wisdom.” She turned away, “and no sister of mine will remain a sister if she remains to hide truth in the weeds like a snake hides its bite from its prey.”
Mahal sat still while Lunara vented her rage. Her fingers clenched against her thighs underneath her pet's jaws. Anger rippled across her skin as she tried to reign in her temper. Did Lunara truly believe that talking would solve everything? She had two weeks to change things and nothing happened. Did she think the rebels would wait patiently until she solved it all?
"At least I'm willing to do something instead of expecting talking to solve all my problems." Mahal snapped back. "You had two weeks and what changed? Nothing. Even father knew it wouldn't."
She shot up, facing her sister, while her tone grew in volume. "Why did I think you'd understand? It doesn't occur to you that not every problem is solved with conversation or waiting. I did what I had to do to. Someone has to."
"Two weeks?" Her sister's shortsightedness struck her.
"You believe because you couldn't see change in two weeks that what happened to Ceboyan was okay?" Lunara cued in on her sister's attitude, "You think Dalma didn't deserve more than two weeks? That her death was justified and all those who were murdered for a rebel call to change?"
Lunara stepped further away, "You think that murdering solves problems?"
She paused and a reflection on Mahal's comment cycled back to Lunara, "Wait. At least you're willing to do something, what did you do Mahal!" Lunara's voice cracked at the idea her sister was a part of the massacre.
"No. That's not what I meant, and you know it. Stop twisting my words." Mahal breathed heavily as her eyes started to see red. Her hands came up and brushed through her hair, trying to sooth herself. At the mention of murder, she shouted out the first words on her mind. "It's better than suffering!"
Unlike her, little perfect heir lived the sheltered, ideal life. She never had to fight with their father during his dark moods. Never laid in a pit, slowly starving until Selim or her mother came to retrieve her. How long was someone expected to endure pain before they finally died?
Idly, a soft tentacle brushed her cheek. It twisted about and curled into her neck, fixing itself there. A weak attempt to calm her from Diyablos. "Why didn't you listen?"
Lunara ignored Mahal’s deflection to answer by asking a question of her own. Instead Lunara put pressure on whatever Mahal was hiding. For lies that are beneath the skin will purge when cut and pressed on.
“Better than suffering.” Repeating the words of her sister. “You believe this murder is better than suffering?” Lunara was shocked. Her hands balled into fists, “Are you going to go door to door when all this is over and look into the eyes of all those who lost their loving mothers, honest fathers, or innocent children and tell them those lives were worth sacrificing because it was better than suffering? Do you hear yourself Mahal!”
Lunara’s eyes watered at the thought of every family who had already paid for the ignorance of the minority both elites and slaves. There were no winners in revolutions or wars. There were only the tragedies caught between the two sides who justified the guilt stained on their blades.
Lunara concluded Mahal’s defensiveness meant she had a hand in what happened and that would not be forgiven if true,
“Why are you defending this murder Mahal. Tell me and speak plainly, did you have something to do with it?”
Mahal's lips pressed tighter at Lunara's words. For a moment, she thought she heard wrong. That Lunara put higher value on the elites over the very people she decided to fight for. She tightened her fists as she stood her ground. Unlike Lunara, she couldn't let the tears run free. Tears didn't solve problems. "Do you think the elites went around and did that? No. Instead of taking the warnings seriously, they held a celebration! Does that sound like people who want change?"
A lump formed in her throat at Lunara's question. At first, she didn't know how to answer it until it clicked. "Cause I know their pain. Especially when the pleads to stop don't matter."
She shook off the pain. While she knew about the possibility of bloodshed, she wasn't the designer of it. Her main goal was to get her sister and those that matter out of there before things went into motion. As long as she cooperated, their home became spared from the chaos to come. "I didn't plan it, if that's what you're asking. I was trying to get you and Dalma to safety."
Mahal wasn't wrong in her efforts to vilify the elites. Many did not want change, which made them elites. It was those who did and died instead.
"Your pain?" Lunara paused, "Is it over? Has your pain subsided since the massacres? Do you feel better?"
A piece of Lunara was breaking. She felt it flake off. The family was divided; her sister, if not a murderer, was an accomplice, and her father may have been right about the world and, in effect, right about Lunara's place in it. Maybe the world didn't need idealism and a strong voice of reason. Instead, it needed realism and an iron fist clothed behind a velvet glove.
"You didn't plan it. Are you serious! Are you trying to say that because you didn't plan it somehow thats better? This means you knew and you only thought about myself and Dalma's safety. Not the children and mothers, or the lives who'd be lost after it spread onto the streets."
Lunara's voice turned up, "Guards!"
"I don't know!" Mahal shot back. Truthfully, she barely had any time to process her own emotions before the argument. Her mind raced with conflict and inside, she felt torn. She never intended on anyone she knew getting hurt and the guilt had began to crush her.
At this point, it felt like everything she cherished started to slip from her. The final nail happened when her sister turned away then shouted for the guards. Mahal's foot stepped back as her mask crumbled. An expression of pain mixed with horror flooded her expression. If her father discovered her hand in this... she'd grew pale at the thought of his wrath.
Instinctively, rather than by thought, Mahal drew. Torch lights dimmed instantly as she attempted to silence her sister. She pivoted on the ball of her foot and uttered a command to Ngiti and Supok to run. The Nikanese smiler hesitated causing his companion to head butt his flank, moving him into motion.
Lunara felt the pressure before she saw her sister's movement. Then, Mahal attacked. Lunara quickly sliced her hand up cutting Mahal's kinetic force in half to split around Lunara. Mahal had missed but not for lack of trying.
"What are you doing?!" Lunara shocked and emboldened by her decision that Mahal needed to be contained.
Lunara's guards would arrive shortly as the sounds of their feet beat the ground nearby.
"Don't do this Mahal!" Lunara pleaded as she too began drawing in her gift in case the situation escalated.
Mahal didn't answer. She had already taken off alongside her hounds as her failed delay still bought her some time to escape.
Lunara couldn't let Mahal escape. Her sister had to answer to her hand in the massacre at the Gala. As much as it pained Lunara, it was what was right.
Mahal saw stars for a moment when her sister's attack hit her head. Her feet stumbled a bit as Diyablos swayed, his movement righted her balance. In her perpherial, Ruslan and a few gaurds had been alerted to their fight. If Lunar delayed her long enough for him to arrive... she'd never see the light of day again. She focused on arcane and magnetic causing her image to distort then split off into illusions.
The illusions dispersed as Lunara's magnetic hit them still hot on her heels.
Mahal put on a kinetic burst of speed while her binding strenghtened her muscles. The attack still hit causing her pace to slow and stumble again. "Just let me leave!" Mahal hissed as she tried to dive for the water only to feel Lunara's magic rip her back from the edge. In desperation, Mahal magnetized her sister's feet to the ground.
“And what? You’ll stop aiding murderers? You and I both know if I let you go, you’ll go right back to the same lot who burned Ceboyan!” Lunara began to feel the weight of her feet heavy.
"What do you think will happen if I'm taken in? I'm good as dead. The Virangish and elite won't care if you have the right people or not. They will just want someone to pay for it, no matter their role." Mahal shot back as she rushed forward. She was nearly to the water's edge and out of her sister's range. Once she made it there, her sister would lose her.
Lunara adjusted her approach. She didn’t want to hurt Mahal. She didn’t want to regret having scarred her. She just needed her contained from hurting others, to prevent her from making a decision like the massacre. A short sighted action that achieved war - not resolution, peace, freedom, or justice.
Before Mahal could escape Lunara swiftly released a low vibration frequency wave to distort Mahal’s hearing which would cause her to become disoriented, stumble, and left waiting for Ruslan and the guards to arrive.
Mahal heaved heavily, feeling her feet wobble a bit. It reminded her of the first time her ear had been ruptured during her father's spars. She drew in mana and poured it into her legs. Then she leaped with arms stretched out for the water. This was her last chance.
Splash. Diyablos and her hit the water then vanished.
Lunara did her best… or did she? Was there a part of her that didn’t want to capture her sister. A part of her resisting to unleash everything she had to ensure Mahal’s escape was stopped. A part that didn’t want to see her sister chained up. A part of her that would soon be put to rest as the days to follow would certainly bring these two to opposing ends again.
“Why?” Lunara said under her breath, “you’re forcing my hand, why?” She shook her head, “next time, you’ll not be treated as my sister but as an ally to murderers, an enemy, and I’m sorry.”
Lunara’s fist clenched, a tear dropped from her cheek and onto the cold floor. It was done. She turned to Ruslan with a face of resolve. They’d need to prepare for war.
Fin.
Emotional Wreck
Mahal kicked off the dock and dove into the water, disappearing below the surface. The sting of impact faded while her form floated there. She pulled back against a pier pile, hiding herself in the shadows and waited. Above her, four dark shadows peered over the edge. The water's surface distorted their faces, but Mahal knew them. Her family. Time ticked by before the first person retreated.
The subtle echoing of Mahal's heart slowed and pulled to the background. She pressed her back against the salt rotten wood as she trembled in anger. Emotions flickered by faster than her mind could keep up. Why... WHY!?! Her fisted hand whipped behind her and slammed hard into the thick post. The vibrate sent opaque shapes scattering for cover from where they lurked.
For a dark moment, Mahal wanted to sink to the bottom and never come back up. She had lost everything she loved in a blink of an eye. Then the Volti's question rippled into her mind.
What *did * she want to become when everything was over? Did she even see herself living after this?
Diyablos' tentacles tightened about her shoulders. Her arms snapped forward and feet kicked out behind her. When she couldn't take the burning any longer, she broke the surface. Her hand hit the hull of a boat forcing her to look upward. It appeared abandoned during the city's massacre. Taking opportunity to get up and out of the water, Mahal reached up then hauled herself inside.
Soaking wet and exhausted, she curled into a ball on her side. She needed to find her dogs, but she had no idea where to look.
Lurking in the bushes near Fort Limanagzi, a tired rebel spent the later hours of Dami painstakingly memorizing and transcribing what he could. Messages came to and from him every few minutes as that was his original duty and he held himself to it no matter his personal wellbeing. The night was reaching its end and he could slumber to repeat this day again.
That is until he was pinched on his earlobe. <MAGE. EAST, BOAT. EMPTY.>
"Understood."
He rose, his body springing with more energy than he had. An unknown mage was in an abandoned boat. [They could be a survivor of that night, Tku remembered glumly. Hid in the water until they felt safe enough to surface. Or it could be an eeaiko that rose up there to stay warm.[
Either thought held equal chance in his mind and either way he was going to have to confront whoever it was. He rubbed his sleepy eyes awake as he walked far away from the fort, searching for whoever he was suppose to. They weren't hard to find. No, in fact, they were easy. They did not obscure themselves, unlikely a magusjeager or the equivalent. But what they did have was magic. He could feel the weight of her power and it was similar to his own.
Tku sighed, They're one of the few that escaped.[ He couldn't approach recklessly. A fight with someone of his strength could be very loud. A quiet battle would require strength.
His eye closed and he breathed in an otherworldly energy. Enough to hopefully overpower whoever was on that boat. His eye opened and his senses found her. It was the correct option to take them out at a distance. It was the least likely to impact him or the rebels. It was safe. He was prepared to snuff another life, right?
He couldn't, his soul couldn't contend with what was 'rational'. He would need to confirm who they were before he could take action.
Mahal drifted in and out of consciousness. She fought to stay awake as the water lapped at the hull, feeding her drowsiness. When a voice spoke followed by weight at the other end, her eyes snapped open. She shoved herself upright to face the source. Squinting through the dying darkness, she recognized the voice. "Tku?"
The wood creaked as the silence settled in for a moment. "It's Mahal..."
Tku flinched at the sudden movement and he nearly began to draw her matter. He only settled himself when he heard the voice. It was familiar but it felt distant and distorted. It was only when he heard it was Mahal that the energy he had gathered dissipated.
He slumped on the boat, "What are you doing out here."
He sat their in silence, merely hearing the woman's words but they didn't sink deeply. "Maybe you shouldn't have," Tku makes no effort to deny that thought. "I regret coming here."
He looked towards the sky, viewing the blurry stars through the smoky night. He was in An Zenui, and watching the night sky with Zarina before they faced Hetraxa together. He wondered would he be able to fight next to her after what happened. How far away that all felt.
Mahal's fingers tightened then released. Strangely, Tku's words reflected her own thoughts and she hated it. Drawing on that inner rage, she pulled to the boat's edge and leaned over. "I have to find my dogs. They will be eaten by goma cats if I don't."
When her fingers touched the water, her magnetic began to propel them to the shoreline. She glanced at Tku briefly to note the absence of her inch hound. "Is Puno safe?"
"Puno is fine. I need to know if you are going to stay and help." Tku stated as the boat moved.
Mahal stopped when she caught his words. Her arm pulled back as she faced him, a stern expression staring him down. Not that it mattered.
"What? What does it matter?" She snapped, fighting the tears in her eyes. "It's not like I can port out of this mess. Where would I go? Ersand'Enise? Be a coward and run to die in the streets elsewhere? No, I will die here."
He didn't even turn to look at her"You know that's not true. You can talk to me anytime and I can get you out." Tku said, voice more relaxed than before.
"If you want to pass on because the world hurts, I won't stop you. I'll even make it painless. But if you want to finish what had been started, than you can't see it as a death sentence."
"How should I see it?" Mahal snapped, her gift drawing and stilling the water around them. Electricity popped and hissed across her form as she continued. "There is no certainty any of us will make it out of this alive. I joined this to protect Lunara, but now... Now..."
Diyablos, sensing the pending explosion, darted toward Tku for cover.
Mahal screamed as she slammed her fists down on the hull's bottom. Wood splintered upon impact. Water began to seep in and the boat gradually began to sink. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her arms curled in, fingers gripped her long hair tightly. It seemed like all her efforts to protect her family had been in vain. "Father was right, I can't to do anything right."
Tku let the octopus crawl behind him. His eyes had not forgotten the same anger that had thrown Benedetto into a sandstorm. Electricity arced out, minor bolts blocked by Tku. The boat cracked and it proved who she was.
"So you came for Lunara and you care for the words of a father that saw you as a tool," his words grew stale and monotonous. He looked at her indifferently and small.
"What of Palapar? What actions were in the pursuit of protecting your sister? Can you name one. Was it knowing of the massacre ahead of time? The sleuthing that happened around the palace? With holding the messages I have sent you and letting the rebels use that shack as a hideout in the north?" The boat still sunk.
"Was that all in the onerous service of Oraff-Zept to your sister." his words stuck like accusations. His voice turned from indifferent to venomous.
As Tku spoke, Mahal pushed herself up onto all fours. Her eyes snapped upward to meet his venomous tone. She felt the water in the boat raise with each accusation. It climbed over her fingers then her fists, fueled by his words. Hairs on the back of her neck bristled while she spoke.
"Yes." Mahal snapped, the half truth slipping from her lips. She didn't know Lunara would be here until she returned home. Her eyes stared at him as the air around her cracked with energy, but nothing more. "And what about you? What do you gain from this?"
He scoffed, "You think I am here for gain?" he rubbed his eyes in frustration as he believed he was speaking to a child.
He shook his head like she has said a stupid joke, "No, I have nothing to gain except knowing I am doing the right thing. That may be hard to understand for one that believes being in on a massacre and not telling her sister is in service to her." he smiled at her for a moment before rolling his eyes
He rose to his feet, "You are a walking contradiction. You don't even know what you want and are so blinded by delusions that you can't see your own face."
Mahal's arm snapped out to grip the boat's side as it rocked. The more he spoke, the more she wanted to punch him. "I'm sorry I'm not a 'savior' like you. I didn't tell her because she would've tried to stop it."
She pulled herself back and sat on her ass, paying the flooding no heed. By now the water covered half her leg's width. "And maybe you're right. I am. I'm the daughter of an Agha and a native born. Two worlds that I never fully belong to, no matter how hard I try. So what I want doesn't matter."
"If the world needed everyone to be a savior then no change would ever come." Tku denied her claim. "I care for Palapar, for people, because I do. And because of that, having you, a woman who doesn't even care is a detriment. If all you truly are is a protector of Lunara than I suggest you take my offer to send you back to school."
"You determine what world you walk in and you have chosen neither. It is a waste that Dami gives you freedom and but you can't even decide something for yourself." Tku began to look towards the shore.
Mahal pushed onto her feet. The boat rocked again as she caught her balance, adjusting it to keep herself upright. "I'm her protector because it's all I know. Even at school, that was my task. If I didn't..."
She inhaled sharply then moved on. Drawing energy in, she kinetically pushed the boat toward the shore. "It doesn't matter now. If the Virangish win, Lunara will not stop until I face 'justice'. Here or anywhere else. Regardless what you think, I will finish what I started."
"Are you a dog?" Tku asked with a bewildered face.
"Doing only what you know without thinking is what an animal does," he chastised. "If you're a protector, you would have slain me to protect your sister. You don't even imagine Palapar being free, you only imagine loss."
When she talked about finishing what she started, Tku yelled, "You didn't start anything! You deny even having a role in anything more than protecting your sister! You cannot claim anything because everything is for a sister that wants you dead!"
He took in a breath, "You may been born to both worlds but you claim neither of them so don't you ever spout about caring for the people here. That much you have made desperately, painstakingly clear."
"Protecting your sister means to kill me and the rebels to face a 'justice' by someone why strips away Dami's freedom. And if that is your choice, you will not make it to the shoreline."
Being trapped in the boat and Tku's last words hit a cord within Mahal. The kinetic energy slowed and she turned toward him. Her eyes stared with a mix of shock and depression. "I'm not going to kill you, Tku, or the others."
Her eyes glanced downward upon feeling Diyablos' tentacle stretch out to her leg. She slowly lowered and picked him up in hand. Her eyes remained on Tku as she spoke some more. "During our fight, I defended the rebel's actions. But you're wrong about me not knowing what I want. I want to stop feeling angry. I want some place to belong, feel safe, and matter. I just don't know where that is."
"There is nowhere for you, not yet." Tku repaired the boat, the water evaporating into oars.
"The world is turning, the world is burning. And it will keep doing so unless someone tries to cut it off. You will only find what you seek by either abandoning both worlds and finding your own or you can choose the one that will accept you and make that place." His words sounded empathetic once more, almost light and tired.
But then an energy flooded into him, one that would make someone's stomach turn, "I will forgive you for all of this but I will not forget that you had nearly waivered and made yourself an enemy of the revolution. I pray that you prove steadfast from now on." and with that he disintegrated away, leaving her alone on a repaired boat with new oars.
Fin.
The subtle echoing of Mahal's heart slowed and pulled to the background. She pressed her back against the salt rotten wood as she trembled in anger. Emotions flickered by faster than her mind could keep up. Why... WHY!?! Her fisted hand whipped behind her and slammed hard into the thick post. The vibrate sent opaque shapes scattering for cover from where they lurked.
For a dark moment, Mahal wanted to sink to the bottom and never come back up. She had lost everything she loved in a blink of an eye. Then the Volti's question rippled into her mind.
What *did * she want to become when everything was over? Did she even see herself living after this?
Diyablos' tentacles tightened about her shoulders. Her arms snapped forward and feet kicked out behind her. When she couldn't take the burning any longer, she broke the surface. Her hand hit the hull of a boat forcing her to look upward. It appeared abandoned during the city's massacre. Taking opportunity to get up and out of the water, Mahal reached up then hauled herself inside.
Soaking wet and exhausted, she curled into a ball on her side. She needed to find her dogs, but she had no idea where to look.
Lurking in the bushes near Fort Limanagzi, a tired rebel spent the later hours of Dami painstakingly memorizing and transcribing what he could. Messages came to and from him every few minutes as that was his original duty and he held himself to it no matter his personal wellbeing. The night was reaching its end and he could slumber to repeat this day again.
That is until he was pinched on his earlobe. <MAGE. EAST, BOAT. EMPTY.>
"Understood."
He rose, his body springing with more energy than he had. An unknown mage was in an abandoned boat. [They could be a survivor of that night, Tku remembered glumly. Hid in the water until they felt safe enough to surface. Or it could be an eeaiko that rose up there to stay warm.[
Either thought held equal chance in his mind and either way he was going to have to confront whoever it was. He rubbed his sleepy eyes awake as he walked far away from the fort, searching for whoever he was suppose to. They weren't hard to find. No, in fact, they were easy. They did not obscure themselves, unlikely a magusjeager or the equivalent. But what they did have was magic. He could feel the weight of her power and it was similar to his own.
Tku sighed, They're one of the few that escaped.[ He couldn't approach recklessly. A fight with someone of his strength could be very loud. A quiet battle would require strength.
His eye closed and he breathed in an otherworldly energy. Enough to hopefully overpower whoever was on that boat. His eye opened and his senses found her. It was the correct option to take them out at a distance. It was the least likely to impact him or the rebels. It was safe. He was prepared to snuff another life, right?
He couldn't, his soul couldn't contend with what was 'rational'. He would need to confirm who they were before he could take action.
Mahal drifted in and out of consciousness. She fought to stay awake as the water lapped at the hull, feeding her drowsiness. When a voice spoke followed by weight at the other end, her eyes snapped open. She shoved herself upright to face the source. Squinting through the dying darkness, she recognized the voice. "Tku?"
The wood creaked as the silence settled in for a moment. "It's Mahal..."
Tku flinched at the sudden movement and he nearly began to draw her matter. He only settled himself when he heard the voice. It was familiar but it felt distant and distorted. It was only when he heard it was Mahal that the energy he had gathered dissipated.
He slumped on the boat, "What are you doing out here."
He sat their in silence, merely hearing the woman's words but they didn't sink deeply. "Maybe you shouldn't have," Tku makes no effort to deny that thought. "I regret coming here."
He looked towards the sky, viewing the blurry stars through the smoky night. He was in An Zenui, and watching the night sky with Zarina before they faced Hetraxa together. He wondered would he be able to fight next to her after what happened. How far away that all felt.
Mahal's fingers tightened then released. Strangely, Tku's words reflected her own thoughts and she hated it. Drawing on that inner rage, she pulled to the boat's edge and leaned over. "I have to find my dogs. They will be eaten by goma cats if I don't."
When her fingers touched the water, her magnetic began to propel them to the shoreline. She glanced at Tku briefly to note the absence of her inch hound. "Is Puno safe?"
"Puno is fine. I need to know if you are going to stay and help." Tku stated as the boat moved.
Mahal stopped when she caught his words. Her arm pulled back as she faced him, a stern expression staring him down. Not that it mattered.
"What? What does it matter?" She snapped, fighting the tears in her eyes. "It's not like I can port out of this mess. Where would I go? Ersand'Enise? Be a coward and run to die in the streets elsewhere? No, I will die here."
He didn't even turn to look at her"You know that's not true. You can talk to me anytime and I can get you out." Tku said, voice more relaxed than before.
"If you want to pass on because the world hurts, I won't stop you. I'll even make it painless. But if you want to finish what had been started, than you can't see it as a death sentence."
"How should I see it?" Mahal snapped, her gift drawing and stilling the water around them. Electricity popped and hissed across her form as she continued. "There is no certainty any of us will make it out of this alive. I joined this to protect Lunara, but now... Now..."
Diyablos, sensing the pending explosion, darted toward Tku for cover.
Mahal screamed as she slammed her fists down on the hull's bottom. Wood splintered upon impact. Water began to seep in and the boat gradually began to sink. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her arms curled in, fingers gripped her long hair tightly. It seemed like all her efforts to protect her family had been in vain. "Father was right, I can't to do anything right."
Tku let the octopus crawl behind him. His eyes had not forgotten the same anger that had thrown Benedetto into a sandstorm. Electricity arced out, minor bolts blocked by Tku. The boat cracked and it proved who she was.
"So you came for Lunara and you care for the words of a father that saw you as a tool," his words grew stale and monotonous. He looked at her indifferently and small.
"What of Palapar? What actions were in the pursuit of protecting your sister? Can you name one. Was it knowing of the massacre ahead of time? The sleuthing that happened around the palace? With holding the messages I have sent you and letting the rebels use that shack as a hideout in the north?" The boat still sunk.
"Was that all in the onerous service of Oraff-Zept to your sister." his words stuck like accusations. His voice turned from indifferent to venomous.
As Tku spoke, Mahal pushed herself up onto all fours. Her eyes snapped upward to meet his venomous tone. She felt the water in the boat raise with each accusation. It climbed over her fingers then her fists, fueled by his words. Hairs on the back of her neck bristled while she spoke.
"Yes." Mahal snapped, the half truth slipping from her lips. She didn't know Lunara would be here until she returned home. Her eyes stared at him as the air around her cracked with energy, but nothing more. "And what about you? What do you gain from this?"
He scoffed, "You think I am here for gain?" he rubbed his eyes in frustration as he believed he was speaking to a child.
He shook his head like she has said a stupid joke, "No, I have nothing to gain except knowing I am doing the right thing. That may be hard to understand for one that believes being in on a massacre and not telling her sister is in service to her." he smiled at her for a moment before rolling his eyes
He rose to his feet, "You are a walking contradiction. You don't even know what you want and are so blinded by delusions that you can't see your own face."
Mahal's arm snapped out to grip the boat's side as it rocked. The more he spoke, the more she wanted to punch him. "I'm sorry I'm not a 'savior' like you. I didn't tell her because she would've tried to stop it."
She pulled herself back and sat on her ass, paying the flooding no heed. By now the water covered half her leg's width. "And maybe you're right. I am. I'm the daughter of an Agha and a native born. Two worlds that I never fully belong to, no matter how hard I try. So what I want doesn't matter."
"If the world needed everyone to be a savior then no change would ever come." Tku denied her claim. "I care for Palapar, for people, because I do. And because of that, having you, a woman who doesn't even care is a detriment. If all you truly are is a protector of Lunara than I suggest you take my offer to send you back to school."
"You determine what world you walk in and you have chosen neither. It is a waste that Dami gives you freedom and but you can't even decide something for yourself." Tku began to look towards the shore.
Mahal pushed onto her feet. The boat rocked again as she caught her balance, adjusting it to keep herself upright. "I'm her protector because it's all I know. Even at school, that was my task. If I didn't..."
She inhaled sharply then moved on. Drawing energy in, she kinetically pushed the boat toward the shore. "It doesn't matter now. If the Virangish win, Lunara will not stop until I face 'justice'. Here or anywhere else. Regardless what you think, I will finish what I started."
"Are you a dog?" Tku asked with a bewildered face.
"Doing only what you know without thinking is what an animal does," he chastised. "If you're a protector, you would have slain me to protect your sister. You don't even imagine Palapar being free, you only imagine loss."
When she talked about finishing what she started, Tku yelled, "You didn't start anything! You deny even having a role in anything more than protecting your sister! You cannot claim anything because everything is for a sister that wants you dead!"
He took in a breath, "You may been born to both worlds but you claim neither of them so don't you ever spout about caring for the people here. That much you have made desperately, painstakingly clear."
"Protecting your sister means to kill me and the rebels to face a 'justice' by someone why strips away Dami's freedom. And if that is your choice, you will not make it to the shoreline."
Being trapped in the boat and Tku's last words hit a cord within Mahal. The kinetic energy slowed and she turned toward him. Her eyes stared with a mix of shock and depression. "I'm not going to kill you, Tku, or the others."
Her eyes glanced downward upon feeling Diyablos' tentacle stretch out to her leg. She slowly lowered and picked him up in hand. Her eyes remained on Tku as she spoke some more. "During our fight, I defended the rebel's actions. But you're wrong about me not knowing what I want. I want to stop feeling angry. I want some place to belong, feel safe, and matter. I just don't know where that is."
"There is nowhere for you, not yet." Tku repaired the boat, the water evaporating into oars.
"The world is turning, the world is burning. And it will keep doing so unless someone tries to cut it off. You will only find what you seek by either abandoning both worlds and finding your own or you can choose the one that will accept you and make that place." His words sounded empathetic once more, almost light and tired.
But then an energy flooded into him, one that would make someone's stomach turn, "I will forgive you for all of this but I will not forget that you had nearly waivered and made yourself an enemy of the revolution. I pray that you prove steadfast from now on." and with that he disintegrated away, leaving her alone on a repaired boat with new oars.
Fin.
