First Incident: Kenjii
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Warning: If you're easily offended by misleadingly suggestive content… skip this one. Seriously. I'm not holding a gun to your head and forcing you to read anything. If I get wind that you ignored this warning and went crying to someone, I'm gonna hunt you down and slap you. With a cheesegrater.
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Kenjii could only feel numb and dazed as he felt strong hands grab him by the front of his chainmail and slam him back against the wall. What was going on? Only moments before, he had caught sight of the bard that had suddenly taken such intense interest in him and his acquaintances, and had been discreetly following behind him as he made his way towards the airship to Bastok. A moment of distraction had led Kenjii to look away just as the bard raised his flute to his lips. By the time he realized he could hear the haunting melody, he couldn't help himself and stared to drift into sleep.
What sort of forced-dream was this? The bard was actually there, not that "Red" girl that showed every time they got suckered into a dream, and he was hovering uncomfortably close. Suddenly, the bard ripped open the front of Kenjii's chainmail and pressed his hands against the stunned ninja's chest. He tried to push the bard away, but his arms were so heavy that they might as well have been tied down to his sides. Was he paralyzed? Why was the bard so clos–
Kenjii couldn't even manage to gasp in surprise as the bard's mouth closed over his.
What the HELL was going on?!
The bard had to be the worst kisser, ever. Even Kenjii realized this. It was an open-mouthed kiss, but beyond the joining of lips there was nothing else. Two more of these horrible, awkward kisses and the bard pulled back, again pressing his hands against Kenjii's chest. He leaned back in for another kiss, and as he returned for yet another, Kenjii finally seemed to shake off the paralysis and rolled his head out of the way. He tried to push the bard away, but the bard just grabbed Kenjii's face between his hands and tilted Kenjii's head up, his face again hovering uncomfortably close.
"Sssssssh…" The bard crooned. "Just relax. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you…"
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With a groan, Kenjii opened his eyes. His throat burned, and with an annoyed sigh he closed his eyes again. "Stupid bard. What sort of messed up dream was that?"
"That," Kenjii jumped as Mirror's voice came from someplace very close by, "Was not a dream."
Kenjii sat up abruptly, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. All at once, he realized he was in an unfamiliar room, laying in an unfamiliar bed with Mirror standing just a few feet away as he pulled up a pair of loose white pants. Kenjii started to scramble out of the bed, but stopped and gripped the rough blanket closer as he realized that he was unclothed. As Mirror tied the drawstring on his pants, and turned and raised an eyebrow at Kenjii.
"… Are you okay?"
Kenjii sputtered for a moment before finding his voice. "What did you do to me?!"
Mirror just chuckled as he picked up a plain tunic. " Don't be such a drama queen. After all, I did warn you about falling asleep in Jeuno; you can't blame me for the consequences."
"You…" Kenjii snarled. "… are disgusting."
Mirror frowned. Tossing the tunic back on the end of the bed, he closed the gap between them and leaned over Kenjii, again hovering far too close for the ninja's comfort. "Then, next time, I'll leave you to your drowning."
Kenjii blinked. "… What?"
"You heard me." Mirror chuckled again as he backed off and retrieved the tunic. "You fell into the bay. I jumped in after you. By the time I managed to reach you, your armor had dragged you under and your lungs were full of water."
Kenjii was silent for a moment, then looked around. "Where am I? Where are my clothes?"
"Upper Jeuno, in the infirmary. One of the nurses took your clothes; if you're lucky, the chainmail won't rust on you."
Unable to find a flaw in that logic, Kenjii frowned at Mirror. "… Why are YOU in here naked, then?"
"My clothes were soaked, too." Mirror didn't even flinch from the question as he pulled the tunic over his head. "I'm just changing into something dry."
"In here? And you waited until I was waking up?"
Mirror rolled his eyes. "The other rooms are occupied, and despite whatever you're fantasizing, I didn't plan on giving you an eye-full. The nurse just dropped off the dry clothes a few moments ago." He grinned at Kenjii's sputtering at the word 'fantasizing'. "And while I'm sure you're a very nice man, I prefer women." He paused, straightening the front of the tunic before bending down and picking up his pile of sodden clothes. "Anyways. I'm now very late… Don't do anymore stupid things, little ninja."
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last edited 685 weeks ago by Mae
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When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
Once again, great job on this Drae! Considering I've always meant this stuff as nothing more than OOC jokes you really surprised me! Love your writing style and your ability to play with the reader's emotions all along. The idea of Kenjii also owing his life to Mirror (although it was also his fault if he almost died in the first place) will sorta affect his behavior IC I think, gives me some ideas to work on in the future! Can't wait to read more and also to see you back in RP!!
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
And again, I'm glad you enjoyed it ^^; As for actually going this route, I think in the past I've generally warned that anything and everything is potential art/comic/writing fodder – and I did warn you when the OOC joking came around!To be honest, though, I did do this one completely as a joke. The real one for Kenjii is much more serious and considering some of the stuff that I put in there, it'll probably be saved for last.
Currently working on Saerun's, Avina's is in the outlining process, and I'm considering doing one for Draen. Requests are still open – those who are interested can click this link to make one.
Currently working on Saerun's, Avina's is in the outlining process, and I'm considering doing one for Draen. Requests are still open – those who are interested can click this link to make one.
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When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
Second Incident: Sobe
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Sobe lay in her own bed (and in her own room!) with the covers drawn up close to her chin, barely suppressing the urge to wiggle in excitement. Today was her birthday and, if yesterday had been any indicator, today was going to be wonderful!
At midafternoon, Momma had taken Sobe – and only Sobe – out shopping while Poppa and Saerun had stayed home together. Momma had completely shocked her when they walked into the local clothier and, turning to her, told her that she could have whatever new outfit she desired. The resulting dress was fashion airship-wreck, but for any little girl it was the pinnacle of a fairytale-princess' dress; all lace, ribbons, bows, beading, sequins, and rustling satin. And Momma didn't even complain about the price.
Next, they stopped at the baker's. Again Momma told Sobe that she could order whatever she wanted, and again the result was what one would expect from a little girl; a four-tier cake with the thickest, sweetest frosting and decorated with cookies and candies. And, again, Momma didn't complain.
Returning home, Sobe was treated to another surprise; Poppa and Saerun had spent the day cleaning out Momma's sewing room and turned it into her own, private bedroom! No more sharing with Saerun! Not that she didn't love her sister, but she had wanted her own space for so long…
After what seemed to be an eternity, light stared to to trickle through the ruffly curtains on the window. Sobe scooted out of her bed and padded over to her wardrobe. Throwing the doors wide, she reached for the package that held her very special dress… and found nothing.
Sobe blinked and stepped back from the wardrobe. Where had it it gone? She looked around her room, and as the light grew brighter she noticed that everything looked… worn, unwanted. Her bed, which the night before had been so grand and soft, was now rickety and the straw-tick mattress was dirty and stained. The curtains were nothing more than rags nailed above the window, and piles of boxes filled the room.
"… Momma?!" Sobe backed towards the door, flung it wide and dashed into the hallway. "Poppa?!" As she passed the stairwell on the way to her parents' room, she heard voices downstairs, and she jumped down just enough steps to be able to see into the kitchen.
Momma, Poppa, and Saerun were gathered around the kitchen table. The cake Sobe had picked out the day before was sitting on the table in front of them, candles lit and plates and cutting knife sitting nearby, ready.
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
… Had they been waiting for her to wake up? They must've decided to play a joke on her, changing her room around and hiding her new dress on her. Sobe felt a little better as she stood up and stared walking down the rest of the stairs, but she stopped as Saerun stood up in her chair and leaned over the cake.
Happy birthday, dear Saerun!
Saerun was wearing her new, special dress.
Happy birthday to you!
Sobe's mind went numb as Saerun blew out the candles. How could they? How COULD they?! It was her birthday, not Saerun's! Momma had gotten her that dress and that cake, had told her that they were just for her! Poppa had made that nice new bed for her, he told her so! Sobe threw herself down the rest of the stairs, screaming at them to stop, and swung her arm at the oil lamp sitting on a table just at the bottom of the stairs. She ran to the edge of the table, begging them to tell her why they would play such a mean joke on her – didn't they love her? She loved them!
But they didn't even look at her.
After what seemed to Sobe to be hours of pleading, begging, and probably the most spectacular temper-tantrum ever performed on the face of Vana'diel, Sobe ran out the front door with the sounds of her family's laughter following behind her. In the streets, she ran face-first into someone and fell backwards to the ground. Looking up, there was a skinny, ragged girl maybe five years older than her standing over her. She was wearing threadbare clothes, and her face was dirty and mauled; both eyes were black and blue and swollen, and her lower lip had been split and freshly scabbed over. As Sobe watched, two tears spilled from the girl's eyes and rolled down her cheeks, washing away just enough of the grime to hint that her cheeks were tattooed. Wordlessly, the girl raised her hand and pointed back at Sobe's house. Sobe looked over her shoulder and froze.
Sobe's home was up in flames, and from inside she could still hear her family laughing and singing
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Sobe lay in her own bed (and in her own room!) with the covers drawn up close to her chin, barely suppressing the urge to wiggle in excitement. Today was her birthday and, if yesterday had been any indicator, today was going to be wonderful!
At midafternoon, Momma had taken Sobe – and only Sobe – out shopping while Poppa and Saerun had stayed home together. Momma had completely shocked her when they walked into the local clothier and, turning to her, told her that she could have whatever new outfit she desired. The resulting dress was fashion airship-wreck, but for any little girl it was the pinnacle of a fairytale-princess' dress; all lace, ribbons, bows, beading, sequins, and rustling satin. And Momma didn't even complain about the price.
Next, they stopped at the baker's. Again Momma told Sobe that she could order whatever she wanted, and again the result was what one would expect from a little girl; a four-tier cake with the thickest, sweetest frosting and decorated with cookies and candies. And, again, Momma didn't complain.
Returning home, Sobe was treated to another surprise; Poppa and Saerun had spent the day cleaning out Momma's sewing room and turned it into her own, private bedroom! No more sharing with Saerun! Not that she didn't love her sister, but she had wanted her own space for so long…
After what seemed to be an eternity, light stared to to trickle through the ruffly curtains on the window. Sobe scooted out of her bed and padded over to her wardrobe. Throwing the doors wide, she reached for the package that held her very special dress… and found nothing.
Sobe blinked and stepped back from the wardrobe. Where had it it gone? She looked around her room, and as the light grew brighter she noticed that everything looked… worn, unwanted. Her bed, which the night before had been so grand and soft, was now rickety and the straw-tick mattress was dirty and stained. The curtains were nothing more than rags nailed above the window, and piles of boxes filled the room.
"… Momma?!" Sobe backed towards the door, flung it wide and dashed into the hallway. "Poppa?!" As she passed the stairwell on the way to her parents' room, she heard voices downstairs, and she jumped down just enough steps to be able to see into the kitchen.
Momma, Poppa, and Saerun were gathered around the kitchen table. The cake Sobe had picked out the day before was sitting on the table in front of them, candles lit and plates and cutting knife sitting nearby, ready.
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
… Had they been waiting for her to wake up? They must've decided to play a joke on her, changing her room around and hiding her new dress on her. Sobe felt a little better as she stood up and stared walking down the rest of the stairs, but she stopped as Saerun stood up in her chair and leaned over the cake.
Happy birthday, dear Saerun!
Saerun was wearing her new, special dress.
Happy birthday to you!
Sobe's mind went numb as Saerun blew out the candles. How could they? How COULD they?! It was her birthday, not Saerun's! Momma had gotten her that dress and that cake, had told her that they were just for her! Poppa had made that nice new bed for her, he told her so! Sobe threw herself down the rest of the stairs, screaming at them to stop, and swung her arm at the oil lamp sitting on a table just at the bottom of the stairs. She ran to the edge of the table, begging them to tell her why they would play such a mean joke on her – didn't they love her? She loved them!
But they didn't even look at her.
After what seemed to Sobe to be hours of pleading, begging, and probably the most spectacular temper-tantrum ever performed on the face of Vana'diel, Sobe ran out the front door with the sounds of her family's laughter following behind her. In the streets, she ran face-first into someone and fell backwards to the ground. Looking up, there was a skinny, ragged girl maybe five years older than her standing over her. She was wearing threadbare clothes, and her face was dirty and mauled; both eyes were black and blue and swollen, and her lower lip had been split and freshly scabbed over. As Sobe watched, two tears spilled from the girl's eyes and rolled down her cheeks, washing away just enough of the grime to hint that her cheeks were tattooed. Wordlessly, the girl raised her hand and pointed back at Sobe's house. Sobe looked over her shoulder and froze.
Sobe's home was up in flames, and from inside she could still hear her family laughing and singing
last edited 692 weeks ago by Mae
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When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
Third incident: Avina
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Note: Big thanks to Kirious for this one; I think he did most of the work
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"… You… you will… never replace me…"
Avina turned, her movements feeling almost sluggish. Where was she? This place… was it a sewer? No, it didn't smell; this was fresh, clean water? Aqueducts?
As she completed her turn, she found herself standing in front of another woman. It was hard to see her in the dim light, but there was something with how she stood and the red harness and red boots.. Avina found herself feeling a sense of deja vous. What was this place? Who was this woman? The woman stepped closer, and Avina took a step back. The woman's face was very similar to her own, except her cheekbones were higher and her eyes a little more feline. Her hair, where it spilled from under her chapeau, was dark and fell just above her shoulders, and her eyes were just as dark. And each cheek was marked with a pair of parallel lines running diagonally from just under her eyes to just above her jawline. Her entire presence – her body, how she held her head, how she moved – radiated a maturity that gave Avina the impression that the woman was several years older than she.
Avina frowned. What was this? She knew this woman… she knew this place. This was all familiar! She had to think!
"… You will…" The woman drew a heavy, black rapier and pointed it at Avina. "… never be me…"
Avina had to throw herself to one side to avoid the woman's charge, and her eyes widened. Phantasmal images stood around – she recognized Kenjii playing a flute, Sobe holding a hexagun, the red-haired and blue-clothed man that just called himself Blue – seemingly frozen in their steps.
… This is the canal under Windurst, the one that goes to the Full Moon Fountain… Realization flooded Avina, carrying long-buried feelings and a distant sound of music. This is another dream… that bard must be nearby!
Red swung around, a ball of fire in her hand, and launched it at Avina. Avina knocked the fireball away with her free arm, grimacing slightly as her black armor heated up.
"I'm just redistributing power to those who can better utilize it." Avina felt her mouth move and the words come from her. She could, dimly, remember saying those to Red after casting an Absorb spell on her… Red had been furious. Avina tried to open her mouth, to apologize, but nothing came out. Something in Red's eyes flickered, and Avina realized that Red was still just as angry as the first time.
Red readied her rapier and turned towards Avina, who in turn hefted her scythe and held it at the ready. Red began circling, like a wild thing circling prey. Her lighter weapon would give her more mobility, and it was obvious that she was waiting for Avina to attack first. It would likely take her too long to recover if she started with a swing first, and Avina scrambled to find an answer as her eyes stayed locked on the tip of the rapier.
Avina let the end of her scythe fall to the ground as she held her hand above her head. Heat fled the area around her hand as moisture gathered and a large icicle formed. She could hear Red hiss something under her breath and start running towards her as Avina hurled the frozen construct towards her, the icicle shattering as Red swatted it out of her way with her buckler. Avina dropped her head as she began another spell, and looked up to see Red closing in on her with her rapier raised.
Extending her arm, lighting exploded from Avina's hand, cutting through Red's shadow and dissipating it. She immediately turned, her scythe swinging in her wake as the real Red's rapier scratched across her pauldron. Her motion and the armor's rounded shape had deflected the blow for her, but if she had been even a third of a second slower it would have slipped right into the gap between it and her backplate. Red leapt back, but not before taking another swing and overstaying in her position; Avina's scythe bit deep into Red's left arm before she could get out of range. Red snarled as she seemed to twist her body before launching herself at Avina, flicking her rapier at Avina's face as she darted past her. Avina knocked the blow away from her with her scythe, then swung it downwards just as Red passed, whooshing just shy of her heels. Avina followed through with an upwards swing as she spun around, then brought it down vertically on Red as Red spun and raised her rapier. The scythe cut through a second illusion, resulting in another miss.
Avina whirled back around, and found herself surrounded. Red – all four of them – stood around her, each with her rapier raised and pointed right at Avina's throat. Avina clutched her fist and slammed it into the ground, a circle of stones shifting under her spell as all four Reds charged her. One staggered, and the three others vanished as the shifting stones moved through them. As Red struggled to keep her balance, she thrust her left hand forward as lightning crackled from her palm and slammed into Avina, sending her summersaulting backwards. Managing to catch herself quickly, Avina made a gesture. Purple-tinted darkness erupted from Red's chest, and Red staggered and pressed her left hand over her heart. The dark energy flowed into Avina, and her scratches closed as her stamina returned.
"… H-how dare you…" Red gasped as she struggled to stay standing as she raised her left hand, curling her fingers into a similar gesture, then jerking her hand back towards her chest. Avina nearly fell to her knees as a wave of fatigue overcame her; Red had taken back what she had stolen, along with a hefty interest.
Avina immediately prepared to reclaim what was momentarily hers as Red reeled it back in. But before Avina could react, Red charged at her. Abandoning the attempt to re-acquire her energy, Avina's grip tightened on her scythe as she brought it down. Red managed to duck under the swing, the tip of her rapier sliding through a joint in Avina's armor and sliding into her stomach.
Avina staggered, another wave of fatigue washing over her as she looked down. Blood trickled down the blade and… was absorbed? The rapier… was it DRINKING her blood? Red yanked the sword free and smirked at Avina as she staggered backwards, then Red thrusted once more. This time, the rapier bit into Avina's shoulder. The new fatigue was like a tidal wave and Avina wanted nothing more than to sleep, to give in. Her scythe fell from her hands as the rapier continued to greedily lap at her blood.
Her vision fading, Avina's right hand shook as she raised it towards Red's face, latching on. Darkness engulfed her arm as she drained directly from Red, but she could feel that she was losing more than she was gaining.
"… S-souleater…"
The dark energy bursted as did the restriction on Avina's power. She could feel her energy draining even faster now, but she was managing to pull enough from Red to keep ahead of it. Red's face became pale as her grip on her rapier loosened. Avina tightened her grip further as her battery faded, and shattered back into the dream. Red slowly turned ghost-like and transparent, and the weapon in Avina's shoulder vanished as she released Red's face. Red stood there, transparent and wide-eyed, for a moment before slowly falling forwards. Avina raised her arms to catch her but, like a ghost, Red just slid through her… disappearing into Avina's body.
Somewhere in the back of Avina's mind a distant keening wail, like a banshee's, began and continued for hours even after a rough hand shook her awake and she found herself sitting on a stone bench in Lower Jeuno.
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Note: Big thanks to Kirious for this one; I think he did most of the work
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"… You… you will… never replace me…"
Avina turned, her movements feeling almost sluggish. Where was she? This place… was it a sewer? No, it didn't smell; this was fresh, clean water? Aqueducts?
As she completed her turn, she found herself standing in front of another woman. It was hard to see her in the dim light, but there was something with how she stood and the red harness and red boots.. Avina found herself feeling a sense of deja vous. What was this place? Who was this woman? The woman stepped closer, and Avina took a step back. The woman's face was very similar to her own, except her cheekbones were higher and her eyes a little more feline. Her hair, where it spilled from under her chapeau, was dark and fell just above her shoulders, and her eyes were just as dark. And each cheek was marked with a pair of parallel lines running diagonally from just under her eyes to just above her jawline. Her entire presence – her body, how she held her head, how she moved – radiated a maturity that gave Avina the impression that the woman was several years older than she.
Avina frowned. What was this? She knew this woman… she knew this place. This was all familiar! She had to think!
"… You will…" The woman drew a heavy, black rapier and pointed it at Avina. "… never be me…"
Avina had to throw herself to one side to avoid the woman's charge, and her eyes widened. Phantasmal images stood around – she recognized Kenjii playing a flute, Sobe holding a hexagun, the red-haired and blue-clothed man that just called himself Blue – seemingly frozen in their steps.
… This is the canal under Windurst, the one that goes to the Full Moon Fountain… Realization flooded Avina, carrying long-buried feelings and a distant sound of music. This is another dream… that bard must be nearby!
Red swung around, a ball of fire in her hand, and launched it at Avina. Avina knocked the fireball away with her free arm, grimacing slightly as her black armor heated up.
"I'm just redistributing power to those who can better utilize it." Avina felt her mouth move and the words come from her. She could, dimly, remember saying those to Red after casting an Absorb spell on her… Red had been furious. Avina tried to open her mouth, to apologize, but nothing came out. Something in Red's eyes flickered, and Avina realized that Red was still just as angry as the first time.
Red readied her rapier and turned towards Avina, who in turn hefted her scythe and held it at the ready. Red began circling, like a wild thing circling prey. Her lighter weapon would give her more mobility, and it was obvious that she was waiting for Avina to attack first. It would likely take her too long to recover if she started with a swing first, and Avina scrambled to find an answer as her eyes stayed locked on the tip of the rapier.
Avina let the end of her scythe fall to the ground as she held her hand above her head. Heat fled the area around her hand as moisture gathered and a large icicle formed. She could hear Red hiss something under her breath and start running towards her as Avina hurled the frozen construct towards her, the icicle shattering as Red swatted it out of her way with her buckler. Avina dropped her head as she began another spell, and looked up to see Red closing in on her with her rapier raised.
Extending her arm, lighting exploded from Avina's hand, cutting through Red's shadow and dissipating it. She immediately turned, her scythe swinging in her wake as the real Red's rapier scratched across her pauldron. Her motion and the armor's rounded shape had deflected the blow for her, but if she had been even a third of a second slower it would have slipped right into the gap between it and her backplate. Red leapt back, but not before taking another swing and overstaying in her position; Avina's scythe bit deep into Red's left arm before she could get out of range. Red snarled as she seemed to twist her body before launching herself at Avina, flicking her rapier at Avina's face as she darted past her. Avina knocked the blow away from her with her scythe, then swung it downwards just as Red passed, whooshing just shy of her heels. Avina followed through with an upwards swing as she spun around, then brought it down vertically on Red as Red spun and raised her rapier. The scythe cut through a second illusion, resulting in another miss.
Avina whirled back around, and found herself surrounded. Red – all four of them – stood around her, each with her rapier raised and pointed right at Avina's throat. Avina clutched her fist and slammed it into the ground, a circle of stones shifting under her spell as all four Reds charged her. One staggered, and the three others vanished as the shifting stones moved through them. As Red struggled to keep her balance, she thrust her left hand forward as lightning crackled from her palm and slammed into Avina, sending her summersaulting backwards. Managing to catch herself quickly, Avina made a gesture. Purple-tinted darkness erupted from Red's chest, and Red staggered and pressed her left hand over her heart. The dark energy flowed into Avina, and her scratches closed as her stamina returned.
"… H-how dare you…" Red gasped as she struggled to stay standing as she raised her left hand, curling her fingers into a similar gesture, then jerking her hand back towards her chest. Avina nearly fell to her knees as a wave of fatigue overcame her; Red had taken back what she had stolen, along with a hefty interest.
Avina immediately prepared to reclaim what was momentarily hers as Red reeled it back in. But before Avina could react, Red charged at her. Abandoning the attempt to re-acquire her energy, Avina's grip tightened on her scythe as she brought it down. Red managed to duck under the swing, the tip of her rapier sliding through a joint in Avina's armor and sliding into her stomach.
Avina staggered, another wave of fatigue washing over her as she looked down. Blood trickled down the blade and… was absorbed? The rapier… was it DRINKING her blood? Red yanked the sword free and smirked at Avina as she staggered backwards, then Red thrusted once more. This time, the rapier bit into Avina's shoulder. The new fatigue was like a tidal wave and Avina wanted nothing more than to sleep, to give in. Her scythe fell from her hands as the rapier continued to greedily lap at her blood.
Her vision fading, Avina's right hand shook as she raised it towards Red's face, latching on. Darkness engulfed her arm as she drained directly from Red, but she could feel that she was losing more than she was gaining.
"… S-souleater…"
The dark energy bursted as did the restriction on Avina's power. She could feel her energy draining even faster now, but she was managing to pull enough from Red to keep ahead of it. Red's face became pale as her grip on her rapier loosened. Avina tightened her grip further as her battery faded, and shattered back into the dream. Red slowly turned ghost-like and transparent, and the weapon in Avina's shoulder vanished as she released Red's face. Red stood there, transparent and wide-eyed, for a moment before slowly falling forwards. Avina raised her arms to catch her but, like a ghost, Red just slid through her… disappearing into Avina's body.
Somewhere in the back of Avina's mind a distant keening wail, like a banshee's, began and continued for hours even after a rough hand shook her awake and she found herself sitting on a stone bench in Lower Jeuno.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
The Pied Piper
–––––
Mirror stood in the center of Selbina, frowning. Midday was supposed to be a busy time and while he could see plenty of the townsfolk, the children that were usually underfoot were nowhere to be seen. Yet, as far as he could tell, not a single parent seemed concerned over it.
"… Alright, where are you hiding…" Mirror grumbled as he tilted his head to one side and then the other, listening for the telltale sound of the flute he knew so well.
After a half-hour of searching, Mirror finally found the children in the protected dunes above the town proper, circled around a man well in his prime wearing a white leather coat. The children were singing without abandon as the man sat on a rock and played his flute, and Mirror could only scowl in disapproval as he stood and watched. Presently the man began to slow his playing, and the children started to drift away. When the two were alone, the older man put down his flute and smiled.
"Something wrong, my Mirror?"
Mirror rolled his eyes. "Playing 'pied piper' again, Farseer?"
The Farseer chuckled as he sat back on his rock and slipped the flute into his coat. "It keeps the little ones out of trouble for a bit, and the parents are grateful for my help. Besides, did you hear? There was a strelitzia among them. Little birds like that are so rare… I've told you about them, yes?"
Mirror nodded. "The birds of Paradise that could charm demons and dragons with their song…" He trailed off, then shook his head. " Don't distract me. And you really shouldn't spirit the kids away like that; the townsfolk might start to think you're a creepy old man."
The Farseer laughed. "And I think, my Mirror, that you should stop spreading nightmares in Jeuno before you get a bad reputation."
The two stared at each other, Mirror just falling shy of his namesake as he continued to scowl as the Farseer smiled. If it wasn't for the obvious difference in age and clothing, the two would have been nearly identical – right down to the tattoos on their cheeks.
Mirror looked away first. "… I didn't think you knew about that…"
"There's a reason I'm called 'Farseer', boy." The Farseer smiled as he stood up and brushed off the back of his pants. He draped an arm over the younger man's shoulders and led him towards the slopes into Valkrum. "And speaking of spiriting away kids… I really think I should take that little bird. She's so frail and her mother is the town lush that wastes every last gil on whatever dregs she can find. The little bird will only wither under her care, and I know of a kind, childless couple who mil flour and keep sheep in Konschatt – the matching would be perfect, and shepherdess' are known for their pure voices. The little bird will grow and be able to stop entire armies with her song…"
Mirror walked in silence. The Farseer was known throughout Quon as a good man who patroned orphanages after the War. But, Mirror thought, he was far too interested in children and especially those who were in 'bad homes'. Mirror could emphasize with the kids – he himself had come from an abusive home and had been 'rescued' by the Farseer – but the Farseer's casual attitude towards child-snatching was scary. There was also a bit of self-interest in his feelings; Mirror was acutely aware of how much they looked alike and and one of the last things he wanted was to be accused as the Farseer if the kidnappings ever came to light.
"… You're questioning." The Farseer chuckled. "And perhaps you're right do do so. So this time, I'll leave the decision up to you. Will you let me take the child and give her a good home among the sheep and windmills, or will you suffer her to starve and waste away in a hovel?"
Mirror stopped and frowned. In his mind's eye, he was once again… how old? fifteen? maybe older? and nursing a black eye as a kind stranger splinted his broken arm with slivers carved from the stranger's staff and strips of leather torn from the stranger's white coat. He could remember the stranger – the Farseer – trying to convince him into taking him and his little sister away. Mirror had agreed to running away, but had refused to let the Farseer take his sister. Mirror was then forced to watch from afar as his sister was starved and beaten until she finally… Mirror shook his head, dispelling his line of thought. He didn't want to think about where his decision had led his sister to.
"Well, my Mirror?" The Farseer tilted his head at the younger man. "What is your decision? Or, perhaps, you have come up with another solution?"
Mirror took a deep breath.
–-
"… Not exactly an elegant solution, but it seems to have worked." The Farseer nodded in grudging approval from the porch above the Weaver's Guild. "Do you really think it'll last?"
Mirror didn't turn from his place along the railing; he was too busy watching the woman dunk herself repeatedly in the tiny harbor as she desperately worked to sober herself. "… I'll come back every month to give her more nightmares, if necessary."
"How do you know she won't turn and start beating the little bird?"
"She won't." Mirror's voice was very firm. "From all accounts, she was a good mother up until her husband was lost at sea. She started drinking after that… she'll be a bood mother again after she's completely sober."
"Hhrmph." The Farseer sighed. "I still think she should go to the family in Konschatt."
Mirror smirked. " Don't worry, you won't be losing the girl's golden throat to a fishwife's caterwauling. I can't guarantee she'll still grow up to sing down armies, but she's got a good chance she'll sing calm storms."
"Well, we'll see how this solution of yours works out." The Farseer stood up and stretched. "So, my Mirror, tell me of your adventures in Jeuno… what purpose do your actions serve?"
Pushing back the hood of his tunic, Mirror sighed. "… I wish I knew." He looked down at the moonstone-and-garnet pendant hanging around his wrist. "Everything I've learned these past few years… my heart feels like a lead weight in my chest. I guess they're just convenient to take my anger out on." He paused and clenched his fist. "And the worst part? I can't stop doing it…" Mirror turned to the Farseer, and saw the far-away look in the older man's eyes. "… What will happen if I can't stop?"
"… More pain, and regret." The Farseer sighed. "And the worst part for you is, that although I could stop me, I won't stop you."
"Even if I kill someone?"
The Farseer hesitated. "… Even though you will kill people."
–––––
Mirror stood in the center of Selbina, frowning. Midday was supposed to be a busy time and while he could see plenty of the townsfolk, the children that were usually underfoot were nowhere to be seen. Yet, as far as he could tell, not a single parent seemed concerned over it.
"… Alright, where are you hiding…" Mirror grumbled as he tilted his head to one side and then the other, listening for the telltale sound of the flute he knew so well.
After a half-hour of searching, Mirror finally found the children in the protected dunes above the town proper, circled around a man well in his prime wearing a white leather coat. The children were singing without abandon as the man sat on a rock and played his flute, and Mirror could only scowl in disapproval as he stood and watched. Presently the man began to slow his playing, and the children started to drift away. When the two were alone, the older man put down his flute and smiled.
"Something wrong, my Mirror?"
Mirror rolled his eyes. "Playing 'pied piper' again, Farseer?"
The Farseer chuckled as he sat back on his rock and slipped the flute into his coat. "It keeps the little ones out of trouble for a bit, and the parents are grateful for my help. Besides, did you hear? There was a strelitzia among them. Little birds like that are so rare… I've told you about them, yes?"
Mirror nodded. "The birds of Paradise that could charm demons and dragons with their song…" He trailed off, then shook his head. " Don't distract me. And you really shouldn't spirit the kids away like that; the townsfolk might start to think you're a creepy old man."
The Farseer laughed. "And I think, my Mirror, that you should stop spreading nightmares in Jeuno before you get a bad reputation."
The two stared at each other, Mirror just falling shy of his namesake as he continued to scowl as the Farseer smiled. If it wasn't for the obvious difference in age and clothing, the two would have been nearly identical – right down to the tattoos on their cheeks.
Mirror looked away first. "… I didn't think you knew about that…"
"There's a reason I'm called 'Farseer', boy." The Farseer smiled as he stood up and brushed off the back of his pants. He draped an arm over the younger man's shoulders and led him towards the slopes into Valkrum. "And speaking of spiriting away kids… I really think I should take that little bird. She's so frail and her mother is the town lush that wastes every last gil on whatever dregs she can find. The little bird will only wither under her care, and I know of a kind, childless couple who mil flour and keep sheep in Konschatt – the matching would be perfect, and shepherdess' are known for their pure voices. The little bird will grow and be able to stop entire armies with her song…"
Mirror walked in silence. The Farseer was known throughout Quon as a good man who patroned orphanages after the War. But, Mirror thought, he was far too interested in children and especially those who were in 'bad homes'. Mirror could emphasize with the kids – he himself had come from an abusive home and had been 'rescued' by the Farseer – but the Farseer's casual attitude towards child-snatching was scary. There was also a bit of self-interest in his feelings; Mirror was acutely aware of how much they looked alike and and one of the last things he wanted was to be accused as the Farseer if the kidnappings ever came to light.
"… You're questioning." The Farseer chuckled. "And perhaps you're right do do so. So this time, I'll leave the decision up to you. Will you let me take the child and give her a good home among the sheep and windmills, or will you suffer her to starve and waste away in a hovel?"
Mirror stopped and frowned. In his mind's eye, he was once again… how old? fifteen? maybe older? and nursing a black eye as a kind stranger splinted his broken arm with slivers carved from the stranger's staff and strips of leather torn from the stranger's white coat. He could remember the stranger – the Farseer – trying to convince him into taking him and his little sister away. Mirror had agreed to running away, but had refused to let the Farseer take his sister. Mirror was then forced to watch from afar as his sister was starved and beaten until she finally… Mirror shook his head, dispelling his line of thought. He didn't want to think about where his decision had led his sister to.
"Well, my Mirror?" The Farseer tilted his head at the younger man. "What is your decision? Or, perhaps, you have come up with another solution?"
Mirror took a deep breath.
–-
"… Not exactly an elegant solution, but it seems to have worked." The Farseer nodded in grudging approval from the porch above the Weaver's Guild. "Do you really think it'll last?"
Mirror didn't turn from his place along the railing; he was too busy watching the woman dunk herself repeatedly in the tiny harbor as she desperately worked to sober herself. "… I'll come back every month to give her more nightmares, if necessary."
"How do you know she won't turn and start beating the little bird?"
"She won't." Mirror's voice was very firm. "From all accounts, she was a good mother up until her husband was lost at sea. She started drinking after that… she'll be a bood mother again after she's completely sober."
"Hhrmph." The Farseer sighed. "I still think she should go to the family in Konschatt."
Mirror smirked. " Don't worry, you won't be losing the girl's golden throat to a fishwife's caterwauling. I can't guarantee she'll still grow up to sing down armies, but she's got a good chance she'll sing calm storms."
"Well, we'll see how this solution of yours works out." The Farseer stood up and stretched. "So, my Mirror, tell me of your adventures in Jeuno… what purpose do your actions serve?"
Pushing back the hood of his tunic, Mirror sighed. "… I wish I knew." He looked down at the moonstone-and-garnet pendant hanging around his wrist. "Everything I've learned these past few years… my heart feels like a lead weight in my chest. I guess they're just convenient to take my anger out on." He paused and clenched his fist. "And the worst part? I can't stop doing it…" Mirror turned to the Farseer, and saw the far-away look in the older man's eyes. "… What will happen if I can't stop?"
"… More pain, and regret." The Farseer sighed. "And the worst part for you is, that although I could stop me, I won't stop you."
"Even if I kill someone?"
The Farseer hesitated. "… Even though you will kill people."
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
O.O and I'm next after this? Not good…! But I can't wait! ^^ good chapter as always
To be an interesting, intriguing, well-written character, there needs to be something to allow the audience to relate to them. That is what the problem is with who wants their character to be "perfect". Perfect characters will never be strong, and strong characters will never be perfect, because WE (those who read, who watch, who RP) are not perfect.
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
"What makes a strong character is how they deal with their flaws, their fears, their turmoils, their troubles that get in the way. That's what makes them relatable." – Doug Walker
Fourth Incident: Kenjii looks through the Mirror
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Credit also goes to KJ for most of Kenjii's dialogue and Kirious for initial editing.
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Knock. Knock.
Kenjii frowned as his moogle answered the door. He didn’t bother looking up as the little creature began to argue with whoever was on the other side of the door, but a moment later his head jerked up as it sailed through the room and bounced off a wall.
“… Pesky little thing, isn’t it?”
He whirled around in his chair and glared as his ‘guest’ admitted himself to the small apartment. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Mirror tilted his head to one side. “Remember?”
Kenjii paused. “… I didn’t think you meant so soon. Or in my house.” He blinked. “How do you know where my house is?!”
Mirror chuckled. “You do know that the town registry is public domain? Anyone can look
that sort of information up. Besides, you wanted answers and you sounded impatient for them.” He paused. “Would you rather do this at my place? I’m not fond of having visitors, but after the little reception I got at the door, I doubt you can evict your moogle for a while nor would you want it accidently joining in.”
Kenjii turned away for a moment, scowling. “Fine. I don’t want you in here.” He turned back just in time to notice a flicker of emotion cross Mirror’s face.
They made the walk through the Residential district in silence; Mirror just a few steps ahead as they headed towards the Markets. The door they stopped in front of showed years of age and, oddly, little marks around the outer edge of the door. Mirror pulled a lump of amber from his pocket and touched it to wood, and a moment later there was a low pop and a sudden whiff of ozone.
“What was that?” Kenjii asked, slightly suspicious.
Mirror smiled slightly as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Security spell. Anything more than a knock on the door gives people a nasty surprise.” The room inside was, for the most part, bare. There was a bed and a desk, an armor crate in the corner, and a water cask. A pile of cushions occupied the middle of the room, and on the desk was a wicker cage. And, most surprisingly, was a battle axe and a pair of cesti lying on the top of the armor crate.
It wasn’t what Kenjii was expecting. “For someone who says he’s lived here most of his life, you don’t have a lot of stuff.”
“… I’ve been working since I was quite young, and I don’t have time to collect little mementos.” He closed the door behind Kenjii, and then gestured to the pile of cushions. “Pick one and find a spot. I’ll… sit over by the desk; I assume you’d be more at-ease if I keep my distance.”
Kenjii flicked Mirror a quick glance. He complied, taking a cushion and propping himself into a corner by the door. He watched as Mirror did the same, sitting next to the desk as he had promised and pulled something from his pocket. “What’s that?”
“A music box.” Mirror began to turn the crank on the side of the box then put it down on the floor in front of him. “It’s… really not meant to be used like this, but it’ll get the job done. I know the Farseer has done it, but he’s the one who built it…” He looked up at Kenjii, his finger ready to flip a small switch on the side of the box. “Ready?”
"First, I want to know why are you helping me… assuming this is what you're doing.”
Mirror hesitated for a moment. “You asked a question. I told you that I would answer, but that I lacked the words.” He looked down. “… That is… not entirely correct. I have the words, but there’s no way for me to control them – the Envy I knew of did something terrible. I don’t want to see that happen again.”
Kenjii grunted. “Let’s get this over with.” Mirror flipped the switch and, to Kenjii’s surprise, he didn’t recognize the song! Or… did he? Were there two song playing during the first dream? He shook his head, trying to dispel the drowsiness that was washing over him.
“… Don’t fight it…” Mirror’s voice was lethargic. “You’ll… just hurt…”
–-
The sky was so utterly blue, the puffy clouds were perfectly white, and the grass under him was so green and soft and fragrant… Kenjii couldn’t help but feel in awe how perfect the afternoon felt. He was sitting against a stone wall, looking over a meadow that was occupied with sheep mindlessly clipping the grass short. At the far end of the meadow, two children were playing; a boy of about ten with dark hair that had been sectioned with the upper half clipped to his shoulders and the under half gathered into a long braid, and a toddler of perhaps two in a plain well-made dress.
“Enjoying the afternoon?”
Kenjii turned to see Mirror sitting on the edge of the stone wall, his hood thrown back. It was the first time he had ever seen the bard without some sort of shadow crossing his face, and for the first time he could see the difference in their features; Mirror had higher cheekbones, his tattoos were perfectly straight and even, and his eyes dark brown eyes were somewhat wide and cat-like with curious gold highlights. “Where is this place?”
“… A place that doesn’t exist anymore.” He stood up and dusted off the back of his pants, and Kenjii noticed that Mirror was translucent and ghost-like.
"The past..? Can they hear or see us?”
Mirror shook his head. “This is pure memory.”
The boy had picked up the toddler and carried her to a shaded spot under a tree not too far away, and from that distance Kenjii could clearly see that both children had wide cheekbones and dark, cat-like eyes with hints of gold. The girl’s cheeks were unmarked, but the boy had a pair of lines running from below his eyes and straight down his cheeks. Despite their youth, he could recognize them both as a young Mirror and even younger Red.
"That's… Red? Is that her name?" Kenjii was a little surprised when the boy looked up and gave him and Mirror a brief, quizzical look.
“… Yes, that’s Red. And, no… that is not her real name.” Mirror looked away. “Just as the Farseer calls me Mirror, I called her Swan.”
Kenjii snorted, then turned to face Mirror. "Yeah, this is cute and all, but what does this have to do with Envy at all?"
“… Patience, Hermit.” Mirror frowned. “This isn’t easy, and I can’t just skip parts.”
Things began to flicker around them, images and impressions that Kenjii was only able to briefly to glimpse as Mirror became more and more of a shadow. Happiness. Comforting Red when she was afraid of the monsters under the bed, and when her face was tattooed. Worry. Sorrow. Fear. A long boat-ride. First glimpses of Bastok. A growing sense of anger and loathing, then a sudden and violent release. Kenjii gasped as he felt a deep, throbbing pain in his right arm and watched as Mirror’s right hand suddenly twitched violently. The hatred passed and was replaced by a constant feeling of emptiness and worry.
"What happened? What was that pain!?"
Mirror gritted his teeth, sweat beading in his forehead. “Someone… someone broke my arm… a long time ago…”
Images of Red became sparser and sparser, but those that did pass seemed to linger longer. Red getting older, thinner, ragged and a growing frustration; he wanted to go to her but every time he tried to take a step towards her, he felt strong fingers digging into his shoulder, holding him back. And then a night, the area eerily illuminated by a sooty glow, and a twelve-year-old Red lying on the ground. Her hair was singed, and her hands and feet were burned and blistered. What parts of her face weren’t covered in soot showed signs of blood and bruising.
"What happened…?" Kenjii’s eyes widened as he took a step forward towards the girl.
“… I could’ve prevented this…”
“No, my Mirror… this is how it had to be.”
Kenjii whirled around. Behind him stood a late-teens Mirror with his hood thrown back and a man in his prime in a white leather coat. There was an eerie similarity between the two, right down to the colour of their eyes and the marks on their cheeks. Mirror looked as if he had been struggling, trying to get to Red while the white-coated man held him back.
“Stop, my Mirror. You can’t interfere; we have to go.”
“She’s hurt!”
“This is how it had to be. We have to go, don’t make this harder on yourself.”
Kenjii looked down at Red, then knelt down next to her and reached out his hand. His fingers brushed her burned shoulder, then passed through. He glared up at Mirror. “What happened to her?”
Mirror knelt down as well. “… I wasn’t there to protect her.” He also reached to touch Red, and growled in frustration as his hands also passed through her. “The last time my arm was broken, I didn’t go back. He had never struck Swan before; I never considered that he might start if I wasn’t there to take it.” He paused, and then smiled bitterly as he looked towards the sooty red glare. “She was stronger than me, though. I ran away. She made sure he didn’t hit anyone ever again.”
Again, things started to move faster. Red figured less and less into the images, but when she did appear it was always from afar. Mirror’s frustration was evident, as well as a towering sense of resentment towards the man in the white leather coat. And then came still images.
Red tending to a red-haired, green-eyed boy’s injured arm.
Red being pummeled by a red-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Red sitting in the shade next to a red-haired, green-eyed boy.
Red being shot in the back with an arrow by a red-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Red fighting back-to-back with a red-haired, green-eyed man.
Red fighting against a red-haired, blue-eyed man.
Red walking with her arm over the shoulders of a red-haired, green-eyed man.
Red chasing after a ship sailing off towards the rising sun from Mhuara, a red-haired man on the deck and not looking back.
Red, unconscious and with her belly large and swollen, being carried by a red-haired, blue-eyed man.
Red fighting against a red-haired, blue-eyed man, a baby in a backboard carrier on the ground behind her next to a downed man with black hair.
Through a window, Red crying on the shoulder of a red-haired man as they stood over an empty cradle.
Red fighting, back to back, with a red-haired, blue-eyed man.
Red and a red-haired, blue-eyed man standing on the deck of a ship in Mhuara as it sailed off towards the rising sun.
There were jumps in time, but Kenjii could tell that Red was aging – the first few she was mid-teens, the last ones somewhere in the mid to late twenties. The boy, though, seemed to keep switching ages.
And then…
“Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!” Mirror stood, finally eye-to-eye with the man in the white leather coat. His knuckles were white with rage as he grasped the front of the white leather coat and shook the man. “By the Goddess you hold so dear, Farseer, you’ll give me a straight answer for once!”
The Farseer sighed then gestured to the hill behind them. “Up there… there’s a sinkhole. You’ll find the truth up there.”
Mirror hesitated only a moment before he began running up the hill, ignoring the thorny bushes that scratched at him as he scrambled up the mud and rock. At the top there indeed was a sink-hole, and how he dropped from the edge to the floor without breaking a bone was beyond belief.
The bottom of the sink-hole was stained and splattered with blood; one pool was stained red, and along one wall was a large streak like something had landed against it and then slid to the floor. Mirror could only choke back his cries as his eyes fell upon one thing and then another – scraps of blue cloth, chunks of red armor, a clump of long red hair… a black, broken rapier with the broken chain of a necklace laying over the shattered blade.
“… Oh no…” Mirror whispered as he knelt down next to the broken sword and necklace. “No no no no no… Where are you?!” He jumped up, clutching the pendant that hung from the necklace. “WHERE ARE YOU?!”
“… She’s gone, my Mirror.” The Farseer knelt at the edge of the sinkhole.
“Gone?” Mirror’s brain didn’t process the word. “Gone where? We have to find her!”
The Farseer sighed. “There’s no place to look for her… the ones who do this don’t leave bodies.”
“Damn you!” Mirror screamed, his voice pitching. “Damn you for stopping me! I knew Envy was going to get her killed!”
The Farseer rocked back slightly, then wiped at the drops of blood that trickled from his nose. “Gather up the pieces of her sword, my Mirror.” His voice was calm, despite the sonic attack aimed at him. “And your mother’s pendant. There’s nothing more to be done here, and we cannot be seen.”
Things started to fade off; at some point, the shade of Mirror had disappeared entirely. Kenjii stood alone as everything began to go dark, and he could faintly hear the music box starting to wind down. And then, one last set of images and emotions flared – recent ones, only a few months old, and to Kenjii’s surprise he could see himself and Avina in it.
Bastok, Valentione’s Day. Watching in amusement as a small group of people tried to match up bits and pieces of chocolate. Looking up and seeing a man with red hair and blue-grey eyes. The feeling of horror and a terrible anger at seeing that face…
Kirious’ face.
–-
Kenjii pushed himself up off the cushion. At some point, he had drifted off into his own dreams and he shook his head as he tried to clear the grogginess. How long had he been asleep? He looked across the room to where Mirror sat, still up against the desk. His eyes were red and puffy, and the shattered remains of the wicker cage lay in front of him; in his hands he held the cage’s two occupants, and Kenjii watched as Mirror, his eyes unfocused and unseeing, slowly closed his hands and crushed the two white butterflies.
“… The two boys – I’m assuming its two boys – one of them is Envy. Am I right?”
Mirror’s voice was slow, heavy, and slightly slurred. “… One of them became the Envy I knew of. I don’t know which one; I only knew of him through Swan.” He paused. “It’s a title. He was given it at some point… possibly when the person he was before was destroyed.” Mirror looked down at his hands, then wiped his palms clean on his pants before picking up a small vial and eyeing it.
“Why show me this?” Kenjii frowned. “It was obviously personal.”
“… Do you know what a stretazilia is?” When Kenjii shook his head, Mirror sighed. “They’re birds that are said to live in Paradise, companions to the avatar of Sound and Song, Siren. They could charm demons and dragons with their singing. The Farseer uses the term to describe anyone who’s… similarly gifted. But, like many gifts of that nature, they can easily become a curse if you don’t know you have the gift. You need to be trained early on in life.” He paused, then took a sip from the vial and made a face. “I didn’t receive any training until I was in my late teens… It was safer for you to see, rather than have me tell, all that.” Mirror’s voice became more slurred. “Plus, you know, you got to actually see what I saw.”
"I don't get it. She was with the boy first, and the man was her enemy… but then they had a baby together…?" Kenjii was utterly lost. The simple concept that Kirious could have been nice enough to ever love someone was inconceivable to him. It couldn't be him. "I mean. He shot her!"
“The Blackbird isn’t of Envy’s line, though I believe Swan wished otherwise. The Blackbird’s sire considered Swan his property; Envy often treated Swan quite kindly – when they weren’t fighting, of course. And when the Blackbird was stolen, Envy worked just as hard, if not harder, than the baby’s sire to help Swan’s attempts to recover him. These are some of the reasons, I think, she blindly followed him away to be killed.” He paused. “As for who shot Swan… yes, the man did it. But neither the boy nor the man fully match up to the Envy I knew of; the boy shares his hair colour and delicate features while the man has his eyes and build.”
Kenjii took a minute of silence to try and sort all the information in his mind, and then he shook his head. "So what do you expect me to do about this now? Keep it for myself and not tell anyone? Kill Kirious for you? Or turn him in? Or protect him so you can have your own revenge?" For some strange reason, each option sounded more and more difficult to accept for him. He had killed before, but to make decisions over someone's life was something Kenjii had never enjoyed. That quality had revealed to be a weakness more than once in the past.
“… In there lies the problem – I don’t know what should be done.” Mirror hung his head. “There isn’t enough in your Envy’s head for me to get my hands on, to see if I can pull some sort of truth from him; he reacts to the colour red oddly, but that’s it.” He paused and smiled. “Swan could have been anything. She showed signs of having a voice like mine, she was born with a natural grace and strength, and she had inherited a bloodline-related talent for magic. Over everything else, she embraced the magic and almost always wore red. But that’s not enough for me to go on; your Envy might just like the colour of his own accord.” Mirror sighed. “Your Envy is a dead ringer for the one I knew of… save the eyes, and his age. He should be older and his eyes were an impossible shade of blue, not that dull blue-grey. What I need is some sort of verification on who your Envy is. If he turns out to be the same one I’m looking for, it will take nothing short of a miracle to keep me from trying to bury my axe in his skull. If he’s not… then I care only enough to warn you and yours of something you already know: he is a dangerous man.”
Kenjii stood up, somewhat relieved to know that Mirror wasn’t going to demand some sort of overt action of him. "One last thing. I am no one to judge your methods, nor your desires to keep Red alive with your memories in people's dreams…. But do not expect me to tolerate your actions against innocents whose only blame was to be around when you play that flute."
Mirror raised his head to look at Kenjii, then started laughing; a series of short, harsh sounds that echoed in the small room. The laughter seemed to rattle Kenjii’s skull, and he felt a pressure headache beginning to form as something wet trickled from his nose and ears.
“Innocence is ripped from us just a few short years after we learn to take our first breaths – the best anyone can hope for past their childhood is simple ignorance.” Mirror leaned forward, his voice pitching slightly and more pressure seemed to build in the room. “Ignorance kills. At least if someone knows about the weights on their heart, they have a chance to not be dragged down by the chains that are eventually attached to them." His tone became almost manic, and the sound of his voice ricochet off the walls in some sort of misguided requiem. " And don’t try to tell me anything different; I know that you and I share a similar weight around our hearts, and one day you will thank me when I give you a chance to see yours!”
Kenjii paused as he opened the door and looked back at Mirror. What sat there, half propped-up by the desk, was no longer malicious being but a man who had obviously been driven mad by grief and loss and had such a tenuous grip on a gift that he could only abuse it or had to drug himself to keep control over it.
"All I need is a walk in South Gustaberg on a windy day. You should give it a try sometime." Kenjii turned away. "Illusions are only good at reviving pain. I don't need your dreams." He walked outside, and after giving a glance around, he sighed. So many things had happened and he still wasn't any good at lying.
––––-
Credit also goes to KJ for most of Kenjii's dialogue and Kirious for initial editing.
––––-
Knock. Knock.
Kenjii frowned as his moogle answered the door. He didn’t bother looking up as the little creature began to argue with whoever was on the other side of the door, but a moment later his head jerked up as it sailed through the room and bounced off a wall.
“… Pesky little thing, isn’t it?”
He whirled around in his chair and glared as his ‘guest’ admitted himself to the small apartment. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Mirror tilted his head to one side. “Remember?”
Kenjii paused. “… I didn’t think you meant so soon. Or in my house.” He blinked. “How do you know where my house is?!”
Mirror chuckled. “You do know that the town registry is public domain? Anyone can look
that sort of information up. Besides, you wanted answers and you sounded impatient for them.” He paused. “Would you rather do this at my place? I’m not fond of having visitors, but after the little reception I got at the door, I doubt you can evict your moogle for a while nor would you want it accidently joining in.”
Kenjii turned away for a moment, scowling. “Fine. I don’t want you in here.” He turned back just in time to notice a flicker of emotion cross Mirror’s face.
They made the walk through the Residential district in silence; Mirror just a few steps ahead as they headed towards the Markets. The door they stopped in front of showed years of age and, oddly, little marks around the outer edge of the door. Mirror pulled a lump of amber from his pocket and touched it to wood, and a moment later there was a low pop and a sudden whiff of ozone.
“What was that?” Kenjii asked, slightly suspicious.
Mirror smiled slightly as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Security spell. Anything more than a knock on the door gives people a nasty surprise.” The room inside was, for the most part, bare. There was a bed and a desk, an armor crate in the corner, and a water cask. A pile of cushions occupied the middle of the room, and on the desk was a wicker cage. And, most surprisingly, was a battle axe and a pair of cesti lying on the top of the armor crate.
It wasn’t what Kenjii was expecting. “For someone who says he’s lived here most of his life, you don’t have a lot of stuff.”
“… I’ve been working since I was quite young, and I don’t have time to collect little mementos.” He closed the door behind Kenjii, and then gestured to the pile of cushions. “Pick one and find a spot. I’ll… sit over by the desk; I assume you’d be more at-ease if I keep my distance.”
Kenjii flicked Mirror a quick glance. He complied, taking a cushion and propping himself into a corner by the door. He watched as Mirror did the same, sitting next to the desk as he had promised and pulled something from his pocket. “What’s that?”
“A music box.” Mirror began to turn the crank on the side of the box then put it down on the floor in front of him. “It’s… really not meant to be used like this, but it’ll get the job done. I know the Farseer has done it, but he’s the one who built it…” He looked up at Kenjii, his finger ready to flip a small switch on the side of the box. “Ready?”
"First, I want to know why are you helping me… assuming this is what you're doing.”
Mirror hesitated for a moment. “You asked a question. I told you that I would answer, but that I lacked the words.” He looked down. “… That is… not entirely correct. I have the words, but there’s no way for me to control them – the Envy I knew of did something terrible. I don’t want to see that happen again.”
Kenjii grunted. “Let’s get this over with.” Mirror flipped the switch and, to Kenjii’s surprise, he didn’t recognize the song! Or… did he? Were there two song playing during the first dream? He shook his head, trying to dispel the drowsiness that was washing over him.
“… Don’t fight it…” Mirror’s voice was lethargic. “You’ll… just hurt…”
–-
The sky was so utterly blue, the puffy clouds were perfectly white, and the grass under him was so green and soft and fragrant… Kenjii couldn’t help but feel in awe how perfect the afternoon felt. He was sitting against a stone wall, looking over a meadow that was occupied with sheep mindlessly clipping the grass short. At the far end of the meadow, two children were playing; a boy of about ten with dark hair that had been sectioned with the upper half clipped to his shoulders and the under half gathered into a long braid, and a toddler of perhaps two in a plain well-made dress.
“Enjoying the afternoon?”
Kenjii turned to see Mirror sitting on the edge of the stone wall, his hood thrown back. It was the first time he had ever seen the bard without some sort of shadow crossing his face, and for the first time he could see the difference in their features; Mirror had higher cheekbones, his tattoos were perfectly straight and even, and his eyes dark brown eyes were somewhat wide and cat-like with curious gold highlights. “Where is this place?”
“… A place that doesn’t exist anymore.” He stood up and dusted off the back of his pants, and Kenjii noticed that Mirror was translucent and ghost-like.
"The past..? Can they hear or see us?”
Mirror shook his head. “This is pure memory.”
The boy had picked up the toddler and carried her to a shaded spot under a tree not too far away, and from that distance Kenjii could clearly see that both children had wide cheekbones and dark, cat-like eyes with hints of gold. The girl’s cheeks were unmarked, but the boy had a pair of lines running from below his eyes and straight down his cheeks. Despite their youth, he could recognize them both as a young Mirror and even younger Red.
"That's… Red? Is that her name?" Kenjii was a little surprised when the boy looked up and gave him and Mirror a brief, quizzical look.
“… Yes, that’s Red. And, no… that is not her real name.” Mirror looked away. “Just as the Farseer calls me Mirror, I called her Swan.”
Kenjii snorted, then turned to face Mirror. "Yeah, this is cute and all, but what does this have to do with Envy at all?"
“… Patience, Hermit.” Mirror frowned. “This isn’t easy, and I can’t just skip parts.”
Things began to flicker around them, images and impressions that Kenjii was only able to briefly to glimpse as Mirror became more and more of a shadow. Happiness. Comforting Red when she was afraid of the monsters under the bed, and when her face was tattooed. Worry. Sorrow. Fear. A long boat-ride. First glimpses of Bastok. A growing sense of anger and loathing, then a sudden and violent release. Kenjii gasped as he felt a deep, throbbing pain in his right arm and watched as Mirror’s right hand suddenly twitched violently. The hatred passed and was replaced by a constant feeling of emptiness and worry.
"What happened? What was that pain!?"
Mirror gritted his teeth, sweat beading in his forehead. “Someone… someone broke my arm… a long time ago…”
Images of Red became sparser and sparser, but those that did pass seemed to linger longer. Red getting older, thinner, ragged and a growing frustration; he wanted to go to her but every time he tried to take a step towards her, he felt strong fingers digging into his shoulder, holding him back. And then a night, the area eerily illuminated by a sooty glow, and a twelve-year-old Red lying on the ground. Her hair was singed, and her hands and feet were burned and blistered. What parts of her face weren’t covered in soot showed signs of blood and bruising.
"What happened…?" Kenjii’s eyes widened as he took a step forward towards the girl.
“… I could’ve prevented this…”
“No, my Mirror… this is how it had to be.”
Kenjii whirled around. Behind him stood a late-teens Mirror with his hood thrown back and a man in his prime in a white leather coat. There was an eerie similarity between the two, right down to the colour of their eyes and the marks on their cheeks. Mirror looked as if he had been struggling, trying to get to Red while the white-coated man held him back.
“Stop, my Mirror. You can’t interfere; we have to go.”
“She’s hurt!”
“This is how it had to be. We have to go, don’t make this harder on yourself.”
Kenjii looked down at Red, then knelt down next to her and reached out his hand. His fingers brushed her burned shoulder, then passed through. He glared up at Mirror. “What happened to her?”
Mirror knelt down as well. “… I wasn’t there to protect her.” He also reached to touch Red, and growled in frustration as his hands also passed through her. “The last time my arm was broken, I didn’t go back. He had never struck Swan before; I never considered that he might start if I wasn’t there to take it.” He paused, and then smiled bitterly as he looked towards the sooty red glare. “She was stronger than me, though. I ran away. She made sure he didn’t hit anyone ever again.”
Again, things started to move faster. Red figured less and less into the images, but when she did appear it was always from afar. Mirror’s frustration was evident, as well as a towering sense of resentment towards the man in the white leather coat. And then came still images.
Red tending to a red-haired, green-eyed boy’s injured arm.
Red being pummeled by a red-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Red sitting in the shade next to a red-haired, green-eyed boy.
Red being shot in the back with an arrow by a red-haired, blue-eyed boy.
Red fighting back-to-back with a red-haired, green-eyed man.
Red fighting against a red-haired, blue-eyed man.
Red walking with her arm over the shoulders of a red-haired, green-eyed man.
Red chasing after a ship sailing off towards the rising sun from Mhuara, a red-haired man on the deck and not looking back.
Red, unconscious and with her belly large and swollen, being carried by a red-haired, blue-eyed man.
Red fighting against a red-haired, blue-eyed man, a baby in a backboard carrier on the ground behind her next to a downed man with black hair.
Through a window, Red crying on the shoulder of a red-haired man as they stood over an empty cradle.
Red fighting, back to back, with a red-haired, blue-eyed man.
Red and a red-haired, blue-eyed man standing on the deck of a ship in Mhuara as it sailed off towards the rising sun.
There were jumps in time, but Kenjii could tell that Red was aging – the first few she was mid-teens, the last ones somewhere in the mid to late twenties. The boy, though, seemed to keep switching ages.
And then…
“Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!” Mirror stood, finally eye-to-eye with the man in the white leather coat. His knuckles were white with rage as he grasped the front of the white leather coat and shook the man. “By the Goddess you hold so dear, Farseer, you’ll give me a straight answer for once!”
The Farseer sighed then gestured to the hill behind them. “Up there… there’s a sinkhole. You’ll find the truth up there.”
Mirror hesitated only a moment before he began running up the hill, ignoring the thorny bushes that scratched at him as he scrambled up the mud and rock. At the top there indeed was a sink-hole, and how he dropped from the edge to the floor without breaking a bone was beyond belief.
The bottom of the sink-hole was stained and splattered with blood; one pool was stained red, and along one wall was a large streak like something had landed against it and then slid to the floor. Mirror could only choke back his cries as his eyes fell upon one thing and then another – scraps of blue cloth, chunks of red armor, a clump of long red hair… a black, broken rapier with the broken chain of a necklace laying over the shattered blade.
“… Oh no…” Mirror whispered as he knelt down next to the broken sword and necklace. “No no no no no… Where are you?!” He jumped up, clutching the pendant that hung from the necklace. “WHERE ARE YOU?!”
“… She’s gone, my Mirror.” The Farseer knelt at the edge of the sinkhole.
“Gone?” Mirror’s brain didn’t process the word. “Gone where? We have to find her!”
The Farseer sighed. “There’s no place to look for her… the ones who do this don’t leave bodies.”
“Damn you!” Mirror screamed, his voice pitching. “Damn you for stopping me! I knew Envy was going to get her killed!”
The Farseer rocked back slightly, then wiped at the drops of blood that trickled from his nose. “Gather up the pieces of her sword, my Mirror.” His voice was calm, despite the sonic attack aimed at him. “And your mother’s pendant. There’s nothing more to be done here, and we cannot be seen.”
Things started to fade off; at some point, the shade of Mirror had disappeared entirely. Kenjii stood alone as everything began to go dark, and he could faintly hear the music box starting to wind down. And then, one last set of images and emotions flared – recent ones, only a few months old, and to Kenjii’s surprise he could see himself and Avina in it.
Bastok, Valentione’s Day. Watching in amusement as a small group of people tried to match up bits and pieces of chocolate. Looking up and seeing a man with red hair and blue-grey eyes. The feeling of horror and a terrible anger at seeing that face…
Kirious’ face.
–-
Kenjii pushed himself up off the cushion. At some point, he had drifted off into his own dreams and he shook his head as he tried to clear the grogginess. How long had he been asleep? He looked across the room to where Mirror sat, still up against the desk. His eyes were red and puffy, and the shattered remains of the wicker cage lay in front of him; in his hands he held the cage’s two occupants, and Kenjii watched as Mirror, his eyes unfocused and unseeing, slowly closed his hands and crushed the two white butterflies.
“… The two boys – I’m assuming its two boys – one of them is Envy. Am I right?”
Mirror’s voice was slow, heavy, and slightly slurred. “… One of them became the Envy I knew of. I don’t know which one; I only knew of him through Swan.” He paused. “It’s a title. He was given it at some point… possibly when the person he was before was destroyed.” Mirror looked down at his hands, then wiped his palms clean on his pants before picking up a small vial and eyeing it.
“Why show me this?” Kenjii frowned. “It was obviously personal.”
“… Do you know what a stretazilia is?” When Kenjii shook his head, Mirror sighed. “They’re birds that are said to live in Paradise, companions to the avatar of Sound and Song, Siren. They could charm demons and dragons with their singing. The Farseer uses the term to describe anyone who’s… similarly gifted. But, like many gifts of that nature, they can easily become a curse if you don’t know you have the gift. You need to be trained early on in life.” He paused, then took a sip from the vial and made a face. “I didn’t receive any training until I was in my late teens… It was safer for you to see, rather than have me tell, all that.” Mirror’s voice became more slurred. “Plus, you know, you got to actually see what I saw.”
"I don't get it. She was with the boy first, and the man was her enemy… but then they had a baby together…?" Kenjii was utterly lost. The simple concept that Kirious could have been nice enough to ever love someone was inconceivable to him. It couldn't be him. "I mean. He shot her!"
“The Blackbird isn’t of Envy’s line, though I believe Swan wished otherwise. The Blackbird’s sire considered Swan his property; Envy often treated Swan quite kindly – when they weren’t fighting, of course. And when the Blackbird was stolen, Envy worked just as hard, if not harder, than the baby’s sire to help Swan’s attempts to recover him. These are some of the reasons, I think, she blindly followed him away to be killed.” He paused. “As for who shot Swan… yes, the man did it. But neither the boy nor the man fully match up to the Envy I knew of; the boy shares his hair colour and delicate features while the man has his eyes and build.”
Kenjii took a minute of silence to try and sort all the information in his mind, and then he shook his head. "So what do you expect me to do about this now? Keep it for myself and not tell anyone? Kill Kirious for you? Or turn him in? Or protect him so you can have your own revenge?" For some strange reason, each option sounded more and more difficult to accept for him. He had killed before, but to make decisions over someone's life was something Kenjii had never enjoyed. That quality had revealed to be a weakness more than once in the past.
“… In there lies the problem – I don’t know what should be done.” Mirror hung his head. “There isn’t enough in your Envy’s head for me to get my hands on, to see if I can pull some sort of truth from him; he reacts to the colour red oddly, but that’s it.” He paused and smiled. “Swan could have been anything. She showed signs of having a voice like mine, she was born with a natural grace and strength, and she had inherited a bloodline-related talent for magic. Over everything else, she embraced the magic and almost always wore red. But that’s not enough for me to go on; your Envy might just like the colour of his own accord.” Mirror sighed. “Your Envy is a dead ringer for the one I knew of… save the eyes, and his age. He should be older and his eyes were an impossible shade of blue, not that dull blue-grey. What I need is some sort of verification on who your Envy is. If he turns out to be the same one I’m looking for, it will take nothing short of a miracle to keep me from trying to bury my axe in his skull. If he’s not… then I care only enough to warn you and yours of something you already know: he is a dangerous man.”
Kenjii stood up, somewhat relieved to know that Mirror wasn’t going to demand some sort of overt action of him. "One last thing. I am no one to judge your methods, nor your desires to keep Red alive with your memories in people's dreams…. But do not expect me to tolerate your actions against innocents whose only blame was to be around when you play that flute."
Mirror raised his head to look at Kenjii, then started laughing; a series of short, harsh sounds that echoed in the small room. The laughter seemed to rattle Kenjii’s skull, and he felt a pressure headache beginning to form as something wet trickled from his nose and ears.
“Innocence is ripped from us just a few short years after we learn to take our first breaths – the best anyone can hope for past their childhood is simple ignorance.” Mirror leaned forward, his voice pitching slightly and more pressure seemed to build in the room. “Ignorance kills. At least if someone knows about the weights on their heart, they have a chance to not be dragged down by the chains that are eventually attached to them." His tone became almost manic, and the sound of his voice ricochet off the walls in some sort of misguided requiem. " And don’t try to tell me anything different; I know that you and I share a similar weight around our hearts, and one day you will thank me when I give you a chance to see yours!”
Kenjii paused as he opened the door and looked back at Mirror. What sat there, half propped-up by the desk, was no longer malicious being but a man who had obviously been driven mad by grief and loss and had such a tenuous grip on a gift that he could only abuse it or had to drug himself to keep control over it.
"All I need is a walk in South Gustaberg on a windy day. You should give it a try sometime." Kenjii turned away. "Illusions are only good at reviving pain. I don't need your dreams." He walked outside, and after giving a glance around, he sighed. So many things had happened and he still wasn't any good at lying.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
Fifth Incident: Dreamless
–––-
“By all that might be holy… she’s heavy!”
“She’s well suited for her task. Do you have a good grip on her; we can’t jostle her too much.”
Mirror grunted as he re-adjusted his hold on Draenen’s legs. “Yeah, I got her.” He paused as he looked at the woman’s slack face. “Who is she? I’ve seen her with the rest of them, but I’ve never managed to get her in a dream.”
The Farseer shouldered open the door to the rented room in Jeuno, and hissed as he almost lost his grip under her arms. “This is Hawthorn.”
“Holy shit. Really?” Between the two of them, Mirror and the Farseer managed to get Draenen onto the bed. “What happened to the skin-and-bones mute?”
“Quite obviously, she grew up.” The Farseer chuckled as he started rummaging through his bag. “Get her mouth open, I need to get this into her before she never wakes up again.”
Mirror complied, forcing Draenen’s mouth open as the Farseer withdrew two vials and sat down on the bed next to her. From the first, he slowly coaxed Draenen to swallow the equivalent of a mouthful of the clear liquid. The second vial contained a powder, and that he placed on her tongue before reaching over and gently prodding the back of Draenen’s head.
Mirror frowned. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She hit her head, hard.” The Farseer paused as he felt the long, hard lump running from just beyond her temple to the crown of her head. “Her adrenaline kept her going for a while and the little whitemage did what she could, but now… well, at least we got the willow water into her before her brain swelled.”
Mirror pulled a knee up under his chin, still staring at Draenen’s face. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you take an interest in an adult like this.”
“Hawthorn is… a bit of a special case. How often do I pay attention to children who can’t sing?” The Farseer brushed back some of Draenen’s hair. “I was eventually going to introduce you two… imagine my surprise when I realized that she was running with that group you’re already tormenting.”
“How come I can’t catch her in a dream? I know I’ve been playing around her.”
A ghost of a smile touched the Farseer’s lips. “She doesn’t dream.”
“… You’ve been meddling.”
“A gift to her, when I originally sponsored her to the School. She was prone to nightmares. And I’m not apologizing for meddling in your ‘fun’.”
Mirror sat back. “You said you were going to introduce us eventually? Why?”
“She fears fire.” The Farseer looked up at Mirror. “If she doesn’t overcome that fear, you’ll have to step up and take her place. There’s something that has to be done, and the two of you are the only ones who can do it.”
Mirror waited several moments, hoping that the Farseer would continue. When he didn’t, Mirror huffed. “And, of course, you’re not going to tell me more?”
The Farseer sighed. “You know I can’t.” He stood up and tossed the vials back into his bag. “Get her boots, vest, belt, and gloves off before you cover her with the sheet. We need to be gone before she wakes up.”
–––-
“By all that might be holy… she’s heavy!”
“She’s well suited for her task. Do you have a good grip on her; we can’t jostle her too much.”
Mirror grunted as he re-adjusted his hold on Draenen’s legs. “Yeah, I got her.” He paused as he looked at the woman’s slack face. “Who is she? I’ve seen her with the rest of them, but I’ve never managed to get her in a dream.”
The Farseer shouldered open the door to the rented room in Jeuno, and hissed as he almost lost his grip under her arms. “This is Hawthorn.”
“Holy shit. Really?” Between the two of them, Mirror and the Farseer managed to get Draenen onto the bed. “What happened to the skin-and-bones mute?”
“Quite obviously, she grew up.” The Farseer chuckled as he started rummaging through his bag. “Get her mouth open, I need to get this into her before she never wakes up again.”
Mirror complied, forcing Draenen’s mouth open as the Farseer withdrew two vials and sat down on the bed next to her. From the first, he slowly coaxed Draenen to swallow the equivalent of a mouthful of the clear liquid. The second vial contained a powder, and that he placed on her tongue before reaching over and gently prodding the back of Draenen’s head.
Mirror frowned. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She hit her head, hard.” The Farseer paused as he felt the long, hard lump running from just beyond her temple to the crown of her head. “Her adrenaline kept her going for a while and the little whitemage did what she could, but now… well, at least we got the willow water into her before her brain swelled.”
Mirror pulled a knee up under his chin, still staring at Draenen’s face. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you take an interest in an adult like this.”
“Hawthorn is… a bit of a special case. How often do I pay attention to children who can’t sing?” The Farseer brushed back some of Draenen’s hair. “I was eventually going to introduce you two… imagine my surprise when I realized that she was running with that group you’re already tormenting.”
“How come I can’t catch her in a dream? I know I’ve been playing around her.”
A ghost of a smile touched the Farseer’s lips. “She doesn’t dream.”
“… You’ve been meddling.”
“A gift to her, when I originally sponsored her to the School. She was prone to nightmares. And I’m not apologizing for meddling in your ‘fun’.”
Mirror sat back. “You said you were going to introduce us eventually? Why?”
“She fears fire.” The Farseer looked up at Mirror. “If she doesn’t overcome that fear, you’ll have to step up and take her place. There’s something that has to be done, and the two of you are the only ones who can do it.”
Mirror waited several moments, hoping that the Farseer would continue. When he didn’t, Mirror huffed. “And, of course, you’re not going to tell me more?”
The Farseer sighed. “You know I can’t.” He stood up and tossed the vials back into his bag. “Get her boots, vest, belt, and gloves off before you cover her with the sheet. We need to be gone before she wakes up.”
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When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.
"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
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Mae Admin replied
692 weeks ago