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The night wore on too long, digging nails of exhaustion and futility beneath his skin like an overwrought lover. Shadows cast by jaundiced lights offered no hint of Cosmos, or Chronos, or any individual possessed of one of the fabled greater crystals. Little more stirred in the streets than gutter trash beyond the errant duties of mice. Bischofite toiled nonetheless, scouring streets and rooves and alleys alike for some scrap of auric energy that might have an answer, or even just another clue.
As he sat atop the parapet of a bank overlooking the town square, he closed his eyes to feel out what lay beyond the night air. Idly he wondered if all these attempts toward purification only amounted to an endless trail of clues that wrapped him about the city for no avail. Perhaps he was damned to the life he saw in fits and starts. Perhaps he would know, inevitably, how his skin would blister and crack under the heat of inferno. He would know treason, and capture, and heinous atrocities committed against his own mind to reclaim some semblance of servitude.
And he would know a meaningless death.
While he searched for energies, he wondered if anyone mourned his loss. Did Schörl miss him after the fact? Did she survive what came that night? And what of Quenton, forever lost to obscurity? Did Shadeite bother to think that losing Bischofite meant anything to their cause? Did Metallia notice when he died, or did she only hungrily reclaim what she lent out to the half-human creature that most identified as the Youma King?
His thoughts came to Tanzanite, the fabled first of his kind, before a star touched down in his senses. Bischofite started, his previously stony visage coming to life as feathers ruffled shortly before standing. Braced against the parapet in a crouch, he leapt from his perch to light atop a street lamp, awkward and wavering as it was, before descending to street level. He took off in a sprint toward what lay beyond - in hopes of answers, if not another clue.
If he was to burn, then he would burn in the heat of a thousand stars before joining their kind.
As he sat atop the parapet of a bank overlooking the town square, he closed his eyes to feel out what lay beyond the night air. Idly he wondered if all these attempts toward purification only amounted to an endless trail of clues that wrapped him about the city for no avail. Perhaps he was damned to the life he saw in fits and starts. Perhaps he would know, inevitably, how his skin would blister and crack under the heat of inferno. He would know treason, and capture, and heinous atrocities committed against his own mind to reclaim some semblance of servitude.
And he would know a meaningless death.
While he searched for energies, he wondered if anyone mourned his loss. Did Schörl miss him after the fact? Did she survive what came that night? And what of Quenton, forever lost to obscurity? Did Shadeite bother to think that losing Bischofite meant anything to their cause? Did Metallia notice when he died, or did she only hungrily reclaim what she lent out to the half-human creature that most identified as the Youma King?
His thoughts came to Tanzanite, the fabled first of his kind, before a star touched down in his senses. Bischofite started, his previously stony visage coming to life as feathers ruffled shortly before standing. Braced against the parapet in a crouch, he leapt from his perch to light atop a street lamp, awkward and wavering as it was, before descending to street level. He took off in a sprint toward what lay beyond - in hopes of answers, if not another clue.
If he was to burn, then he would burn in the heat of a thousand stars before joining their kind.
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There… she felt the chaos signature like a whiff of garbage and decay brushing against her senses and Ida let a shiver run down her spine. She had been avoiding their kind this last week, still too confused about what was going on to chance a meeting. There was still the ever present worry in the back of her mind that the overwhelming forces she remembered were still there, just hiding away from her… a worry that if she made a wrong move, stayed powered too long or drew too much attention, they would appear and descend on her like they had the last time. She couldn’t go through that again… she couldn’t stand on that stage and face the crowd while the sword approached.
Golden heels crunched on gravel as Ida took an uncertain step back, her teeth worrying her lip for a long moment. Answers were not coming in the controlled, wary searching she was doing… and she couldn’t avoid them forever. It was only going to get harder, her memory said, to avoid running into the officers. Was she ready, though? Ready to face the nightmare?
The signature was getting closer at speed and there was not long to decide. She had survived five long years of war… she could face one lone officer, even one that felt like a general. And even if she couldn’t… maybe it would be better to die now, rather than see everything she was afraid of come to pass. Maybe her death was even the key she needed to close that door and open another, there was no way to tell. Brown hands fisted at her sides and Ida straightened up, drawing on something of the strength she had once
commanded to bolster herself now. She could do this. She just had to hold onto that strength. Better to face the devil now and scrape some measure of truth from it.
She itched to call to her magic, but she suppressed the urge, waiting instead to see who approached.
Golden heels crunched on gravel as Ida took an uncertain step back, her teeth worrying her lip for a long moment. Answers were not coming in the controlled, wary searching she was doing… and she couldn’t avoid them forever. It was only going to get harder, her memory said, to avoid running into the officers. Was she ready, though? Ready to face the nightmare?
The signature was getting closer at speed and there was not long to decide. She had survived five long years of war… she could face one lone officer, even one that felt like a general. And even if she couldn’t… maybe it would be better to die now, rather than see everything she was afraid of come to pass. Maybe her death was even the key she needed to close that door and open another, there was no way to tell. Brown hands fisted at her sides and Ida straightened up, drawing on something of the strength she had once
commanded to bolster herself now. She could do this. She just had to hold onto that strength. Better to face the devil now and scrape some measure of truth from it.
She itched to call to her magic, but she suppressed the urge, waiting instead to see who approached.
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Bischofite’s haste slowed when he rounded through the watchful eye of a street lamp to find the source of the aura. His senses only offered so much in accuracy; what felt so close may indeed be standing atop a roof or deep below ground. However, none stood before him but the lonely road, flanked eternally by impassive sidewalks and a stark, black sky that loomed overhead. He drew breath between teeth in a hiss; already he knew he was at a disadvantage, should a meeting turn to assault.
So, above or below? Building the tower or digging the pit? I wager the tower. Let’s find out if I’m right.
Bischofite stared with hesitance at the parapet overhead, just beyond an extended awning. An easy distance for most generals, yet given his long and loathed propensity for malnutrition and neglect, he wagered such a jump would prove difficult. With wings pinned to back, Bischofite leapt toward the surface and almost fell short of it - had he not found purchase on the ledge at the last second, his claws would’ve skittered uselessly across the surface and left him to punch through the awning in a feathered heap. instead he pulled himself onto the roof with the much-needed assistance of a decorative architectural detail.
And there, standing in the gravel, stood one he knew to have little inclination to kill him. “Ida,” he started, breathless. “Gut. I need your help.”
So, above or below? Building the tower or digging the pit? I wager the tower. Let’s find out if I’m right.
Bischofite stared with hesitance at the parapet overhead, just beyond an extended awning. An easy distance for most generals, yet given his long and loathed propensity for malnutrition and neglect, he wagered such a jump would prove difficult. With wings pinned to back, Bischofite leapt toward the surface and almost fell short of it - had he not found purchase on the ledge at the last second, his claws would’ve skittered uselessly across the surface and left him to punch through the awning in a feathered heap. instead he pulled himself onto the roof with the much-needed assistance of a decorative architectural detail.
And there, standing in the gravel, stood one he knew to have little inclination to kill him. “Ida,” he started, breathless. “Gut. I need your help.”
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She could hear pounding feet… someone was coming towards her at a sharp clip. Her hands clenched again and she waited, her breathing shallow as though afraid to block out the sounds of the approaching officer. Definitely a general, she was positive of that now. Since she saw nobody rushing across the rooftops, they must be lower… and she was about to approach the edge for a better view when a pair of clawed hands clapped to the stone work with a rustle of cloth and feathers. Ida jerked back, falling into a defensive stance as she lifted her fists before her.
Any other time, she might have found it funny, the image of Bischofite, once terror of her senshi life, jumping to cling to a ledge like cartoon character. Instead, seeing what pulled itself up over the ledge tonight was more like being in a real-life horror movie. Every inch of this creature was familiar to her, from the lanky black hair to the tattered robes. He looked a different sort of familiar though… fitting with her impressions, he had also reverted to an earlier form of himself, the one he had worn before assuming the power of a sovereign. That didn’t make it any easier to see… not when she still clearly remembered watching him drown Avacyn in tar and pepper the camp grounds in pools of tar. When she still remembered his hand wrapped around her face, squeezing till her skull grated on itself. He hadn’t even known she was a senshi, knew her only as a girl he had spent social time with, and he had still set out to kill her with little provocation. What did that say for how he had treated any of the other civilians? She’d heard stories… now she believed them.
“You’re alive…” She managed past the lump in her throat and the constriction in her chest. “Somehow I’m not surprised. You’re like a cockroach. ‘Need my help’... Its like a repeat of our meeting after that business in the warehouse, after you merged.”
She honestly had no idea what he was thinking… how he could just stroll up to her demanding help and answers like she had no reason to deny them to him, like she was incapable of going on the offensive. She was a senshi… she had the same power as any other. Did he think them all weak enough to not be a threat, or was it just her? She’d surprised him, that day in the street. Maybe… maybe she should use that to her benefit. Castor had touted the virtues of that, once upon a time, though she’d been quick to write it off. That had been a long time ago, even if the years had rolled backwards, and she was a different person. Ida eased her stance a little, lowering her fists even if she didn’t fully drop them.
Any other time, she might have found it funny, the image of Bischofite, once terror of her senshi life, jumping to cling to a ledge like cartoon character. Instead, seeing what pulled itself up over the ledge tonight was more like being in a real-life horror movie. Every inch of this creature was familiar to her, from the lanky black hair to the tattered robes. He looked a different sort of familiar though… fitting with her impressions, he had also reverted to an earlier form of himself, the one he had worn before assuming the power of a sovereign. That didn’t make it any easier to see… not when she still clearly remembered watching him drown Avacyn in tar and pepper the camp grounds in pools of tar. When she still remembered his hand wrapped around her face, squeezing till her skull grated on itself. He hadn’t even known she was a senshi, knew her only as a girl he had spent social time with, and he had still set out to kill her with little provocation. What did that say for how he had treated any of the other civilians? She’d heard stories… now she believed them.
“You’re alive…” She managed past the lump in her throat and the constriction in her chest. “Somehow I’m not surprised. You’re like a cockroach. ‘Need my help’... Its like a repeat of our meeting after that business in the warehouse, after you merged.”
She honestly had no idea what he was thinking… how he could just stroll up to her demanding help and answers like she had no reason to deny them to him, like she was incapable of going on the offensive. She was a senshi… she had the same power as any other. Did he think them all weak enough to not be a threat, or was it just her? She’d surprised him, that day in the street. Maybe… maybe she should use that to her benefit. Castor had touted the virtues of that, once upon a time, though she’d been quick to write it off. That had been a long time ago, even if the years had rolled backwards, and she was a different person. Ida eased her stance a little, lowering her fists even if she didn’t fully drop them.
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After struggling to his feet, Bischofite straightened up to glance over at the woman, wild-eyed and erratic both in words and demeanor. His gaze drew half-lidded in study, frowning slightly with a hum while he mulled over potential explanations for her behavior. Flecks of a memory(? A dream?) surfaced in just looking at her, how sprawling and brilliant lilacs unspooled across her face and arm, how wings once sprouted from her back no smaller than his now. So little else remained… Brushing it off, he considered the thought a passing fancy and nothing more.
“Zat’s not ze kindest greeting I’f heard, but not ze coldest eizer.” Their last meeting… His purification? Ida witnessed his stabbing, and left soon afterward in a blinding flash of light. What of that occasion afforded such a cold greeting from someone normally entirely too arrogant toward him? She still considered him lowly scum, that much was evident in the attribution of cockroach, but her stance spoke of residual wariness, like something was off.
Bischofite sighed, exasperated. “Yes. Well. Everysing feels cyclical zese days…” Especially when feverdreams impart strange fragments of memory. Or hallucination. Or fanciful daydream. I don’t know which. All I know is my aversion to such a time.
“I… Haf’ reason to belief’ zat purification may be a more pressing matter zan I initially sought. It’s imperatif’ zat I successfully manage ze transition soon, given zat what will come may turn out worse for all of us. It… Sounds too trite, too oracle-esque to say it zat way, but I know of no ozzer means to communicate ze gravity. I am no Nostradamus, but I dislike what I know of what is to come.” How much can I explain without sounding like a madman? Then again, what credence do I have as a man who betrayed the lot of his allies for his own ambitions? Perhaps the wings and mask already bar me from trustworthiness on any account. I don’t expect her to believe me.
“Do you know of any royals zat own a greater crystal, Ida? Can you help me find someone?”
“Zat’s not ze kindest greeting I’f heard, but not ze coldest eizer.” Their last meeting… His purification? Ida witnessed his stabbing, and left soon afterward in a blinding flash of light. What of that occasion afforded such a cold greeting from someone normally entirely too arrogant toward him? She still considered him lowly scum, that much was evident in the attribution of cockroach, but her stance spoke of residual wariness, like something was off.
Bischofite sighed, exasperated. “Yes. Well. Everysing feels cyclical zese days…” Especially when feverdreams impart strange fragments of memory. Or hallucination. Or fanciful daydream. I don’t know which. All I know is my aversion to such a time.
“I… Haf’ reason to belief’ zat purification may be a more pressing matter zan I initially sought. It’s imperatif’ zat I successfully manage ze transition soon, given zat what will come may turn out worse for all of us. It… Sounds too trite, too oracle-esque to say it zat way, but I know of no ozzer means to communicate ze gravity. I am no Nostradamus, but I dislike what I know of what is to come.” How much can I explain without sounding like a madman? Then again, what credence do I have as a man who betrayed the lot of his allies for his own ambitions? Perhaps the wings and mask already bar me from trustworthiness on any account. I don’t expect her to believe me.
“Do you know of any royals zat own a greater crystal, Ida? Can you help me find someone?”
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Cyclical… how apropos. Did he know? Did he remember as she did? Coldness spread outwards from her chest as he spoke of his descent if he couldn’t manage purification and she stilled, listening to him. He did know, though how much remained to be seen. Athene remembered some, but not as much as she did.
“You’re right.” She said as she finally dropped her hands to her sides, her posture easing. He had a question about royals, he wanted her help… Ida would bet he wouldn’t try to hurt her until he got what he wanted. That had been how it was with him, before. Always, she was little more than something to be used. Let him think that, it gave her an opening. “If you continue like this, a lot of terrible things will happen. People will get hurt. Some will die. You might want purification, but that won’t stop you from doing uncountable heinous things if you can’t have it.”
How many lives had he taken? She’d stopped looking at the reports. With how bad things had gotten, she’d effectively closed her world down to the tented walls of her hospital in an effort to focus on what she could do, rather than what she didn’t have the power to affect. There was reasons for why Thraen and Kairatos had hunted him so doggedly though, that much had reached her when they appeared on a cot needing attention. Well, Kairatos, at least. Tales of Thraen’s work had only come second hand through Faust.
Purification wouldn’t be the answer, she knew that much already. Or maybe it could have been, but it had not come in time. If someone had known, maybe they could have prevented his rise to power, prevented all the suffering he had brought… and here she stood, fully aware, and he was no more than a few feet away, assuming her spineless and weak as he always had. She could end it right here if she were brave enough… strong enough. Was she strong enough? She never would have thought so, but a lot had changed. Could she do it, to protect people like Avacyn? Save Chariklo and their babies the pain of her loss… Ida felt her throat close up and she took a deep breath. She would be as strong as she needed to be, for their sakes. Hopefully.
Ida stepped forward with an easy gate, closing the distance between them. She kept herself unthreatening, hands at her sides, pace unhurried. She even threw in the barest of a hip swing, something she’d never been comfortable practicing or using, really. If it put him at ease, kept his mind off what her hands were doing, she could manage.
“I’ve only ever met Iris and Castor. As far as I know, neither of them has a greater crystal.” My crystal was a lesser one too, but that hardly matters now. I don’t have it any more, so I couldn’t use it even if I wanted to.
“You’re right.” She said as she finally dropped her hands to her sides, her posture easing. He had a question about royals, he wanted her help… Ida would bet he wouldn’t try to hurt her until he got what he wanted. That had been how it was with him, before. Always, she was little more than something to be used. Let him think that, it gave her an opening. “If you continue like this, a lot of terrible things will happen. People will get hurt. Some will die. You might want purification, but that won’t stop you from doing uncountable heinous things if you can’t have it.”
How many lives had he taken? She’d stopped looking at the reports. With how bad things had gotten, she’d effectively closed her world down to the tented walls of her hospital in an effort to focus on what she could do, rather than what she didn’t have the power to affect. There was reasons for why Thraen and Kairatos had hunted him so doggedly though, that much had reached her when they appeared on a cot needing attention. Well, Kairatos, at least. Tales of Thraen’s work had only come second hand through Faust.
Purification wouldn’t be the answer, she knew that much already. Or maybe it could have been, but it had not come in time. If someone had known, maybe they could have prevented his rise to power, prevented all the suffering he had brought… and here she stood, fully aware, and he was no more than a few feet away, assuming her spineless and weak as he always had. She could end it right here if she were brave enough… strong enough. Was she strong enough? She never would have thought so, but a lot had changed. Could she do it, to protect people like Avacyn? Save Chariklo and their babies the pain of her loss… Ida felt her throat close up and she took a deep breath. She would be as strong as she needed to be, for their sakes. Hopefully.
Ida stepped forward with an easy gate, closing the distance between them. She kept herself unthreatening, hands at her sides, pace unhurried. She even threw in the barest of a hip swing, something she’d never been comfortable practicing or using, really. If it put him at ease, kept his mind off what her hands were doing, she could manage.
“I’ve only ever met Iris and Castor. As far as I know, neither of them has a greater crystal.” My crystal was a lesser one too, but that hardly matters now. I don’t have it any more, so I couldn’t use it even if I wanted to.
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A thin sigh rose from him, shoulders falling slowly as his gaze fixed toward the smattering of lights across the city. “I’ll haf’ to look elsewhere zen.” Both Iris and Castor proved dead ends, at this point. He knew not whether Iris needed another attempt offworld, or if he required further self-reflection to ensure success, or what manner of variable demanded his next attentions. The prospect of it all looked grim; the demands for perseverance wore rough on him, eating away his resolve to reinvent his life. He missed the life he used to lead, maladjusted as he was now, but what if no road back remained?
Thraen mentioned Chronos, Cosmos… Could I track them down, or are they as incorporeal as the names of gods spoken and sworn upon by man? Perhaps what I seek is no different than miracles, than biblical passages scripted thousands of years ago. Old rot. I’m so full of doubt.
Ruffling feathers, he tightened the cusps of his wings about himself to stave away the cooling bite of autumn nights. It helped little, given how difficult he found it to regulate his own body temperature. “Prospects are grim,” he confessed at last, breaking the silence. “It’s all just trails leading deeper. Pits dug to nowhere - just to more dirt.” My attempts are no less comical or pointless as children’s attempts to dig to China.
“I’ll meet up wis’ you again, when I can.”
Thraen mentioned Chronos, Cosmos… Could I track them down, or are they as incorporeal as the names of gods spoken and sworn upon by man? Perhaps what I seek is no different than miracles, than biblical passages scripted thousands of years ago. Old rot. I’m so full of doubt.
Ruffling feathers, he tightened the cusps of his wings about himself to stave away the cooling bite of autumn nights. It helped little, given how difficult he found it to regulate his own body temperature. “Prospects are grim,” he confessed at last, breaking the silence. “It’s all just trails leading deeper. Pits dug to nowhere - just to more dirt.” My attempts are no less comical or pointless as children’s attempts to dig to China.
“I’ll meet up wis’ you again, when I can.”
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He looked so down trodden, so hopeless. Was that what had led him down that path, not just the inability to find purification? Had he given up, accepted Metallia’s control? If he hadn’t yet, he was dangerously close… and once he took that step, how long did they have until he gained that power? Ida couldn’t remember the first report of his promotion. When in the span of that five years had it happened? Once he made it that far, there wouldn’t be a way to stop him, that much they had proved. Who knew when she’d get another chance, if she got one.
I just have to be strong enough this once. Castor could do it, Thraen could do it. Penthe could… even little Megrez. I can do it, I think. I went my entire life without death on my hands, but if it changes things, the trade off would be worth it. I should even know how, I was a nurse, once.
Ida abruptly picked up her pace into a flat out run, boots crunching against the roof as the senshi rushed Bischofite. She spread her arms as they collided and she let her momentum sweep them the short distance to the edge of the roof where he had climbed up. With her arms, she pinned his wings to his back as they went over the edge and she clung hard to prevent him from opening them again. Granted, she realized belatedly that he would probably just teleport them somewhere safe, but if she’d caught him by surprise… the fall might give her an opening. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but nothing about this was. Her mind whirled as she tried to dredge up human weak points, wondering if his twisted youma form bore any resemblance to human any more. Maybe, if she was lucky, the fall would do most of the work for her… with no blade, no any sort of weapon, blunt force trauma or suffocation was probably her only means.
I just have to be strong enough this once. Castor could do it, Thraen could do it. Penthe could… even little Megrez. I can do it, I think. I went my entire life without death on my hands, but if it changes things, the trade off would be worth it. I should even know how, I was a nurse, once.
Ida abruptly picked up her pace into a flat out run, boots crunching against the roof as the senshi rushed Bischofite. She spread her arms as they collided and she let her momentum sweep them the short distance to the edge of the roof where he had climbed up. With her arms, she pinned his wings to his back as they went over the edge and she clung hard to prevent him from opening them again. Granted, she realized belatedly that he would probably just teleport them somewhere safe, but if she’d caught him by surprise… the fall might give her an opening. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but nothing about this was. Her mind whirled as she tried to dredge up human weak points, wondering if his twisted youma form bore any resemblance to human any more. Maybe, if she was lucky, the fall would do most of the work for her… with no blade, no any sort of weapon, blunt force trauma or suffocation was probably her only means.
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Her sprint at close distance left him little time to respond, only enough to raise a hand defensively before she wholesale bodyslammed him, sending the pair stumbling precariously close to the ledge. Yet, with already poor balance and no means of stopping himself from the inertia, Bischofite inwardly cursed at himself when his feet no longer knew the company of ground.
And freefalls felt all too weightless, with every nerve ending in his back screaming of imminent pain and suffering. He knew full well what awaited him when they landed - a broken back, if not worse - and struggled to turn mid-flight without even a wing available for changing trajectory. Ida herself ensured it.
Instead he struggled,
and cursed,
and strained,
and fought,
and fell,
down and down toward the pavement where he struck in a sickening, audible wet crunch. A strangled cry came afterward, along with his desperate attempt to assess damage. Incomprehensible pain in the chest, sacral region… He couldn’t figure the rest. It hurt too much to think. His head… Was he bleeding? Everything blurred. He bit his tongue in a strain to keep from screaming until his throat bled while he half-fought his aggressor, half-yearned for Ida’s help.
And freefalls felt all too weightless, with every nerve ending in his back screaming of imminent pain and suffering. He knew full well what awaited him when they landed - a broken back, if not worse - and struggled to turn mid-flight without even a wing available for changing trajectory. Ida herself ensured it.
Instead he struggled,
and cursed,
and strained,
and fought,
and fell,
down and down toward the pavement where he struck in a sickening, audible wet crunch. A strangled cry came afterward, along with his desperate attempt to assess damage. Incomprehensible pain in the chest, sacral region… He couldn’t figure the rest. It hurt too much to think. His head… Was he bleeding? Everything blurred. He bit his tongue in a strain to keep from screaming until his throat bled while he half-fought his aggressor, half-yearned for Ida’s help.
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The landing was jarring, even with senshi strength. With her hold on him, they hit the ground hard and she bit out a cry as their combined weight landed on her arms. Her head was pillowed by his chest, which thankfully kept her from the disorientation he was undoubtedly feeling. She’d heard the wet thunk of skull on concrete and inwardly she quailed from it, horrified that she could do this to another person.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, just do it. It was so hard to hold onto her resolve as she struggled to get air back into her lungs after the hard fall. Precious seconds ticked by as he struggled under her and she squirmed to pull her trapped arms free. Skin came away in the struggle, but she ignored it. If the worst she got from this was some missing layers of skin, she would be amazed…
Squirming to straddle his hips and hold him down, ignoring memories of other times when she’d been younger and more innocent, Ida sat up enough to haul an arm back and aim a fist at his face despite the weakness of her hands after landing on them. She beat off his hands as she reached for his skull after wards, intend on slamming it into the ground again.
Just like splitting a coconut. I’ve never done that, but I’ve heard stories. The human skull isn’t so hard and I have an eternal’s strength. Do it quick and its over.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it, just do it. It was so hard to hold onto her resolve as she struggled to get air back into her lungs after the hard fall. Precious seconds ticked by as he struggled under her and she squirmed to pull her trapped arms free. Skin came away in the struggle, but she ignored it. If the worst she got from this was some missing layers of skin, she would be amazed…
Squirming to straddle his hips and hold him down, ignoring memories of other times when she’d been younger and more innocent, Ida sat up enough to haul an arm back and aim a fist at his face despite the weakness of her hands after landing on them. She beat off his hands as she reached for his skull after wards, intend on slamming it into the ground again.
Just like splitting a coconut. I’ve never done that, but I’ve heard stories. The human skull isn’t so hard and I have an eternal’s strength. Do it quick and its over.
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The road spun of living light, with golden impassable light for glorified guard rails left behind in thought as Thraen appeared again with feet solid on roofing tar paper and eventide miasma of city pollution. The assault of noise and scents were always the most surprising on return from starfaring. At least it usually was.
Auric energies painfully near washed him, drawing rapid glances and steps to the ledge, a leap, more searching- there was another eternal senshi. There was something powerful but sick and unique. Statistically, there was a high chance that second aura was the same he’d met barely a day past. It could be Alois. There was scuffling. Another leap and scan and there were forms at the base of a near building. Tar black and dull feathers, Alois. Palatinate and gold, Ida. What is she even-
Thraen moved, not bothering to finish in structured thought what he knew in a breath- Alois was struggling and pinned and Ida was above him. Any other day or night it was probably just as well that Alois find death somehow, but not after the hopeful converse with Chronos. Not with something finally looking positive in return of frantic effort. The Senshi of Gardens leapt down and sprinted to tackle her bodily off the General. There wasn’t time for anything more graceful.
Auric energies painfully near washed him, drawing rapid glances and steps to the ledge, a leap, more searching- there was another eternal senshi. There was something powerful but sick and unique. Statistically, there was a high chance that second aura was the same he’d met barely a day past. It could be Alois. There was scuffling. Another leap and scan and there were forms at the base of a near building. Tar black and dull feathers, Alois. Palatinate and gold, Ida. What is she even-
Thraen moved, not bothering to finish in structured thought what he knew in a breath- Alois was struggling and pinned and Ida was above him. Any other day or night it was probably just as well that Alois find death somehow, but not after the hopeful converse with Chronos. Not with something finally looking positive in return of frantic effort. The Senshi of Gardens leapt down and sprinted to tackle her bodily off the General. There wasn’t time for anything more graceful.
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Tar eked out of the pores in his skin at a quick clip, thoroughly coating his hands while he struggled half-between gripping Ida’s own for deterrent and reaching for some portion of her body exposed and vulnerable to his abilities. The face was the first and initial reach, though Ida would likely see it coming. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t fire. No - the pain was fire. Were his dreams but metaphors? Were they a stir for action among others, to end him? It didn’t matter. He would try as his body saw fit.
In trying to secure the offensive, he paid little heed to her fist - and soon regretted it. Cracking across his cheekbone and part of his mask, Alois lay stunned a moment while his brain scrambled to make sense of the world around him. Was he on the ground, in the sky? What drew black beneath his eyes? Hair, blood? Viscera? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.
I can’t lay here like this. “Tell me why,” he managed between bubbling breaths - a familiar pain. Broken ribs, yet again. Impact fractures? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter.
Bischofite scrambled to sit up, to fight back, to scream wordless and guttural for her to cease - for answers, yet nothing came. His efforts amounted to little more than paltry struggles in the face of one healthy and on his level. It didn’t matter.
He would die soon enough.
In trying to secure the offensive, he paid little heed to her fist - and soon regretted it. Cracking across his cheekbone and part of his mask, Alois lay stunned a moment while his brain scrambled to make sense of the world around him. Was he on the ground, in the sky? What drew black beneath his eyes? Hair, blood? Viscera? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.
I can’t lay here like this. “Tell me why,” he managed between bubbling breaths - a familiar pain. Broken ribs, yet again. Impact fractures? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter.
Bischofite scrambled to sit up, to fight back, to scream wordless and guttural for her to cease - for answers, yet nothing came. His efforts amounted to little more than paltry struggles in the face of one healthy and on his level. It didn’t matter.
He would die soon enough.
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Ida was aware enough to see his tar-coated hands when they reached for her and she jerked her head back, turning away to avoid it. She still felt the tar score, burning down her arms and hands as she used them to block his strikes. That was fine… she was no stranger to that pain and hands were easier to clean than the face. She had no Hvergelmir to help her this time. It pulled a grimace of pain from her, her jaw clenching.
Tell me why… What could she tell him? He wouldn’t understand. If he had, it never would have gotten to the point it had.
“To put an end to it.” She gasped out, the bloom of another order signature nearby sensed, but ignored. “To stop you.”
The distraction of struggling to put words to the wordless fears was enough, eating up precious seconds when another eternal could move so fast. She felt the body collide into her with vague sort of surprise and knock her away to meet the ground for the second time. Her breath came out in a huff of impact and Ida squirmed, shoving her hands at whatever or whomever had come at her. She smelled flowers, saw blue and green and white…
“Thraen? Let go.” Ida said as she shoved at him, rolling and squirming to disengage from the taller, broader man. Her voice was forceful, urgent, but calm. She wasn’t done yet… She could still hear Bischofite thrashing behind her and still feel his sickening aura on her inner senses. Ida managed to get her knees under her, hair in her face, and she impatiently pushed the brown strands back, her braid trailing down her arm to pick up bits of tar from her hands.
Tell me why… What could she tell him? He wouldn’t understand. If he had, it never would have gotten to the point it had.
“To put an end to it.” She gasped out, the bloom of another order signature nearby sensed, but ignored. “To stop you.”
The distraction of struggling to put words to the wordless fears was enough, eating up precious seconds when another eternal could move so fast. She felt the body collide into her with vague sort of surprise and knock her away to meet the ground for the second time. Her breath came out in a huff of impact and Ida squirmed, shoving her hands at whatever or whomever had come at her. She smelled flowers, saw blue and green and white…
“Thraen? Let go.” Ida said as she shoved at him, rolling and squirming to disengage from the taller, broader man. Her voice was forceful, urgent, but calm. She wasn’t done yet… She could still hear Bischofite thrashing behind her and still feel his sickening aura on her inner senses. Ida managed to get her knees under her, hair in her face, and she impatiently pushed the brown strands back, her braid trailing down her arm to pick up bits of tar from her hands.
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It was an easy request to honor. Thraen threw her further away, kicking her weight with direction to make best use of leverage of arms, legs and physics. He followed himself up in the motion, rolling into a crouch and interposing between the Chaos Aura and Ida’s. “What are you doing.”
You who begged with horror and struggled with fey desperation at my knife. The message simple- ‘let him live to try again. let him live.’ Even in self defense, should he have attacked her first, Ida hardly manages a mien or the reasoning to enact violence any more than Athene. And Alois is not likely to have had the energy to spend on frivolity. Not likely. Likelihoods.
“What is going on here- he’s not harvested starseed or energy, surely. You stood for him before.”
You who begged with horror and struggled with fey desperation at my knife. The message simple- ‘let him live to try again. let him live.’ Even in self defense, should he have attacked her first, Ida hardly manages a mien or the reasoning to enact violence any more than Athene. And Alois is not likely to have had the energy to spend on frivolity. Not likely. Likelihoods.
“What is going on here- he’s not harvested starseed or energy, surely. You stood for him before.”
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To put an end to it.
To what? She knows my intents... Bischofite drew breath after another signature blazed forth and bowled her over, allowing enough of a break for him to attempt a margin of recovery. Claws reached for his sides weakly to probe for damage, though most of it lay posterior. His head ached terribly, and no matter his attempts, he could not consolidate two images into one. What he saw was a vague, blurry semblance of Thraen crouched not far from him, hissing through his teeth in words drowning. Was there blood in his ears? Did his tympanic membrane rupture?
“She just attacked…” He gurgled out upon sitting up. His stomach surged with nausea, provoking a dry heave, though nothing but a long, thin strand of saliva came of it. Looking toward the building, he saw with blistering clarity how far they’d fallen - and he was lucky enough to have survived. However, his inner ear would have none of his antics, and soon he capitulated into lying back down on his side, no longer supported by his hands. His wings… they felt broken.
A laugh threatened to escape, though soon it entwined with whines of pain. “Ze one time I refrained from provoking someone…” So it seems the world inverted for this impenetrably thick moment of irony. How nauseatingly perfect.
To what? She knows my intents... Bischofite drew breath after another signature blazed forth and bowled her over, allowing enough of a break for him to attempt a margin of recovery. Claws reached for his sides weakly to probe for damage, though most of it lay posterior. His head ached terribly, and no matter his attempts, he could not consolidate two images into one. What he saw was a vague, blurry semblance of Thraen crouched not far from him, hissing through his teeth in words drowning. Was there blood in his ears? Did his tympanic membrane rupture?
“She just attacked…” He gurgled out upon sitting up. His stomach surged with nausea, provoking a dry heave, though nothing but a long, thin strand of saliva came of it. Looking toward the building, he saw with blistering clarity how far they’d fallen - and he was lucky enough to have survived. However, his inner ear would have none of his antics, and soon he capitulated into lying back down on his side, no longer supported by his hands. His wings… they felt broken.
A laugh threatened to escape, though soon it entwined with whines of pain. “Ze one time I refrained from provoking someone…” So it seems the world inverted for this impenetrably thick moment of irony. How nauseatingly perfect.
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Boots shoved into her side and threw her away, the eternal rolling before she shoved herself up onto her knees and then further, stumbling to her feet. A slender hand pressed to her ribs to soothe the pain and she felt the tar catch in the white fabric, drawing a grimace from Ida as she scrubbed her hands against her fuku in an effort to remove some bit of the tar. She only managed in staining her white uniform, but it was only a small consideration, easily dismissed. Her eyes sought out Bischofite where he lay and she watched him struggle onto his side, her mouth drawing into a line that thinned her lips.
There won’t be a second attempt. I’m never going to be able to work myself up to try a second time… Failure was bitter, but she shook it off, turning her gaze to a wary looking Thraen. The view was startling and it showed on her face as she took a step back, distancing herself from the both of them and the situation as a whole. Time played tricks on her, giving her back things, sights she had forgotten. Seeing him whole and, mostly, unscarred was strange. Especially since she remembered him clearly, covered in blood and tar and other things...
He demanded answers like Bischofite had and it was hard to come up with them. How to explain it…
“It was a mistake.” She said, though it was not the attack that she meant, her voice tired. “Why stop me, Thraen? You’ve tried to kill him before. Is it because its not you doing it? I don’t need the dubious honor… finish it, if that’s what you want.” She waved a hand behind him.
“It has to be now. We don’t have the time to wait…” How much did he remember? Anything? She worried how much she could tell him… if he didn’t remember enough, it was likely he’d think her completely crazy. For moments at a time each day, she wondered the same thing. “Have you been having dreams, Thraen? Especially vivid ones, about things that haven’t happened yet?”
It was an ironic twist, being the one pulled away by Thraen, of all people. Why had he stopped her? His knife last time had spoken clearly about how much he thought a second attempt at purification would work.
There won’t be a second attempt. I’m never going to be able to work myself up to try a second time… Failure was bitter, but she shook it off, turning her gaze to a wary looking Thraen. The view was startling and it showed on her face as she took a step back, distancing herself from the both of them and the situation as a whole. Time played tricks on her, giving her back things, sights she had forgotten. Seeing him whole and, mostly, unscarred was strange. Especially since she remembered him clearly, covered in blood and tar and other things...
He demanded answers like Bischofite had and it was hard to come up with them. How to explain it…
“It was a mistake.” She said, though it was not the attack that she meant, her voice tired. “Why stop me, Thraen? You’ve tried to kill him before. Is it because its not you doing it? I don’t need the dubious honor… finish it, if that’s what you want.” She waved a hand behind him.
“It has to be now. We don’t have the time to wait…” How much did he remember? Anything? She worried how much she could tell him… if he didn’t remember enough, it was likely he’d think her completely crazy. For moments at a time each day, she wondered the same thing. “Have you been having dreams, Thraen? Especially vivid ones, about things that haven’t happened yet?”
It was an ironic twist, being the one pulled away by Thraen, of all people. Why had he stopped her? His knife last time had spoken clearly about how much he thought a second attempt at purification would work.
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“He works for salvation, and it comes in reach. Not supporting that as far as it can go, as long as his will holds, undermines the principle of purification. “ Thraen stood from his crouch, hands held out to sides palms towards her in clear gesture of warding. “It has nothing to do with my hand being the executioner. “
“I’ve spoken to Chronos. She was favorable to try her hand. Hvergelmir may have word from Cosmos. They are both powerful. What one princess cannot do, one who needs not royal form to heal starseeds and tend the very Cauldron, and one who guards the utmost edges, may have the strength to do in unison. “
“He cannot try if he’s already dead. “ The knife had its purpose, before hope was assured. His will in that moment was just so. Surviving, though turned still to trying. We have to try.
It would be ‘one time’ in all the world you didn’t provoke anyone, Alois. That’s probably the strangest news of any of this. I didn’t think you able.
“And no, I nearly don’t sleep. No ‘perchances’ to dream, with what medical science can provide. ” An eyebrow lifted as though to for the question mark intoned in voice. “That was as much my converse with Bischofite himself not much more than a day ago, if even that long. What is it that drives you both to madness?”
“I’ve spoken to Chronos. She was favorable to try her hand. Hvergelmir may have word from Cosmos. They are both powerful. What one princess cannot do, one who needs not royal form to heal starseeds and tend the very Cauldron, and one who guards the utmost edges, may have the strength to do in unison. “
“He cannot try if he’s already dead. “ The knife had its purpose, before hope was assured. His will in that moment was just so. Surviving, though turned still to trying. We have to try.
It would be ‘one time’ in all the world you didn’t provoke anyone, Alois. That’s probably the strangest news of any of this. I didn’t think you able.
“And no, I nearly don’t sleep. No ‘perchances’ to dream, with what medical science can provide. ” An eyebrow lifted as though to for the question mark intoned in voice. “That was as much my converse with Bischofite himself not much more than a day ago, if even that long. What is it that drives you both to madness?”
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Bravo, Thraen. Have a chat with her while I lay out here unable to stand. Don’t mind me. A groan and he shifted on the pavement, sputtering out some blood. “Ze dreams…” Damn this. Damn it all. Why twice? Why do I have to be reduced to ineptitude twice? “I dreamt of burning. And disappointment. And hate. So much hate…” His lungs struggled with the words. It was just as well; what use had he for speech when Ida proved so inattentive to his words?
“Fine, kill me if you so desire. Remember all ze bloodshed… All ze murder and malice I spread when you do it. Let anger fill your strikes until zere’s nossing left but blood and pulp. Zen you will know ze very infection of ‘madness’, Ida.” Yet there you are, so deterred by one of your own kind… Huh. Not like it matters now. Another hacking cough and he wondered if he wouldn’t just die on the spot.
Killing me is as good enough deterrent to that future as my purification. I’m so tired… of that same old song. I cannot march to the tune anymore. I just can’t.
Let this be enough.
“Fine, kill me if you so desire. Remember all ze bloodshed… All ze murder and malice I spread when you do it. Let anger fill your strikes until zere’s nossing left but blood and pulp. Zen you will know ze very infection of ‘madness’, Ida.” Yet there you are, so deterred by one of your own kind… Huh. Not like it matters now. Another hacking cough and he wondered if he wouldn’t just die on the spot.
Killing me is as good enough deterrent to that future as my purification. I’m so tired… of that same old song. I cannot march to the tune anymore. I just can’t.
Let this be enough.
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Well. Bischofite remembered, but Thraen didn’t. That didn’t help her much. Ida made no move towards them, turning a little to present the senshi with a partial side view, rather than a more open front-on posture. She ran her hand, bangle clinking, up her glowing arm, testing the tackiness of the tar in an absent motion.
“I didn’t know you were speaking to the Princesses…” I don’t even know if it matters… you could have done that before, for all I knew, and it failed just the same. I wasn’t involved enough to be sure. Ida’s eyes slid past Thraen to watch Bischofite, her face shifting through resignation to pained remembrance and pity. She wanted to be angry with him… it would have been simpler, but even after all this time, she couldn’t hate him. She wanted to, but she couldn’t.
“You dream of burning because you died by fire, Bischofite. Your own, even, for how ironic that is. Thraen spent his life trying to take you down, him and Kairatos both, and you did yourself in.” She couldn’t help the horrible twitch of her lips towards a smile that had no humor. “That probably explains the disappointment too. I was hoping there for a moment I could end it all before it began.” Her shoulders lifted and dropped in a shrug, so very tired of it all.
“One person to save hundreds would have been an easy trade. I’m afraid I’ve never been good at killing, though. About as good as I am at anything else. What drives us, Thraen…” She said as she shifted her gaze to him, shrugging again in apology this time. “Is we remember what is going to happen. I just remember more than he does. I don’t… expect you to believe me, but I can assure you I’ve not gone crazy. Athene remembers some too, and Liryn.”
“I didn’t know you were speaking to the Princesses…” I don’t even know if it matters… you could have done that before, for all I knew, and it failed just the same. I wasn’t involved enough to be sure. Ida’s eyes slid past Thraen to watch Bischofite, her face shifting through resignation to pained remembrance and pity. She wanted to be angry with him… it would have been simpler, but even after all this time, she couldn’t hate him. She wanted to, but she couldn’t.
“You dream of burning because you died by fire, Bischofite. Your own, even, for how ironic that is. Thraen spent his life trying to take you down, him and Kairatos both, and you did yourself in.” She couldn’t help the horrible twitch of her lips towards a smile that had no humor. “That probably explains the disappointment too. I was hoping there for a moment I could end it all before it began.” Her shoulders lifted and dropped in a shrug, so very tired of it all.
“One person to save hundreds would have been an easy trade. I’m afraid I’ve never been good at killing, though. About as good as I am at anything else. What drives us, Thraen…” She said as she shifted her gaze to him, shrugging again in apology this time. “Is we remember what is going to happen. I just remember more than he does. I don’t… expect you to believe me, but I can assure you I’ve not gone crazy. Athene remembers some too, and Liryn.”
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Alois’ usual fatalism and more characteristic goading floated to ears from behind, He’s not in any danger of passing out at least, with that much venom to spit.
Thraen shifted as Ida did, stepping back towards the fallen General without being wholly willing to remove attention from the other eternal. He’d never yet used his own magic on another ‘order’ aligned person, need or no, and it wasn’t high on his list of necessities to be pressed to. “One person to save hundreds is an easy trade, Ida. But that doesn’t mean that right now is the time for that trade. Or that the time for it will come in his case. “
“There are many theories on time and fate, but no certainty. Whatever is plaguing you both, as mutable as magic makes everything, I doubt the future is stone-writ. “ Thraen stopped next the tar-leaking, dark pile of miserable on the pave. “Bischofite, I’m going to try to help you- check what is broken. Please let me.”
“Ida, unless you want to face me first, you’d best move on.”
Thraen shifted as Ida did, stepping back towards the fallen General without being wholly willing to remove attention from the other eternal. He’d never yet used his own magic on another ‘order’ aligned person, need or no, and it wasn’t high on his list of necessities to be pressed to. “One person to save hundreds is an easy trade, Ida. But that doesn’t mean that right now is the time for that trade. Or that the time for it will come in his case. “
“There are many theories on time and fate, but no certainty. Whatever is plaguing you both, as mutable as magic makes everything, I doubt the future is stone-writ. “ Thraen stopped next the tar-leaking, dark pile of miserable on the pave. “Bischofite, I’m going to try to help you- check what is broken. Please let me.”
“Ida, unless you want to face me first, you’d best move on.”
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As a counterpoint, the future may prove an inevitability. It’s all speculation. I may be damned to survival, or purification may be nothing more than a dead end… Is it not better to die now, then? I’m already so close. It seems no one but I can finish this. We shall see.
“Let her make it, Sraen…” Bischofite struggled to sit up, to drag himself toward the girl to encourage the action, but the ground beneath him swayed so deliberately that he toppled over from hands and knees, further exacerbating injuries incurred. he groaned loudly, wetly, and was loathe to move for a full minute afterward while insurmountable pain slowly subsided. “Let her kill me. It may be ze only way. Zere is no promise…” Only blind faith. Only a road sought by fools.
Ida always had her head in the clouds. Her actions are evidence enough of her disbelief in what I seek. And if she cannot place stock in it…
I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.
I’m sorry, Quenton. This road is better sought by those deemed worthy of the change, and given my appearance, I am not one of them. If the princess herself has to think me capable of the conversion, then I was damned from the start. There are a thousand doubts, and a thousand more per second spent searching for answers. You always deserved better, by that same logic. But… I liked you too much to let you go. You were going to suffer with me.
But we never really suffered at all.
“Enough is broken,” he snapped back to Thraen, though he was in no condition to physically refuse him beyond using the last dregs of his tar as warding material. “Leaf’ me.”
Immer werde ich bei dir sein.
“Let her make it, Sraen…” Bischofite struggled to sit up, to drag himself toward the girl to encourage the action, but the ground beneath him swayed so deliberately that he toppled over from hands and knees, further exacerbating injuries incurred. he groaned loudly, wetly, and was loathe to move for a full minute afterward while insurmountable pain slowly subsided. “Let her kill me. It may be ze only way. Zere is no promise…” Only blind faith. Only a road sought by fools.
Ida always had her head in the clouds. Her actions are evidence enough of her disbelief in what I seek. And if she cannot place stock in it…
I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.
I’m sorry, Quenton. This road is better sought by those deemed worthy of the change, and given my appearance, I am not one of them. If the princess herself has to think me capable of the conversion, then I was damned from the start. There are a thousand doubts, and a thousand more per second spent searching for answers. You always deserved better, by that same logic. But… I liked you too much to let you go. You were going to suffer with me.
But we never really suffered at all.
“Enough is broken,” he snapped back to Thraen, though he was in no condition to physically refuse him beyond using the last dregs of his tar as warding material. “Leaf’ me.”
Immer werde ich bei dir sein.
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Bischofite’s taunts, pushing Thraen to let her pass, only drew a slow shake of her head. Even if he did step out of the way, she’d lost her nerve, she had to admit that to herself.
“You’re on a time limit, Thraen. Maybe purification will work, I don’t know, but if you take too long it won’t matter if it would have or not. Metallia is going to grant him more power and in doing so, bind him tighter. If he makes General-King, there will be no changing that future, no matter how hard we try. The window to change things is very small… and if you don’t remember, then you don’t know how it ended. I do, and I would do anything to prevent that… Does that offer you any kind of a hint how dire the situation is? I always fought against killing officers, even after… everything. I always fought for life and now I’m willing to set my own hands to it.” It pained her, stooping to this. It felt wrong on so many levels. Maybe Thraen had meant Bischofite when he spoke of trade, but she had meant herself… it would have broken her, she knew it. It was a small suffering though, when weighed against the loss of everyone and everything she loved. Maybe the end of this one officer wouldn’t prevent the future she was scared of, but it was a start.
“If he makes it to General-King, hundreds will die and that is a certainty. But, if you’re still set on this, then I will hope strongly for you to make it. I won’t make another attempt, I.. I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I suggest you keep an eye out for the Dark Mirror though, among probably hundred others… Bischofite killed Chariklo’s wife right in front of her, drowned her in tar. She’s a lot stronger than I am, if she remembers anything that happened she’ll be hard to stop.” Ida shook her head restlessly, already regretting having made the attempt. What was she doing? Going crazy, it seemed.
“You know how to reach me if you have questions. I’m aware I’m probably the last person you want to talk to now, but believe me when I say I wasn’t doing this out of some wish for revenge or hatred. I hope wholeheartedly purification works, just as I did before, but I have a responsibility to the people I swore to protect. I did it for them.” She’d probably ******** everything up now, but what was she good for if not that? Hopefully, if nothing else, she’d imparted some urgency to the situation and knowledge of just what was at stake. If nothing else, that.
“You’re on a time limit, Thraen. Maybe purification will work, I don’t know, but if you take too long it won’t matter if it would have or not. Metallia is going to grant him more power and in doing so, bind him tighter. If he makes General-King, there will be no changing that future, no matter how hard we try. The window to change things is very small… and if you don’t remember, then you don’t know how it ended. I do, and I would do anything to prevent that… Does that offer you any kind of a hint how dire the situation is? I always fought against killing officers, even after… everything. I always fought for life and now I’m willing to set my own hands to it.” It pained her, stooping to this. It felt wrong on so many levels. Maybe Thraen had meant Bischofite when he spoke of trade, but she had meant herself… it would have broken her, she knew it. It was a small suffering though, when weighed against the loss of everyone and everything she loved. Maybe the end of this one officer wouldn’t prevent the future she was scared of, but it was a start.
“If he makes it to General-King, hundreds will die and that is a certainty. But, if you’re still set on this, then I will hope strongly for you to make it. I won’t make another attempt, I.. I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I suggest you keep an eye out for the Dark Mirror though, among probably hundred others… Bischofite killed Chariklo’s wife right in front of her, drowned her in tar. She’s a lot stronger than I am, if she remembers anything that happened she’ll be hard to stop.” Ida shook her head restlessly, already regretting having made the attempt. What was she doing? Going crazy, it seemed.
“You know how to reach me if you have questions. I’m aware I’m probably the last person you want to talk to now, but believe me when I say I wasn’t doing this out of some wish for revenge or hatred. I hope wholeheartedly purification works, just as I did before, but I have a responsibility to the people I swore to protect. I did it for them.” She’d probably ******** everything up now, but what was she good for if not that? Hopefully, if nothing else, she’d imparted some urgency to the situation and knowledge of just what was at stake. If nothing else, that.
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“Be still, before you damage yourself more,” It was spoken stiffly as he shifted to a crouch while the General fish-flopped about out of water in trying to be something other than a weapon. Everything as usual. Your dreams tell you he’s going to be a General-King...with his track record of attacking his own people? I do not expect the time limit on that is anytime so dire-soon. Other stupidity he enacts himself with this return of hopelessness in his voice- damn you, Ida. You undo in moments what takes me weeks to build with your consistent wet-blanket ideology and petty martyrdom. Even on the breaking of some light in this mire.
The name was unfamiliar, ‘Chariklo’, and the name of ‘Metallia’ on the lips of anyone not himself or Zirconia was new. As much imply I do not protect anyone, or couldn’t possibly understand such things. Imperious a**. Just...push away that foolishness. She’s stuck in herself and her nightmares of the future. Her nightmares. His nightmares. Prophecies. Whatever they are meant to be. That is two. She intimates Athene as well. It is more than coincidence. Enough to drive them all to distractions and desperations. Sleep as an experiment, dreamed sleep, a necessity. Nothing so desperate as days as reaches into the future, but it does bear notice.
Stay calm.
Think. Then Act.
“If you mean for contact to be open honestly, I will message you later. “ Probably just as well with trying to apply first aid to a tar-flailing, wounded, essentially-dragonperson. Insofar as dragons in fiction are like cats. Who knows how many cuts and burns we’re all coming away from this with.
Thraen hovered a hand over Bischofite’s wing before settling it carefully down to pet in approximation of comforting motion. “If time is short, then we accelerate contacts and arrange things as soon as may be. “
The name was unfamiliar, ‘Chariklo’, and the name of ‘Metallia’ on the lips of anyone not himself or Zirconia was new. As much imply I do not protect anyone, or couldn’t possibly understand such things. Imperious a**. Just...push away that foolishness. She’s stuck in herself and her nightmares of the future. Her nightmares. His nightmares. Prophecies. Whatever they are meant to be. That is two. She intimates Athene as well. It is more than coincidence. Enough to drive them all to distractions and desperations. Sleep as an experiment, dreamed sleep, a necessity. Nothing so desperate as days as reaches into the future, but it does bear notice.
Stay calm.
Think. Then Act.
“If you mean for contact to be open honestly, I will message you later. “ Probably just as well with trying to apply first aid to a tar-flailing, wounded, essentially-dragonperson. Insofar as dragons in fiction are like cats. Who knows how many cuts and burns we’re all coming away from this with.
Thraen hovered a hand over Bischofite’s wing before settling it carefully down to pet in approximation of comforting motion. “If time is short, then we accelerate contacts and arrange things as soon as may be. “
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Chariklo? Chariklo… Where have I heard that name? A shaky hand drew to mask, half-searching for a fracture never found, never there. Chariklo… She came to… Someone’s aid. Someone… I can’t remember who. Does it even matter? These memories, what splintered few remain of them… How much of them are constants? Ida speaks of Chariklo. The… Dark Mirror princess. We share at least that dream-memory. If everyone remembers, then I am doomed by actions I have not yet committed.
But Thraen doesn’t remember. Maybe…
No, there’s no use in pursuing such tentative threads. I just want to lay down and die.
The touch shocked him out of inner monologue by pain of touching broken bone. The initial attempt to draw back only provoked more pain and irritation. Eventually he lapse to the cold pavement in a loose position, each shallow breath stirring a shed leaf precariously close to his face. With measured breaths, he meted out what he could in reference to the events that drove Ida.
“She is right… Some sings escape me, but I remember enough to know zat I was a living, breaz’ing meat grinder for ze Negaverse. I remember ze disappointment I harbored for it… Ze current times. Whatever zey were. I remember… Ze sound of bones clacking togezzer wherever I walked. I sink… I tied bones to ze back of my uniform? Bones of my victims… And zere were many.” Quenton admonishes me now for how messy I am with tar. If he stuck around long enough, he’d encounter true futility with those bone wings. The thought is amusing, if not infinitely more saddening. Where was he?
Will I dream of what became of him some other night?
“Sraen… You intended to kill me before. You very nearly did. Do you remember? As’ene was zere.” One of the few with memory of these events, it sounds like. “You should haf’ no qualms about doing away wis’ me zen. I don’t want to keep fighting zis impossible ******** uphill battle. Do what she cannot.”
But Thraen doesn’t remember. Maybe…
No, there’s no use in pursuing such tentative threads. I just want to lay down and die.
The touch shocked him out of inner monologue by pain of touching broken bone. The initial attempt to draw back only provoked more pain and irritation. Eventually he lapse to the cold pavement in a loose position, each shallow breath stirring a shed leaf precariously close to his face. With measured breaths, he meted out what he could in reference to the events that drove Ida.
“She is right… Some sings escape me, but I remember enough to know zat I was a living, breaz’ing meat grinder for ze Negaverse. I remember ze disappointment I harbored for it… Ze current times. Whatever zey were. I remember… Ze sound of bones clacking togezzer wherever I walked. I sink… I tied bones to ze back of my uniform? Bones of my victims… And zere were many.” Quenton admonishes me now for how messy I am with tar. If he stuck around long enough, he’d encounter true futility with those bone wings. The thought is amusing, if not infinitely more saddening. Where was he?
Will I dream of what became of him some other night?
“Sraen… You intended to kill me before. You very nearly did. Do you remember? As’ene was zere.” One of the few with memory of these events, it sounds like. “You should haf’ no qualms about doing away wis’ me zen. I don’t want to keep fighting zis impossible ******** uphill battle. Do what she cannot.”
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The eternal shuddered as Bischofite spoke, remembering. He’d chased her down an alleyway as a civilian, making a game of her death… she remembered the clatter of bones and the spires that had shot up out of the pools of tar he left behind. The fear was nearly overwhelming, but she bit down on her lip until she tasted metallic, firmly taking control of the panic. Panic wouldn’t help right now, if it ever did. Panic didn’t get the wounded cared for, stitch up split flesh or set bone. She could do this, she’d done it before.
“That’s why we have to find another path.” She said softly. “Which ever way it goes. We can’t afford to go down that one. I have a history of poor choices, I won’t pretend I’m any good at it.”
At least Thraen understood the urgency. This was a poor way to go about it, but at least there was that. It was something. She was going to have to reevaluate some things now though. Maybe this wasn’t the way to go about affecting change… Maybe she was just afraid to face the fact it was herself that needed to be removed from the equation. If she wasn’t there to make the choices, then the mistakes wouldn’t happen. Maybe it wasn’t that she needed to do something, but that she needed to not do something. Remove the broken part, rather than fix it? Replace it with something that did work. It was possible.
“I can promise open and honest communication from me, to the best of my abilities. Its little enough to offer, but its all I have.” Ida backed away again, becoming aware once more that her arms were on fire and some of the scrapes had gone deep enough for blood. At least now she didn’t have to worry about hiding it from her family… if anything, Athene would help her clean up and bandage her arms. What was it they’d used, back at camp… oil? And… something abrasive… it was hard to remember. She left silently, afraid of what she’d started, but finding it hard to regret that she’d tried. Her reasons were sound, even if she’d flubbed it as bad as everything else.
“That’s why we have to find another path.” She said softly. “Which ever way it goes. We can’t afford to go down that one. I have a history of poor choices, I won’t pretend I’m any good at it.”
At least Thraen understood the urgency. This was a poor way to go about it, but at least there was that. It was something. She was going to have to reevaluate some things now though. Maybe this wasn’t the way to go about affecting change… Maybe she was just afraid to face the fact it was herself that needed to be removed from the equation. If she wasn’t there to make the choices, then the mistakes wouldn’t happen. Maybe it wasn’t that she needed to do something, but that she needed to not do something. Remove the broken part, rather than fix it? Replace it with something that did work. It was possible.
“I can promise open and honest communication from me, to the best of my abilities. Its little enough to offer, but its all I have.” Ida backed away again, becoming aware once more that her arms were on fire and some of the scrapes had gone deep enough for blood. At least now she didn’t have to worry about hiding it from her family… if anything, Athene would help her clean up and bandage her arms. What was it they’d used, back at camp… oil? And… something abrasive… it was hard to remember. She left silently, afraid of what she’d started, but finding it hard to regret that she’d tried. Her reasons were sound, even if she’d flubbed it as bad as everything else.
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Thraen shifted from just petting to slowly feeling along the wing anatomy for what was broken- the strange not bird, not bat feverdream that was attached to his back and likely rapidly becoming a swollen mess. “ I remember. That hasn’t changed, should the need be. “
“Keep fighting, Bischofite. You have help. If you believe you cannot, that will be the truth. If you believe you can, that will be the truth. Impossibility, when dealing with magic, is only defined so far as we are willing to Dare. “ He lifted eyes in that it was as meant for Ida, standing there, fidgeting, floundering in whatever it was that hemmed her in. As any of us dare. So lets dare in spite of ourselves most of all and find the solution.
Thraen let it go at that with Ida. There was no use wasting more breath trying to shore them both up in that very moment- she needed to go find someone or someone’s she’d feel safe near to be able to function again in more than a self-depreciating waterwheel, and he needed to get Bischofite stabilized and seen to. The chances of better-than-field-manual medicine were slim to none, probably. And no telling whether a doctor or a veterinarian would do better by you. The answer is ‘yes.’
The sound of heels on macadam and concrete was welcome.
“Keep fighting, Bischofite. You have help. If you believe you cannot, that will be the truth. If you believe you can, that will be the truth. Impossibility, when dealing with magic, is only defined so far as we are willing to Dare. “ He lifted eyes in that it was as meant for Ida, standing there, fidgeting, floundering in whatever it was that hemmed her in. As any of us dare. So lets dare in spite of ourselves most of all and find the solution.
Thraen let it go at that with Ida. There was no use wasting more breath trying to shore them both up in that very moment- she needed to go find someone or someone’s she’d feel safe near to be able to function again in more than a self-depreciating waterwheel, and he needed to get Bischofite stabilized and seen to. The chances of better-than-field-manual medicine were slim to none, probably. And no telling whether a doctor or a veterinarian would do better by you. The answer is ‘yes.’
The sound of heels on macadam and concrete was welcome.
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I used to love stacked odds. Now I only find discouragement wherever I turn. What happened to me? Disowning chaos… Would it incur so much damage? I don’t know.
Bischofite sized into a wince, choking out a grunt when Thraen’s hand combed for a break. He offered no physical deterrent for doing so. “It is as hard as having fais’.” And it is having faith, even without religion. Purification is an act of trust, isn’t it? Trust from the royal acting on corruption, trust from those resigned to assist with the transition, and trust in the reasoning behind that desire - in the future that may come of it. So much is resigned to trust. But… All that remains is to remember it.
Ida… These dreams clipped away so much.
The creature remained a heap of feathers and cloth for several long moments, loathe to drag himself from introspection. Sitting up felt equally abhorred, if not more so. Faith and destiny and magic… If only I could wash it all away, retrace my steps to the origin. It’s been so long since I first moved here, now.
Everything hurts, and I’m getting dizzier by the second.
“Okay, look,” he started, trying to gaze upward toward Thraen with no success. “If you’re not going to kill me, zen help me leaf’ zis place. It will be a long and arduous road…” One loaded with fractured ribs and contusions on his skull, to say the least.
Bischofite sized into a wince, choking out a grunt when Thraen’s hand combed for a break. He offered no physical deterrent for doing so. “It is as hard as having fais’.” And it is having faith, even without religion. Purification is an act of trust, isn’t it? Trust from the royal acting on corruption, trust from those resigned to assist with the transition, and trust in the reasoning behind that desire - in the future that may come of it. So much is resigned to trust. But… All that remains is to remember it.
Ida… These dreams clipped away so much.
The creature remained a heap of feathers and cloth for several long moments, loathe to drag himself from introspection. Sitting up felt equally abhorred, if not more so. Faith and destiny and magic… If only I could wash it all away, retrace my steps to the origin. It’s been so long since I first moved here, now.
Everything hurts, and I’m getting dizzier by the second.
“Okay, look,” he started, trying to gaze upward toward Thraen with no success. “If you’re not going to kill me, zen help me leaf’ zis place. It will be a long and arduous road…” One loaded with fractured ribs and contusions on his skull, to say the least.
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“That would be the goal. Stabilize the injury first- which means needing to know where the breaks in the wings generally are. And that your spine is not fractured. Or your skull. If they are, rigging you to something. Between us we should have enough cloth for ties. Hold still for now, then once we have that, work with me as best you can. “
Tree branches, again, like Medea. Or street detritus, at need. Once he’s rigged up and stabilized, where do I take him? Can’t be home. Can’t be the safehouse. Someplace ….access to water, hidden for the most part, but easy to access in and out to deliver fresh supplies or launder dirtied ones. Infection is the biggest thread in all injuries, once shock is dealt with. One of the dorm attics? Its midterms-ish. Everyone well moved in, no need to be going there until christmas when furniture is being exchanged.
“Alright. I have a plan. “
Tree branches, again, like Medea. Or street detritus, at need. Once he’s rigged up and stabilized, where do I take him? Can’t be home. Can’t be the safehouse. Someplace ….access to water, hidden for the most part, but easy to access in and out to deliver fresh supplies or launder dirtied ones. Infection is the biggest thread in all injuries, once shock is dealt with. One of the dorm attics? Its midterms-ish. Everyone well moved in, no need to be going there until christmas when furniture is being exchanged.
“Alright. I have a plan. “
