Post by Lady Hammer on May 22, 2007 20:48:29 GMT -5
Sorry for the length... 13 pages in Works. xD But that's ok. It's a good read.
XII. The New Contract
Vaskio contained a lingering scent of downfall. A scent comprised of emotional stress, defeat, fear, and locked doors. It was heavy in the air, heavy like burnt food, and sweet and sour at the same time. Something was wrong with the city, and Adia could see it in the people passing by. They hardly even noticed her, but glanced sadly at the ARC building’s bolted shut doors, trudging on by. Trudging on by. She held the crumpled paper in her hand tightly.
No one heard her at ARC’s front door, but right as the petty mage’s hand was ready to knock again, a loud rustling in the bushes sent her a step back.
“Hello?” There was still silence. Adia let her hand fall back to her side and scanned tentatively the hedges lining the building’s perimeter. They served badly in their aesthetic function, but someone was there.
The trouble with a city’s tragic downfall was that no one was safe from thieves, and Adia’s blood boiled at the thought of finding nothing short of some dirty fingers taking advantage of the unfortunate fate. Something had happened to the city in her short leave, and she vaguely remembered feeling it before being on her way to Theshol, too. She wanted answers. Then, suddenly, a figure crept over to her, as shocked with finding her body as she was with his.
“Oh hell!” was all he could say before stumbling back into the bushes and running off. Adia stood there, half amused and half shocked. The man wasn’t tall, he wasn’t short, but he was memorable. Long black hair, silky straight, and a crooked nose.
A sense told her she’d see him again. But, before that sense had time to linger for much longer, all of the locks on the front door before her came undone, and the door cracked just enough for a voice to reach the mage.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t shelter the homeless.”
Adia’s fury rose like a bubbling volcano, hearing the other female voice. As grimy as she appeared, with knots in her hair that she couldn’t comb out with her hands and oily skin on her face, she hardly thought she looked homeless.
“Excuse me? I come all this way with ARC in mind and good intentions in heart, and all you can do is downsize me?” Adia shoved the crimpled piece of paper into the hand of the woman on the other side of the door. “Put that in your pipe and shove it, you pompous, snooty little…”
Aeslyn’s silence was a giant black spider hanging above, weaving an immortal web. Her eyes read over the contents of the paper, and immediately watered.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, opening the heavy door. She offered her hand to Adia.
“It’s about time…” she mumbled under her breath. The long hallways were marvelous, however, and the mage couldn’t stay in a crabby mood for very long. Glorious statues guarded the door, and the walls were glossy, reflecting the grand, tile floors. While Adia’s worn boots made hardly a sound, Aeslyn’s new heels clunked with every step she made.
“So who’re you?” the mage asked, rubbing her arm idly. Aeslyn raised her eyebrow.
“Who am I?” she said, taken aback. “What do you mean, ‘who am I’? You’re the guest! Who are you?”
“I just asked because you obviously aren’t one of the ARC men!”
“Oh? And what if I was?”
Adia didn’t feel like arguing. Aeslyn was apparently just as adamant about a subject as she was.
“My name is Adia, and you’d better watch it, because I can cast ‘festering boils’!” Aeslyn’s laughter wasn’t comforting in the least bit.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep a memo. Signed ‘Aeslyn’.” The woman led Adia to the Communion Room - a large area of ARC dedicated towards important matters. This was obvious once the mage laid her eyes upon the 12-chair table in the center.
“Stay here. I’ll be back with Heywood.” And then, she left.
If Death was your own image staring back at you in a million shards of the Mirror of Life, then what was Loneliness, Phio wondered? A child? She was a woman with only dismal skin on her bones, her head cold and bare. As Phio built the image of Death’s damned child in his mind, Loneliness came to him with Centa’s warm, brown eyes, only their warmth was quickly fading, soon matching the steely gray of Loneliness’s skin.
The ARC man looked down at his fallen partner’s body resting on a large line of hay bales. The room, dubbed as a ‘hayloft’, was oddly one that the two liked. It served no real purpose except as a sort of otherworldly place to relax. It filled the room with a warm, friendly scent, sweet like fresh cut grass, and a little bitter like dry leaves. Phio smiled, reminiscing about all the times he’d found Centa reading, nestled in his own little nook in one of the corners. That was where Phio had him now, lying down, resting peacefully. Fresh bandages over nicely healing wounds were covered by a clean set of clothes, and Phio made sure to stay watching him as much as possible. Centa hadn’t woken up since he was defeated in the fight with Emilio. By Malynn. The man shook his head of the memory. It had been hard, but he had managed to keep Centa’s vital signs stable with the help of Aeslyn and the city doctor. The stubborn man refused to die, yet he was so hard to wake.
Even so, Death’s second child, Fear, captured Phio in his shadow. He was forced to see Fear’s cloak, comprised of everything he was frightened of, and watched over and over again in the billowing fabric as he broke down over Centa’s cold, limp body. He watched himself cry at seeing his best friend never wake up again.
Why were Death’s children such horrible beings? There had to be a good one in there, somewhere. It made him wonder if Love was a child, or just a sibling to Death. He shook his head of its ramblings and looked at Centa’s figure, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. They had been through too much for him to die. Surely, the great spirits built within ARC’s walls wouldn’t let him die. ARC was like a being in itself. A deity, moreso. And it had plans for them.
And those plans seemed as if they had started with Phio from the very damn beginning. He scowled. Even before he and Centa came to Vaskio.
It was ages ago. Phio was 16, Centa 15. Each boy’s parents conquered by the Black Mist Plague. The Fair Lady Kardis of Azukas was ordered to find a group of adventurers to take with her to complete her trial to become Princess Maiden of the Wood, and Fate had led the elf to them. And Fate would only seem to have her pick the hardest task available to complete.
A curse. It seemed so simple. Daemonic curses usually were. He should’ve been smarter, he thought, but not even he could’ve avoided Fate’s further plans. After a year of following the curse, being led around in circles, Phio finally realized that it was him.
The burning red skin. The strange, violent seizures. It all added up to something so unusual. As he found his quick temper worsening, getting almost inhuman, so did his condition, so he began to undergo ritualistic meditation to keep it under control, secretly learning off of Kardis and her fellow elves. Later, he thought the condition Centa developed could’ve used the meditation more…
Phio couldn’t bring himself to tell Centa of his problems, for fear of the other man’s anger, so he confided in Kardis. Understanding, she had them leave her and her trial, while she became Princess Maiden once all traces of the curse had been tied up, seemingly letting it fade into nothing.
This was how things seemed for a long time. Centa and Phio came to Vaskio taking up jobs as watchmen, and the city, in need of guidance, quickly saw their skill and bravery. So, ARC became. A way to keep the city safe and managed from Chaos. Chaos that became because of Phio.
ARC grew in size as time went on and Chaos came. Curses, powers, secrets and stories accumulated, as did frequent letters from Kardis. All was not well with her, either. And then, the coffins came. And the bell. That damn bell. He couldn’t explain it, and Centa always asked. It was a mistake not telling him in the first place.
The Mistake… Regret… another of Death’s children?
Suddenly, there was a moan.
“Centa!” The man’s warm brown eyes finally opened, and Phio couldn’t help but hug him. “Oh thank God!”
“What happened?”
Phio told him everything, even what he figured Centa had been aware of. He told him of Emilio and his party, and of Aeslyn, Kedo, and the others. Centa nodded as slightly as possible, trying to avoid the exploding pain in his head that still came.
“Will you be okay?” Phio asked him.
“Will you?” Realizing he had started to tear up, the smaller man wiped his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Can you blame me? I thought I had lost you for awhile.” There was a good deal of silence, the quiet spider building its long-paused web, but then Centa gave forth a small grin.
“I would never leave you. You know that.” Phio smiled, too. “Remember? We’re supposed to die together in a dramatic battle.”
“I love you,” Phio said.
“I love you, too.”
From there was a tacit agreement to let Centa rest, and Phio stood, eyeing his friend one last time before leaving.
Aeslyn wanted to fume out of control, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Phio had every reason to be hiding away in one of ARC’s strange, remote rooms. Centa was dead. She had spent the last day and a half trying to console Phio, and he trying to console her, but the both of them were just as melancholy and laconic. Unfeeling, sometimes. He still had hope that Centa was alive, but Aeslyn had accepted that he was dead the moment he hit the ground. Yet, she still had hope that her sister would be out there somewhere. Adia had only brought more hope.
But Aeslyn couldn’t stop hating herself, asking why the hell she let everything happen. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t. If Kedo was out there, she had to be strong and find her. It was all her fault. If she had signed the contract, she told herself, she might still know where everyone was, and Phio wouldn’t be blaming himself for the failure of his contract. Suddenly, she spied him in the doorway of Centa’s library.
“Hey!”
“Is my name, don’t wear it out!”
Aeslyn raised a suddenly infuriated eyebrow and crossed her arms.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “What reason do you have to be happy?” Phio smiled grandly.
“Because. I just figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“Death’s good child. Her name is Hope, and she wears a gown of all the fairest things that we see and feel when we wake up happy!”
“And when the hell did you become a poet? Never mind - I don’t want to know, and it doesn’t matter. Some lady by the name of ‘Adia’ came with something you oughtta see.” She led him through the hallways back to the Communion Room.
Adia had in the meantime been in a trance, staring at the recently lit candles, watching their theater and elaborate plays dance out in shadows on the walls. She could only imagine what they could tell, but her mind’s questions fell short once Aeslyn and Phio came into the room.
“Mr. Heywood!” Immediately, she stood up. “It’s good to see that you’re alright! The whole city has been worried!”
“I’m sure. Things have gotten quite hectic,” Phio answered. Aeslyn still had her arms crossed.
“Yeah, well, if anything stirs up again, you know who you can count on!” Adia said, pointing to herself grandly.
“She can cast ‘festering boils’, so she says. And I think that’s about it…” Aeslyn whispered in Phio’s ear. He nodded.
“I see. Aeslyn said you have something for me?”
“Oh! Yes… I found it when I went to the Lich Tower!” With a slightly shaking hand, Adia handed the man the dirty scrap of paper.
Phio’s reaction when looking over the contract startled Aeslyn. She expected, maybe even wanted, him to be a tearful heap on the floor. Instead, he smiled.
“Death has another good child. A New Beginning,” he said. “Thank you Adia. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have you stay the night here.”
“Hey, anything is better than my dorm room.”
“Good. Aeslyn, would you mind showing her to one of the guest rooms upstairs?” Phio asked, turning to the incensed fire breather.
“Maybe just a little. But whatever, I’m getting paid.” She looked to Adia. “Come on.”
Faces came pelting down like the icy daggers of a snow storm, cutting and piercing her skin. She looked at her wounds to see she was bleeding black. And then, the knell of a bell crashed into her conscience.
Two. Three. Four. Eight. Fifteen.
She couldn’t count anymore, they were coming too quickly, and the faces started chanting. Something about… an Atrium. But the knells and the chanting was too much. She screamed.
October 22nd came with a vengeance. The headache pounding on the inside of Aeslyn’s head was horrible, and she suspected it was the work of Phio speaking in the tongues of poetic justice again. Or her dream. She decided both factors were guilty. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Aeslyn slowly came out of bed, noticing the darkness of her room. It must’ve been no later than five in the morning, and she drew open the curtains of her window to stare at the purple sky. It was beautiful. The sun was still below the horizon, but if she tilted her head just right, she could see the dew on the grass glitter like diamonds. A few large clouds hung high in the sky, and looked almost ethereal. Suddenly, the horizon burst into pinks and oranges, making way for the sun. The clouds were touched with the colors as well, and Vaskio was in one of those picturesque moments she wished she could see forever.
It was time to wake up. Aeslyn dipped into a quick bath, dried herself, and dressed in something painfully similar to her everyday attire. A white top that was raggedy and a little too small for her; a worn pair of leather shorts that she wore underneath a gold gladiator skirt that she made sure she had on every time she did her fire routine on the streets; and her muddy tan boots, just a few days old. One day she’d get new clothes, she thought. And she’d keep them new. Maybe. She fished through her closet for all of the clothes that were too small for her, as she was giving them all to Adia.
She had a lot of clothes that didn’t fit, and it surprised her a little. Regardless, she exited her room, dropped the pile of clothes outside the mage’s door, and left for the communion room.
Sure enough, Phio had woken before her.
“Did you even sleep?” she asked, folding her arms. While he proceeded to draw every curtain and open every window, Phio looked back at her with a cheeky grin. “And don’t you dare answer in a metaphor, or some other bullsh--”
“For course I slept,” he answered. “But not a lot. I had an idea.”
“You’re leaning awful close to a metaphor. I’m warning you.”
“Aw hell, Aeslyn, calm down!” the man said playfully. “Sit.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. I’ve started on a bit of a project, you could say,” Phio went on, scrambling to a scrappy folder on the table, corners of old paper peeking out everywhere. Taking a charcoal pencil from one of the shelves, he sat down and began scanning through his mess. Aeslyn looked over his shoulder in attempt to see what he was doing, but quickly gave up. Phio’s penmanship was equal to what you’d see if you gave a walrus something to write with.
“That’s atrocious, Heywood.”
“I know. How old are you?”
“25-- psh! Why does it matter? What’s going on?”
Then, Adia came into the room, drying her soaking wet hair with an old towel. She was completely decked out in hand-me-downs from Aeslyn, but her bust was stretching out the torso of the short blue dress she was donning. Aeslyn managed to hide a snicker.
“Good morning, everyone!” she greeted, draping the towel over her shoulders. “Thanks for the clothes, Aeslyn.”
“Yeah. Don’t mention it.”
“Nice to see you up, Adia! I had something I wanted you to do for me real quick,” Phio said, scouring around his folder.
“Am I the only one who thinks it’s a little out of the question to be so upbeat right now?” Aeslyn said angrily, clenching her fists.
“Come on, Aeslyn, have some Faith--”
“What did I tell you about those damn metaphors?”
“Okay, okay…” Phio said, handing a roll of parchment to Adia. “Could you post this on the Bulletin Board in Town Square?” Adia first shrugged, and then saw Aeslyn’s eyes shooting daggers and left in a hurry.
The sun had risen lavishly in the sky, waving away the slight overcast around it, and the cold morning was blessed with warmth. Not many people bothered to come outside anymore, however, and everyone who did was drab and dull, droning about their lives.
Adia came to the Town Square and then left, doing her job like she was told, but catching the eye of a young watchwoman. She came over to the Bulletin Board in curiosity, shuffling her boots in the grainy dirt. The woman was smaller and frailer than most other watchmen in the city, and many questioned her skill. Of course, no one would dare start a tiff with someone from the Watchmen’s Academy.
The woman was petite, a perfect ponytail of brown hair tossed over a small cape, and a lantern that soared above her height. Though the crowd around the Bulletin could’ve been bigger, it was a wonder it still didn’t swallow her. Once the woman was at her destination, her lilac eyes perused the newest notice.
“What?”
The watchwoman’s exclamation startled bystanders.
“I didn’t even think the ARC men knew I existed…! Why are they requesting me?” she wondered aloud, making her way in the building’s direction. “Did I do something wrong?” Panic befell Kireina as she caught a glimpse of a strange girl in an alley, the sun reflecting off of her sickly, scarred skin and bright orange hair before she scurried away. The watchwoman was too worried to pursue.
Suddenly, at ARC’s front door, Kireina confronted a strange man in a brown skirt, going away at the front door’s locks.
“It’s a miracle I didn’t hear you from a mile away, you know.” The startled man whirred around, his long black hair stinging his eyes in his haste.
“What? Oh…”
“What do you mean, ‘oh’?” she said indignantly, putting a hand on her hip. “I am a watchman to this place, I’ll have you know!”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Kireina narrowed her eyes and unsheathed her shortsword, quickly driving the long-haired thief in a skirt away. Huffing, she rapped her tiny fist on the door.
Sorry I gotta do this in two parts. xD 'Cause it's too long. SORRY...!
XII. The New Contract
Vaskio contained a lingering scent of downfall. A scent comprised of emotional stress, defeat, fear, and locked doors. It was heavy in the air, heavy like burnt food, and sweet and sour at the same time. Something was wrong with the city, and Adia could see it in the people passing by. They hardly even noticed her, but glanced sadly at the ARC building’s bolted shut doors, trudging on by. Trudging on by. She held the crumpled paper in her hand tightly.
No one heard her at ARC’s front door, but right as the petty mage’s hand was ready to knock again, a loud rustling in the bushes sent her a step back.
“Hello?” There was still silence. Adia let her hand fall back to her side and scanned tentatively the hedges lining the building’s perimeter. They served badly in their aesthetic function, but someone was there.
The trouble with a city’s tragic downfall was that no one was safe from thieves, and Adia’s blood boiled at the thought of finding nothing short of some dirty fingers taking advantage of the unfortunate fate. Something had happened to the city in her short leave, and she vaguely remembered feeling it before being on her way to Theshol, too. She wanted answers. Then, suddenly, a figure crept over to her, as shocked with finding her body as she was with his.
“Oh hell!” was all he could say before stumbling back into the bushes and running off. Adia stood there, half amused and half shocked. The man wasn’t tall, he wasn’t short, but he was memorable. Long black hair, silky straight, and a crooked nose.
A sense told her she’d see him again. But, before that sense had time to linger for much longer, all of the locks on the front door before her came undone, and the door cracked just enough for a voice to reach the mage.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t shelter the homeless.”
Adia’s fury rose like a bubbling volcano, hearing the other female voice. As grimy as she appeared, with knots in her hair that she couldn’t comb out with her hands and oily skin on her face, she hardly thought she looked homeless.
“Excuse me? I come all this way with ARC in mind and good intentions in heart, and all you can do is downsize me?” Adia shoved the crimpled piece of paper into the hand of the woman on the other side of the door. “Put that in your pipe and shove it, you pompous, snooty little…”
Aeslyn’s silence was a giant black spider hanging above, weaving an immortal web. Her eyes read over the contents of the paper, and immediately watered.
October 19th
The following individuals are bound by contract to the tale of the Black Lotus. They are to follow until the curse has been broken.
Phiothilus Heywood - ARC
Kedo Eirstar
Maravandril of Azukas
Anna Schuster
Frederich Bootmann
[/i]The following individuals are bound by contract to the tale of the Black Lotus. They are to follow until the curse has been broken.
Phiothilus Heywood - ARC
Kedo Eirstar
Maravandril of Azukas
Anna Schuster
Frederich Bootmann
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, opening the heavy door. She offered her hand to Adia.
“It’s about time…” she mumbled under her breath. The long hallways were marvelous, however, and the mage couldn’t stay in a crabby mood for very long. Glorious statues guarded the door, and the walls were glossy, reflecting the grand, tile floors. While Adia’s worn boots made hardly a sound, Aeslyn’s new heels clunked with every step she made.
“So who’re you?” the mage asked, rubbing her arm idly. Aeslyn raised her eyebrow.
“Who am I?” she said, taken aback. “What do you mean, ‘who am I’? You’re the guest! Who are you?”
“I just asked because you obviously aren’t one of the ARC men!”
“Oh? And what if I was?”
Adia didn’t feel like arguing. Aeslyn was apparently just as adamant about a subject as she was.
“My name is Adia, and you’d better watch it, because I can cast ‘festering boils’!” Aeslyn’s laughter wasn’t comforting in the least bit.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep a memo. Signed ‘Aeslyn’.” The woman led Adia to the Communion Room - a large area of ARC dedicated towards important matters. This was obvious once the mage laid her eyes upon the 12-chair table in the center.
“Stay here. I’ll be back with Heywood.” And then, she left.
If Death was your own image staring back at you in a million shards of the Mirror of Life, then what was Loneliness, Phio wondered? A child? She was a woman with only dismal skin on her bones, her head cold and bare. As Phio built the image of Death’s damned child in his mind, Loneliness came to him with Centa’s warm, brown eyes, only their warmth was quickly fading, soon matching the steely gray of Loneliness’s skin.
The ARC man looked down at his fallen partner’s body resting on a large line of hay bales. The room, dubbed as a ‘hayloft’, was oddly one that the two liked. It served no real purpose except as a sort of otherworldly place to relax. It filled the room with a warm, friendly scent, sweet like fresh cut grass, and a little bitter like dry leaves. Phio smiled, reminiscing about all the times he’d found Centa reading, nestled in his own little nook in one of the corners. That was where Phio had him now, lying down, resting peacefully. Fresh bandages over nicely healing wounds were covered by a clean set of clothes, and Phio made sure to stay watching him as much as possible. Centa hadn’t woken up since he was defeated in the fight with Emilio. By Malynn. The man shook his head of the memory. It had been hard, but he had managed to keep Centa’s vital signs stable with the help of Aeslyn and the city doctor. The stubborn man refused to die, yet he was so hard to wake.
Even so, Death’s second child, Fear, captured Phio in his shadow. He was forced to see Fear’s cloak, comprised of everything he was frightened of, and watched over and over again in the billowing fabric as he broke down over Centa’s cold, limp body. He watched himself cry at seeing his best friend never wake up again.
Why were Death’s children such horrible beings? There had to be a good one in there, somewhere. It made him wonder if Love was a child, or just a sibling to Death. He shook his head of its ramblings and looked at Centa’s figure, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. They had been through too much for him to die. Surely, the great spirits built within ARC’s walls wouldn’t let him die. ARC was like a being in itself. A deity, moreso. And it had plans for them.
And those plans seemed as if they had started with Phio from the very damn beginning. He scowled. Even before he and Centa came to Vaskio.
It was ages ago. Phio was 16, Centa 15. Each boy’s parents conquered by the Black Mist Plague. The Fair Lady Kardis of Azukas was ordered to find a group of adventurers to take with her to complete her trial to become Princess Maiden of the Wood, and Fate had led the elf to them. And Fate would only seem to have her pick the hardest task available to complete.
A curse. It seemed so simple. Daemonic curses usually were. He should’ve been smarter, he thought, but not even he could’ve avoided Fate’s further plans. After a year of following the curse, being led around in circles, Phio finally realized that it was him.
The burning red skin. The strange, violent seizures. It all added up to something so unusual. As he found his quick temper worsening, getting almost inhuman, so did his condition, so he began to undergo ritualistic meditation to keep it under control, secretly learning off of Kardis and her fellow elves. Later, he thought the condition Centa developed could’ve used the meditation more…
Phio couldn’t bring himself to tell Centa of his problems, for fear of the other man’s anger, so he confided in Kardis. Understanding, she had them leave her and her trial, while she became Princess Maiden once all traces of the curse had been tied up, seemingly letting it fade into nothing.
This was how things seemed for a long time. Centa and Phio came to Vaskio taking up jobs as watchmen, and the city, in need of guidance, quickly saw their skill and bravery. So, ARC became. A way to keep the city safe and managed from Chaos. Chaos that became because of Phio.
ARC grew in size as time went on and Chaos came. Curses, powers, secrets and stories accumulated, as did frequent letters from Kardis. All was not well with her, either. And then, the coffins came. And the bell. That damn bell. He couldn’t explain it, and Centa always asked. It was a mistake not telling him in the first place.
The Mistake… Regret… another of Death’s children?
Suddenly, there was a moan.
“Centa!” The man’s warm brown eyes finally opened, and Phio couldn’t help but hug him. “Oh thank God!”
“What happened?”
Phio told him everything, even what he figured Centa had been aware of. He told him of Emilio and his party, and of Aeslyn, Kedo, and the others. Centa nodded as slightly as possible, trying to avoid the exploding pain in his head that still came.
“Will you be okay?” Phio asked him.
“Will you?” Realizing he had started to tear up, the smaller man wiped his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Can you blame me? I thought I had lost you for awhile.” There was a good deal of silence, the quiet spider building its long-paused web, but then Centa gave forth a small grin.
“I would never leave you. You know that.” Phio smiled, too. “Remember? We’re supposed to die together in a dramatic battle.”
“I love you,” Phio said.
“I love you, too.”
From there was a tacit agreement to let Centa rest, and Phio stood, eyeing his friend one last time before leaving.
Aeslyn wanted to fume out of control, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Phio had every reason to be hiding away in one of ARC’s strange, remote rooms. Centa was dead. She had spent the last day and a half trying to console Phio, and he trying to console her, but the both of them were just as melancholy and laconic. Unfeeling, sometimes. He still had hope that Centa was alive, but Aeslyn had accepted that he was dead the moment he hit the ground. Yet, she still had hope that her sister would be out there somewhere. Adia had only brought more hope.
But Aeslyn couldn’t stop hating herself, asking why the hell she let everything happen. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t. If Kedo was out there, she had to be strong and find her. It was all her fault. If she had signed the contract, she told herself, she might still know where everyone was, and Phio wouldn’t be blaming himself for the failure of his contract. Suddenly, she spied him in the doorway of Centa’s library.
“Hey!”
“Is my name, don’t wear it out!”
Aeslyn raised a suddenly infuriated eyebrow and crossed her arms.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “What reason do you have to be happy?” Phio smiled grandly.
“Because. I just figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“Death’s good child. Her name is Hope, and she wears a gown of all the fairest things that we see and feel when we wake up happy!”
“And when the hell did you become a poet? Never mind - I don’t want to know, and it doesn’t matter. Some lady by the name of ‘Adia’ came with something you oughtta see.” She led him through the hallways back to the Communion Room.
Adia had in the meantime been in a trance, staring at the recently lit candles, watching their theater and elaborate plays dance out in shadows on the walls. She could only imagine what they could tell, but her mind’s questions fell short once Aeslyn and Phio came into the room.
“Mr. Heywood!” Immediately, she stood up. “It’s good to see that you’re alright! The whole city has been worried!”
“I’m sure. Things have gotten quite hectic,” Phio answered. Aeslyn still had her arms crossed.
“Yeah, well, if anything stirs up again, you know who you can count on!” Adia said, pointing to herself grandly.
“She can cast ‘festering boils’, so she says. And I think that’s about it…” Aeslyn whispered in Phio’s ear. He nodded.
“I see. Aeslyn said you have something for me?”
“Oh! Yes… I found it when I went to the Lich Tower!” With a slightly shaking hand, Adia handed the man the dirty scrap of paper.
Phio’s reaction when looking over the contract startled Aeslyn. She expected, maybe even wanted, him to be a tearful heap on the floor. Instead, he smiled.
“Death has another good child. A New Beginning,” he said. “Thank you Adia. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have you stay the night here.”
“Hey, anything is better than my dorm room.”
“Good. Aeslyn, would you mind showing her to one of the guest rooms upstairs?” Phio asked, turning to the incensed fire breather.
“Maybe just a little. But whatever, I’m getting paid.” She looked to Adia. “Come on.”
Faces came pelting down like the icy daggers of a snow storm, cutting and piercing her skin. She looked at her wounds to see she was bleeding black. And then, the knell of a bell crashed into her conscience.
Two. Three. Four. Eight. Fifteen.
She couldn’t count anymore, they were coming too quickly, and the faces started chanting. Something about… an Atrium. But the knells and the chanting was too much. She screamed.
October 22nd came with a vengeance. The headache pounding on the inside of Aeslyn’s head was horrible, and she suspected it was the work of Phio speaking in the tongues of poetic justice again. Or her dream. She decided both factors were guilty. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Aeslyn slowly came out of bed, noticing the darkness of her room. It must’ve been no later than five in the morning, and she drew open the curtains of her window to stare at the purple sky. It was beautiful. The sun was still below the horizon, but if she tilted her head just right, she could see the dew on the grass glitter like diamonds. A few large clouds hung high in the sky, and looked almost ethereal. Suddenly, the horizon burst into pinks and oranges, making way for the sun. The clouds were touched with the colors as well, and Vaskio was in one of those picturesque moments she wished she could see forever.
It was time to wake up. Aeslyn dipped into a quick bath, dried herself, and dressed in something painfully similar to her everyday attire. A white top that was raggedy and a little too small for her; a worn pair of leather shorts that she wore underneath a gold gladiator skirt that she made sure she had on every time she did her fire routine on the streets; and her muddy tan boots, just a few days old. One day she’d get new clothes, she thought. And she’d keep them new. Maybe. She fished through her closet for all of the clothes that were too small for her, as she was giving them all to Adia.
She had a lot of clothes that didn’t fit, and it surprised her a little. Regardless, she exited her room, dropped the pile of clothes outside the mage’s door, and left for the communion room.
Sure enough, Phio had woken before her.
“Did you even sleep?” she asked, folding her arms. While he proceeded to draw every curtain and open every window, Phio looked back at her with a cheeky grin. “And don’t you dare answer in a metaphor, or some other bullsh--”
“For course I slept,” he answered. “But not a lot. I had an idea.”
“You’re leaning awful close to a metaphor. I’m warning you.”
“Aw hell, Aeslyn, calm down!” the man said playfully. “Sit.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. I’ve started on a bit of a project, you could say,” Phio went on, scrambling to a scrappy folder on the table, corners of old paper peeking out everywhere. Taking a charcoal pencil from one of the shelves, he sat down and began scanning through his mess. Aeslyn looked over his shoulder in attempt to see what he was doing, but quickly gave up. Phio’s penmanship was equal to what you’d see if you gave a walrus something to write with.
“That’s atrocious, Heywood.”
“I know. How old are you?”
“25-- psh! Why does it matter? What’s going on?”
Then, Adia came into the room, drying her soaking wet hair with an old towel. She was completely decked out in hand-me-downs from Aeslyn, but her bust was stretching out the torso of the short blue dress she was donning. Aeslyn managed to hide a snicker.
“Good morning, everyone!” she greeted, draping the towel over her shoulders. “Thanks for the clothes, Aeslyn.”
“Yeah. Don’t mention it.”
“Nice to see you up, Adia! I had something I wanted you to do for me real quick,” Phio said, scouring around his folder.
“Am I the only one who thinks it’s a little out of the question to be so upbeat right now?” Aeslyn said angrily, clenching her fists.
“Come on, Aeslyn, have some Faith--”
“What did I tell you about those damn metaphors?”
“Okay, okay…” Phio said, handing a roll of parchment to Adia. “Could you post this on the Bulletin Board in Town Square?” Adia first shrugged, and then saw Aeslyn’s eyes shooting daggers and left in a hurry.
The sun had risen lavishly in the sky, waving away the slight overcast around it, and the cold morning was blessed with warmth. Not many people bothered to come outside anymore, however, and everyone who did was drab and dull, droning about their lives.
Adia came to the Town Square and then left, doing her job like she was told, but catching the eye of a young watchwoman. She came over to the Bulletin Board in curiosity, shuffling her boots in the grainy dirt. The woman was smaller and frailer than most other watchmen in the city, and many questioned her skill. Of course, no one would dare start a tiff with someone from the Watchmen’s Academy.
The woman was petite, a perfect ponytail of brown hair tossed over a small cape, and a lantern that soared above her height. Though the crowd around the Bulletin could’ve been bigger, it was a wonder it still didn’t swallow her. Once the woman was at her destination, her lilac eyes perused the newest notice.
OCT 22
NOTICE!
Kireina of ARC’s sixth division is to report to the ARC building immediately.
-Phiothilus Heywood, ARC.
P.S. To the city of Vaskio, I’m sorry, but to everyone else, our doors are closed until we can sort things out and get the city back in order. Thank you for your understanding.
NOTICE!
Kireina of ARC’s sixth division is to report to the ARC building immediately.
-Phiothilus Heywood, ARC.
P.S. To the city of Vaskio, I’m sorry, but to everyone else, our doors are closed until we can sort things out and get the city back in order. Thank you for your understanding.
“What?”
The watchwoman’s exclamation startled bystanders.
“I didn’t even think the ARC men knew I existed…! Why are they requesting me?” she wondered aloud, making her way in the building’s direction. “Did I do something wrong?” Panic befell Kireina as she caught a glimpse of a strange girl in an alley, the sun reflecting off of her sickly, scarred skin and bright orange hair before she scurried away. The watchwoman was too worried to pursue.
Suddenly, at ARC’s front door, Kireina confronted a strange man in a brown skirt, going away at the front door’s locks.
“It’s a miracle I didn’t hear you from a mile away, you know.” The startled man whirred around, his long black hair stinging his eyes in his haste.
“What? Oh…”
“What do you mean, ‘oh’?” she said indignantly, putting a hand on her hip. “I am a watchman to this place, I’ll have you know!”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Kireina narrowed her eyes and unsheathed her shortsword, quickly driving the long-haired thief in a skirt away. Huffing, she rapped her tiny fist on the door.
Sorry I gotta do this in two parts. xD 'Cause it's too long. SORRY...!
