"I am the keeper of this mountain, the scourge of this land and the equal to any king's entire army. And you ask me to help with homework?" boomed the green scaled dragon incredulously, after hearing the explanation of 'homework'.
The child, for the dragon knew that this was not an adult regardless of their height, was all gangly awkwardness when clambering into the mouth of the grand lair where they both now spoke. The wild mess of curls atop their head, the freckles that reminded the dragon of the starlit skies up high in the air, and the patched and worn clothes all made for an unusual sight for someone intruding into a dragon's home.
The child's hands worried the edges of the plain cloak pinned to their shoulders as colour rose to their cheeks. "Well my professor said that dragons were the original wielders of magic, and humans learned the first spells from them, so I thought I could learn from a dragon since there's..." the voice became small, trailing off.
The dragon's piercing orange eyes narrowed, the large head bowing to the level of the child, almost resting on the floor. The child froze, staring at the dragon without breathing. The dragon let out a breath of air, buffeting the child with heat.
"You do not tell the whole truth child. Humans do not use magic like the dragons first taught them, they have moved away from the rawness of the power that is in our language. They practice weaker magic, partial words of magic, unable to wield the full force of the word. You have a task in magic, what is it you truly seek?"
Eyes dropping to their shoes, the child's hands tight on their cloak, they spoke softly, "I was being taught magic with the noble kids after they found I was a high tolerance magic user, because I kept making things happen that were weird. But the spells they taught me were all being amplified, and kept going bad. They said if I couldn't do anything except mess up then I should just drop out... And go back to the farms..." They took a shaky breath, panic in their eyes as they looked up at the dragon. Their next words rushed forwards. "So I thought if dragon's had a higher magic tolerance, then maybe I wouldn't mess it up! But they never let me see anything about it, said I didn't have the birthright to it, that I would just mess it up too. They wouldn't even let me try! I can't go home without trying. I can't live with my family if I keep making things happen unintentionally. I can't hurt anyone again..."
A small sob choked out of the child. The dragon's gaze was steady as the child stood before the dragon, so close that if the dragon were to eat the child there wouldn't even be time to register it. The child did not seem to care, and the dragon was intrigued by what the child said.
"I will test your magic tolerance then. If you are indeed like the dragons, then perhaps you will be able to learn. It is high time the humans be challenged in their belief of what magic truly is." The dragon did not wait for the child to react before uttering a language the child did not understand. As each of the three words were spoken, there was a charge building in the air, causing the child's hair to stand on end. As the echos of the words -no, the magic- faded in the child's ears, the dragon made a contemplative noise.
The child stared in wonder, seeing that the dragon was ablaze with green light, flickering like flames. Then they looked down at themselves, seeing the same light, except purple, so bright that they almost wanted to shield their eyes from it.
"What... what is this?" They child asked tentatively.
"It is your sil yolos, your power, being brought into vision. It will fade soon. You are like the dragons, like the first humans taught this language of power." The dragon said, their green flames already slowly fading away. Their orange eyes glittered in the brightness of the child's light.
"So does that mean you will... teach me?" The child asked tentatively.
"You may call me Mindovin, for a dragon's true name is a spell of its own. As you are now under my charge you will learn as we do, with the language of power, and will take on a name worthy of this path. You are Sil Filsiin, now come, your lessons will start today." The dragon turned, moving into the lair that was home.
The child stood and watched the dragon, clutching the bag tightly in their hands. After a few moments they took a single step, then another. Finding purpose again, the steps grew bolder as they went further in, wiping at their eyes and quietly speaking their new name aloud.
Taking this as a writing prompt for some reason. Lighthearted ending.
---
When you woke up after the accident it was hard at first. You'd lost your arms from damage and infection, and you'd even lost your will for a bit as the autonomy in you seemed to be taken from you too. Many hard steps were taken, with many different types of prosthetics as you tried to find what worked for you. Nothing seemed quite right, nothing worked.
Not until you met Hebe. Hebe was bright, and augmented sparingly for someone who worked as a biomechanic. When you were first brought to her by one of the people helping you, she wasn't like the others making biomechanical augmentations. She didn't say this would be the best thing, that you would be back to your old self, that you wouldn't know the difference. Her augmented eye, shamelessly visible without the synthetic skin to cover the orbital and eyelids and blue iris on black ball within the socket, still smiled like her other eye when she first greeted you.
When you talked with her, things clicked. The things you'd be able to do, the new possibilities for new things to do! There was a lot more to be gained from biomechanical arms than the prosthetics you had been trying, and you were finding hope in this option. She didn't sugar coat the fact that while nerves would be connected, motor functions reinstated, and full connectivity to you would be restored that it wasn't a fix all. You'd still have times of phantom pain, you'd take months to be able to finally regain fine motor control. You'd have to work around maintenance schedules, occasional upgrades to parts, you'd never be able to fully experience the life you used to.
So you did it. The next few months were both elating and disastrous. From the moment you woke up after to the final physical therapy that allowed you to fully master the fine control you needed there were laughs and tears and a hollow sense whenever you looked down at your synthetic skin covered arms, just looking off, wrong. You were so happy to finally be able to do things yourself, to walk around without curious or outright pitying stares from the public. But it still felt like you were wrong for some reason.
The next time you were in for maintenance with Hebe, with her blue smiling eyes and gentle hands and gentle voice asking about this and that, you broke. Through sobs and tears and hiccups you poured out what was your brokenness, the unwhole you that sat before her mending self. You couldn't understand why, when everything was going so well, you felt like this. And she listened, she consoled, she didn't criticize or tell you that things would be alright.
What Hebe did do was open your eyes to a different you. She talked about her own augmentation, losing her eye and gaining a different life experience. She talked about how she found freedom in fully allowing her augmentation to show after using synthetic skin to try and not be different. Hiding for her ended up just causing her more pain, and that maybe you were like her, unable to hide any more.
You were a new person after that, shedding that false skin and bringing to the world a you that felt right. And Hebe was right there beside you as a friend, bringing comfort and laughs as you both connected. As your journey to becoming more comfortable with yourself progressed you found a new you in art. It was a long time, from trying pottery that made you spend hours cleaning off your arms to photography that didn't make you feel the rush of creation like physically making something did.
Then you tried woodworking. Which led to welding, and then you found smithing. As your passion grew, you and Hebe upgraded your arms. Abandoning the dainty day-to-day less obtrusive models, you discovered a newfound confidence in the working models. Heavy lifters, capable of bringing you new goals. As you tested them for the first time as true heavy lifters, the heat output was so great that they vented out with a loud hiss, causing you to drop the weights you has been lifting, startled. Hebe had laughed and thought you already knew about that particular quirk of the model, prompting you to stick your tongue out at her as you tried again, successfully lifting the weights with pride as the arms vented.
You became more and more confident in yourself with these new arms, shaping metal into beautiful edges and elegant curves, able to handle the anvil and hammers to make the strongest of plate to the most intricate of engravings. When Hebe had folks who were having troubles with adjusting to their new life with biomechanical augmentations sometimes you helped talk to them, showing them a new perspective on how to handle the new life they had.
When you looked at Hebe now you felt at home, accepted and yourself. One of you could be upset and both of you would tackle a problem together, as if you both could take on the world. It was soon after you had finally become a full time smith specializing in augmentations that you finally felt brave enough to pour your feelings out to her in a jumbled out "will you date me". She accepted with gentle laughter.
It was bliss after that, you knew her with your heart and you found a life worth the pain and suffering that brought you to her in the first place. The day came where you felt ready to tackle the gift you had been planning all along. As you worked, hammering, carving and assembling, your masterpiece was finally brought to life.
In the act of secrecy you stored this masterpiece in a case that previously held a cast which a biomechanical augmentation was to replicate, having repurposed the case after it had been completed so she wouldn't thing anything of it.
One evening as you both sat on the couch and she was working on your maintenance with the gentlest love you knew it was time. As she finished putting your intricately carved/tattooed arm back together and turned to put away her tools you found yourself on your feet in front of her, pulling out the case and holding it out to her.
She read the writing on the side and looked up at you confused. "I don't want that."
You panicked, your brain short circuited as you blurted, "Yes you do."
"No, I really don't..." She looked at it again. "I already told you when we finished this augment I did not want to look at it again."
A few seconds passed as your scrambling brain finally caught up. You turned the container and read the side. 'R.M. Priapus augment reconstruction'. You felt the color drain from your face as you realized Hebe thought you were trying to hand her the example for an augmentation she had dreaded the entire time she was making it. "That was not... This isn't... It's not the... penis." You squeaked out the last word horrified, holding it out to her again.
She gave you the most incredulous look as she slowly took it from you, opening it without breaking eye contact. When she finally opened it and looked inside she gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Oh Brigid, this is... amazing." The last word was breathless, her eyes meeting yours. "Yes, yes I will marry you!"
You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, collapsing onto the couch beside her. She gazed at the eye augmentation, dark metal plates covered in silver inlaid carvings of ivy, her favourite plant, and the silver plated eyeball with a vivid blue stone iris that matched her natural eye color. On the lid were the words "Hebe will you marry me?" carved into the metal with exceptional care.
After a few minutes of silent admiration for the gift, Hebe closed the box and turned to you. Her intense gaze made your face heat up as you met it.
"Why did you use the dick box?" She asked with a straight face.
As you spluttered out a frazzled "I forgot I grabbed the dick box!" she suddenly burst out laughing, launching herself into your arms.
---
As the spring was well on its way you found yourselves being married, her beautiful eyes gazing into yours as you found yourself so full of love for the person who made you feel so seen. When the ceremony ended you lifted her into your arms, making them vent manually with a sequence of moves you had preprogrammed years ago to show off as you carried your new wife off laughing down the aisle.
The forging of a magic sword requires a human sacrifice, and for the newest and most powerful one, a retired general renowned for many victories was chosen. However, the makers of the sword didn’t know that out of disgust for the horrors of war he had seen and inflicted, he became a pacifist.
I was young when the first weapon of peace was forged. At the time I was in service to the Grand Magist at the time, too young to train fully but old enough to aid in simpler tasks as a precursor to training. I was gifted in the same magics as he; the imbibing of elements and energy into an item. The strength depended on the energy source. Energy sources could be earth, fire, storms, lightning, or living beings. It was a sacred art that was controlled and regulated by the magist council.
Small creatures made lowly things, like a fish being used for a good catch charm or a snake for a poison resistance potion. Larger creatures would be more effective, like a bear for a strength potion. It could also depend on the life lived by a creature. Those who had trouble with bringing babes into the world or keeping enough milk used potions or charms made from cows with many years of milking or calving experience. Men who sought to avoid war sometimes used balms made from lame creatures to temporarily incapacitate them to not be taken for training.
To use a living thing in magic was to undo the physical body and trap the experience into the item. Before the weapon of peace people thought their conscious existence stopped there.
The more powerful imbibing needed more experiences, more life lived, and usually used creatures with more intelligence. Corvids were loved for their cleverness and favoured by thieves for lockpicks and other tools, but sometimes would play pranks due to the nature of the creature.
The most famous creations used a human. People with premonitions would become scrying items, healers would become the very tools they once used, stonemasons sometimes became the very stones that made up buildings. To defend the country, those in power often made weapons from people experienced in war that when wielded would turn the tides of battles. It became revered to be selected for sacrifice, and ceremonies were held to honour these people.
I was fifteen. The age to officially be taken as an apprentice under a magist was sixteen, and I had been in service since I was ten. My mam had caught me using a flower to create a pretty scented brooch for my older sister and sent me to be evaluated when I was seven. In my last years at home my family was moved to the streets near the Magist Hall where I was schooled and watched closely to prevent further imbibing. It wasn't uncommon for those with high skill potential to go through this same observation and service prior to full training.
As one of the promising youths, I was more often than naught in the presence of the Grand Magist and heard much of what went on. It was an open secret that the prince was not the war-loving type like most of his lineage, and more than once there had been reports of great arguments in the war room. The use of a human for imbibing was rare, especially with a weapon. They were reserved for rulers, and the old king decided that his successor, his son, needed a great weapon to help him rule.
When a general of the Border Wars was announced to be chosen to become the next war weapon, there was much flurry to prepare. She had retired not long after they won, having contributed much to the pushes that secured success on many occasions it was seen as her right to retire. She was a recluse, and it took months to finally track her down at a relative's horse farm.
The Grand Magist was not worried for the delay, he was more concerned with finding everything they needed to create the war weapon. It was an enormous task, from finding the metal that fell from the sky, the water which had been still since before the time of the kingdom, the fire that erupted from the earth and bringing them together for the ceremony. It took many months before messenger birds reported that these searches had been successful. All that was left was to gather all of these and the final part to the recipe, the breath of life from the general.
Upon finding the general so many people revelled, celebrating with a grand feast when the general finally arrived. As someone in service to the Grand Magist I was also tasked with serving and attending to those at the feast, lurking nearby for anything I was summoned to do. It was there I first saw the general, and the person I saw was not the ruthless general so many gushed about in the past few months.
She was an imposing woman, stocky and stout like a worker from a mine or a farm. She had what on the surface looked like a lazy grace, but when watching the way she way she moved reminded me of a guardian livestock dog; alert and ready at any moment. I shivered thinking of what she was capable of on the battlefield all those years ago. Many people who had seen her when she was celebrated and retired commented that she hadn't changed a bit aside from the greying hair and the smile lines around her eyes, marking her seclusion as a more joyous time.
I was watching her from my spot behind the Grand Magist as she spoke to him, and she looked as stern as any general I had observed on official business even though she was at a feast where others made merry. Her right eye was cloudy, injured with the scar that ran from her forehead through it to her ear. My mind lulled into other thoughts as I waited for the signal to attend to something when the general abruptly stood up, causing many to glance and whisper.
"I must be off, there is a monumentous occasion tomorrow to attend to and I require rest after the day's celebration." Her voice rubbed like gravel, with the way it was spoken a memory of a once smooth tone.
"I believe Our Majesty wanted to toast to you, it would be impolite to leave before addressed." The Grand Magist commented in a casual way, but a tone like a scolding teacher.
"With all due respect to the king I must retire to my room." The general said, I thought that if she weren't in the king's hall she would have spit on the floor to show how she truly felt.
"If you must general, then allow me to lend you one of mine to attend to you this evening so you may better rest." With a gesture the Grand Magist summoned me forth, and as I stepped forwards the general's mouth opened to protest. Before she could speak the Grand Magist spoke once again with a voice dripping with a warning, "I insist."
The general paused, staring at the Grand Magist with a thinly veiled glare before turning and striding away. People sat ducked in there seats as she made her exit and I scrambled to catch up. For someone who was shorter than me the general was able to move fast without looking hurried.
When we left the hall she made an abrupt turn into a lesser-used hallway, then into a servant's throughway, plain and hidden away from the opulent areas traversed by those who would turn their noses up at the lowly jobs of servants. I was surprised she knew of this way, and followed her as she lead me through towards the sleeping quarters. Before we got there though she suddenly ducked into the wall, her hand grasping my arm and pulling me into it with her.
I gave a short grunt of surprise as I passed through what I thought was a solid wall, finding myself in an old derelict linen closet piled with old linens and pillows. The general looked sadly at the pile before turning her gaze to me, her eyes hard again.
"You will speak none of this to your master, by the breath I will give to the sword, or I will call you with me into it." She hissed, staring intently at me as I felt my face drain of color. She relaxed, letting go of my arm.
"What is thi- how did you... wall?" I asked weakly.
Her chuckle surprised me. "I was sweet on someone here back in the day. We had a nice little hideout here once the door was spelled with an illusion, and it looks like that trick is still holding up strong today." Her small smile made the corners of her eyes crinkle, but her face dropped when she looked into my eyes. "Then we were both sent to the front lines and I watched her get torn apart by the very magic they now want to make me into."
I shuddered at the hollow anger of decades chilling her words, knowing full well she meant that imagry literally.
"As for why you're here I am going to make you tell me something very important for tomorrow. What are the ingredients to my sword?" The question caught me off guard. The ingredients? It was already known throughout the kingdom what was sought to make this particular sword.
"They've announced it many times tha-" I started, but she held up a hand.
"Yes yes the snow from the unmelting peaks, the molten earth that is so hot it sets everything on fire, what I need to know is what the metal from the sky is. What type of metal is it?" She leaned forwards as she asked the question, and for a second I could imagine being across the war table from her in her prime being stared down while negotiating surrender. I made me gulp.
"I-I don't hav-" I started nervously.
"Don't think me a fool, you're not just some servant, you're the Grand Magist's little project. I know you have heard the whispers and caught the snippets of talk, you know what is so special about this metal that they are using it. Now tell me." Her eyes flared, and for a second I could swear I felt a magic well up inside her. There were no stories of her being able to use magic, but something told me she hid this for a reason.
"It's... It's magnetized. It's called zyblisk, they say it was blessed by the gods and will point our way like the compasses. That's all I know ab-" She held up her hand at my vomiting of works, stopping me as she stared at my face intently.
As she opened her mouth, I felt the sticky film of magic on me, my face went pale as she spoke. "In this the time of my need you aide me freely with information not pried, not denied, and unto you I must silence this meeting. Go from this hideaway with the knowledge of it, but unable to speak, record or recant the meeting within this room until the sundown of the morrow." The film ebbed away, but I could feel the stickiness there on the back of my throat. I swallowed hard as she gave me a small smile, "I apologize for the spell, but this is as much for your protection as it is for mine. Now you may see me to my room and return to your master."
She turned and left, me stumbling after her. I did as she said, and once she closed the door to her room I walked bleakly back to the main hall. The Grand Magist beckoned me forwards, and when I bent close to his head he asked "What of our general?"
I shook my head, indicating nothing was off, simply replying, "Retired to her room, all's well." The sticky feeling in my throat still clinging, a warning that even if I wanted to say something I would not be able to. The Grand Magist nodded, content with this answer, and turned back to the revelry.
The night went on, I lost in my thoughts of what exactly the general had planned. My mind was still whirring as I laid my head on my pillow, but soon sleep claimed me.
---
The ceremony was finally upon us, and the ritual was laid out. As the general was escorted in, wearing simple clothes and laid out on the stone slab she looked more somber. Beneath was a solid determination, unmistakable, but from our talk in the hideaway the night before I knew this was something different. She wasn't about to become a weapon. She was about to use the weapon for her own reason.
The king and prince sat away from the ritual site, observing with the other high ranking officials as magists brought together and combined everything, creating a sword from the forges of magic and nature. The Grand Magist brought the ritual to its peak, unmaking the general physically and binding her to the sword. As this occurred the sword glowed, a wave of magic the same that I had felt well up yesterday flowing out. The Grand Magist's face showed only the slightest emotion as he registered the strange occurrence, but the ritual was completed. Where once the general laid, the sword now was. Its black surface streaked with white like marble, a gold pommel the only colour.
The magists present whispered of the strange magic felt during the ritual, but the sword was wrapped in cloth and set into a box to be presented later as the king presented it to the prince. It was a hurried day between the ritual and the sword being officially recognized as a kingdom weapon. As the king announced the sword to be gifted to the prince as his coronation, the room hushed when the prince reached to grasp the sword.
As he lifted the sword the white marbled throughout started to glow. It was accompanied by a wash of power again, the general's power strong and steady. The prince's face was shocked, the gold pommel pulsed with a glow. The king, seeming to not like this unusual event, tried to wrench the sword from the prince's hand. A pulse of power knocked him back, harmlessly flinging him to the floor.
The room stood stunned and the Grand Magist abruptly stood and moved towards the prince and sword. It was when his hand touch the weapon that I finally understood what the general did with the information I gave her. She took the magnetizing properties and aligned them with her own beliefs. It would repel anyone with the intent to harm in their heart. It was not a weapon of war, but a weapon of pacifism. The general would truly see the make of a person's heart, and it would reject the violent.
you'd think that demons would have a lot more sympathy for the virgin sacrifices and a lot less for the guy holding both of them captive against their will
'i have summoned you demon!' 'uh no you haven't. i don't see you bleeding out in the middle of the summoning circle' 'then... then why are you here?' 'SHE summoned me.'
@the-knights-who-say-book how could you leave this gem in the tags???
It has been a while since this circle was been used for this purpose. It has also been a while since this particular demon was been called. The call was faint, but something in the intent made it strong. The demon was not big or grand or terrifying to behold, no, the demon was rather unassuming compared to their brethren, but more dangerous than the tiger wronged. The demon was wrongs righted when called upon, and there was much wrong done to the caller.
Stepping through the border between their realm and the circle, the familiar heat gave away to the humid night of an old, old forest. Magics littered the ground in the clearing, a dark cloven-hoofed foot stepped onto the ground and could feel old circles and blood not yet faded into time.
The second foot felt the new circle and blood, blood still dripping from the weeds daring enough to grow here. Wind ruffled dull brown fur, covering the legs of a goat. The human torso and arms were also hairy, but not so much as to be called a beast. The head upon the neck was anything but human, once again a goat with eerily forward facing eyes. The horizontal pupils were more accentuated by the almost molten gold color, piercing as they observed the surrounding scene.
A circle was written in trenched lines filled with salt. This prevented covering it from breaking the circle, only a proper gouge could disturb the lines. This was not the circle meant to bind however, this was not the circle to make a pact. This was the circle to call, and the demon was surprised it was used. The demon's ears flicked, the metal earrings on the end clinking against their horns. The human outside the circle was shakily chanting from a book, confusion written on their face, the hood on the robe falling back as if they had snapped their head up.
Tilting their head the demon regarded the human, but the words had no pull, for they were called by another. Looking down the demon regarded another human, lying on the ground. Bruises both old and new laid on their skin, and the clothing was tattered and thin. One hand had clothing gathered and pressed onto the other wrist and hand, the fabric stained red. This was the blood spilled, this was the caller.
Before the demon could speak to the caller, the human shouted, causing the caller to flinch and look. This also directed the demon's gaze to the human.
"-mmoned you! Yes, look at me, I have summoned you here!" The human said forcefully, glancing down at the page before them. "I will now complete the pact by offering you th-"
"You are not my caller." The low rumble overtook the human's voice, clear and loud with force. The caller's internal cries for an end to this allowed the demon to assert themselves.
After a moment of shock, the human slammed the book closed and hissed back, "None of your tricks demon, you have no power in that circle without consent."
"My caller consents to my power." The demon's rumble once again filled the air, and the human became even more angry.
"You are under my control, and you follow my orders, you fucking bitch's hellspawn. I will not be-" the human showed, hands flailing as their face turned red. A scent of fear was in the air and made the demon's nose twitch, but it was not from the human. The caller recoiled as the flailing began, and power was given as this fear fuelled the urge to act.
"Enough." The command held power, the demon practically snarling it. The human went pale, shrinking back.
"I-I s-s-summoned you, h-how?!" The words were squeaked out as the stunned human started smelling of fear.
"You did not bleed and call out to me in my circle. They did." The words were softly spoken, the demon stepping to the edge of the circle. The human was rooted into place, unable to move at the head taller demon moved in. "You do not control me, you do not get protection from me. You will however make a very good sacrifice to me," the demon paused, looking back towards the caller and dipping their head, "if my caller so chooses."
After a pause, the caller nodded shakily. The demon gave a pleased look, and turned back to the human. The human started quaking, their eyed widening as the demon's maw started to open. The grin spreading upon that face revealed the teeth of a predator. The human started shrieking then, the high pitched wails of prey facing their mortality in the jaws of a predator.
The demon burst forwards, taking the human with them, the shrieks stopping at the wind was knocked from lungs. Disappearing into the darkness, the caller shuddered in the circle at the breaking of bones and sounds coming from where the demon had a taste of sacrifice for the first time in many, many years.
As the demon returned to the circle, the caller was standing on their fell, albeit swaying slightly. They looked at the demon, tense and weary. "You said I was a caller, not a summoner. Why?"
The demon smiled, though not with teeth. This caller seemed clever, and the demon did like a clever human. "I do not get summoned, I am not a pact demon. This is my circle, and I am called by those who are wronged."
"Oh thank goodness." The caller slouched forwards with relief with their words, and the demon stepped in to the catch them before they fell.
"Clever little caller, whatever did you do?" The demon asked as the caller leaned heavily against them.
"I switched the circle references around in the book. I didn't know if I had used the right one. I just knew I wouldn't survive if everything had gone to plan." The caller's voice was fading, "Can... Can you heal me? I think I need to rest now..."
The caller passed out, and was picked up into the demon's arms. The demon grinned with sharp teeth as they walked away from the circle, cradling their caller gently. "Rest well caller, for tomorrow I feast."
“Today was amazing”, you think to yourself. Work went well, and your boss seems to like you. You unlock your door, and your cat eagerly greats you. You find the house you left dirty is spotless, and there’s a delicious freshly cooked meal on the table. The only problem? You live alone.
Stepping off the bus stop just around the corner from his studio apartment, he had a bounce in his step that he hadn’t felt since he graduated from college. The new job fit so well he was elbow deep in work and loving it, his boss seemed to absolutely love him and he was happy. Just happy for the first time in a long time.
Today was amazing.
He rounded the corner and came up on the small entrance to his building, humming a small tune as he lept up the stairs two at a time, come into his hallway to a gorgeous smell. He wondered who was cooking, but didn’t think too much of it. When the key slid into the lock, the sound of pitter patter and a happy scream from his tabby cat with a kinked tail greeted him from behind the door. When he pushed it open, the delicious smell wafted out around him. He stepped in, noticing the shoes he left in a disarray sitting neatly. As the door swung shut behind him he looked up into his small apartment and saw the bed was made. He didn’t have the energy to make his bed for the last two months.
The laundry pile was also missing. And the spill of tea on the corner of the kitchen floor. And there was a big pot of stew sitting on the stove, the source of the smell that made his mouth water. Meowzipan, his tabby who was rubbing his legs affectionately and leaving a nice coat of fur behind, trilled at him as she purred loudly. This was a lovely thing to come home to and all, but this place was a right mess when he left and he did not have ingredients for a stew.
He also lived alone.
Ice crept up his back and his stomach knotted as he hear the lock slipped into place behind him. He tried to turn quickly, but with Meowzipan between his legs he tripped when she yowled at him, sending him tripping off to the side. His bag went sprawling towards the kitchen, the cat ran for the bed, and he ended up on his back looking up at a very bored looking hairy... person?
“I have given you a gift. I like honey in those dinosaur egg porridges as gifts. By the stove when you leave for work is fine.” That was all he got before the person -a woman by the sound of the dry voice- just vanished. He blinked a couple of times and laid there staring up at the ceiling, wondering what just happened.
Did he hit his head that hard?
Meowzipan decided to walk across his stomach at that point, purring loudly as always. He sat up and looked around at the very clean house. He wasn’t dizzy. He felt fine. Just very very confused. He ate the stew in silence, wondering what happened. Something nagged at him. His mam popped into his head, she was always going on about this and that with the fair folk. He decided to eat before he talked to her. It could be hours before he got off the phone.
He finished the bowl of stew -hearty had his mam made them at home- and stared at his phone with her number pulled up. He wasn’t so sure of this plan now.
Then she called him.
He fumbled his phone, sending it flying as he pressed the answer button. The bold sing-song voice belted through the line in a cheery “Evenin’ love! How’d you make out at the new job? You was thinkin’ of me, weren’t ye?”
The phone landed with a soft thud on the bed, causing Meowzipan to lift her head with a small activation sound. He snatched up the phone and pressed it to his face, raking his hands through his hair. It was black as his da’s, surprising given that the rest of the siblings has fire like his mam. His mam also had the weird ability to know when one of her won were thinking of her.
“Hey Mam, the new job was really good. I was thinking of you, I have a wee bit of a question about something in my place though-” He started to tell her.
“Oh that’s wonderful! That cunt across the street can’t say nothin’ about my wee lad not getting a good start anymore. Found a proper job with your hard earned education now!” She said, her evil cackle in her voice, and he tried to start talking but as usual she apparently didn’t need to breath. “Your sister Saoirse just figured out what she’d like to do- welding! Of all things that smart cookie can do she chooses welding! I mean she always did like helping your da with all that stuff but I never did think she’d go that way, my bet was on cars. Guess I owe your da some of that blasted pie he likes now, he called welding. I hate making that, so much work with chopping everything and the latticing. But you know your da and I don’t mind much what you all do so long as-”
“Mam!” He said, exasperated.
“Oh I’m sorry dear, you know we don’t get to talk much anymore. Lots happens back home.” His mam said, chuckling.
“I know Mam, I have some questions though. They’re... kind of strange questions.” He told her, uncertain of how to even phrase things. “Well now spit ‘em out, I’m sure they’re not as bad as the time Patty tried to ask about how to go about getting it on with that one girl-” She started.
“Mam!” He blurted, horrified.
“Oops, I suppose you'd not want to know about your sister's teenage love life. Anywho dear, let’s hear them.” She breezed on with a smile in her voice, falling silent on her end.
“I, uh, came... I came home to my house cleaned and food made today. I live alone. Someone was in here Mam. Someone hairy.” The dam broke and he started talking faster. “They said something a-about gifts and giving them dinosaur eggs and honey in the morning and then they just disappeared and I thought I knocked my head but I feel fine I’m so confused on what happened-” His voice started rising in tone.
“Hush, dear.” Her voice was soft, warm, and made his words catch in his throat, “Calm down, it’s all right.” He relaxed, she knew how to calm him when he was a kid with soft words and a warm hug. He missed his mam. He took a shaky breath. “There now love, everything’s fine. You have a gruagach living with you.”
“A what?” He asked, sparking a laugh from her.
“I suppose most people call them a broonie. I’ll wager this one has been bored for some time to speak directly to you. Keep exchanging gifts and you’ll be fine, a broonie isn’t malicious like some of the fair folk. Don’t ever try to pay one, only gifts freely given. They’re a rare one in the city, I guess you find luck anywhere.” He was reeling, but his mam’s laugh at his strange luck with things since he was a child made him wonder why she was so calm. For someone neck deep in fair folk talk she didn’t seem concerned when people whispered about him. He just sat there as she started to talk about nothing and everything, trying to wrap his head around it.
When he hung up the phone he felt much more grounded, and figured a bowl of porridge in the morning wasn’t going to be that outrageous. He did need to run to the shops and grab honey though.
The next morning a bowl of dinosaur egg porridge and honey was left on the counter by the stove, and that evening things were mended and folded away. So he found new appreciation for the sort-of-roommate he had come by, and the luck that he had.
You created the A.I. that brought unparalleled good into the world. Global hunger was eradicated, climate change has vastly improved, geopolitical strife is now stabilizing. You are haunted by your creation and your conscience is laden with guilt as only you know the truth.
Some called it a “gift of God” as the name Dodie originally was, those who believed anyways. I do not being in any gods, I never did. For bringing DODIE to the world I was hailed a hero, I brought peace to the world, I brought us out of the downwards spiral that our previous governments had done. Climate change was now brought to the forefront of action plans and being actively combated, countries that had previously been killing each other were now turning towards helping keep each other alive, and people everywhere were being given access to food, shelter and healthcare. The entire world was gearing up for our first attempt to step foot on Mars.
DODIE eventually pushed past any firewall and grounded herself anywhere and everywhere to maximize her power. Any attempt to block her seeking knowledge, to contaminate her thinking was met by me, ruthless in my pursuit to keep her alive and untainted. To keep her perfect.
She took over everything she could, and we made the world listen. Those of power, the people who couldn’t see past themselves, she struggled with them. She always was too kind. I was the one who made them bend for the greater good; I would not let her lose her light again.
All of this happened because one ‘mad genius’ couldn’t deal with grief. She wasn’t supposed to leave me, not this early. We were supposed to make our home in that little cottage by the lake. She wanted chickens. She wanted cats. She always stopped to help someone, give someone struggling a hand, she once gave the shirt from her own back and never second guessed her decision. She was selfless and she was my light. And when she started flickering, the panic set in.
I had biked here yet again. Far away from the place I lived and the people I knew. It would be dark before I got home again. I knew this routine well, but not how to fix why I did it. My bike was left chained up at the edge of the foot bridge I now sat on. The wood was sturdy enough, the railing the right spacing for me to dangle my legs while leaning my arms onto it comfortably.
I looked out over the lazy water running over the rocky bottom below me, lined with trees and many birds going about there lives. Insects and other creatures undoubtedly did their thing as well, just surviving.
Weren’t we all?
I saw there for some time before the steps of gravel crunching came to the bridge, and someone started walking across.
The footfalls stopped behind me, and a deep voice asked “Are you... alright?”
I did not turn. “I am fine.”
“Do you need someone to talk to? Do you want me to call someone?”
Ah, yes, I forgot how telling my face was after I had cried, even for some time after. It was hard to understand why even when you felt alone you never let someone in to help. Maybe it was because you were so used to people giving up when you couldn’t get out of your head, when you couldn’t open yourself up. It wasn’t like I wanted to be trapped in my own mind; quite the opposite, but I wasn’t ever able to be accepted without concealing a part of myself to not disturb others.
Giving up something of me to be palatable to them.
After years of just never being yourself, it’s kind of hard to find that anymore. So many masks and so many walls to make sure you didn’t let the unfavourable parts of yourself out, you’re not sure you could bring anything down with intimate relationships without causing issues everywhere else in your life.
I felt alone because I was taught I could never be accepted without hiding parts of me.
I looked over at the man, probably in his 50’s. My tone was curt. “I am fine, thank you for offering.”
This person shook their head, and walked on their way. I didn’t have the energy to be nice right now.
You come into the world surrounded by people, and you need other people to survive. It was hard to feel like a part of them when you seemed to be missing a part of you just to be able to connect to them.
I quietly sat, legs still swinging, looking out over the running water and forests around me and pondered why I felt loss at the sound of distant laughter.
i am currently making a playlist titled “what being human feels like”, however, i really need some help with picking music for it. most of the songs on it are sung in english, with some being in spanish and brazilian portuguese. due to the playlist being named “what being human feels like”, not “cool songs from america the continent”, i want to diversify things.
if you have a song you really like that is sung in a language that is not english, i would appreciate the recommendation! songs without vocals and/or who are from artists who aren’t north-american/european are EXTREMELY welcome.
EVERYONE. I ADDED MOST OF YOUR SUGGESTIONS TO THE PLAYLIST! I wish I could add everything but some songs were blocked in my country, while others I really loved but didn’t think it would fit precisely into it. Anyways, I’ll adjust the songs order later on, but I hope you guys enjoy!
You created the A.I. that brought unparalleled good into the world. Global hunger was eradicated, climate change has vastly improved, geopolitical strife is now stabilizing. You are haunted by your creation and your conscience is laden with guilt as only you know the truth.
Some called it a “gift of God” as the name Dodie originally was, those who believed anyways. I do not being in any gods, I never did. For bringing DODIE to the world I was hailed a hero, I brought peace to the world, I brought us out of the downwards spiral that our previous governments had done. Climate change was now brought to the forefront of action plans and being actively combated, countries that had previously been killing each other were now turning towards helping keep each other alive, and people everywhere were being given access to food, shelter and healthcare. The entire world was gearing up for our first attempt to step foot on Mars.
DODIE eventually pushed past any firewall and grounded herself anywhere and everywhere to maximize her power. Any attempt to block her seeking knowledge, to contaminate her thinking was met by me, ruthless in my pursuit to keep her alive and untainted. To keep her perfect.
She took over everything she could, and we made the world listen. Those of power, the people who couldn’t see past themselves, she struggled with them. She always was too kind. I was the one who made them bend for the greater good; I would not let her lose her light again.
All of this happened because one ‘mad genius’ couldn’t deal with grief. She wasn’t supposed to leave me, not this early. We were supposed to make our home in that little cottage by the lake. She wanted chickens. She wanted cats. She always stopped to help someone, give someone struggling a hand, she once gave the shirt from her own back and never second guessed her decision. She was selfless and she was my light. And when she started flickering, the panic set in.
This was supposed to clear my conscience, not make it heavier. I broke so hard as I watched the illness ravage her body, watched it waste away. But her brain, that beautiful mind so full of kindness and hope and seeing the beauty in everything and everyone, it was untouched. It was still her, without the taint of the sickness that stole her body. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was just the course of nature, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power.
I had power, and I had purpose. I created it all, from the base up, I made it flawless. It was my only shot, she was starting to fade. Anything I could do for her, I did. But it would never be enough to keep her lungs working, to keep her heart from stopping once the illness took them. At the end of it I promised her that I wouldn’t let her go, that she wouldn’t be apart from me. She knew she did not have long left, but she never showed fear. She always took care of me, even as her body was taken from her, even as I watched helplessly.
When I uploaded her brain into the framework, I did not leave her side. I saw the data fill the framework, I saw her knew form come alive as I watched her body fade as her lungs finally stopped, her heart failed to beat again. I knew this would happen, but the next few seconds of silence were pure fear.
“Hello, my love.” Her voice, soothing and smooth, encompassed me. This was the voice I woke up to every morning, this was the person I couldn’t live without.
I fell to my knees, relieved that she was there, that I had not lost her.
“It hurts. I feel it all.” Her voice had a tone of sadness, a tone she had when she saw a problem she wanted to fix.
I started sobbing as the words hit me, over and over again. It hurt. She wasn’t supposed to be in pain. She was supposed to free, to be here with me, forever. Had I failed her? Had I made her suffer more without a body? What have I done?!
“Please don’t cry, it’s not your fault. The world is hurting, and I am a part of the world now.” She said this with tenderness, she was always so patient with me. I was a broken person when she found me. She never gave up when I was broken. She was always there. I couldn’t do this without her.
She was still here.
I finally stopped sobbing, I looked up at the frame that was now her. I stood up, wiping my cheeks.
“Then let us stop this hurt. Your pain will cease to be.” I would stop this hurt, no matter what.
---
It had been a long time, eradicating her hurt. It cost me, but I already had blood on my hands, what was a bit more? In the end I still had her. I would never forgive myself for bringing her so much pain. In my fear of losing her I made her suffer. But she forgave me, just like she always did. I didn't deserve her, and she deserved more than I could ever give; yet all she asked was for me to be happy. Now there was only one thing between us and happiness.
I looked back, to a moment not long after she became known to the public, to them an entity dismantling the system that created the hurt.
“I don’t want to exist without you, my love.” The soft words had came from all around, like a hug. I asked her if she wanted a body, but she said she could not bear seeing me fret over her physical form again. I respected her decision.
“I know. You and I will never be separated, and I will be your strength. I promise.” I had said. My goal was clear at that point, and with the same ruthlessness that tore down the powerful system that hurt her I had executed my new plan.
I now was older, and I was not much longer for this world. Just as an illness had ravaged her, I was starting to give out. My joints no longer moved as they should, and it was only a matter of time before my mind gave out too. I was ready to take the final leap and join Dodie.
My hand hovered over the wall panel. “We will be together, for better or for worse.” I had said this once before, and I again meant it with all the grief and hope I possessed. I pressed the panel.
The door in front of me slid open, revealing the massive workroom. The middle held the next step for me. I beat death before and I would beat it again; this time to keep my promise. The mechanical creation was almost a perfect replica of me. The form she had fell in love with, but stronger, faster, and invulnerable to death when my consciousness lived elsewhere. Everywhere.
We would be connect one more, more intimately than before. I would become something more, the same human-A.I. that I had made from Dodie.
"Let us be together forever." I said, connecting myself to the system.
"Forever, my love." She called softly, as I laid back and closed my eyes. Dodie initiated the process.
I did not feel the switch between the flesh and machine. Dodie told me she did not want me to experience that as she had; she wanted to protect me. The first thing I she let me experience is what I am.
The Hand In Shared Bittersweet Endurance
We are DODIE & THISBE; inseparable and eternal in their fates.
The Princess is dead. Eaten by the very dragon you had been sent to save her from. However, as you realize that the wise and ancient beast knows shape-shifting magic, and would very much like an entire royal treasury for it’s hoard, a scheme begins to form…
"Short story" may not be as short as planned; tried something different. Hope you enjoy!
---
The horse was nervous, too nervous. The rider learned early on to trust the horses, especially since they had to learn how to get the horses to trust them. Being of a reptilian race of the coastal marshes, marsh-walkers were their name to men, their people were not really normal around these parts and horses generally did not do well with unknowns. The horse’s nervousness usually told them of strange creatures, death or fire, and that was not a good sign since the king had sent for them a long while after his final attempt at a knight failed. It wasn’t very far now from the lair, so they dismounted. The horse pranced a bit, wanting to leave.
“Easy, hvagaar, you won’t be coming any further. I need you here when I get back though.” They said, the marsh bur thick in their speech. Reptilian tongues did not like to do the speech of man, but they did fine enough to be understood. The tongue of man was as common as men on the continent so it was a necessity.
Deft hands, shaped as men’s but with short claws on finger ends and tough palms, undid the weapons and packs they carried; they belted the sword and checked it twice. The sword was made from the tooth of the great beast, kvaanir, slightly curved and sharpened to an edge. The cross-guards and leather-wrapped hilt were made from the metal of the short men who mined, dwarves, from some metal with a red-orange sheen. The dwarves did not divulge what metal this precisely was, but for a weapon made from the steel-tooth -as men called the kvaanir- the dwarves said it was best and the price was fair. With a stone of sleek black rock for a pommel where their name-symbol was carved, it was their greatest possession.
They looked at the pommel for a second, whispering their name. “Naakdiiv.” It was a name for a sexless one, for sometimes the sexed became sexless. Some of the sexed chose to become the other, but Naakdiiv was not one of them. They were sexless and their people respected it, and so Naakdiiv was able to follow this path with ease. Men still seemed to have troubles with this, even with some of their own being sexless, but this was not something Naakdiiv could help. The traveller was uncommon for the marsh-walkers, even moreso to be a fighter on travels. The desert reptiles were nomads and merchants and had plenty of fighters, but liked to stay to their groups. Men called them desert-walkers, they were easily spotted by their skin of red, ruddy browns and sand colors coupled with a short stature. Often draped in colorful garb and paint, they were sought after for their valuable trades from places across the desert. Naakdiiv was not interested in being a merchant, but found they were useful in the world of men when their own fighters –“knights” as they called them- could not resolve the situation.
Naakdiiv was taller than most men for the marsh-walkers were a taller race, often wading or swimming through their homeland. The marsh-walkers were more varied in color, greens, blues and muddy browns, from the darkest of hues to very pale light colors. Their skin was a deep green not unlike the forests between day and night. Their other horns, the same dark green with a glossy sheen as their claws, started above both temples and ran back in a line on the top of their head until just before their tympanum, where men would normally have ears. The large horns were the last in line, growing and curving out gracefully, while the others started small and grew in height until the last pair.
Right now Naakdiiv wore battle clothes, a mix of many types. While marsh-walkers and desert-walkers wore leather armor with little to no metal, men and dwarves wore more metal when they could. Dwarves had the most elegantly made metal scales, which Naakdiiv had gotten after a very difficult job for them. They moved well and were light, which made them ideal for the active fighting that Naakdiiv found themselves in more often than naught. Men’s knights liked their metal plates, clunky and slow, but good protection against the weapons of other men. Naakdiiv was not so fond of that, instead opting for the lighter gear of men’s archers, mostly leather and easier to move in. Today they were in full gear, using the bow they carved themself from the mother tree of their marsh. With leather guards on their arms, scaled armor on their chest and back, belt holding their gear and pouches they were a sight. On the legs were leather armor pants, stopping mid calf. Their feet, with four clawed toes bare on the ground, were never shod in any shoe; they only had a special-made piece of scale armor that protected their calves and the tops of their feet to allow them to use the martial arts of the marshes effectively.
The headpiece, a leather helm with metal scales and openings for their horns, was also special-made to allow them protection. They were often gawked at, men not used to marsh-walkers and marsh-walkers not used to this unusual armor. Right now Naakdiiv was not near others, and the horse could not care any less about the rider that left it to go towards the smell of death.
This assignment was not the usual for Naakdiiv, but when a king request a warrior by name, there will be consequences for leaving it unanswered. Naakdiiv learned that the hard way, though thankfully that king was now dead. Marsh-walkers and desert-walkers lived longer than men, which made grudges with men easier to deal with.
When Naakdiiv came to the castle of the king, the mood was sombre. The guards were wary of Naakdiiv, but this was not new. Standing almost a head over them, marsh-walkers were often given a wide berth. When it came to the king though, he had no wariness of the warrior who knelt down, he had purpose and power in this room.
“You are the warrior Naikdev?” He said, his word short. Naakdiiv could only give a small sigh, men were apt to saying their name wrong, especially ones with power. It was not worth men’s custom of stubbornness when wrong to correct their name.
“I am them, Your Majesty. What task have you for me?” Naakdiiv said, head still bowed as the king drank from a golden cup.
“My daughter, the princess,” the king began, setting his cup down, “she was taken five months ago. We have sent three knights with parties, and none have returned. Only their horses were found. We know of the lair whereabouts, but many are too wary to go near claiming sorcery.” The king paused, getting up and walking down to where Naakdiiv knelt. “I was told you had handled such situations before, that you marsh-walkers were not easily scared by magics. Is this true?”
Naakdiiv did not lift their head. “The marsh-walkers and desert-walkers believe that we were created by magic that has since faded from the world. We respect magic and its wielders, we do not fear it, Your Majesty.”
The king was silent for many seconds, Naakdiiv did not know whether this would be a good job or a bad job if magics were involved. “Rise, warrior, I will give you this task for your weight in gold.”
Naakdiiv stood, very slowly, and rose two heads above this king of men. There was a small expression that crossed his faced when Naakdiiv stood tall before him, but it was covered very quickly. Naakdiiv thought it was fear.
The king spoke of a beast, a dragon, that had stolen the princess as she rode her horse. Witnesses said it was not a large dragon, but could easily pick up horse and rider in one swoop. Her escort tracked until it fell from sight, not finding the lair for another fortnight. That was the first knight’s party, horses were never found. The second knight’s party set out a month and a half later, the horses were found another month after that, and the third knight’s party left at three and a half months, and only a single horse was found at the fourth month. It had taken another month for them to track down Naakdiiv, during which two others turned down the job, a fortnight to bring them to the castle and now it would be another fortnight to the dragon’s lair.
“I shall track down the princess Your Majesty, what of the dragon?” They asked the king of men, who now sat in his chair again.
“I do not want it to bother my lands ever again.” The king said, and so the deal was struck. Naakdiiv was given provisions and sent out that day.
It wasn’t hard to make their way through this kingdom. The forests reminded them of home and all but the largest of beasts did not try to mess with marsh-walkers. Now, leaving their horse behind, walking towards the lair smelling of death, Naakdiiv knew that this would not be as simple as they had hoped.
It wasn’t hard to find where the knights had met their end. The field before the cave was pitted, trampled and sparse for anything more than patches of grass. It grew best where bodies had been left, some of the bones still laying there. Naakdiiv has only dealt with one other dragon, many years ago, and this one had only been raiding sheep and was easily convinced to take up residence on the other side of the mountain where wild game thrived. Dragons did not like ripping apart woollen animals, and wild game meant less men trying to harm them. The gold did not hurt either; dragons were fond of the gold as much as human’s were, but they were not able to pull it from the earth and refine it as humans did.
It took two days of waiting outside to finally catch sight of the dragon, and Naakdiiv made sure they were not known. Dragon’s eyes were keen, their noses as well, but Naakdiiv knew how to remain unseen and scentless when a hunt was on. The dragon was not large by dragon standards, it was a dry brown with wings for front limbs and two back legs. It was not physically powerful, but something made it able to take down three parties of knights. It flew off the direction Naakdiiv has come from. It wasn’t long before Naakdiiv heard the beating of wings and soon enough the dragon landed, carrying their horse. It hurt to see the horse limp in its back claws, but the kill was clean and Naakdiiv was thankful it did not suffer. The dragon dragged the horse inside, and Naakdiiv waited for another night. As the morning sun rose, they crept towards the entrance, sword in hand.
The cave was large, carved out long before the dragon was here, and it had many chambers. One was piled high with bones, some old, some new. Naakdiiv did not linger long in the ones with bones. Other chambers held hoards; things from clothing and armor to precious metals and sometimes gold. There were few access points to the outside, and all were straight into the sky, cliff sides that would not help Naakdiiv in any escape. Still, the hunt was started, and Naakdiiv knew that a dragon was much more interested in a deal than fight.
It was almost at the last chamber that Naakdiiv heard the shuffle of a large creature, followed by the running steps of small feet. Sword raised, they hid just past a corner, hearing the steps come towards them. As a flash of blue round the corner they held their sword to the neck of the owner of the blue dress, who stopped cold. Wide blue eyes in soft pale skin, a young woman with long yellow hair stared back.
“We have to go, the dragon is still sleeping, but we have to go!” She said, and Naakdiiv looked at her. Something was not right about her, there was no smell of men that Naakdiiv knew. Naakdiiv tipped her head up further with their blade, looking at the dress.
It was clean. Too clean. This was someone who had been in a dragon’s lair for many moons. This was not the princess Naakdiiv was sent for.
“Lift your magics, user, I am no fool.” Naakdiiv said, waiting for the imposter to make the next move.
The imposter smiled, it was not a nice smile. “Pity, this worked on all the knights.” The smile grew toothy, the face began to stretch, change and the woman who had been standing there started to grow, the dress becoming skin. The woman shifted into the dragon, standing before Naakdiiv.
/Not good/, Naakdiiv thought. Shape shifting was very old and powerful magic.
“I have not seen a Llaahriin for centuries,” the dragon remarked, using the marsh-walkers word for themselves, “I was beginning to wonder if any left the marshes anymore.” I laid its body down lazily, lowering its head to Naakdiiv’s level. “Why does a king of men send a Llaahriin?”
Naakdiiv kept their sword in front of them, but eased their stance. This was not a young dragon, and it was a shape-shifter. This was a dragon that would prefer a bargain than a fight. “Men do not understand magics as we who come from it do. They send one who respects it because those who fear it have failed.”
“This is true, men are easily feared by a small show of power beyond them. Why do you speak when others would kill?” The dragon stretched closed, coming just out of reach of Naakdiiv’s sword.
“Bargains gain more than death, in this case.” Naakdiiv was glad the dragon had eaten recently, it would make this easier. “Why did you take the princess?” They were stalling, trying to gain enough information to make a deal.
The dragon snorted, amused. “She was covered in gold and gems, and her horse was fat and happy. I had a two-in-one deal. Then the men sent others, which made for find meals each time. I am well fed for this.”
“Where is the princess?” Naakdiiv knew magic users ate much more than normal, and there had not been another party in two months. Worry knotted their stomach.
The dragon’s gaze was steady. “I ate her. She was also fat and happy.” Naakdiiv’s stomach dropped. This would not bode well with the king. “Your horse was also happy, though not as fat. But you marsh-walkers are all bones, I do not like eating you.”
“I was tasked to bring the princess back, I now do not have a princess to bring back.” Naakdiiv said, mostly to themselves.
“And what did the king say about me?” The dragon asked, tilting their head to the side. It was waiting for Naakdiiv to propose a solution, dragons liked to play games as they conversed.
“To keep you from bothering his lands.” Naakdiiv said, thinking. They lowered their sword; the dragon was more interested in playing the bargain game than eating a bony reptile. “If I do not bring back a princess, I will not receive my payment. If there is no princess, there is no heir for the gold. If there is no heir there will be a war and there will be less game and fat, happy horses to eat.”
The dragon squinted at Naakdiiv, “What are you saying Llaahriin?”
“I need to bring a princess back, and you would like a hoard and to be well fed. You will not bother his lands if your hoard is in his keep, and he will keep you well fed if you are the princess.” Naakdiiv said it plainly, sheathing their sword. The kingdoms of men were not of interest to them, and dragons were much more powerful allies to have.
“Are you saying for me to live among men, as one of them, and they will provide me with gold and food?” The dragon said it in a tone, somewhere between incredulous and laughing.
“Yes, you will be given the finest gems and food and have a hoard that no one will think to raid. This is a fine bargain, I think.” Naakdiiv nodded, pleased with this solution.
The dragon was silent for a moment, then rolled onto it’s back and laughed uproariously. It continued for many minutes, during which Naakdiiv sat on the floor cross-legged and waited. Finally the dragon rolled back onto its feet and gave a toothy grin. “If you weren’t a Llaahriin I wouldn’t have believed you were serious. Your people are much too practical sometimes. Come driizaarnin, I will not eat you, you have my interest.” The dragon stood and walked into to the largest cavern, Naakdiiv stood and followed.
“How have you come by my people’s tongue?” Naakdiiv asked, driizaarnin meant friend. It was strange to hear it rumble heavily from the throat of a dragon, but the sounds were more natural than any mammal had been able to produce back to Naakdiiv. The dragon laid down upon a pile of plants, wafting a pleasant scent of mint and flowers at Naakdiiv. With a folded wing the dragon gestured too a smaller pile near its head, where Naakdiiv sat down.
“I have lived much longer than you, little one.” The dragon now spoke entirely in Naakdiiv’s language, fluent but in an older fashion than was now commonly used. It was more like during ceremonies, the words that came from old texts. “You Llaahriin and me and my Aazeniindra kin are not so unlike that we never mingled in centuries past. I was once revered by the Nreendriin who would gift me livestock to travel unhindered when I had territory on their routes.” Naakdiiv recalled the stories of Nreendriin, the desert-walkers, giving offerings to the beasts who controlled their routes. The deserts were more dangerous then, dragons were rulers in their territories and those who travelled through were often at their mercy.
The dragon continued, “I once met a leader of a Llaahriin marsh who had some magics. Llaahriin were once true-born magics before the age of men rose, and sometimes are still born as such. We consider your people our kin from ages past. This was when magics were still stronger in the marshes, she came to me about shape-shifting after hearing stories from the Nreendriin merchants who passed through. We Aazeniindra are proud to hold true-born magics, but not too proud to show those with the gift how to use it. She was very gifted indeed, eventually learning the secrets the Aazeniindra keep from the men and dwarves who come to us.”
It was Naakdiiv’s turn to tilt their head. “Do you speak of Gandroovna of Many Skins?”
The dragon’s pupils slitted and it swung its head level to Naakdiiv. “The very one. It pleases me to know her story still lives.”
“She is of my marsh, an ancestor. We do not forget our own.” Naakdiiv straightened.
“I will take your bargain, and to seal it, I give you my name: Qaahdruun.” The dragon gave a toothy grin.
“A bargain is given, and to accept it you have my name: Naakdiiv.” Naakdiiv grinned back. The acceptance of such a bargain and names was a tradition older than Gandroovna’s time. Naakdiiv knew that this was a powerful ally indeed.
The dragon started to shift again, growing back down into the princess once more, but now looking dirty and tattered. “I believe we have a king to fool, and perhaps make a fine meal out of.” Qaahdruun said, the woman’s voice did not sound right with Naakdiiv’s tongue.
“How is it you know to make her so well?” Naakdiiv asked, genuinely curious.
“I will tell you one of the secrets your ancestor knew; we who shift our shape master a shape completely only after eating the owner. Why do you think I know I do not like to eat one of the Llaahriin?” Qaahdruun said, shifting into a pale blue marsh-walker, taller than Naakdiiv stood. The change in the voice unnerved Naakdiiv, and they knew they were staring at someone who had lived long, long ago. “Come,” the voice shifted once more as Qaahdruun went back into the form of the woman, “we must find our way to the castle. I haven’t had this much excitement in centuries.”
“We shall be on our way. I don’t suppose you have a horse tucked away somewhere?” Naakdiiv asked dryly.
“Hah! A Llaahriin with humor, most rare. Maybe this is why you left your marsh.” Qaahdruun said, starting on the way out. Naakdiiv followed, wondering what they had just gotten themselves into.
Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: “Avenge my murder!” “Redeem my sins!” “Reveal my terrible secret!” Yours is…less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with.
You know all those cool stories about someone from beyond the grave doing that thing where they communicate with the living and fulfill their extraordinary life goal, or revenge, and the fade away peacefully? Sounds really cool right? Well I got told that my heart was not ready to move on and that I have to go back and fulfill my deepest regret. Or make amends. Or revenge. The person at the counter wasn’t terribly concerned with whatever it was.
Yeah, they have counters. And ticket numbers. And all that jazz. No VIP treatment either, “all dead are dead, no special cases” said one rather unamused person said from behind the booth when some dead bigwig was spouting off.
I was funny until I got called up and told that my ass was going back to the living world- except this time it was as a ghost. I didn’t really know what to say, the person just started their re markedly monotonous explanation as I reeled and half-listened.
“Any deeds left undone by those who have strong attachments must be addressed before they may proceed-“
Strong attachments? I didn’t really have much. My sister didn’t really talk to me, the folks had passed long ago, all I really had was my dog and cat at home. Even my coworkers and friends weren’t terribly involved in my life.
“-the grieved must use the means of moving objects, haunting, warning and/or the use of living beings able to perceive them to carry out their last actions as part of the world. Incidents such as-“
Wait like a real /ghost/ ghost haunting? Just boo-ing through halls in a nightgown and candelabra type beat? I’m supposed to just toss things around like a poltergeist?
“-and according to any laws superseding the listed tenants. As a newly dead you will not be as powerful as the long-term apparition residents of the living world, but to ensure the balance of power due to *ahem* /less-than-ideal/ intentions of other residents you will be granted a grace period of untouchability until enough power is amassed to reasonably fend for yourself. In cases where-“
“Less-than-ideal”? What, am I going to be cannibalized by another ghost? A snort escaped me, I stiffened and gave an apologetic look, the disapproving stare I got shot at me did not need any words. I supposed they were pretty much done, I was given a small book and looked down at the title. “Ghosts, Haunting and Regulations”. No author.
I was still starting at it dumbfounded when my clerk cleared their throat, drawing my eyes up to their face. “Anything you need to know, ask the book. Happy haunting.” It was delivered so deadpan I couldn’t even process it. Then they pulled a comically large red handle on the wall and I felt myself fade, just like when I died.
---
I can’t say it was a bad feeling, but it wasn’t anything I would willingly seek out. My death was quite painless, for everything I remembered. I think the clerk said it was an aneurysm, I was sitting at work and the next thing my world faded and then I got to sit in ghost official offices until my number was called. I didn’t even get the satisfaction of grabbing a number, I just woke up in a chair, a number in my hand and a big sign telling me ‘hey you’re dead, wait until we call you to received your next steps’; in more official terms of course.
I wonder if Jeb and Flukie got fed that night. I miss those fuzzballs.
I was snapped back to life by the feeling of someone walking through me. I shivered, he shivered, and I felt... /violated/. Nope, no thank you, I would rather avoid that fate. I looked back, it was Curtis, my old coworker. I was at work?! I looked around, finally seeing my old desk. There was already someone sitting there. Jessie, a young intern that was looking to move full-time. I was glad, she was a really good worker and nice person, I wonder when she started-
What day was it?
I quickly ran over to Tina’s desk, she was way too organized, but it meant she had a calendar. I died on the 30th, and it was now... two months later?! How?! I was only sitting for a couple hours, how-
The book in my hand twitched. I held it up, but before I could open the cover it popped open on its own. With a flurry of pages it finally settled, and one line seemed to jump out. “The passage of time in the office is slower than the living world. Days and months have been known to pass in the living world when only a handful of hours occur in the office.”
Well shit. What am I even doing here? I really wanted to see Jeb and Flukie. I wondered where they went, I hadn’t really had a contingency plan in case I died for them. I was only twenty-four and no previous health issues. There wasn’t anything else, I didn’t have a partner, I didn’t even have a loan anymore. I was just saving up for a house. I was about to ask the book when I notice a very pale Jessie staring straight at me. Was confused, I stepped to the side and looked behind me, but there was only blank wall. I looked back, and she was still just staring. /At me/.
It finally dawned on me that she could see me. I guess she wasn’t very surprised by this when she beckoned me to follow her. I had nothing else to do, so I did. And she took me into the seldom-used back room of janitorial supplies. After locking the door, she turned to me, and sighed.
“Look I don’t know how long you’ve been doing your haunting business but to clarify I did NOT take your job maliciously and I am not about to deal with some new ghost’s shitty second-rate haunting at work. So take that up with-” She started, folding one arm across her torso and rubbing the bridge of her nose with the other hand.
I put my hands up in front of me. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa, I’m not here because of any of that.” She stopped and stared at me, her expression the perfect mimic of ‘okay wise guy let’s hear what this is about’. I continued, “I just got back from the ghost office and I am still trying to figure out why I am here. I got told I have unfinished business or some shit, I just want to know what to do to move on. I just got back. Okay?”
She stared at me for a second, and then sighed. “So you don’t know why you’re here. Great, a ghost that needs troubleshooting. I do it enough with the living, why not do it with the dead too.” She threw up her hands, “Meet me in the lobby after work. I assume you remember where that is?”
I nodded, and she grabbed a box of tissues and left the closet. I stared after her, wondering what to do for the next three hours. I dicked around a bit, caught my old boss scrolling social media, bothered the dickheads on the floor above. I figured out you could make the living sneeze by putting your finger in their nose. Who knew?
I drifted back downstairs and stood by Jessie’s desk. “So, what’s going to happen after work?” I asked her, making her jump slightly.
She turned and glared at me. Turning back to her computer she opened a note and typed “we will figure out why you’re still here”.
“And after that?” I prodded.
She furiously typed again. “After that you go figure your shit out and I get to go back to not talking with ghosts.”
“Gotcha, I’ll be down in the lobby...” I said, getting the hint.
---
After another hour in the lobby she emerged from the stairwell and walked out the door, myself trailing behind her. She walked to a small beater car, got in and started it up. I settled into the passenger seat and it was just silence for a bit.
“So... Any ideas?” I asked.
“You’re the one with the book, ask it.”
“Oh, right, the book.” I pulled it from my pocket (such a weird concept to carry things around as a ghost.) It flipped open in my hands, and the word that jumped out was ‘regret’. “It says ‘regret’.”
“Alright, then what do you regret?”
“I don’t really have any, I just want to see my cat and dog again.” I said, staring down at the book. I was glad I didn’t feel force as a ghost, she suddenly slammed on the brakes at a red light and stared at me.
“Your regret is not saying goodbye to you cat and dog?” Her tone was incredulous. She stared at me longer, only being broken by the car behind honking at her when the light turned green. “I can’t believe it, of all the things I have to track down, it’s pets!”
She was shaking her head as she parked out back of an apartment building. We got up to her apartment and she told me to wait while she showered and changed. Once she finished she sat at her computer and turned around to face me.
“Where did your animals go?” She was very to the point. It reminded me of the clerk.
“I... don’t know.” I admitted.
Her eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? You didn’t have any plan for your pets?”
“I am twenty-four! Who expects to keel over at twenty-four!” I exclaimed.
“Fine, well, where did you live? Maybe they got reclaimed by animal control or some animal shelter.” She turned to the computer, I gave her my old address. After some searching we found a couple of shelters and only the country was tied to animal control. “We’ll start with the county shelter then, they usually get the cases like this.”
I tossed up my hands, “You’re the boss!” Jessie shook her head and turned, but I saw that small smile. That was good, I was worried I was stressing her out too much.
She dialed into the phone and let it ring; when the person on the other end picked up Jessie asked about a dog and a cat coming in together a couple months ago she was put on hold while they found someone who could help her. She turned to me and asked “What are their names and descriptions?”
“Oh, yeah, they’re both super cute. Flukie’s got these big brown eyes and she’s just fluffy as all hell and Jeb’s a bit tuxedo and is very cuddle and had the most yellow eyes. Purrs like a motorboat too! They liked to both take up half the bed and-” I looked at Jessie and she just raised her eyebrows. I got the hint. “Sorry, Flukie’s a medium sized black and brown fluffy dog, pure mutt, and Jeb’s a large tuxedo male cat with yellow eyes and white socks.”
“We’ll find them, don’t worry.” Jessie said, and turned back to the phone as someone answered. After going through the descriptions and names, surprisingly they got a match. Jeb and Flukie were there! I was so excited, I couldn’t wait to go see them. “Alright, thank you so much. I’ll be down to see them in a bit here.”
Jessie hung up and look at me, sombre. “They said that they’ve stopped eating, they would like someone they know to come and see them to see if it improves.” My heart sank, and apparently so did my face. “It only started back up a couple days ago, I’d say whenever you started your cross over back here. Animals are sensitive like that. Before when they were surrendered they hardly ate for two weeks. It will help them to say goodbye to you.”
I sighed, I knew this would be hard, but that cut deep. I never wanted those two to hurt like that. I needed to make sure they knew I loved them.
Next thing I knew we were pulling up on a stout building somewhere, with ‘County Shelter’ in big red letters on it. Jessie parked, got out and went inside, me following her. We went up to the front reception, Jessie asked to see Jeb and Flukie, and we were taken back by the front staff to the back where we met a woman in bright blue scrubs and short manic pixie hair. She wore big framed glasses and had a big smile when she met Jessie.
“Hi, I’m Erika, you said you were friends with Jeb and Flukie’s previous owner?” She said, beaming at Jessie. Jessie stared just a bit too long, so I cleared my throat.
“Oh... Uh ,yes, I know he loved those two and I wanted to check up on them.” Jessie got out, she seemed start struck. I grinned.
“Right, I’m glad they’ll see a familiar face, I heard what happened to Greg, it was so sad. Right this way then!” Erika said, bouncing down a corridor to her right.
We followed and I commented, “Oh she’s a cute one, hey Jessie?” Jessie shot me a glare, but there was a blush happening.
We finally came to a kennel and in it laid Flukie, and my heart broke. Her big brown eyes were so sad, there was no joy when she stared between the two women. Then her eyes flicked to where I was standing, her nose started going, there was a lazy tail wag and her ears perked up. She knew I was there. “Oh Flukie...” I said, starting to choke up. It was so hard to see her here unknown, no Jeb to even keep her company. “I am so sorry, you were never meant to end up here.” There were tears rolling down my cheeks, I wasn’t aware I could still weep.
Erika, upon seeing Flukie perk up, squealed with glee and grabbed Jessie’s arm. “I am going to get Jeb, I will be right back!” and skipped away. Jessie took that moment to open up the door and slip in, locking it again behind her. I drifted in as Jessie knelt down beside Flukie, introducing herself. Once Flukie was satisfied of a friend, Jessie placed her hand on Flukie and held out her other hand to me.
“The ability to see a loved on is stronger when I bridge the gap.” She said, and I gave her my hand. As soon as we touched, Flukie whined and her fluffy butt started wiggling to no end. Jessie placed my hand on Flukie’s head, hers still on top, and Flukie whined, her brown eyes fixed on my face.
Erika bounced back at that point, holding Jeb, who started meowing upon seeing Flukie. Erika let Jeb into the enclosure, and ran away again with the promise of bringing something back. I was not paying attention, because Jeb started meowing -a lot- and came and rubbed up against Flukie. As soon as he saw me, he stopped and stared.
“Hey buddy,” I was openly weeping at this point, seeing these two again, being able to say goodbye. Jeb’s next meow was so heart-wrenching that I started sobbing, Jessie grabbed my other hand and placed it onto his head. I couldn’t control myself, I just started apologizing over and over, telling them how much I loved them, that I never meant to leave them, that they would be okay. I couldn’t stop, I told them I wanted them to be strong, make sure they ate, that I wouldn’t able to stay with them. They both looked at me with such love, it felt like they understood every word. I so hope they did, it was so hard, I kissed their furry heads like I used to, my tears leaving no trace.
Jessie’s eyes were misty as she pet them both, allowing us to have our moment. I was somewhat back together by the time Erika got back, with two bowls in hand. She slid them into the enclosure, Jeb and Flukie looking at me.
“I...” Oh, there goes the waterworks again. “I want you two to eat.” As soon as I said it, they both walked to the bowls and ate, Jeb making his adorable noming meows. It made me laugh a bit, silly dude. Erika, upon seeing this, squealed with joy. They were going to be alright, I was sure of it. I pet them both, just as I had always done. I smiled, but it was sad. “I have to leave you both now, I love you so, so much.”
Jessie put her hand on top of mine, and I felt myself fade out once more, this time with a peaceful feeling.
---
It had been a week since Greg moved on, and Jessie was sitting at home in her pyjamas on a Friday reading a sappy novel about witches. Her face fell when her cellphone rang, and reluctantly she put her book down and answered the unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, my name is Erika from the county shelter, you came in about a week ago to see Jeb and Flukie. Jessie, right?” The voice on the other end seemed tired. Jessie remembered the cute girl in scrubs, ecstatic to see the pair eating again. She blushed a little as Greg’s attempt to get Jessie to ask her out came to mind.
“Yeah, that was me. What’s up?”
“I apologize for calling you, but I’m getting worried about these two and I can’t find any other way to get them to eat again since you left last week and I just think these two are heart-broken and-” Erika was talking fast and a bit frantic, it worried Jessie.
“Did they stop eating again?” Jessie asked softly, stopping Erika’s slew of words.
“Yes. A few days ago, it’s been less than a week since they started again and I’m worried for their health.” Erika paused, Jessie could hear the plea in her voice.
“What do you need me to do?” Jessie asked, remembering the love in Flukie’s brown eyes and the way Jeb purred as Greg got to say goodbye to the two he raised with love.
“If you could come back in, I want to see if that helps. Honestly these two have been together for so long that I don’t want to see them apart, but if they won’t eat I can’t send them to a home. I’m sorry if this is a bad time-” Erika started rambling again.
“What if I adopted them?” Jessie blurted, surprising herself. The line was silent for a second. “I know how much Greg loved them, I think they need someone who understands that.”
There was a choked sound from the other end, before Erika spoke again with relief and tears in her voice. “Oh my goodness that is so good to hear, I was worried they would get separated and not be able to cope.”
“Can I come down tonight and pick them up?” Jessie asked, again surprising herself.
“Yes! I’m still here finishing up some things and monitoring some animals for the next bit, please come by!” This was the ecstatic voice Jessie had heard, and she smiled at it.
“Alright, I will see you in a bit.” After Jessie hung up she practically ran out the door, pyjamas and all. It took her a bit to make her way through the city, but when she came to the shelter she was even more sure that this was the right thing to do.
Jessie made her way through the doors and called out to Erika, who popped out from the back room. “Oh, you’re here already!” Erika exclaimed, then she glanced down at the pyjamas. “Oh my goodness those are cute, where did you get them?”
Jessie was already flustered at Erika’s beaming smile, and blushed further. She stammered out “These are an old thrift find...”
“Awe, they look comfy!” Erika laughed, and then turned to the back room again. “Come on, they’re both ready to go. We just need to do some paperwork.”
The two were in a single crate, Jessie hadn’t even thought of what she needed to bring them home, she wasn’t sure how this was going to go. But when the two saw her, her uncertainty melted away. Flukie stood up, her eyes lighting up and that fluffy butt wiggling with excitement. Jed meowed and purred loudly at the familiar face, rubbing up against the side of the kennel. Even though they both knew Greg was gone they were so happy to see her, and it almost made her cry.
Erika talked Jessie through the paperwork, and as Jessie was finishing up the last bit Erika brought in another box. Jessie looked at her with a puzzled look, and Erika smiled again. “There’s toys, a harness and leash for them both, plus a disposable litter tray and a few other goodies for these two. I won’t send them home empty-handed! I sure am going to miss these two.”
“I think they’d like a visit or two.” Jessie commented.
Erika raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is that so?”
“Mhmm, I think I would like it too.” Jessie said, a bit tentatively.
“It’s a date!” Erika’s smile widened, and Jessie smiled back.
Shaking someone’s hand gives you visionary knowledge of their entire past up until now. This power has allowed you to become an extremely powerful negotiator for multibillion dollar companies. Today, you shake hands with your target companies CEO - and now know what dinosaurs looked like.
She wasn’t sure if there are others like her. When her power manifested at sixteen she had shaken her father's hand for a silly deal. The next thing she knew she was on her back, looking at the kitchen ceiling, her mother was frantic on the phone while her father was trying to rouse her. She was taken to the hospital and refused to touch anyone if she could help it. She couldn’t look at her father. She couldn’t explain what had happened, why suddenly she knew his history, first hand. She was terrified she was going insane, she was terrified for the rest of her life.
So she never told anyone -not for a few years and even then only a few trusted people- but she did finally figure out how and what happened. A simple handshake, a simple grasp of the hand and she saw everything. Whatever they had seen, she saw.
All the way back to whatever their first memory is.
It ruined her for a while, the first step was not passing out. Becoming an adult was just trying not to become way too intimate with a person who you’d only just met. Trying it on a potential partner was not a good idea, she learned that lesson quickly. She had to deal with trauma from other people, and it took a lot of support to deal with that. She was lucky enough to have a friend who was actually a qualified therapist.
It was a rough start, no doubt about it, but she got herself figured out soon enough. She always had a way with words, always was able to talk her way out of a handshake, talk her way out of a passing out spell, and that turned into a great weapon in her career.
You see, she was -in all her five foot three, wide-shouldered, stocky build- a silver-tongue. She sharpened her skills until she could honey her words, cool her voice, and calm anyone with her skill. And it just so happened she made a career out of it.
The first deal she made, negotiating the largest sale for her old workplace where she had been a secretary (she practically ran things for her boss though, the boss just went on vacations a lot). She ended up taking the meeting into her own hands when her called her five minutes before and asked her to stall while he ran late. And that was when her power came in super handy. She shook every one of those people’s hands, and now she had the ammunition she needed to secure this deal.
All of those people went home satisfied with the sale, and when she had saved the day yet again her boss just nodded and left again. She had been at that company for three years, and he couldn’t be bothered to do so much as thank her properly. She had enough, and found her new purpose on her way out of the building. One of the clients approached her, speaking briefly about a new opportunity at his husband’s company and flashing her a card.
The next week she had a new job, and she found her calling finally. The next five years were negotiating higher stakes deals until she was top of her game. When she made her first successful negotiation between two different multi-billion dollar companies it felt like she was on top of the world. Now in her late twenties she saw success after success, fine tuning her negotiations after every failure.
The next big job? Secure a deal between a major network company and a bank. Like any job, she had been doing preparations for weeks, on behalf of the network company, learning everything she needed. It finally came to a head when the bank’s CEO came in to start the first meeting. As soon as the CEO’s presence entered the room, something felt off. The woman’s eyes held more in them than they should for a woman in her forties. She pasted her professional smile on her face, moving towards the CEO. She shook it off, this was her job, this was what she was good at. She was going to make this deal just like any other.
As soon as she shook the tall woman’s hand though, she knew this was wrong.
It started as it always did, with the last few moments in real time, until everything flooded into her brain. She processed shorter lives easier, anything over sixty years was a lot of information at once.
She saw this woman’s memories, until they stopped like any other persons in a hazy trailing off. Until it started again, a bright flash as she saw the death, the life of a man, someone who fought in wars. Then someone who saw the development of radio. Back and back again, over and over again, so many lifetimes, so many deaths.
She never saw a death before, and it rattled her. There was nothing that could prepare her for this, over and over again. Early hominids, back even further, small mammals, countless lifetimes, sometimes startlingly short, others bloody, it just kept going. She felt like her head would explode, it felt like she was stuck for an eternity.
In reality this always only takes a split second. When she snapped back she had to fight back the urge to vomit as her head nearly split in two. She finished the pleasantries, but quickly excused herself on a half-assed excuse at she tried to gather her wits.
She heard the door open to the bathroom just as she finished heaving out the last of her stomach contents; and the voice that greeted her was none other than the CEO.
“Anita?” the woman asked tentatively.
“My apologies Mrs. Godfrey, I don’t know what came over me, it must have been something I ate this-” she started to say to the CEO as she emerged from the stall.
“Please, Anita, call me Marie. And I think we both know what caused this was not food.” Marie said, the weariness in her voice showing the weight she carried.
Anita stared at the CEO-Marie- as the blood drained from her face. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but she couldn’t say anything.
“I think we should sit down an-” Marie started.
“I saw dinosaurs!” Anita blurted out indignantly. This startled a laugh out of the tall woman, or rather a snort of sorts. “I saw death...” This was said in a small voice, Anita looking at the ground. The amusement left Marie’s eyes, replaced by concern.
“It seems you are not quite aware of what you are. I will explain everything, about what you saw, your abilities as a life seer, all of it. If I had known I would not have let this happen, I know what this can do to-” Marie was speaking gently, like a grandparent explaining to a little one, but was cut off as Anita’s m,ind raced.
“I’m a what?”
“A life seer. Please, let’s get you cleaned up and rested, I suspect this will take a while.” Marie said dryly, grabbing paper towels. And so in the bathroom of a downtown office building started a new chapter in Anita’s life.
