[A: 6 C: 112] - Half a person.
[TWs: Panic attack, depression spiral, suicidal thoughts.]
(Petronillé)
Click, clonk, click, clonk.
The echoing voice of the library's grandfather clock reminds me just how late it is. Joining in its chorus was the quiet ‘tic tic tic’ of my pen tapping paper having lost what little inspiration it had.
Click, clonk, click, clonk.
BONG. BONG.
Two in the morning, ha. I sit up in my chair, yawn, and stretch. Despite the time, I couldn’t get myself to sleep no matter what. So I had decided it was time for a new approach, one that was used by students everywhere; stay up, and writing. Unfortunately, even that failed to work.
I’ve written plenty of small history books already, all focused on towns in Mwudu and Goethia and the like. But now, no matter how hard I try, my soul refuses to bear itself in writing! Blood, what’s wrong with me?! What happened to my passion!?! I’m a historian! It is my solemn duty to preserve the past to teach the future, so why doesn’t it invigorate me like it once did?!?
Because what good is a historian if history just up and vanishes all by itself.
I shudder at the thought, and glance over at the far corner of the library where a dust covered table sat. On and around it were boxes filled with dozens upon dozens of untouched books. I used to know these books; the writing style, the ornamentation, even the covers were burned into my mind. I knew them, but now I only know what everyone else does. I only know that I have forgotten.
I am a historian who cannot write, and whose writing may one be forgotten anyways. Even now the memory of what I used to know tries its best to slip from my mind. Blood, maybe my spark had finally died after being beaten so many times. . . No, no that’s not it. I still love listening to the elderly talk all about how they grew up, and I still love tracing over faded words on forgotten gravestones. Or maybe that’s exactly what I am afraid of; being forgotten.
“Nille?” (Altiare is gently shaking your shoulder.) “Do you feel any better?”
“Huh. . . ?” (You reply drearily, blinking a few times.) “Oh, uh. . . Not really.”
“Water?
“Please.”
(He hands you a flask of water and you need to stop yourself from gulping it down.)
“. . . Just let us know if you need anything, alright.” (They take the flask back.) “We should make landfall soon, alright?”
“Mhm, thanks. . .”
(With that, you yawn, sigh, and lean back over the side of the boat, ready to go back to that weird dream. Your hand dangled out, and your fingertips dipped into the water.)
The soft snow crunched under my boot, the sun shone through the birch trees, and the animals were grazing on the moor. The crispness in the air puts me at ease as I stand in the ruins of a watchtower, book in hand. I had been pouring over local history, and blood, it was vibrant and complex!
Every little town had its own colorful past, with histories behind everyone and everything. It’s what one should expect from a place where the closest thing to a traditional “god” was simply a herald of stories! A bard! Humble. I could live here quite peacefully.
And yet a sour taste lingers in my mouth.
“And lo, Sir Ector stood proudly with his sword stayed, naught to bring war nay steel nay salt, but to bring mead and bread. All for Sir Ector to be struck down by a bolt sent with hatred and malice.” I quietly read the passage to myself and looked again to the crumbling ruin. “Yet no weapon of malice forged will fell the knights of Ich.”
I knew this tale well, despite it being nothing but a footnote in history. It was one tale of many which found its origin in how the colonies of Poteria broke free into independence. It was a small tale, and yet it held a potent poison. A subtle thing which, in this case, was suffocatingly insidious.
In the original tale, Sir Ector led the charge against the guardpost stationed here, which in turn caused him to get wounded. Here, Sir Ector was struck first, and then charged against the guardpost. It was incredibly small, so small that almost no-one would notice, yet-
(You jolt awake at a touch on your arm, and whip around ready to strangle whoever- oh, Isabeau. He takes a step back.)
“U-uh. . . Hey.” (He sounds terrified. Of who, you?) “We’re here.”
“We’re. . ?” (You shake your head and slap yourself clear of the daze the dream left you in.) “Crab, sorry big guy, didn’t mean to scare ya.”
“No biggie!” (He helps you to your feet.) “How do you feel?”
(The salty smell in the air helped, but you still felt like stale guano.) “‘Doing great.”
“Good! Good, because uh. . .”
(Isabeau turned to look up the beach, as do you a second later. The beach you landed on had pale sand, and a dune blocking your view to the lower half of the castle. Odile was taking a moment to ground herself, Ramos was doing some stretches, and Mirabelle stood a bit further up the beach, staring at the distant castle.)
(You glance back up at Isabeau. Change, he looks terrified, too.) “. . . Everything alright?”
“. . . I dunno, just. . .” (He trails off, then goes to hop off the boat.) “Things feel. . . . . Off.”
“. . . Right.” (You sigh, and hop over the side, landing in the water.)
Before he can react I’ve pinned the intruder to the ground with the flat of my blade against his throat. I had seen the quick glances, the strangers following me; I knew it was only a matter of time until my hunter strikes, so I decided it would be on my terms.
My voice is quiet, yet stern. “One twitch, and you’re dead, are we clear?”
“C-crystal-”
“Good.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “First question, name and affiliation.”
“I-” The crook looks at me for a moment, confused, then grins. There’s something in the air. “I’m your father, obviously.”
“And I am the late Reflecting One in disguise.” I push my sword down harder, moonlight from behind me reflecting off the silver infused steel. “Now try again!”
“No, my turn.” The crook spat. “How’d you catch me!?”
“Simple. For one, the history here has been subtly edited to shift this country's ethics towards an authoritarian agenda. That is something achievable only by a group of very powerful people, which is usually dangerous for one's health.” I can’t help myself. “And two, I didn’t sleep. As soon as you approached, I was ready for you.”
“Oh look at me! I’m so smart!” The crook sneered. A shadow falls over my sword. “You’re pathetic. Really? Bragging like you’re someone important? Pah! You need a reality ch-”
I roll to the side and off the crook, swinging my sword around to the neck of the second stranger who tried to sneak up on me. He wore a student uniform, had finely kept hair, and an outstretched, ungloved hand that reached for me. He also wore the expression of someone who had just seen something impossible.
“. . . Pathetic, am I?” I cackle. “Now I wonder what that makes you~”
(You stood on the beach alongside the others, staring at the charm in your hand. . . What. . . What was that? What was any of that?! Why are you seeing these memories all of a sudden?! And why do they feel all so. . . Foreboding.)
(Was Soffice trying to tell you something? Or maybe that Saudade? You shudder at the thought. Change, maybe they’re trying to WARN you of something. Looking up and around the beach, up at the other members of your party. . . Well, thanks, lil’ buddy. You should check on the others.)
“You’ve been quiet.” (Odile first, she looks tired.) “Coin for your thoughts?”
“Hmm? Ah.” (She turns to you, no smile in sight.) “I am alright, and relieved to see you are alive.”
“Uh huh.” (You cross your arms.) “And?”
“That’s it.” (She sighs softly.) “And how are you doing, Pétronille?”
“Never better.” (You respond VERY sarcastically.)
“. . . Good.” (Odile turns away from you and back to her book.) “That is all. I have no want to socialise right now, Petronillé, run along.”
(Geeze alright. You wave goodbye and check on Ramos next.) “Hey Rams.”
(The trainee turned to you and smiled, hair messy as ever.) “Hey Nille! What’s up?”
“Ah y’know, I’m alright.” (You shrug, and try to smile back.) “You?”
“Oh uh, I’m. . . Could be better.” (Ramos’ smile shifted to a light grimace.) “Okay, let’s try that again. Hey Nille, how are you feeling?”
(Oh come on! You REALLY don’t want to talk about it, or think about it, or anything! You cross your arms.) “I’m fine, Ramos. Not great, not terrible, just, fine.”
“. . . Okay, you don’t wanna talk about it.” (Ramos shifts on the spot uncomfortably.) “I get that, but if you need anything just, just let us know, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks, Ramos.” (You let out a huff. Really? Worrying about YOU at a time like this?!? You needed to find Bonnie! And you needed everyone to be in peak form for that! You can have another panic attack AFTER you get Bonbon to safety! So just, just--)
“Stop that.” (You feel a spark of craft as Ramos flicks your forehead.) “You can’t go saving Bonbon if you don’t take care of yourself, okay?”
“. . . Urgh.” (You blink a few times and rub your eyes, Changedammit.) “I should slap you for that, y’know.”
“O-oh! Right, s-sorry.” (Ramos shies away.) “I, sorry i-it’s-”
“Forgiven.” (You roll your eyes.) “It’s still just, a bit too close to what that prick did to me.”
“Y-yeah, fair enough!” (They pat your side.) “We should move on soon, just make sure you’re ready.”
“Will do!” (Yeah, you’ll be ready. Time to check in on the Big Guy, you walk over to Isabeau.)
(He was standing around, thinking, and caught your eye as you approached.) “Hey ‘Nille! Feeling any better?”
(You punch him in the shoulder.) “Who knows at this point.”
“Haha, fair!” (He punches you back.) “Need anything?”
“Well, I was wondering about that feeling you had earlier, on the boat?”
“Oh, yeah.” (Isabeau sighed, and rapped his fingers on his arm.) “. . . Hostile.”
“Huh?”
“That’s how I’d describe it, hostile. (He made a sour face.) “Either that, or dread, or just. . .”
“Like the world’s trying to tell you something?”
“Y-yeah yeah. . .” (He nods understandingly.) “Something like that.”
“Crabbed up. . ..” (The two of you stand in silence for a minute, then you pat him on the back.) “We’ll get through this, big guy.”
“Heh, thanks Nille.” (He smiled back at you in that way he does.) “What about you, though, you been feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” (You shrug.) “Better than before though.”
“That’s good. Well, if you need anything let me know, ‘kay?”
“Will do.” (You wave and walk away. Change, he’s right about the dread, though, you’re feeling a lot of it. . .)
(You start walking up the sand dune; up towards Mirabelle. She’s been standing here for a while now, staring daggers towards the distant castle. There’s a slight, dark shimmering around her back. Was that supposed to be Refoulement?)
“Hey, Mira.” (You put a hand on her shoulder.) “You f-”
(In a flash, Refoulement appears and grabs your wrist and glares at you!! Mirabelle jumps at the commotion before spinning around.)
“AH-! REFOULEMENT!! Stop that, let go of her!!!” (The sadness glares at you for a second, before letting you go and slithering back to its place in Mirabelle’s shadow. She rushes over, already readying up a healing craft.) “O-oh Crab I’m so so sorry I-I, I don’t know why it did that! Are you okay??”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” (Your wrist hurt a little, but it was already feeling better thanks to Mira's healing.) “You gotta get your dog a leash, Mira.”
“Hehe!” (She’s giggling, but that quickly fades as she glances back at the castle.) “I. . . I’m glad you’re okay, Petronillé. . .”
“. . .” (You look down at your freshly healed wrist as you start to feel the last remnants of your plastered-on smile break apart.) “. . .Heh, yeah. . . I’m glad too.”
“. . . W-well.” (Mira puts a hand on your arm.) “If, you ever need something, you can just ask m-”
“What I need is my crabbing sibling back!!” (You snap, yanking your arm away.) “So until then, I’m gonna be feeling like shit!! And what I NEED is for you all to stop asking me if I’m alright!!!”
(. . . You knew everyone heard that, all their eyes were on you. Screw that, you want your crabbing sibling back! You want them to be SAFE!! So what if your words hurt! Bonnie might be, might be-- m-might-- Don’t you dare fucking cry now you BIG CRABBING BABY! AARGH!!)
“N-Nille. . ?” (Ramos or Isa or someone was trying to talk to you.) “. . . D-”
“Let’s just get this over with already.” (You ignore them and start stomping up the sand dune.)
(. . . Stupid.)
(Stupid big sister, stupid family, stupid Perci, stupid desert, stupid rabbits and stupid oceans and stupid everything!! Stupid, crabbin’ STUPID!!! You’re crying now, no helping that. Just, it’s, it’s all so STUPID!!! Why did you say that?!? Why are you being such an ass?!? Damnit they’re trying to HELP you!!! God, Nille, you’re always just making things WORSE!!! You should just run into the next sadness you see or turn right back around and jump into the ocean! CHANGE you’re so pathetic, an absolute terrible sister, worst person, worst EVERYTHING! They’d make such a better family for Bonbon than you ever could-)
(You trip and fall into the sand dune, and you don't even bother getting up. Stupid, stupid!! You fucking useless piece of crab! You useless crabface!!! You can't even storm away without messing it up! Change, you're making such a mess of things, and you can barely even breathe!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!!! Just, AAAAAAHHH!!!!!!)
(Someone pats your shoulder, and you curl up a little bit in response.) “Just, leave me here. . .”
(They're not going away. You can hear they're not going away, and you can hear them all grouping up around you. Stupid, they're all stupid! They should just leave you to die already!)
(Someone's patting your shoulder again.) “Nille. . .”
“Just leave me alone!” (You curl up into a little ball holding onto yourself, can't they see you're a useless pile of snot!? You can't even take care of your own sibling! You can't even take care of yourself!! You keep needing to be saved!!!)
(Boniface, Bonnie, Bonbon. . . Why is it always bonnie!? Why couldn't it be you!! Bonnie doesn't deserve this, Bonnie’s only thirteen years old!! That just makes you cry harder, they're thirteen?! Just yesterday it felt like they were six years old!! Did they really grow up that fast?! That can't be right!! They already had a tough childhood, you don't want them to miss out on what little they have left!! It's not fair!!!!!)
(It's not fair!!!)
(It's not fair. . !)
(It's. Not. Fair. . .)
(It’s. . . Not. . . .)
(. . . . . . . . . .)
(. . . . . . . . .)
(. . . . . . . You’ve stopped crying.)
(. . . Are they still here?)
(You feel another touch on your shoulder. You don't bother with pulling away this time.)
“. . . Need a hankie?”
(Whose voice is that? Androgynous, kind of suave, cheeky. . . Crab, you don't know, whatever.) “. . . Mmhm.”
(You shift to the side, and open your eyes just enough to see the handkerchief and grab it. Then you start wiping away the tears and snot from your face, urgh. . . They probably think that you're useless. . .)
“. . . . . Hey.” (There's a bit of shuffling, and that same person starts patting your back.) “You remember when Alex first showed up? Feels like ages ago now, doesn't it?”
“Mm, yeah. . .” (Was this Ramos? Ugh, like it even matters.) “Gave me a heart attack.”
“Makes two of us.” (There's a little laugh.) “Suddenly feeling so different after being gone for so long, we should have been way more confused and aggressive, especially since for us, the last person we met was Percival.”
(Snrk. Okay shit, they're making you feel better) “Hah. Oh man, yeah. . . That coulda been bad. . .”
“Oh absolutely.” (They sigh.) “I guess the Stars aligned that day because. . . Well, of all the people to wake up to it was you and Bonbon.”
“Huh. . ?” (That makes you turn over a bit more, enough to see and glare at who you're talking to.) “S’at supposed to mean?”
(It's Altiare, they're laughing.) “It means as soon as we started talking we got all relaxed! Like come on, Brave? Kind? Determined? You wanted to make sure we were okay, you didn't bat an eye when we had to run after everyone else, and I don't think losing was ever even a possibility for ya!!”
(. . . . . Wait-) “You asshole!!!”
“HAH! HAHAH!” <Could ya blame me?>
“Get OUTTA MY HEAD!!!” (You get up and push Altiare away, laughing.) “You CRAB!!!”
“Hey I didn't use any craft on you! (He responds with his hands up in mock surrender and a cheeky grin on their face.) “Just me and my stupid mouth~”
“Oh shut UP!” (You try to be angry about it but fuck! He got you laughing!! You're BOTH laughing!!! Changedamnit!!!)
“HAHAAaaahh!” (She held a hand in front of her mouth as she laughed, before patting your cheek.) “But, really though. I couldn't just stand by and let you think about my friend like that.”
(You wince, yeah, you were pretty mean to all of th-)
“I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU YOU TWIT!!!” (Altiare grabs both of your shoulders and starts shaking you.) “You're not useless, or stupid, or pathetic! You're an incredible sister who's done an amazing job taking care of your sibling. We care about you! So don't go thinking you're worthless, okay?!?”
(. . . Looking eye to eye.) “. . . Okay.”
“Good!” (They let out a sigh, and move their hands from your shoulders to your hands.) “. . . Something's on your mind, right?”
“. . .” (You look down at your hands. You stare at them for two, three minutes at least before you finally nod.)
(You look up and around for the others. They're a few paces away, up the dune. You motion them over, and they all start making their way down. You can't look them in the eye, let alone talk, so instead, it's back to the hands. . .)
“. . .”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“. . .”
“. . . . . I. . .” (You can feel tears forming as you're about to talk. You choke them back, and try again.) “. . . I'm, afraid.”
“Anyone would be.”
“No shame in that.”
“Sure, but Bonnie. . .” (Their hushed responses was something at least, but, still you, had, trouble, talking.) “Th-they, they're. . .”
(You feel another hand placed on yours, then another, and another, and- C-crab, stupid- you're gonna cry, you, y-you--)
“They’re my whole world. They're my whole family, my best friend, everything!! I've done all I can to make sure they'll be okay and they're not! And if anything were to happen to them then I, then I, th-then---”
(You're sobbing.)
“T-then, I, I-I think I'd kill myself.”
(Squeezing your hand, hushed reassurances. You can't sort one sense from another right now.)
“I, I couldn't do it, I wouldn't be able to go on. I can't imagine a life with Bonnie is, is, i-is---”
(You're being hugged, you collapse into it, and wail.)
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for being like this I'm so sorry. I, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry I'm- i- I'm I I I'm ss-s-sorry, so-sorry, s-sorry. . .”
(. . .)
“. . . It's okay.”
(??!?!??!?!)
“You have every right to be mad.”
“Especially after all you've been through!!”
“I couldn't imagine losing a sibling. . .”
(But, you. . .)
“Y-your words did hurt, but you're still our friend, okay?”
“Yeah! We can be mad later, what's important is the here and now.”
“We’ll get Boniface back. I promise.”
“Promise.”
“Double promise.”
“Hey!!”
“Tch, Children, all of you.”
(. . . . Change. . .)
(. . . . . . You, y-you need a minute.)