Zvso – A Roleplay

[Mystic Syn she/her]

Quote

I gotchu.. been meaning to do this for a while lolll

Em is more than welcome to come in tho

The door closed soundly, and Nyka let out a relived breath.

Thank Ko'ad he left. She turned her gaze over to Ysola, who rocked back and forth, continuing to mutter about the incident in the bathroom moments earlier. Stay any longer and she would be asking his hand in marriage.

She picked up the towel Ji'd discarded, sighing as she draped it over her forearm. Always best to start cleaning up before another one came in or Mother told her to. Ysola wouldn't do it––Nyka knew that much––and who knew if Mother would do anything with what schedule and meetings she had with the Insurgence. It was a miracle she had enough time to come downstairs and see the so-called "vigilante" in shambles. How Ysola found anything to like about him was beyond her. Another question that'll never be answered.

Even if he'd stayed, where would they put him? They already had enough stuff as is. Rooms were usually filled with refugees either fleeing the city or trying to enter without the Pacis' knowledge; one of the amazing perks of having a higher-up of the Insurgence for a mother. They did have a small family of Mystics in one of their rooms in the basement awaiting for the Insurgence to find them a new place to live in the Kore Isles.

If only we could've done the same for the Naito's.

Nyka grumbled, shoving the soiled towel into the dirty basket. The story of what'd happened to the Naito's was no secret in the Outskirts. Tragic story. The loss of the Naito's hurt almost as much as the Byrd's did. Can easily understand the why when considering what Ji had done over the years, but still didn't excuse those actions that made life harder for everyone in the Outskirts and the Insurgence. Nyka had been very young when the tragedy happened; the Insurgence a mere idea in the minds of Mother and her colleagues. No point in blaming yourself for what had happened years ago that wasn't even your problem, especially if you had no control on whether it had happened and what you could've done about it or not.

Did Ji ever feel that way about himself? Ever wonder how things could've been done differently?

The stairs creaked, interrupting Nyka's thoughts as she looked up from the dirty laundry basket to see Mother descend slowly, exhaustion and yet determination taking up her expression.

"What are you doing?" Mother asked; gentle, yet insistent.

Nyka blinked a couple times, her brow knitting together. "Cleaning up, just like you'd ask me to after anyone left?"

Mother smiled, the exhaustion wearing away. "A good thing to do, but you need to follow him."

"Ji?"

"Who else?"

"But why? You gave him the a-okay to leave, which means that he leaves and we never have to see him again."

"Hm." Mother smiled again, settling down on the sofa as she watched Ysola finally gather herself and walk upstairs to tend to the refugee family. "There's no way in Tophet I would let him leave, but he would be antsy and reopen wounds if I forced him to stay."

Nyka frowned, a grumbling protest forming in her throat. "Alright then," she said instead, making her way to the entryway, slipping on her shoes.

"Nyka," Mother said, turning her head towards her right as Nyka opened the door.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Bring him home."

"Yes, Mother."

. . .

Thoughts swirled.

Many of them whispered.

Some yelled.

Others remained silent.

Ji tried focusing on the other side of the room––anything––but everything came out blurry.

Even the blue glow of his blades were blurry.

Why didn't they just do it?

Why couldn't they just get it over with?

Why did they hang on to life?

Why did he still have to be here?

Why?

For once, he didn't know.

Was there some twisted part of him that wanted to hang on?

Maybe.

Who knows at this point?

He took in a breath.

Then closed his eyes.

. . .

The salty breeze caught her hair, flaring it up for a second as Nyka stuffed her hands in her pockets, grumbling quietly to herself. If his reputation proceeded him, then he would've gone back to wherever he had been before and do who knows what to tick off the Pacis and make life harder for everyone in the Outskirts. Probably said that he wanted to make everything better for every Mystic, but a fat lot of good that did them when he'd attack the lightn' outposts, run, then cause the Pacis to tighten their rules on the rest of the population, especially on the Outskirts.

Honestly. Why did Mother want to help him in the first place? He made the Insurgence's job a whole lights of a lot harder. Never even considered any actions he did. What was the use of protecting him if all he did was make life harder?

Nyka grumbled something again, then knelt placing her hand on the wood below. She took in a deep breath and held it, picturing what scarce memories she had of Ji––looks, scents, and everything––then breathed out, a golden cloud escaping her lips. Mystic power burned within her as she saw his footsteps glow a bright gold amongst the millions that had walked these highways, walking a bit further before taking a left into a building. Nyka grunted in satisfaction, rising to her feet.

Thank Ko'ad no one could see them, but her. It'd look lightn' weird if golden footsteps appeared out of nowhere; might even get people to throw out their Doshvid wine. Only drawback was that she had to hold her breath to continue to see the footsteps, but it wasn't far and there was no one. It'll be done in a cinch. Nothing to worry about. All she had to do was walk.

And walk she did. Nyka kept her gaze focused on the footsteps below, Mystic power blazing as she held her breath. All she had to do and focus on was moving forward. Literally nothing else. Just keep going, and––

She'd almost lost her breath as she crashed into someone. Nyka tumbled to the ground, bracing and also scraping her hands up as she rolled to the railing, using all her willpower to not let go of her breath. Old, long splinters dug into her exposed hands, but she quickly wiped her hands together, some slivers of wood flying off in random directions. It was okay. All she had to do was get up and keep going. Whoever this was could wait till afterwards––

"Nyka?"

She blinked a couple times, looking up at the familiar face.

Oh lights.

The Pacis soldier she knew all too well, Asoyu, looked down at her, then immediately helped her up by the hand, her light green eyes lighting up as she held Nyka's hands in her own.

"Sorry sorry sorry for crashing into you, but it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed, her short hair bounced as she smiled and nodded. "It feels like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Mmhm," Nyka responded, trying her best to not open her mouth as she forced a smile.

"Oh, my lights!" Asoyu looked down at Nyka's scrapped up and bloodied hands. "Did you hurt yourself when I accidentally ran into you?"

"It's fine!" she said quickly, careful to not run out of breath, but the footsteps underneath flickered. "You don't need to––"

"Oh shush," she chastised, bringing Nyka's hands up close. "It won't hurt, you know."

Asoyu carefully opened Nyka's bloodied hands, then rested them palm up on her own hands. She muttered something in Korish, blowing softly on them.

The scrapes glowed a soft gold, then closed up quietly and painlessly, new skin forming over the old scrapes without any scar or blemish.

Asoyu grinned. "See?" she said, holding Nyka's hands up. "All better!"

"You're not supposed to do that!" she hissed, the footsteps beneath flickering again. "But thank you, though."

"Of course! Anything for you."

Nyka nodded, glancing down at the fading footsteps as she felt sweat trickle down the back of her neck. Lights. She didn't have much time.

"So," Asoyu said, cutting into her thoughts. "I was thinking that when my shift is over, you and I could––"

"'Kay." Nyka grabbed Asoyu by the shoulders, causing Asoyu to blush a bit. "I would love to hear what you have to say, but I'm too busy right now. I promise that we will talk and hang out afterwards."

Before Asoyu could ask anything, Nyka zipped away memorizing where the footsteps went and then took in a deep breath, gasping hungrily for more air. Out of all the consequences her Mystic power had, why did it have to be that one?

Don't think right now, she scolded herself, glancing over her shoulder to see Asoyu turn around and began to walk slowly away from her. Focus on what Mother wants. Don't think about what Asoyu wanted to ask. Don't think don't think don't think.

She looked up at the door the footsteps had led to, taking in another breath of that sweet air, then opened the door with a firm push to...

Ji.

On the floor.

Back against the wall.

One of his weird Mystic blades inches away from penetrating where his heart should be.

And another pointing toward her.

He rolled his head toward her, eyes void of... anything.

Don't do anything, a twisted part of her whispered. Let him go through with this.

"Shut up," she snarled to herself, knowing where to draw the line. The dark thoughts silenced, feeling the weight of the situation.

Nyka walked slowly to him, kneeling down next to him. "Hey, Ji?" she asked in the most gentle voice she could.

His blades flickered, so did his gaze.

"Why don't we just turn off the powers, 'kay?" she said, raising her hands to reveal nothing. "I'm good. Safe."

The blades held for a second, then dissipated. Ji closed his eyes, turning his head away.

She let out a quiet relieved breath and prayer. "C'mon." Nyka picked him up princess-style, grunting. "Let's get you home."

. . .

Ysola bade the small family farewell, smiling and waving to the two little ones––who gave her toothy grins and huge waves––as she took the dirty plates in her hands down the stairs.

Another job well done, she smiled to herself, hefting the plates into the kitchen and then the sink. Ysola turned on the water, letting any food residue go down the drain. Something for Nyka to do. She already had enough to do with all the laundry from them, the family, and now Ji... which she still couldn't believe had been in her house and used the towels that she washed and used on occasion. It'd almost been like Ko'ad had finally answered her half-hearted prayers that she thought would never come true. Maybe He does answer prayers every so often.

Ysola couldn't help but smile and hum as she went along preparing the kitchen for dinner that Nyka would make later. Mother would get on her case for not helping her––probably even say that this wasn't even helping her either––but she was helping! Who else would get out the ingredients? Nyka wouldn't and Mother was too busy to do it, so this counted as helping and therefore, didn't have to do anymore; she helped.

Maybe Mother or even Nyka would approve, but it was just abiding by their logic.

She came out the kitchen, wiping herself off as she hummed.

"Ysola?"

She yelped, jumping back from Mother, who laid back on the couch with her eyes closed.

"Sorry––" Ysola brushed herself again "––yes, Mother?"

"Do me a favor," she said, opening an eye to peek at her, "and would you go outside and just look around?"

Ysola felt one of her eyebrows raise. "Whyyy?"

"A feeling." Mother yawned. "Maybe do it now rather than later?"

She let out a sigh. "Yes, Mother," Ysola said, slipping some shoes on as she walked out the door.

She walked outside, and looked around the surrounding area.

...

Yep.

Everything was still the same.

Ysola sighed again, turning before something caught her eye. An eyebrow rose as she squinted at the floating piece of... whatever that was. Lots of people, especially in the Center, threw a bunch of random stuff and trash into the canals to be swept away, so this wasn't that strange. Just another piece of trash. That was normal. Nothing for Mother to be worried about.

She looked closer again, then caught her breath.

Oh lights.

Ysola quickly ripped her apron off, tying her hair back into a quick ponytail, then dove into the canal.

Cold, salty water immediately filled her ears and soaked her to the bone. She blew out through her nose, fighting against the current. She swam harder, eventually reaching out and bringing the person under her arm as Ysola broke the surface, coughing as she made her way back to the house.

Thank goodness that the current was going to the house.

She held the person tight, then grabbed the railing, hefting the person onto the highway after a couple of tries, most of them ending with her mouth full of water. Ysola gripped the railing, pulling herself up. She got on her hands and knees, coughing up some water as her head pounded. Her whole frame shook as she coughed, taking in big gulps of air.

"Another one?" Nyka's voice sounded above her, her voice sounding strained.

Ysola nodded, gesturing to the bloodied and broken girl with green hair, then to the canal, too busy coughing and breathing to speak.

An exasperated sigh came above. "Alright then. I'll let Mother know."

Ysola nodded again, her coughing fit going down as she just focused on breathing. She looked over at the girl, taking note of how pale she was. Ysola took in another breath, and tapped the girl's forehead softly.

Water moved in the girl's lungs. Ysola coaxed it to come up, then promptly leaned back and continued to take in more and more breaths.

[Channelknight Fadran]

Quote

Sorry, but -

Spoiler

Not sorry

 

[Channelknight Fadran]

As far as she was concerned, Elya had died.

She stood before the man in white robes again, watching him as he poured himself a cup of tea.

Neither of them said a word, until--

"I expected more of you, Little Shadow." 

Elya didn't shrink away from the comment. "More pain, you mean? More time pushing against an unstoppable force? Even you can’t make a perfect warrior.”

“I didn’t make you a warrior. I didn’t make anyone a warrior. I paved the way for you to make yourselves.”

“Easy enough words to say.”

He raised a finger and wagged it in the air, eyes still down on his tea. “Mm. I told you, Pherish. Lies do not become this place.”

Elya crossed her arms. “And I told you that I’ve never used that name.”

“Ah, but you did. But that was many years ago.”

The eyes…

“Are you going to let me die now or what?” Elya asked. “If I’m going to hell I’d much rather get to it than keep talking to you.”

“Mm. But fate doesn’t seem quite finished with you yet.”

“Finished?” Somehow that absolutely angered her. She took a step forward, now seething. “Was I not ruined enough? Does it want to take out my other eye first? Let an infection fester and kill me from within?”

The man nodded to himself. “I always did see great things in your power of decision. You truly did resign yourself to death.”

Elya turned away from him. He didn’t deserve to see her tears.

“Resignation, yes. But you do not wish to die.”

“How could I?” She whispered.

Lyanor, John… even those others who she hadn’t the chance to befriend. They weren’t bad people. They wouldn’t be joining her in… wherever it was she was going. Those precious few moments together would be their last.

“But you still don’t wish to live.”

To keep going would be agonizing. Every second would be a ragged breath; every hour another reason to scream. She wouldn’t be able to fight. She probably wouldn’t even be able to walk.

Not that the pain was the only reason, of course.

“It really isn’t like you to fall for someone, is it?”

Once she passed over… wherever it was that would be to… would she see him again? Would he be waiting at the crossroads? One last goodbye - an apology - before they parted ways.

The man looked up at her. “So you believe in an afterlife, then? How very uncharacteristic.”

“Is there one?”

“I’m not one to say, and that’s the truth.”

“What do you believe, then?”

He chuckled. “I’m not one for belief either. Faith isn’t blind trust - it’s expounding upon experience. This place being where it could imply both an afterlife or a void; a gateway or a last hurrah, I guess you could say.”

“And everyone passes through.”

“Eventually, yes.”

“What did Ji say?”

“Last? Oh, just ramblings about how he messed up and needed to stop going at it already. Practically begging to die.”

Elya nodded. That sounded like him, at least. “I hope I’ll see him.”

“Oh, right.” The man set down his cup. “That.”

The tugging began. Her soul tried to tear away from this place—but in which direction she couldn’t decide.

“I saw him just a few hours ago, yes.” The man in white said, stepping towards her. “But you see… he didn’t quite manage to die.”

Elya whipped around on her heel. “What?”

“See you with the living, Pherish.”

He faded away with this Inbetween as her soul was pulled—once again—away from the end. The sensation of finality, stagnation, and peace all dwindled down and away as reality worked her back into its grip.

Then her eyes snapped open to the dim and dingy… wherever; mind wiped blank, body gone from the finality of relief right back to burning. All at once the hot stabs ripped across her skin, slashing from her ankles up her legs, into the gaping hole in her stomach, blazing through her left eye.

Silence went to gasping: hard, deep, ragged gasps. Desperate.

She grit her teeth. No, no…. No no no no NO NO—

The pain didn’t stop, and the gasping turned to screams.

Edited November 5, 2022 by Channelknight Fadran