So, I recently started playing a game, (Krosmaga) which lead me to another, (Wakfu) and this show, (Also Wakfu) obviously you should know that both games, and the anime I'm obviously talking about were not made, or owned by me. I know for a fact that two of them were made by Ankama, and I'm just too lazy to check on the third one at the moment, but i know by a later chapter. I do however, own my oc, and any changes I make to the story that you will see. Also, I'm an American, and I don't speak French, as cool a language as it is, so I will be using the names from the English dubbing of the anime, I didn't even know there was a difference until I saw a small comic strip on bing image search, E.G. Percedal, to Tristepin. So any time you see a name that isn't one you're familiar with from the subbed version, and it isn't just a spelling error or an OC, you now know why. And for those of you like me that watched the Dubbed version, well, you should be fine with this so… on with the Fic.
Earth, American Street of unknown state and town (Because I can do that.) 2017
A boy of seventeen tromped down the sidewalk on his way to his house, his head ducked to use his dark blonde hair as a shield against the driving rain for his glasses. On his back, held by a single strap with the other dangling limply in the air, is a brown backpack, bulging and heavy.
Climbing the old uneven stone steps to the front door of his family's home, the boy fished in his jeans pocket for his house keys. Slotting the key into the lock and twisting sharply of lock and knob, the teenager swings the dark blue door open and tosses his school bag off to the right, walking through the living room and into the kitchen. Approaching the refrigerator to grab himself an after school snack, he notices an orange sheet of paper taped to the front.
Gone shopping.
Be home by 9.
Leftovers for dinner
Brother and Sister are with us
Do your homework and be ready to help with
groceries when we get home.
The boy moves on from the note and grabs a lime yogurt from the fridge. Grabbing a spoon from a drawer, he makes his way back out to the living room and turns on the TV.
A while later. First person point a view.
*Cough Cough*
I jerk awake to a burning dryness in my throat and eyes, blearily I sweep my eyes around the darkened room, smelling smoke through a mostly plugged nose.
'Did I burn something? But I don't remember turning on the stove, must be that damn heater.' I sleepily puzzle out, standing and turning to the heater in question. Or at least that is the plan, dark swims before my eyes and my legs crumple like wet cardboard when I lift myself from the couch leaving me sprawled on the floor. What must be a few seconds later, I feel a dull throb in my head and left hand. 'Must have landed badly'. I shake my head to clear it of its foggy state, but regret it as a new throb races down my spine from above my eyes. I bring my hands up to my forehead to massage away the pain but am shocked fully awake by pain in my left hand. My eyes clear as I look at the blistered dark red skin now covering my right hand.
I look beyond my scorched digits and see a blob of orange flame by the front door, a tower of black smoke billowing up from its crown as another cough climbs my trachea. 'FIre? I stand. Coughing, I look for something to put it out. 'The sink.' I spin around. 'Where's the door?' Spin again. "Where's the door?" Black smoke, orange light. My hand stings at the heat. I take a step, stumbling against something at knee height. I spin again. Orange light. Hot air. Another step, kicking something hard. Again. The walls turn orange. Again, 'A hole!' I sprint at the gap in the fire. PAIN! Something smashes into my knees and the ground rushes to meet me. Orange wraps around me. My lungs fill with hot gas. Roll, moving a bit away from the fire. My glasses clatter off my face. I stand. My knees wobble. Stumble. My hand reaches out for something to brace on. My foot catches something. I fall. Black.
All at once, the noise of flames stop, as does the pain in my hand, the ache in my lungs, and the heat of the house. I crack my eyes open, to see a strange freeze frame of my last sight, the smoke still, the flames a bizarre and fantastic sculpture. I sti up, with no effort, no shakiness, and a strange clarity of mind. Glancing around the room, i see a similar sight in all directions.
The burgundy curtains are decorated now by sharp tongues of orange, and crowned with a black cotton trim. The couch now serving as a resting place to black twists of what must have been paper at one point, paused mid motion. My gaze provided me with nothing but a morbid image of the moment I died. "This can't be the afterlife right? Living in the exact second of your death, looking at the scene." I mumble, standing up and trying to leave the site. But finding my feet wouldn't leave the spot on which they rest. "Stuck to spot of my death, with the image of my burned house. Hell no, no i refuse to spend any time like this." I declare, struggling with my feet to free myself from the spot. But out of the corner of my eye, I see motion.
My whole body, even my previously obstinate feet turns to face the shift in the frozen background. Out of the smoke, stepps a seven foot tall slender figure with an ash white face, a black clipboard clasped in long white fingers. "Dunstin Locklan. Born November 8, 2000, date of death, ah, and therein lies the issue, according to our files, you were supposed to live for quite some time further. Hmm, what to do about this…" The figure drawls out in a bored but professional tone,
"Um, who are you?" I ask. My voice feeling small.
The figure pulls out a thick, grey book from beneath their cloak and flips it open, paging through it with practiced ease "Hmm, section 389 states that once dead, you can't be brought back, by agents assistance, so I can't just undo this, unless…" The figure drops the book, which continues to stay right where it had been held, as they reach into one of the sleeves of their robe and pull out a small black phone. Dialing quickly, they hold the device under their hood and wait a few seconds before speaking again. "Hey, Darius, do could we get a few hour reset over in section 89?" A few seconds later. "Really, when did they set that rule?" A few more. "Huh, well I guess that makes sense, okay thanks for your time." The figure smirks like they had told a really bad joke. "I'm sorry, it had to be done, anyway, say hi to the missus for me and tell my goddaughter I'll be there for her birthday. Yeah, thanks man, bye." They slip the phone back into their sleeve and grab the book once more. "Well, that idea's a bust, so…" They fall silent for a time, flipping through the pages of the book quickly, and i swear some of them split and multiply, because even at the speed their flipping through the book, they get no closer to the end. "Aha! This one is perfect, '...the event that the soul is killed fifty or more years before their time without malice or suicide playing a part in the death…' yep, that will do nicely." They snap the book shut, the sound echoing strangely in the silent house "Well kid, I'm sure you have tons of questions, but I don't have a lot of time left on my shift and there are still a few dozen deaths on my quota today, not like any explanation will help anyway, so i'm just gunna…" With that, the figure made a dismissive gesture and I feel myself falling suddenly.
I feel solid ground beneath my feet, as a long hallway stretches on before me, six doors on either side of the hall. I blink once, twice, and a third time, holding my eyes closed as my mind swirls with the past… who knows how long since my own death.
…
…
…
"Im dead." I realize, my stomach dropping like a rock. I fall to my knees as the weight of the situation crashes down on me. I'll never see my friends, family, Oh god, my family just lost their house. Years of their lives just went up in smoke 'So did you.' I niggling voice in the back of my head reminds me, starting the process over. "And now i'm… Where the hell am I?" I moan. Finding something to distract myself, I stand sharply and start examining my new surroundings. The floor is polished marble with a waving black and white pattern running the length of the hall. At either end of the hall is a great bonfire behind a thick grate that does nothing to ease my discomfort. Each of the doors is the same height, being just above head level, but each is very different. One is white with red swords crossed over it, another is a blue grey with cogs grinding together stutteringly, another is covered in barbed wire and blood, won't be going through that one, and yet another is covered in skulls and bones… the fires at either end of the hall belch flame, the one ahead of me belching flame to the left of me and making me stumble back and through one of the doors, this one smelling of loam and baring a vine pattern on it.
Images flash past me.
Woods
Tribal Masks
A colossal tree
Voodoo dolls with smiling faces, one wearing a mask pats me on the head
A Tall figure standing on one leg with an oval mask on its face pears at me before nodding and places a few seeds on me before shooing me on my way.
Then darkness falls around me, and a comforting warmth surrounds me.
Time passes, i'm sure it does, but I just contently rest in the warm darkness around me. Then the warmth presses against me, shoving me forward painfully.
Light, cold bright light beats down on me, making me want to shrink in on myself and disappear.
Blurry forms move around me as muffled sounds become words.
"It's a Girl!" a voice proclaims happily.
Wait, WHAT!
Okay readers, if you've made it this far I commend and thank you. So, having glanced at the wiki's I have taken a few liberties to make the world less like that of an mmo, so a few things may be strange. Um, Im hoping you like what I've done, and yes, this character will be a bit different then most of their race, and that twist at the end. Heh, heh, yep I made a dude turn into a girl, partly because I hate how the male Sadida look, partly because the plot bunnies made me. And unrelated, when I was writing the fire death scene, pandora decided to play the Misty mountain song from the hobbit, "The trees like torches…" hah, and then My time of Dying by Three days Grace, well, guess pandora agreed with the death I had decided for my character. Anyway, Rate, Review, follow, do whatever, just give me a sign that i'm not writing into a dead fandom, cus I dont know if anyone actually is going to read this.