Summary: Sometimes, wanderers can get lost, like little children too far from home.
Tag(s): OC, reincarnation, setting is pre-Magi, drabble format.
Alive: 1-3
[1. lost to darkness]
Dying, like other things, didn't really matter to me.
To me, death was trivial, because I didn't know when it would happen nor did I concern myself with it. Unlike other people who are so afraid of eternal darkness and erasure of existence, I was apathetic to it. Becoming nothing but a fleeting memory and being forgotten over time just like an ancient artifact from the early ages of man. Did it really matter, when the truth is that we were all going to die at some point, at the end? Down any road, there was always a destination and the road of life was no exception, as death was its final pit stop. There was nothing beyond that, thus we will stay in that deep dark suffocating town once we reach it.
Humans were living masses of complexes; we we born to be social creatures, yet we loved to wander. That is why many fear death, because they no longer have the freedom to move about as they please. To be tied down forever, is man's subconscious fear.
For me, it seemed like there was too much work to care about anything, really, when I lost the will to even care.
Maybe it was because I already lost too much before reaching my destination.
I had cared about many things, once upon a time. Those long gone halcyon days where I was just like the rest of them, happy and ignorant to the world around me. Where I thought everything was perfect, where I had attained my dream, the love of my life and the approval of my parents.
Those were very happy days indeed.
But because they were happy, they ended. All things will be taken away sooner or later and I was one of the unlucky ones who had it taken from me early.
I couldn't even be angry about it, because it came so quick. Like thunder in the sky, it all happened too fast for me to comprehend. I was shocked, that the one thing that I treasured the most, was ripped away from me. Not even with consent, not even with a goodbye.
I felt broken, like damaged goods. I was no longer "me", because what was taken from me was what had helped defined me. Shaped me into "me" and let me create my identity. It was what made me recognize myself in the mirror or when I saw my name on paper. Without it, I was lost. I could no longer see beyond the little pieces of my damaged self.
Just like that, things fell apart very quickly. I could not go out without the rage wrapping its thickness around my neck and without the resentment at the world that I had thought was perfect. My dreams were shattered into a million of tiny shards, unable to be collected to be fixed anew. The love of my life left me after excessive hovering and hesitance, treating me like a broken toy before throwing me away. My parents looked at me with pity while wondering where did their headstrong daughter went.
Life was not the same. I became shut off from the world that decided to steal from me and forsake me. The only thing that became important to me, even if slightly, was a brightly lit screen and the nights I spent pondering when I couldn't sleep, afraid of nightmares holding me tight.
But when it came, when death arrived, earlier than it should've, just like how early everything was taken from me... this time, there was only relief. I didn't need to be bitter about how my life went and I didn't need to live with hatred bubbling inside of me.
I accepted it and expected nothing more but a long, peaceful sleep.
. . .
[2. dreaming dead girl]
There wasn't supposed to be anything after the final pit stop down the road of life. Nothing but a dark town to trap and suffocate you once you reach it. Tied down, unable to wander forever.
That was what she thought what death was.
Apparently, she was wrong.
Death was not the end, not when she was tiny again with so many people fussing over her. Not when there was cold air in her lungs and she could move her fingers slightly. Not when there was someone screaming — which was her, though she had no control over her voice — and the air was thick with something she couldn't discern. She could see people, in strange clothes of cloth and fur, accessories that included colorful feathers and little shiny orbs, most likely pearls with pale yellow hair and deep ocean blue eyes.
She was not ecstatic to be remade anew, to be alive again. She was fine with disappearing forever, lost to the clutches of darkness and nothingness. She was fine being forgotten by the people she thought were precious to her. She was fine with rotting six feet under, her skin stripped and bones bare to show how ugly she became after the world forsook her.
She tried her best to turn to the side and saw that there was a large wooden bowl of water beside her little body. This caused a strange hope to arise in her, as she — desperately — hoped that they would kill her by drowning her in it, since she was small enough to fit. An old man held a strangely decorative staff over the bowl and watched as the water floated into the air, shaping itself into a sphere. A liquid, wobbly one, but a sphere nonetheless. At this rate, she wasn't surprised that someone controlled water, when she was alive again.
The old man muttered a few odd words she could not understand and suddenly, the water lost its shape and splashed back into the wooden bowl with a loud splash.
A bit of water splashed onto her face and she was tempted to wipe it off. Sadly, she had zero motor control over her body.
After that, they were talking and disagreeing in a language she had never heard of. It was rather irritating to listen to them, because she could not understand a single word they spoke.
She then decided that it's a waste of time listening to them as she was getting tired and her eyes felt as heavy as lead. She closed my eyes, hoping that this was a dream and that she was actually dead, in a place with other dead people.
But, the dead don't dream, do they?
. . .
[3. unknown destiny]
"How strange... I can't see her destiny... Everything is very distorted. Unreadable." he muttered under his breathe and stroked his beard. His black wooden staff, its head round and two branches separated into two little horns, decorated with a string of pearls and red and yellow feathers had thumped against the ground. "Hmmm..."
Another man spoke up, this one younger than the first man. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, in the same fashion as the others. "She was born with the calamity eyes." He glanced at the sleeping baby. "Chief, should we send her away just like the previous calamity child?" He seemed like the serious type, judging by how he had he crease between his eyebrows, his shoulders tense and his lips pulled into a grim frown.
"There's no need to decide when we should do what must be done before it's too late!" a person behind the second man snarled. He was furious and the numerous scars on his face made him look more fierce. "The same chaotic blood and look at the power she has! At this rate, she will be worse than the previous, because she was born a high magician and a calamity child!"
A little girl with her hair let loose said, "B-but you didn't see anything bad, right? Just because you can't read it doesn't mean that she has to be sent away!" in a glum tone with teary eyes.
"You can't take Aquis away! She didn't do anything wrong!" Her voice rose higher, until it cracked and she started crying. Everyone could tell that she was scared.
"Young Nawar is right, Chief." a woman agreed and nodded. She was firm in her words as she ignored the glare sent in her way from the outspoken third man. "Even though we saw the misdeeds in the previous calamity child's destiny after her birth, we did not immediately send her away. She was only sent away when she could not get rid of her repulsive, sick behavior and urge to exhibit control over the children."
There was silence, as the two men, one woman and one child waited for their chief to lay his decisions before them.
"Perhaps we should see how she handles herself as he grows, Layth, Nuha." the old man conceded. He turned towards the younger girl, Nawar, who was still sniffling and her face streaked with tears. "Do not fret, young Nawar. We will not send your sister away."
Nawar nodded jerkily to indicate that she had heard him loud and clear before running off to the older female's, Nuha's side. Nuha squeezed the little girl's shoulder for comfort. The second man, Layth, stayed silent.
The Chief looked weary and older than before. "Rais, we should not discriminate by blood and an unseen destiny, as she is but a helpless infant." The third man, Rais, scowled but did not say anything.
"Mariam was dangerous and we saw the darkness in her destiny, but we did not judge until the time was right and the evidence presented itself. Calamity eyes, Magi or not, young Aquis is one of us."
"Until then, we wait."
A/N: I absolutely adore Magi, so I thought I should write an OC fic. This isn't going to be super lengthy, as you can tell from the fact that I chose to use a drabble format for this fic. Aquis as a Magi is not something I chose to make her OP, but actually because she's so apathetic and in denial most of the time when it comes to interaction and as a Magi, which involves "shaping the world", choosing a king, being tied down by a king and a lot of social stuff... well, sucks to be her. xD
Also, there is no pairing involving Sinbad or Kouen, but there will be a pairing (though I'm not listing it in the characters tag until I reach that development; shh, no spoilers). Just giving a heads up because most of the OC fics I have seen in the Magi archive involve them. Enigma by marshmellowtime is the only one I have read and enjoyed though.
Please leave a review and tell me what you thought. ^^