Raeburn lowered his plate on his lap, looking up to the man on the bed, his hands and upper body tightly tied to the bed to ensure no further self-destruction, still seeing no changes since last night.
Still bleeding from the eyes. Raeburn's now convinced that those are actually tears. He thought they were just another gimmick from his kind. His vomit could melt the ground, his blood could come alive, what about his tears?
Hours after multiple windows have been blasted outwards thanks to a high-frequency shriek that could only belong to the Necromagus himself, after having his face healed of all self-inflicted gashes and leaving behind a clean aftermath, after the beginning of breakfast with Raeburn offering to take up the role of watching over the patient himself in case the man wakes up and gets violent again, the latter never let up a sign of coming to.
He might as well be comatose, Raeburn noted, especially with how unmoving and still like the corpse he is, if it weren't for the air of grief surrounding his form due to the Souls and Spirits crowding him in sympathy.
Or rather, he might as well be dead with how unmoving and cold his body is, nothing much different than he was awake. With all this grief and anguish from the Dead surrounding the room and around his form, it's almost like a vigil.
Raeburn frowned. Yet another enigma that'll take forever to figure out just like the ones before. Just what happened prior to that shriek that led to that severe outburst of crippling depression and loss during the evening? He had asked the Souls many questions and the kind of specifics he asked brought no luck, aside from the fact that the man wanted to die, which is hardly surprising since the first time he asked. The man's always been morbidly suicidal since the first time they've met in Pandemonium.
Which is odd, for now of all times did he start pushing for that outcome. First by charging straight into multiple stab wounds to the gut from that psycho when he could have turned into black smoke upon collision, and then followed by wildly clawing at his own face in the middle of the evening.
He sighed, leaning back into his chair, "You're still confusing, Man."
"It seems the both you are truly not the best of friends, Master Raeburn." The lovely maid commented next to him, locking a few strands of gold hair behind her ear as she poured a cup of tea. "I had thought your polite, if derisive, descriptions of him earlier were underlined with fondness felt for a friend. It seems I was wrong."
Raeburn chuckled, suppressing the blush that was rising to his cheeks as he was reminded of having being accompanied by her under the orders of the Margrave Roswaal, the master of the Mansion he's recuperating in. "If his kind were capable of friendship, then I'm at the lowest of his choices with the esteemed Lady Emilia back there as his highest, considering he saw fit to honor her with verbal communication."
The lovely maid, Frederica, giggled, her hand coming up to hide her sharp-toothed smile. Raeburn found himself with the urge to tell her to stop doing that and instead smile freely. It's not like he hates seeing them.
A slight grimace crossed her features, "Your recount of him has been naught but unflattering, despite his feat. Is Lady Emilia's savior truly such unpleasant company?" She asked, giving him a steaming cup of tea and taking the empty plate from his lap, placing it under the trolley she brought with her.
Raeburn blew into his cup before taking a sip. Jasmine brew. "If you wanna know…..I don't like categorizing races but from my experience, his kind are all like that. Harsh, coldhearted, and chronically sullen. You'd have a better chance at seeing your Guardian Angel than to see them smile or laugh. At least I can say with complete confidence that their hearts are in the right place and will do what it takes for the greater good."
He bitterly smiled, remembering the sight of seeing the black-robed Master of the Dead direct a dragon-drawn carriage filled to the brim with fruits and jugs of water to the poor people in the slums. All with a murderous scowl on his face.
"It's just that they are never going to be nice about it." He continued, then the boy turned to his company with a smile, "But hey, at least you got me around. I'll make sure he doesn't go too far. As I said before, he's more volatile than a moody witchbeast. Somebody's gotta soften the blows. Did it before so I know what to do."
Frederica smiled at him warmly, sadly without visible teeth, "Then we are in your capable hands, Master Raeburn." She bowed gracefully.
Superficial as the smile and gesture was, especially with the Souls continuously mentioning it as typical Maid Conduct, Raeburn managed to feel touched by it, if a little.
"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" The boy offered, eager to maintain conversations with the woman, "By your standards, how was the work I did on those windows? Couldn't really get into Rem's level but I think it was a good job."
Raeburn and the Maids were quick into repairing the 17 sets of windows that were blown outwards after healing the man's clawed face and tying him to the bed. There was a moment of being told to be in bed while the servants repair the damage but, obviously, he refused. As far as he's concerned, the Necromagus' his responsibility now...at least until he's awake...actually, he should just be responsible the whole time, sleep or no sleep.
The man's prone to trouble, and he's sleeping inside a Noble's house. That's fire to oil.
It isn't obvious due to his severely average-looking build and appearance, it was even pointed out in ridicule and mockery by the elder sister, but Raeburn's quite the builder. Since owning permanent residence in Lugnica, a bit of Pandemonium's Pride overtook his mind when he built that simple little two-story house by himself. The builders that were supposed to do the job for him were quite baffled at his aggressive insistence, even worse when he carried an entire cart of mortar and bricks one-handed followed by jumping 10 meters into the air before landing soundlessly on the ground without dropping a single piece and the slightest difficulty just to prove a point.
As a Soul-Speaker that allowed the Spirits of the Dead to loan him lots of mana and vigor under the right circumstances, he was capable of lasting an entire week without sleep during his construction, with periodic intervals of break time, halving the exact time of building a two-story house alone would have taken. A month later, the finely-built two-story house is complete and furnished a week after.
"You've done wonderfully, Master Raeburn. You'd be worth hiring as Lord Roswaal's personal builder if he'd be inclined to. Though, I felt slightly pained when you refused to use the tools I've provided for you."
Slightly stung with guilt, he looked away and replied, "Hey, c'mon. Don't feel bad. That hammer would've taken me 5 swings before the nail is fully in since I didn't wanna break it. I'm a hundred times useful with the club, trust me. I even built my house with even less!" He patted the weapon next to him leaning against his side, his scarred knuckles telling of past fistfights, overshadowing the feat of having punched nails into wood barehanded.
"Oh, you jest. I'd expect a bit more muscle from such a handyman like you."
Smirking, Raeburn stood up, placed his teacup on the chair, and turned his body to face her, approaching her with his hand nearing to her cheek, as if to caress, slightly tip-toing to reach. Despite being taller than him, the lovely Maid was taken aback by his sudden assertion, having been acquainted with his meager and unassuming self since the first meetings.
"And I expected a bit more confidence in her smile from such a beautiful lady like you." Without breaking eye contact, watching as the surface of her cheeks began to burn red, his hand neared, the itch on his fingertips and the whooping of the Souls begging him to touch her, "Y'know, if you'd let me….I'll show you just how much of a handyman I am…."
"Theeeeeen you'll appreciate it if we granted you two some priiiiiiivacy then~?"
Compared to Frederica, Raeburn was the most freaked out, yelping like a girl and tipping the chair behind him upon his jump, spilling the tea. The Souls were so invested in his actions that they couldn't report the arrival of the Mansion's Master at the door, accompanied by the twins and Her Lady Heir to the Throne, Emilia. Being caught off-guard was literally a death sentence in Pandemonium, even during the most peaceful of times.
"L-Lord Roswaal!?"
"Since when were you there!?"
The light of great amusement and joy in the Lord's eyes and smile threatened to set the room alight with greater illumination than the sun itself. "If you're not feeeeling scandalous with your friend asleep over there, I can offer a vaaaaacant room if you liiiiiike~"
"Sister, Dear Sister, the carpenter let out such an unmanly voice."
"Rem, Rem, it seems we have caught the wolf man with his pants about to come down."
Caught in the most compromising position for the very first time, Raeburn the 24-year-old former Sword Slave was reduced to the likeness of his appearance, a teenager, flustered and red in the face, "Slander! Accusations! Lies! That is NOT what's about to happen! And first of all, I'm neither a carpenter nor a werewolf! Don't call me a wolfman! I'm a musician!"
"Rem, Rem. It seems the musician has such a wonderful ladylike voice."
"Sister, Dear Sister. It seems we have a soprano aficionado as our guest."
"Oh, come on! I don't even sing! Do I even sound that high!?"
"Um, everyone?" Everybody fell silent upon the call of a bell-like voice. Roswaal stepped away from the doorway as Emilia peaked in, raising a timid hand, "It's nice that everybody's getting along but can we not make too much noise? Ser Emurdol's still sleeping…."
All eyes of varying colors turned to the patient, the pale man remaining undisturbed and lying still on the bed despite the commotion, his eyes continuing to weep red and leaving a noticeably larger red stain on the pillow under his head. Compared to the rest, only Emilia and Roswaal were the only ones to see it for the first time, the former quickly hurrying to the bedside, taking out a white handkerchief to wipe them away.
"Master Raeburn's infatuaaaation to Frederica aside, how is Emilia's saaaaaavior fairing?"
"Is…..is this normal? I mean, his eyes are bleeding!" Emilia exclaimed, vigorously wiping the assumed 'blood'. "Don't we have to do something about it?"
"Not really." Raeburn corrected solemnly, setting the fallen chair upright and placing his weapon against it, ignoring the bitter feeling of having spilt such good tea on the floor, "The man's just crying."
Emilia turned a surprised look on him while Roswaal raised an eyebrow in interest, "Ooooh….does he have soooome sort of condition for his tears to be red, I wonder…..?"
"Are you sure, Raeburn?" Emilia asked, worried.
All eyes were fixed on him, wanting his confirmation and explanation as to how he knows that.
The boy scratched his head, his other hand resting atop the backrest of the chair. "I guess I should educate you all about him. About his species, I mean."
First, he took a seat on the chair, placed his weapon across his lap and mentally gathered up the old beliefs impressed upon him during his time in Pandemonium as well as the new revelations he discovered upon collaborating with the real deal.
For this world's safety, he will have to play the role of having been born in this world instead of Hell itself, just like always. No need for anyone outside of Pandemonium to know about his home world.
"I'll start with the superstitions about them due to how isolated and antisocial they are, which left nobody but me and a few people knowing about their existence or anything past their appearances and rumors. They say his kind were made from infertile soil where the bodies of fallen men were left to rot, likely by the hands of demons and monsters, never given a proper burial. Some even say they were the same fallen men that mysteriously brought themselves back to life, which is why they looked so ghastly pale and corpse-looking if they were lying down….or just simply not moving.
"But in actuality though, his people simply lived underground. They procreated there, and I think their bodies started evolving to live without sunlight after a few centuries, and the lack of it left them colorless from hair to skin, except for the eyes. He may look like a normal, if tall and pale, human but I'd disagree with you. He'd think so too. The same way a dog isn't like a wolf and a wolf a dog, he's not like most of us. No way. You should just think he's a demihuman just so it's easier to understand what I'm getting at here.
"In other woooords, he's juuuuust like most of my staaaaaff here." Roswaal pointed out, gesturing magnificently to his maids, all very humanlike and attractive girls by their appearances alone, but absolutely not human, and definitely not weak. Raeburn confirmed that since last night.
Raeburn shrugged, "I guess. For his case, however, he's got way more organs than ours—he might as well have organs that shouldn't be found inside a humanoid body at all like a third stomach or six hearts…..not that I've seen it all myself but the point stands. His body's a complete abomination, and you wanna know something else? He made himself that way. If he bleeds black, it's normal. His vomit melts the ground? Normal. Are his tears colored red? Same reason."
He paused, taking in the reactions of his audience. Frederica and the blue maid listened with subtle but rapt attention, Roswaal and the red maid listened with passive interest, Emilia herself, however, was fully invested in his recount, forgetting about her little duty of wiping the man's tears and instead knelt on the ground like a child finding interest in a story's passage.
Suddenly finding himself caught with an unfamiliar kind of audience, the sort that isn't taken in by his music and the howls of his wolf brother, he quickly refocused his thoughts and continued, "As what you'd expect from somebody that lived half his whole life in a cave or outside of regular society or even normal human interactions, the values he and his people carry are quite alien. They do have ethics and morals, yes, but they sure as hell didn't model it after ours. No. His people are unkind, coldly pragmatic, and harsh. If it takes killing a child to save a whole nation of innocents? There would be no hesitation for them, and there will be no guilt."
He leaned forward, resting one elbow on one knee while his free hand held up a finger, "Allow me to make it very clear here. They are not evil. I've been with him long enough to see that. Much like us, they will do the right thing when it matters most, they're just the only ones willing to make the worst decision. But even so, they hate anybody that isn't an animal or one of their own."
"I find that hard to believe, Raeburn. I mean, didn't he risk his life to protect me and everybody in the loot house?" Emilia asked in concern, getting rather defensive. "You saw it as well, didn't you? When that horrible woman charged at me from the rubble, he pushed me away and got hurt in my stead. His tummy was eviscerated and mutilated….I was so worried that I thought he was going to die because of me. But….he didn't bleed—"
"Don't you think he could've avoided that?" Raeburn challenged lightly, not eager to point out the probable reasons behind his actions so openly to someone like her, "Don't you think he could've walked away uninjured from that fight? You said it yourself. He killed Elsa so many times that night with minimal trouble. How could he be so careless that he let himself get gutted so easily like that by running straight into her knife when he had other ways to go about it?"
Emilia was no longer pleased, her voice rising in indignation, "Raeburn! How could you say such a thing to your friend!? You can't expect Ser Emurdol to be strong all the time! He was tired! How could anyone saw it coming!? Not even Reinhardt was able to predict it!"
"Wrong! You are wrong, Emilia! He is not weak! I know how he fights—I've seen how he fights! I know more about him than any of you here!" Raeburn fought and succeeded to keep his fingers from curling around the hilt of his club, his will to control his heated insistence, however, failed to catch up, "I was next to him when we killed a monster worse than that Elsa. He should have seen that coming! There's no way he didn't! Turning into smoke—summoning a bone wall—cursing the injury back tenfold—blinding her—paralyzing her—weakening—HE COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING TO SURVIVE!"
His neck snapped.
However, no one had responded in retaliation to his heated rant. Everyone had remained where they stood or knelt, and they shared the same shocked reaction of seeing Raeburn's face suddenly turn upwards to the ceiling, as if an invisible hand pushed his chin straight-up with the force of a punch.
If Raeburn hadn't been forced into the Cult's service and was pushed to be their super human enforcer, additionally ageless and young, he surely would have died on the chair this very instant. His bones are a lot more flexible than that.
Souls are both sympathetic and hedonistic beings. If one could simply see or hear them, you're prone to their influence unless you're aware of your own self. They treat the world like a story book, reacting to dramatic events with strong emotions, and with a Soul-Speaker like Raeburn nearby, he was affected by them.
The fact that they were mad at him for assuming anything about the Necromagus…..
….the man's listening. He isn't awake, not at all, but he is undeniably aware of everything around him, and his feelings reacted accordingly. The Souls matched the Necromagus' anger, influenced Raeburn into feeling the same thing, and tricked him into thinking they had snapped his neck, bypassing the limitation of never being able to touch the Living.
It's like being stabbed in a dream. It's not real but you thought it did until you woke up.
He got his knowledge of the man challenged, he reacted negatively towards it, and it must've ruined his focus of self-awareness and left him exposed, otherwise he would not have fallen to the Souls' tricks.
He just let Pandemonium's Pride get to him again.
Maybe he should calm down, Raeburn realized. He's getting way too passionately defensive.
The boy leaned his upward-facing head forward, gritting his teeth painfully as numerous crackles erupted inside his neck, the misaligned and readjusting vertebras not feeling pleasurable at the moment.
"Master Raeburn, what happened?" Frederica asked cautiously, bits of concern lining her voice. "Do you need help? Is your neck alright?"
Emilia had risen to her feet and was already approaching him, the offer of healing him about to come out of her lips.
"I'm okay." Raeburn quickly waved her off, rubbing his neck with the other hand and twitching his head in a few angles, steadily adjusting the disarranged bones. He sighed pleasantly, glad for the phantom knife on his neck pulled out, "Sorry for the rant there. I just don't want any of you to be disappointed by your expectations of him."
He gestured to the Death Mage, "The man…..Emurdol, right?" He took the affirmation from the Souls than Emilia's nod. "I doubt ya'll could tell even if he was awake right now but….he's suicidal."
More than a few Souls lashed out at him once again. He didn't fall for it this time. They got creative, making him punch his own balls.
"Suiciiiidal, you say?" Roswaal repeated cryptically.
Noting the growing sadness on Emilia's face, he quickly but nonchalantly added, betraying no haste, "Which is just weird to me. He's been like that his whole life, and even when he was fighting monsters and bad men, his sense of self-preservation overpowers even mine, and I was a slave once so I'd know more about it. I saw him get cornered once, and he practically flipped the world over, leaving behind a ruined hellscape….."
He felt the phantom sensation of a pair of hands wrapping around his neck. He easily got over it by inhaling deeply and letting out a long breath. Not real.
Try harder, Raeburn goaded.
"…..I guess he chose that time at the loot house to finally give in, letting himself take all the damage in Emilia's place. Don't know why it's at that moment alone he chose to but he did." And he quickly turned his attention to said half-elf, noting the look of guilt on her face, "Hey, listen. I'm not saying that what you did was wrong, okay? If it were me, I'd owe you my life on the spot, but I think….." Raeburn paused, frowning, finding other ways to phrase this without making it worse. He sighed, "….I don't think he appreciated it. He probably wanted to die more than anything. And we just took that away from him."
He was very thankful for saying 'we' instead of 'you' reflexively.
As the hands around his neck disappeared, leaving behind a strange but vague air of appreciation, he nodded to the sleeping Death Mage, speaking lowly, "I guess that explains the scream last night and the tears."
Despite his efforts, the guilt on Emilia's face just got a lot worse, mixing together with the conflicted look in her eyes as she turned to Emurdol, as if she's caught with the altruistic action of saving him that night and the cruelty of denying her savior what he wanted most, which led him to an even torturous state than mutilated innards could ever do.
Amethyst eyes turned back to him, and they slightly glistened from the growing tears, the young girl fighting back the urge to let one teardrop fall down her cheek. Raeburn couldn't bear to face them so he turned his eyes down, rubbing his thumb on his club's wrapped handle.
"So you're saying that we…that I should have let him….die that night?"
The way she so softly and sadly asked that question and even singled herself out was like an actual knife to the heart, so he tightly closed his eyes, forcing down the guilt creeping into his stomach. Such a kind and innocent girl with such strong reactions, getting confronted for the act of kindness that could have earned her the adoration and loyalty of Pandemonium's mightiest people…..
He pursed his lips, no longer appreciating the company of people around him. He stood up from his chair, looking squarely into Emilia's eyes, speaking in the softest of tones, "If I had that choice? Maybe…maybe."
Even he was surprised at how indecisive he was with himself. If he was younger, specifically during the days in Pandemonium, he would have said yes, but years have passed already. His mindset developed and matured, much more so after he was forced into this World Beyond Hell for that mindset to be tested. He never liked the man for any reason at all, and he likely won't ever will. At the same time, however, he's long since lost every reason to hate the Death Mage completely despite his behavior.
The Necromagus changed as well. Even Raeburn can see that.
"But, Emilia, you chose to save him, and this is the consequence of that choice." He pointed his chin to Emurdol, the latter's grief seeming to have lessened, indicated by the bloody tears no longer flowing down, leaving behind a red line. Whether it was due to running out of them or simply for being understood, he wouldn't know. "How you plan to deal with the consequences you're responsible for? That's up to you."
He turned his heels towards the door and began walking towards it, his club resting on his shoulders. Before he took the first step, however, he lightly angled his face towards her, "If you're having trouble figuring out how, don't be shy to come see me. I'll help you. I'll be outside with Tank."
With that, he let go of his club, letting the weapon fall over his shoulder and magnetize to his back, proceeding to the door with strangely soundless steps.
"For someone who's quite unfamiliaaar with his name, you're quite intimate with his baaaackground, are you noooot~?"
"Well, there's no helping that, your Lordship." Raeburn answered with a light bit of mockery, earning a biting glare from the pink maid but he ignored it, "His kind's got quite the mean reputation, and even though I've had him as an ally once, it didn't mean he wants to be friends with me or anyone for that matter. I said it before. He hates everyone, with me close to the top of his list. Though, he did tell Emilia his name so I guess he thinks she's special."
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Most hours of the day he had spent on the grass with Tank, his wolf brother, racing around the grand mansion, exploring the premises and memorizing the pathways, double-checking the repaired windows, or doing routines of combat exercises. Just so the mana stocks rapidly building up in his body don't cause him excruciating pain. Anytime he began feeling the Rot, he did whatever he can to help around with the chores, even if it came off as redundant with the presence of 3 hardworking and perfectionist maids….okay, maybe for Ram's case, that would be too much praise, but with her enviable self-confidence and poise? It more than makes up for it.
Plus, there's Frederica for him to spend around with. Though he desperately wanted to, he held back his teasings for another time. He can't bring himself to bother her and cause annoyance. The lovely Maid's committed to her duties, so he should limit his playfulness around her to only during her off-time.
After lunch and Emilia takes a break from her studies, Raeburn and Puck took the time to check up on the comatose guest after a half hour of acquainting with each other and their interests. Seeing the guest room door slightly left ajar, the two peaked inside curiously and was surprised to see the half-elf girl sat by the bedside on a chair, chatting up a storm about her day to her unresponsive audience.
Unresponsive, yes, but actively aware and attentive, Raeburn remarked mentally. Looks like she didn't his help in dealing with the results that was a passed-out Emurdol.
The sight of it brought a big smile on his face. This silver-haired girl, looking so much like the feared Devil of this world, giving her all into bringing some sort of light into her savior's darkened world? The boy loved the irony, especially with how visibly relaxed the man is. His facial muscles aren't so tense, his neck likewise, and his fingers are half-curled. Last he saw them, they were tightly crumpled like a vice.
So, this is her idea of handling the consequences, and he approves of it greatly. The girl doesn't realize it but what she's sharing to the man are the results of being saved. Because she didn't die today, she got to experience having company over in her residence, playing with a big wolf so early in the morning, and even witnessing the development of Frederica having an admirer. She's making the result of her life being saved worth it to his ears.
This girl is so kind, Raeburn noted firmly. The doting Souls surrounding her, including the ones that remained with the sleeping man, further supports such impressions. They appreciated her presence, drawn to her innocence and light. Pandemonium would not deserve her. No. She deserves the blessings of the Seraphs.
Maybe there was good reason for the Death Mage to personally give her his name.
"She's the best." Raeburn whispered, moving away from the door crack.
"Right?" Puck agreed, his long tail waving hypnotically. "My Lia has such a big heart."
"And I suppose her daddy is behind that?" He inferred with a smile, walking along the hallway to look for Frederica.
"Of course!" His little furry chest puffed up, floating in pace with him, "Behold and be at awe of the fruits of my labor, pleb! You'll never find such well-behaved, humble, and adorable daughters except mine!"
"Did you, a cat, seriously call me a pleb?" Raeburn was mixed with exasperation and amusement, his grin widening. "What the hell? Since when did animals started imposing their status on men?"
"Since I got into your life. Now go down on all fours, mister, for your hound shall now wield your club and conquer all of Lugunica with your back in-between his legs!"
"Do not tempt Tank, please! He just got good at holding this thing with his teeth!" The fact that his modified training routine included the Liger shifting the point of the club in his teeth from left to right and vice versa on certain cues does not help either. The good boy's becoming as mighty as him, and is soon to surpass him someday. "Hey, if it's okay, could you bring your kiddo to one of the gazebos during the evening? You gotta come too. I wanna treat you both to something I know you'll enjoy."
"Is it Tank getting to ride on you while you go on all fours doing backflips on the Mansion roof?"
"Okay, that's it!" With surprising speed, Puck was swiped out of the air and pinned down to the floor, his fingers scratching his most ticklish places, "I've just had about enough of you, you little shit!"
"Aahahahaha! Stop! Stop thahahahat! No~!"
A few seconds later, Puck escaped his grasp and the playful spat devolved into a chase, forcing Raeburn to start violating the common laws of physics by running across the walls or the ceiling just so he could grab the cat floating all over the place again, leading to a few moments of frustration and soon followed by jumping out the window, straight into a wide-open section of the yard.
Before his feet could land on the ground from the fall, a perfectly-shaped snowball face cleanly smacked against his face.
His landing was slick and nonchalant from the third floor of the building, without the slightest bend of the knees or even noise, but he felt the humiliation and mockery from that devious cat, even with his vision completely white from the snow.
Grabbing a handful of the snowball stuck to his face, his wet face expressed a playfully spiteful leer, aiming straight at Puck who was float high above him and gazing imperiously, his voice was lined with an impressively intimidating growl, "If you throw another snowball at my face, I swear I'll—"
Smack.
A larger snowball impacted on his face, formally declaring war.
And to kick the teeth in? A gigantic ball of heavy snow landed on his head, burying him in a white hill.
And erupting out of the peak like a miniature, if anticlimactic and temper-throwing, volcano, there was Raeburn, both his hands holding large clumps of hardened snow, roaring a battle cry, "Urd Pandamunum!"
And then followed the longest, loudest, and most belligerent snowball fight ever from merely two people, partially three when Tank the Liger came to support his human brother in this battle, granting him increased mobility and moral support.
The only question from all spectators were how the two managed to last until dusk, covering half of the mansion yards, and maybe a few parts of the walls, in snow, trails of a wolf running through them, and Raeburn-shaped imprints.
|||| « ҉ » ||||
"What are you two doing?" Emilia asked with faux inquiry on the three lying on the snow, leaning down with her hands behind her back.
"Oh, y'know. Relaxing, eating some water-flavored snowflakes, debating the similarity of your skin color to the snow—the usual."
Tank yipped in agreement, burying his snout in the new snow hill he bunched up with his paws and taking a large bite out of it. Almost 30 minutes with his wire-like and muscular side used as a pillow by his brother and he's not the least bit bothered.
Emilia giggled, reaching forward to pick up Puck lying atop his chest. "Did you have fun with each other, Puck?"
"Oh yeah, he's such a good target. Ain't that right, Raeburn?" The Spirit asked him.
"Hmph." Raeburn snorted at him, then turned to the half-elf, "Why didn't you come join us play, Emilia? I mean, I know you were studying and all but come on, it's just, what, like 3 hours? You can study anytime so why not have some fun once in a while? I saw you staring from the window looking like you want to."
Her pale cheeks went red, flinching lightly at being exposed, "You saw me?"
"Well, it took a bit of squinting due to the wide-open window and the reachable height from 3 stories, especially with the good-looking girl leaning on the window rim blocking the view but yeah, I saw you there."
Now said good-looking girl pouted at him, held such a darling face for as long as she could while he stared back blankly, then she couldn't hold it up anymore and broke out laughing, not helped by the deadpan and matter-of-factly way he said it. Once she recovered, she straightened her posture and lowered her hand from her mouth, "Oh, Raeburn, you dullard."
Quite the smith for words, isn't she?
"You've quite the way with words, Raeburn." Look who's talking, Raeburn mentally sniped back. "Your flatteries are quite extraordinary, though I'd say they're wasted on someone like me."
Raeburn's smile disappeared, his grip on the handful of snow tightening, "What did you say?"
"Huh?" Emilia uttered in shock, caught off-guard by the sudden change of demeanor from easygoing to firm, almost reprimanding. "Um—"
"Did you seriously just say that I was flattering you? You actually think that I'm not being sincere with my words?"
"But…." Emilia was now conflicted, completely unsure of how to handle this development. It was foreign and unfamiliar, "…but don't you see?" She brushed her sidelocks aside, revealing one elven ear. "With this hair, with these eyes, and these ears…..don't you think that I look just like the horrible and terrible Witch of Envy, Satella? Do you think someone like that such as me would ever be beautiful?"
"So, you're calling me an idiot as well?" A truly disappointing and exasperating implication. Raeburn made sure to reflect it on his face.
"What!? No! I never once implied that!"
"Really? If you didn't, then you're either bad at it or you have a funny way of conveying it to the person talking to you." The boy wasn't impressed in the slightest. Though he can understand why her mind runs that way, Pandemonium raised him to never be tolerant of immature thoughts, whether his own or someone else's. Time spent in peace in Vollachia allowed him to further internalize such a mindset. Weakness is a very unmerciful killer, and he can't stand seeing it from others.
They'll die otherwise.
"If I recall correctly, Satella was sealed 400 years ago by the Dragon, the Sword Saint, and the Sage. There has been no tell of her escaping it, pretending to be a young and innocent girl, walking around with a Great Spirit by her side, and talking to me this moment like a regular person.
"Right now, I'm talking to Emilia. She's got shiny silver hair, almost similar to the kind of hair the Necro has, except a lot smoother and cleaner, as if somebody actually cared about keeping it combed and washed. She's also got a pair of purple eyes, and if you stare at them long enough, you'd forget that they're actually eyes and start thinking they're gemstones resting inside a girl's sockets. Lastly, she's got elven ears like the Rider of the Burning Hills astride his mighty black mare, its glorious horn healing the sick and commanding the miracles of God, ever vigilant, ever watchful, carrying his smiling Master as he drank from the chalice filled with the laughter of small children."
He turned his attention to the snow he crushed, now hardened into a jagged ball and looking delicious. So he ate it, chewed a few times, and swallowed.
He returned to Emilia, "I'll have you know, that there are actually people in the world who don't know about the Witch of Envy, people who can tell the difference between 400 years ago and today, or just those who can't give a damn about other people's appearance, reputation or possessions, and focused more on the kind of person they are. You even have 2—you hear me? Two! T-W-O people of all 3 descriptions who are in the Mansion premises already, one's yelling at a girl and the other's sleeping!"
He turned to his wolven brother, his giant head lying on the snow-covered grass, asleep and content in spite of the second rant of the day he was going off on. Raeburn patted his head and stood up, stretching his hands before facing Emilia firmly.
"In case you're still not getting it, you dunce, I'll say it in words that'll make toddlers feel intelligent." Boldly, he took the speechless girl's hand in his own, squeezing it gently, then slowly interlocked fingers, illustrating himself as somebody that meant his words. He doesn't fear her, doesn't put her in the same light as the Witch of Envy, and he considers her a person, just like everybody else. Therefore, he could do this and will do so again.
"You're not Satella. You're not the Witch of Envy. Just some girl that Necro saved before he knew her name. For me? I see somebody that needs a friend, and I'm interested. So, uh…." This time, he's no longer carrying the air of stern reprimand. Instead, he's now looking meek, looking away and feeling uncertain, fiddling with his hair. He's acting exactly his looks. "….will you have me, Emilia?"
The girl turned her shocked stare to the shared grasp of their hands, then turned to his eyes again, seeming to be looking sharply for any kind of insincerity. When she turned to Puck, the latter's answer was just as expected. "He speaks the truth, Lia. Every word he said, all pure and sincere. He actually means his words and not to the point of madness that even they'd believe their own lies. He really wants to be your friend."
Well that makes things easy. Whatever way this Spirit used to discern truth from lies, he's thankful. This'll surely satisfy this doubtful and silly girl.
He saw the metaphorical wall this Emilia held up fall apart like a sandcastle, her eyes practically melting into glistening tears. The fact that she's actually crying tells him just how much this poor thing suffered for her mere appearance.
And he couldn't believe it. Just…..why? How could something like this possibly happen? How could appearance be reason enough for anybody to be hated!?
It had been a long time since he felt such rage, a fire that is reserved to curse the world itself for how unfair it is. All of Pandemonium's people deserve to suffer for everything, for why else would God leave them to rot while He delivers the righteous to Heaven on the eve of the Rapture? He carried this mindset for as long as he lived, and he will nod to all suffering done unto him.
But for such an innocent and fragile Soul like Emilia to suffer just for being born the way she is? That is unacceptable. Unfair. Cruel. He will never accept it. Damn the world and anyone who even thinks about saying otherwise.
He pursed his lips, squeezing her hand tightly.
At this moment, he's now deaf to the Souls and had all of his attention on her.
That's it, Raeburn's swearing it here and now. He's never going to be kind to her just because it's right. No. He will, from now on, treat her in the way he always does with the people he trusts: to protect them and to pull them up. In Pandemonium, the friend by your side will be the one and only who saves your life.
By God and his life, he will save Emilia.
After sobbing a few times and clearing her eyes of tears with her sleeve, she lifted up her gaze and faced him with wet eyes, "Do you truly think….that I'm not scary, despite my likeness to the Witch of Envy? I….I know I'm being a dunce again by asking this but please…..I just want to hear it. So please forgive me." Her grip on his hand tightened, and he marveled silently at her strength. "Do you truly not mind being my…..friend?"
She said such a thing as if it was not even conceivable to her.
His other hand reached forward to hold her waist and he relinquished the hand holding her own away to slide around the other side of her waist, the other arm sliding around and reaching up to her back, pulling her close to his chest, tightly embracing the half-elf and patting her back.
The girl's arms went slowly as she reciprocated the gesture, then they were quickly around him, this warmth that is likely foreign to her turning out to be something she needed most, and her hold tightened….tightening, her eyes buried on his shoulders. He could feel her tears damping the cloth, her sobs easily reaching his ears.
He's given up on typical answers now. It's time for more forward and believable approaches.
He reached up, patting her head and running his fingers through her silky hair, "If you need someone to lean on, I'll be there. If you're going to cry, I'll give you my shoulder. If you're feeling lonely, just call me. If you want something off your chest, me and Tank will be there to hear you out. If you want me to stay, then I will stay."
They held each other like that, and Raeburn allowed it to last as long as Emilia wanted it.
As far as he is concerned, he's without a meaningful purpose since having left Vollachia. Certainly, he has a house to live in and stable means of getting money but that's it. They're just basic necessities. He has no goals nor aspirations. He has no desire of living for centuries doing nothing till the Rot of Sloth does him in. He hasn't even explored the world yet as well.
Being this girl's best friend sounds like an appealing purpose. It is small and humble, sure, but the circumstances are unique, and he finds it both exciting and fulfilling. Changing her life will certainly be the thrill of it. It's not going to be pretty along the way, that's for sure, especially with all the bigotry against half-elves this world has, but if anything, he will always be her ally.
Eventually, Emilia was able to gather herself and part her eyes from his shoulders, but she didn't let go, so he didn't as well. As she wiped her tears, he reached up with one hand to fix her frayed sidelocks, "Feeling better now, big girl?"
She nodded, wiping the last of her tears. Never before did Raeburn began to perceive a girl's smile as the most beautiful thing in the world, even with her eyes red from tears. "Thank you….Thank you, Raeburn. I'm sorry…I'm sorry I just fell apart like that…I—I, I don't know…but….I just….I just felt so…so…happy…."
"Hey, it's okay, no shame in that." Raeburn softly assured, patting her back comfortingly, "I get what you're feeling. I had been there myself as a slave once, falling to tears upon being given a friend when I thought no one will ever be by my side."
He felt her grip on the back of his shirt tighten, and he could feel the sentiment of concern before the Souls around her could mirror it. "It must have been horrible, wasn't it?"
It must have hurt so much, didn't it?
If only we had known just how much you suffered, son….
Raeburn closed his eyes, shaking his head as the memories came rushing back: the roaring of the crowd, the sound of war cries and clashing metal, the announcer declaring his name as the winner…..
It's okay now, you don't have to fight anymore.
No more blood, son. No more suffering. It's over now.
They called him Raeburn "Blood Stalk" Cursebane. Would-be Champion of the Arena, doomed to die there when he will inevitably clash against someone mightier than him in every way, and to think he waited for that person, to end his misery for him….
In this house, you'll never hold any weapon beyond a kitchen knife ever again and your only battlefield is the kitchen.
Take care of Tank for me, will you? If you don't try, you'll never know a brother from a backstabber.
…..he never felt so damned in his life because he was such a better fighter than everyone else that day.
"Yeah…." He said lowly, a silent turmoil lining his voice. "It was. Day after day, months and months, doomed forever to hold a sword and walk out into the blood pits once the sun reaches its peak, never knowing when you're going to lose and die, hoping that it does so you can finally stop fighting….."
Under his closed eyes, the memory of his most beloved saviors came to his mind, the ones who were like God to him when they bought him from his heartless handler, took the club from his hands and held them tight with the warmth of a hand that pitied him, and his knees could no longer hold on to the weight of the pain those times have brought him.
He heard Tank yelp in concern behind him, the image of his bulky form bouncing up from his position and trotting over to him clear in Raeburn's mind. He felt his face being pressed against a soft surface, a pair of arms wrapping around his head. A furry head rubbing against his side indicated no one other than his brother.
It's not right to keep things to yourself, you know? Being strong doesn't mean being proud.
You didn't survive that Arena alone, Raeburn. I watched you fight side by side with the other slaves. If it weren't for them, you'd never be here.
What a twist. He was the one comforting her at first, now it's his turn when the past got involved.
If this had been Pandemonium, he would have laughed a little. This almost felt like irony.
"If only you could meet them…." His voice was muffled in Emilia's breast, his hands lying limply beside him, Tank's tongue lapping up at his right palm to comfort him. "What they've done for me….I will do for you…."
….in honor of them, Raeburn finished in silence.
I love you, Raeburn. Never forget that.
I never regretted every moment I spent with you, my son. Not once.
"Your…." Emilia's voice was significantly gentler than before, and with such a chiming bell of a voice, he would have thought that the Seraphs have come to honor him with a visit. "…your friends, Raeburn, the friends that were given to you…..were they good to you?"
This time, Raeburn opened his eyes, not willing to recall the last and final encounter he had of them, not willing to recall that roar…that accursed…..dreadful…roar….
A fire lit up in his heart, and the will to fight purged all the darkness. The might of both worlds, one of Pandemonium and the other of Vollachia.
When the day comes, when the dam breaks and all of this hellfire in his heart finally Raptures…..he will lay their Souls to rest, and he will come back alive.
He leaned back from Emilia's chest, her arms around his head lightening so he can look up to her eyes, betraying no trace of the turmoil in both face and voice from seconds ago, "They were everything to me, and now they rest, their weapons hung up on the walls, and asleep forever."
….but not at peace, Raeburn finished in silence.
Her hand, her soft hand came to rest on his cheek, and he bit back the memory of the same gesture done to him 5 years ago. He's recalled enough. "I'm so sorry, Raeburn…if anything, I wished I could have met them….even if it's just a hello and a smile."
"Hmm." He reached up to hold this hand on his cheek, squeezed it, and he stood up to his feet. Without letting go, his other hand rubbed Tank's side, feeling the steel-hard fur. "You will. Through me and my brother, you will know them. And I'm gonna start…." With a grandiose flourish, he pulled out an exotically-designed harp guitar out of Tank's gate, held in his hand and presented to Emilia like the crown of a King. "…with a song dedicated to you."
|||| « ҉ » ||||
The next 2 and a half hours became filled with laughter and song, copious amounts of mana congregating in the gazebo lit up by one of the gemstones on Raeburn's club lying on the middle of the floor. With a fantastical starlit sky and a gentle breeze, the mood for merriment was perfect.
Perceive the Souls and entertain them with any form of art, they reward you with strength or mana. Get the living to appreciate your work, the tribute becomes multiplied. With an audience of two, it's enough to power 3 mage battalions. The magical melody two fretboards and a harp merged together could do never stopped being so impressive for the first timers, and he enjoys it every time.
With Puck being the sole consumer of ambient mana, he is the most spoiled among them, bypassing the original schedule in which he should be sleeping, singing nonsense lyrics jubilantly and floating in rapid circles around the gazebo as if on a sugar rush. Emilia, not wanting to be left out, took to dancing….horribly. Raeburn decided not to point it out, trying so hard not to laugh and break the melody at C minor. At least the Souls are having fun with her….
Too late, he cracked.
Fortunately, he had a way of hiding it, in the worst way he has ever thought of. By yodeling. Though he never liked yodeling, for some reason, God had blessed him with the talent for it, and it was so damning for it sounded so good, even to his ears. He might as well get paid for it.
However, it was equally gratifying, for Emilia's first exposure to this style of singing left her sides hurting from the laughter, and the simple sound of it gave his heart so much life. To see her smile after fully internalizing to himself the kind of life she had before…..It made it all worth it.
Clap. Clap.
The end of the song is followed by a call of attention, drawing all eyes to the tall maid stood at the entrance, hands interlocked together in front of her chest, letting her sharp teeth out on full display into a darling and amused smile, much to Raeburn's delight.
"I'd love to partake in the dance myself, but would this little maid kindly interrupt the festivities to ask if Master Raeburn, the Great Spirit, and Lady Emilia would like to come inside for dinner?"
Dinner was uneventful, but Raeburn noted how the Souls are remarking about how animated Emilia is once he mentally mentioned it, especially with having a person seated next to her compared to usual meal times being isolated and a chair away from someone, willing to be near her proximity without any sort of preconceived views regarding her appearance. It seems his efforts are working, if he can keep the momentum going, especially in the little ways, then her spirit will grow stronger and faster than normal.
….that'd be a far too ideal thought, however. There's surely going to be a roadblock somewhere, and he hasn't considered situations like that yet.
Still, it's a good start. This is worth a small celebration.
When dinner concluded, a discussion regarding the sleeping Death Mage came into attention, and Roswaal asked for his condition. The still-active Puck reported that he's actually gotten more stable and healthier compared to before, though still refusing to wake, stated from the mouth of the other Spirit resident in the Mansion, who is likely that small, drill-haired, and blade-tongued byther that Raeburn met when the man's mutilated innards were being healed.
There was some moment of confusion when it was discovered that the Death Mage's insides were as alien in design and arranged in bizarre ways as Raeburn said they were. 6 kidneys, a venom sac connected to them, and even a second heart, black and small, sitting next to a barely-moving, sickly-colored, regular heart. Familiar with the man's physiological uniqueness, the boy simply suggested that she does nothing but repair the damage.
The man's body will simply do the rest. If only the average human body was as proactive in keeping itself alive just like the Death Mage, Raeburn mentally wondered…
Roswaal requested Raeburn that he do whatever he can to wake the Death Mage up, for the boy's presence is only allowed in the mansion as the handler of Emilia's savior, if the descriptions he gave of a hateful, sullen, and unpleasant man Emurdol had any sort of truth.
Though Raeburn initially knew the reason behind why he is allowed inside the Mansion with the Death Mage despite having done nothing to contribute to the saving of the half-elf, the fact that he just made a friend of the former and the thought of upsetting the girl with the prospect of being separated despite the friendship being fresh did not sit right with him.
The boy replied that he will do what he can, and even mentions how Emilia's recent visit at Emurdol's bedside actually stabilized the man's emotional state. The girl immediately broke as a blushing and stuttering mess, calling him a dunderhead of all things for peeping and exposing the act, clearly miffed for being made fun of.
He further elaborated that he isn't joking, which furthered shocked the half-elf girl. Though man on the bed is genuinely asleep, it doesn't mean he is deaf to the waking world, he was actively listening, and he legitimately enjoyed listening to her. There were no vague responses when he inquired for credibility of such claims from the Souls. They were absolutely positive.
Hey, maybe if she kept it up, she'll turn the man into a less-angry version of himself, not afraid to open up about his problems since he did introduce himself because of her, and maybe start another campaign of charity with a slight bit of nudging and persuasion. Hell, why don't he just help her heal him to the point of becoming a saint upon waking up?
Raeburn laughed at the thought of it, and laughed even harder when it is actually possible. The man literally fed the entire slums once! She might possibly just turn him into a god-fearing, righteous, caring, and loving man, capable of song, smiles, laughter, and speech! Hell will literally start freezing by then!
"That's quiiiite the change of tuuuuune, Master Raeburn." Roswaal smiled neutrally at him, "Last I recaaaaall, you were veeeery particular in describing Emilia's savior as theeeee most unsavory sooooort of man, being soooooo hateful of every living creature thaaaat's not himself."
Raeburn smiled in challenge, reaching up and placing his hand on Emilia's head beside him. "Well, for some reason, this big girl here managed to get him to introduce himself, on the very first meetings, might I add, in the Loothouse while whenever I or anybody else tried, we end up receiving a dirty look or an angry scream that seems to carry the message that we should just go away and leave him alone."
Still smiling, he stood up and went behind the blushing Emilia's chair, both his hands resting on her shoulders, the two exchanging smiles before returning his gaze to Roswaal, "I think your little King Candidate here has a gift for making others open up, your Lordship. I'm getting the feeling that she's gonna have no trouble getting people to support her once they get over that damn stigma."
Then he removed one hand on her shoulder, walking around her chair till he was beside her, his other hand remaining where it is on her other shoulder, and he practically side-hugged the girl to his waist. The Souls told him just how elated Emilia felt by this gesture, especially with the words of support she'd barely receive from anyone else besides Puck earlier.
"The man may have given her his name but that's just on the first meetings. Who knows what a single day awake with him around her would lead to? I doubt that it's gonna be good, but, against my own better judgment, I decided that I'll have some faith in this kid." He briefly turned to her and squeezed her shoulder. She gave him a warm smile, her eyes glistening from developing tears as she reached up to hold on to his hand, squeezing it back. They hooked fingers together and shook it affectionately.
He returned to Roswaal, "Once I, or rather, she gets him to wake up, then he might be or will be the first person Emilia have tried and swayed as her first supporter, of course after me, even if I don't think that's possible, given the way he is, but still. If she can heal a hardened and suicidal person to find the will to live again after we just stole the death he wanted the most from him, then just imagine how many more she could save and earn her support from. It'd be part of her studies if you think about it."
"Hmmm." Roswaal hummed in agreement, "Indeeed. With Lady Emilia's social skills befitting a caaaaandidate in great need of improvement, such unooooorthodox methods of growth such as that can do aaaand surely have lasting effects, yeeeees. And with you as her new friend and heeeeeelpful handyman to guide her along, then your preeeeesence here is not wasted. My thanks, Maaaaaster Raeburn."
He took his hand off Emilia's shoulder and stood at attention, bowing at the waist. Finally, he can no longer worry about being a freeloader anymore. And to think that the Lord was actually paying attention to what he had been doing the whole time, acknowledged them as beneficial and even thought of making good use of it by encouraging him….maybe this clown of a man isn't so bad after all.
However, much is still needed of him here. More can be done. "I'm honored, Lord Roswaal. I'll make sure my presence here will always be worth it."
"Oh, please. You need nooooot be formal. Refer to meeeee as you always do, but mind the tone behind it, would you kiiiiindly? If I were to tuuuuurn my eyes away, then my dear Ram would suuuuuurely have your head before I could do anything about it."
Raeburn gulped, but he was more afraid of the sore behavior he carried around Roswaal since meeting him having negative consequences on a later time, especially when his presence here is just unwanted beyond being Emurdol's handler.
It's not like he could help it, especially with how particularly unliked he is by the Souls, with very little among them being supportive. A phenomena only reserved for the most questionable individuals. He's yet to single out any kind of depraved or severe sin from the Clown but tolerance will have to take the helm. He'll find out eventually, and he'll have to make the decision to either act out or do nothing by then.
He straightened himself, relaxing and instead nodding to him gratefully. "I'll do just that. Roswaal. Is that okay?"
"Faiiiir enough. Contiiiiiinue what you're doing and I hope that they beeeeaaaaar fruit to the benefit of either myyyyy name or Lady Emilia's."
"You don't need to tell me, Ser." He turned to Emilia and held out a hand for her, which she smiled and lent him her own, squeezing tightly. Returning his attention to Roswaal, he continued, "Somebody needs to be her stern but caring mommy to match Puck's protective but doting daddy."
He saw Frederica snort, her hand flying up to hide her snickering and maintain the elegance about her. He likewise heard Emilia snort beside him and her grip on his hand tightened, hard. With a wide-eyed look, he released the second most girly yelp ever, "YEOWCH!"
Right after hearing that, Emilia simply lost it, taking her grip on his hand away and quickly holding her belly, her angelic laugh filling the dining room. Tears flowed freely from her eyes and the redness on her face getting brighter.
Raeburn stared in exasperation, a lame smile on his lips. "Why the hell are you laughing so hard, Emilia!? I just said 'ouch' and you're losing it!? Is it that funny to you when you crunch other people's hands or something!? Puck! Help me out here! Please! AND STOP LAUGHING!"
"Hihihihi! I'm so sorry, Raeburn, but I just can't help it!" Puck struggled, curling and holding his belly, rolling idly in the air "I just—I just—bahahahahahaha! I just wasn't expecting it! I thought you were just gonna be her best friend but I can't believe you're planning to be my wife of all things instead!"
This time, Raeburn felt the recoil of Puck's words, almost as if he was punched by them, and he flinched backwards. He was once again reduced to a blushing teen, "WHAT!? I DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY!"
Roswaal's smile was the most glorious sight that ever existed in the room, overpowering even Emilia's, "Oooooooh, turning to the Great Spirit straaaaiiiight away after being rejected by your sweeeeeeetheart Frederica, Master Raaaaeeeburn?"
"Excuse me!? No! The hell are you talking about!? She hasn't even rejected me yet!"
"Oooooh, so you're pursuing not just one but twoooooooooo, Master Raeburn? My dear Frederica and the Great Spirit together!? My daaaaaaaays, what a scaaaaaaaandal!"
"STOP! STOP! EVERYONE, PLEASE! LISTEN TO ME! I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING! FREDERICA, PLEASE DON'T ACT AS IF YOU ARE REPULSED BY ME! I SWORE TO MY MOTHER THAT I WOULD BE LOYAL TO MY ONE BELOVED! IF YOU HAD BEEN THE ONE, IT'D BE THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"
"I'm sorry, Raeburn, my boy, but I simply cannot love someone so frivolous. I'd have to set a proper example for our daughter, you know? So, I'm sorry to say this but we have to be apart from now on."
"NOOOOOOOO! STOP!"
|||| « ҉ » ||||
Starry starry night….
Paint your palette blue and grey…..
Look out on a summer's day….
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul…..
The lyrics easily passed through his mind, the Old World memory still amazingly but hauntingly vivid in his mind despite having heard it only once through his dreams years ago. The guitar melody was the most pleasing, he can admit after figuring out the sequence by ear, not once has he ever heard the lyrics being sang and he would like to keep it that way, but he knew very well that this song will never be complete without it.
Someday…..someday, he'll learn to sing and share the art of the Old World. He'll stop relying on his whistle-craft too much by then. Today isn't that day, so he's going to enjoy playing the same melody of the verse over and over again on the guitar in a mellow tempo while he lies down on the mansion yards, Tank's bulky side supporting his head as he looks up to the starlit skies.
Those are clearly not Pandemonium stars, Raeburn remarked for the umpteenth time in months.
It's been an hour past dinner and most of the residents have most likely went to their rooms, the maids being the last to return to their rooms once they finish the last of their duties and patrolling the whole Mansion premises. Taking after their example, he'll go to sleep once his fill of obligations are satisfied.
There's only one more.
And he can hear that one more obligation coming closer now, the sound of the footsteps carrying the signature of the person he was hoping would come here. Suddenly self-conscious about his appearance, looking like he's going to snooze in the middle of the night around the yard with his wolf, he bit down the urge to be more casual than he already is and likewise maintain the same tempo and pace of his song.
Tank greeted the person with a small yip.
He can hear a grateful smile. "Good evening to you as well, dear Tank."
He blushed lightly without moving the slightest twitch on his face, hoping to receive the same treatment.
As the person's shoes slowed to a stop beside him, the timing of the song's conclusion was perfect, the tempo slowing at the right moment and ending with a soft strum of the G chord.
The target of Raeburn's stare turned from space to his present company besides Tank, looking back at strangely reflective eyes of green, almost similar to a cat's or dog's when a bright light is shined in their direction, which is strange because he has no light source around him except for the moonlight glowing down on him.
Frederica nodded, "Lovely evening, is it not, Master Raeburn?"
It isn't the same but it'll do.
"Yeah. After that little party during dinner, the sky's now looking a little prettier than last time." Perception is Reality, someone said to him once. Bitter eyes see bitter things, the same could be said for the opposite. Though it was at his expense and maybe Frederica's, the sight of Emilia's smile brightened his mood and suddenly, the world looks a lot less bleak. "That was the best after-dinner fun I've had in a while."
"Yes, I enjoyed it myself as well." Frederica smiled at him, and he could only celebrate internally at the sight of her not trying to hide it. The dinner ruckus must've eased her opinion of him enough that she no longer has to be insecure about her teeth. She's beautiful by regular standards but her teeth just make her look so exotic. "If only it wasn't at our expense, yes?"
And she's kind too, saying that to him to offer comfort, as superficial it may be.
"Yeah, but at least you weren't alone and I got most of the brunt of it so it's fine. I'm sturdier than teases."
"As sturdy as turning red from being teased as the target of my affections even though I am serious?"
"WHAT!?" Face aflame, his back instantly straightened as he sat up like a lever, his eyes as wide as plates, his heart throbbing monstrously in his chest as he stared gobsmacked at Frederica's seductive gaze.
The lovely maid's dress and hair flared magnificently as she swiftly turned around to hide her face, covering her mouth as her wondrous giggles filled the night, "Oh, Master Raeburn, you are such a gullible gentleman! A capable handyman with a menacing weapon and a mighty wolf by his side blushing like a young boy discovering love for the first time! Ah, to be young~"
Severely embittered, he flopped backwards like a corpse, not caring if his fall on Tank's side made him yelp and ignored the indignant growl sent his way, "You're the worst, Frederica. And I thought I just got lucky with a beauty like yourself."
Her giggles went silent, the wind's gentle breeze suddenly rising in intensity, and he felt dissatisfaction from the Souls around her. Raeburn noticed the oddity, raising an eyebrow in question. Did he say something he shouldn't?
She turned her head to face him, a small pout, a frown, and a displeased gaze met his own, "I'm happy to be teased in turn, Master Raeburn, but you need not be sarcastic."
The concern that filled him completely disappeared, instead overtaken by a grim and exasperated feeling. With the way she hides her teeth, this had already clued Raeburn many things, and it's time to have this thing sorted out, again. First it was Emilia, now her. The hell is wrong with this country? They're making the country of Vollachia look utopian by comparison!
"You think I was being sarcastic when I said you're beautiful?" The unimpressed look on his face still holding, he continued, a bit of firmness lining his words, "Allow me to the truth, Frederica. I was not."
She was surprised at hearing his words, but the boy was even more surprised to see that she would flinch at such words of genuine sentiment. Are the people of this mansion subjected to the same kind of prejudice or something?
Her surprise shifted to a scanning look, trying to see if he's even being true. Raeburn didn't need to look the part. He's serious, meant it when he said it, and had never lied in his life as a Spawn of Pandemonium, something the people in this world found alien and unbelievable for some reason. And he thought everyone in this world were bizarre and alien when they could speak a lie as easily as a simple sentence.
As her deductions gave her no sign of deceit, her wariness only led to confusion and doubt. After a few seconds of her fidgeting, she turned to him and asked in a meek voice, "You….you truly think so, Master Raeburn?"
The boy raised an eyebrow in question, silently requesting that she elaborate.
"Do you honestly think that I'm...I'm...beautiful, Raeburn? Even if my teeth are like this?"
Raeburn slapped his own forehead, annoyed and could not believe how he could actually experience this kind of conversation twice, and under a few hours too. And the way that she struggled to even say the word and apply it to herself is just making it worse.
He stood up, laying his guitar on the ground, and gently approached the maid, both his hands on his hips, tip-toing so he could slightly be at her level of height. "Let me tell you a secret, Frederica." He leaned forward, his lips nearing her ears, and he noticed a growing blush on her cheeks.
He ignored that, whispering, "I was once a slave from Vollachia, and there are more demihumans out there than here. When I got my freedom, I made friends with some, and the ones that don't look human at all are some of the best people I've ever met. Your teeth are the last thing I'll hate about you."
He leaned away, now resting the balls on his feet to the ground, letting his hands slip off his waist and hanging freely. "And I wanna point it out again for you, Frederica. When I said that I thought I got lucky with you…..I wasn't kidding. I really thought I was."
Frederica processed his words, taking her time….
….and he watched as her face burned red, finally catching unto the implications.
There was no elegant and lovely maid anymore. He's watching a girl fiddling with her fingers, looking at everywhere but him, fidgeting uncomfortably in place, and he could not help but think that she's getting way too precious for her own good.
And he thought she was a woman with experience, even if a little bit.
When she finally found her voice, she asked, "I-I might be mistaken here, and I might just bury myself into a hole and never return if I were but….you…you….you are…..i-infatuated with me, Master Raeburn?"
She looks so unsure, doubtful, and clearly afraid in a certain way.
If anything, he should be the one feeling that way. Would she even accept someone like him? Would she be willing to wait if he can actually meet her fancy or if she even feels the same way? The thought of her saying 'no' did not come off as something he'd readily accept and respect. Since when did he ever start feeling this way for someone?
He looked away, now feeling the heat burn on his face as well, and he lamely raised his hand up to hide it and likely failing. His face is too wide for one palm and five fingers alone. His eyes nervously switched from her to the grass and back again, "…yeah. I am….about what I said during morning in the man's room...,yeah, I'm sorry about that. it's just that….this is actually the first time I felt this way for a girl."
Still beet red, Frederica continued to fidget and fiddle, still looking at anywhere but him. Her voice is no longer confident as well, struggling to maintain an even voice and not stutter, "I…I don't know what to say. No one has ever said such sincere and…..honest things to me…"
With that, Raeburn had calmed down. This just got a whole lot easier. He lowered his hand, however, his blush remained, "That's okay. I mean, it is the first day. Considering it's actually your first time, you don't know what to do. While I wanna proceed, you probably won't. And I understand. All this is quite sudden to you, isn't it?"
She turned her eyes to him, nodding.
"Well, it's not like we have to like each other that much on the first day, do we?" He smiled disarmingly, no longer doubting the prospects of a possible relationship and whether it'll last or not. "We still don't know much about each other or whether we are compatible with each other's strengths and flaws. Pursuing love carelessly is just gonna lead to heartbreak and bad decisions. I've lived enough to see it happen." By accident, Raeburn mentally added. Not that he would elaborate on that.
"So here's what I'm thinking: we just….take it slow. Simple as that." He raised his hands up in a casual shrug, "Let time pass us by, let's know each other while we're at it, learn what we like, what we don't like—all the things about us, and see if we ever compatible with each other. That way, we lose nothing and risk nothing. Do we like each other by the end of it or not? We'll find out."
Once he noticed the silence after a few seconds, he quickly became aware of his meager height compared to hers and felt the chill of the evening even though he rarely can, grabbing his arms tightly and trying to control his body language from going places. "If that's okay with you…..?" He added, now full of uncertainty compared to seconds ago.
There was no more fidgeting from her now, her mien, while still red, now regained bits of its composure, her eyes gaining clarity after hearing his offer. A gentle smile slowly graced its way to her lips, and he felt hypnotized as he watched it grow, her sharp teeth beginning to look as glamorous as a full moon. It could just be the reflecting shine of her beastman eyes against moonlight rays but he swore that there were growing tears in her eyes.
She straightened her posture, grabbed the hem of her skirt on both sides, and the lovely Maid, Frederica bowed to him graciously, "I am just a lowly maid, indebted to her master, but I hope to be in your care, Raeburn."
The Souls around him expressed the glorious elation erupting inside his heart for him in the loudest way possible, not willing to hoot and howl in victory himself during the most precious moment of his life. She even said his name informally, and he loved it.
"I'm just a handyman, Frederica, and I might become the most frustrating being in your life, but I hope I will be worthy of you when the time comes." With such perfect form that nobody ever expects from him, he placed his hand on his chest and bowed with max elegance to match Frederica's,
They both shared a chuckle of their exaggerated dainty conduct and straightened their postures, relaxing and now feeling even more than comfortable in each other's presence.
Raeburn quickly picked up his guitar, extending the strap and slinging it around his shoulder, "And before we end the night and go to our own rooms, may I request for at least 10 more minutes? I promise that it will be worth your while."
Frederica placed a hand on her cheek, smiling coyly and gently swaying idly, "Do you mean to serenade your sweetheart, Raeburn?"
"I would. It would be my first act of courting you. However, I have something far more special." He began turning the knobs, adjusting the strings to the fitting tune. He's been dying to do this for a long time with a future love, and it is now or never. "I am going to let you experience something that no mere minstrel could ever emulate with his strings. Give me a few seconds."
Raeburn felt her stare on his fingers, the open strings starting to sound a little too musical after a few twists of the knobs and a simple pluck of the strings. "Among all the instruments I've seen, your gitar is the most bizarre."
Hey, that rhymed, Raeburn noticed. "It's not like I could ask somebody to be my second or be the bassist, so I might as well do it myself. I commissioned its design, took some practice that lasted years, and eventually, I mastered this beast of a beauty. I dare anybody that isn't Reinhardt to match me."
Frederica hummed in exaggerated interest, clearly enjoying herself in the brief roleplay of a blushing maiden, "I'm waiting to be impressed."
After 5 more seconds, he was now set. All that's left is a deep breath and a firm focus. "Now, Frederica, kindly close your eyes, and lock this song to your mind. Let not a single note escape you."
There was a brief pause, and then she said, "After you."
He loved the enthusiasm.
The modified C chord is strummed and the song begins. After a few standard strums, his right hand went to the second fretboard, his left handling the first, both fingers hammering specific frets and once the cue arrived, he whistled.
This time, he isn't doing this to substitute the vocals. This song of the Old World truly starts with a whistling melody, and he is thankful.
Once he was through with the intro, he proceeded to the verse with the mellowest tempo, playing each syllable of the vocals in fingerstyle. All without struggle, effort, or exaggeration. All this floating ease of movement born from the years of Peace he had in Vollachia to spend in being what he wanted to be since his childhood, he was once again thankful for the saviors that gave him the opportunity.
He turned his eyes to his future beloved and he was graced with a picturesque sight, the lovely maid swaying gently to the beat, her white, delicate hands clasped in front of her waist, and a serene look on her pretty face. With the wind around them that let her golden hair and dress bellow under the shine of the moon, she was the most beautiful thing in Raeburn's eyes.
Caught in a trance, Raeburn let his hands play the song on their own, fixing his eyes solely on her and nothing else.
Eventually, the end of the song was reached, the final whistle sequence came, and the last few strums of the D chord were finished.
With the gentlest voice he could muster, he said, "Now, without opening your eyes, hold out your hand." As slowly as he can, he set the guitar to the ground, the strings making a light brang from the light thud. Without sudden movements, he neared his hand to hers, now outstretched as requested, letting his palm graze the tip of her fingertips.
After recognizing whatever she's touching, she held onto it gently and he curled his fingers around her own. His heart throbbed inside his chest upon this contact, and a strange emotion welled-up inside. He isn't sure how to describe it, but it felt divine.
"Now, with all your might, try to replay the song at any part inside your head."
She tilted her head in question but she complied nonetheless, and she started humming the verse of the song.
Smiling and falling in love all over again, he closed his eyes and began recalling specific events of his life that he wanted to share, letting every sound, voice, and ambience he experienced in those very days flow through the forefront of his mind into one mixture as vividly and comprehensively as he can. Once the Souls notice his racing train of thought, full of nothing but the merriest moments of his time in this world, they were quick to devour the details into their being and begin clamoring it among themselves. And when their clamoring gets so loud that it can get grating, it'll be all up to the phantoms then.
It's time to show off that little trick he learned after being exposed to it multiple times by the Necromagus during his days in Pandemonium. In his case, however, it's time for something different, something other than extremely loud snapping sounds or violent explosions, more meaningful than the screaming dead and the howling Afterlife.
As she was reaching the end of the chorus, he began to sway side to side with her, never letting go of his hand. A small, incomplete dance. One he never minded in the slightest. Once he had noted her hums falling silent and her swaying suddenly stopping, it was his cue to ask, "Do you hear that?"
Shed a tear cuz I'm missin' you, I'm still alright to smile.
Gonna think about you everyday now…
Was a time when I wasn't sure, but you set my mind at ease.
Frederica's close-eyed gaze looked in particular directions, as if she was trying to understand what's there, what she's hearing. He could hear it too, but he couldn't match the wonder she's likely going to experience. The confusion grew on her brow and he held onto her hand tightly, to steady her mind and dissuade any rising worries.
There is no doubt you're in my heart now.
"Yes. Yes, I can." Now she began to angle her ears to certain directions, "I can hear…..music. Your music. The chatter of guests, the laughter and merriment of a festival, and there's….singing. Did a crowd just gather around us, Raeburn?"
"It's just us, Frederica. You know that." With her beastman nose and ears, she'd have no choice but to believe him.
Said "Woman, take it slow and it'll work itself out fine.
All we need is just a little patience."
Said "Sugar, make it slow and we'll come together fine.
All we need is just a little patience."
"How…how are you doing this...? Is it some kind of special magic? Or a Divine Blessing, perhaps?"
"In time, I'll tell you all about it. For now, just enjoy the world."
I sit here on the stairs cuz I'd rather be alone.
If I can't have you right now, I'll wait here.
"Your song….I can hear a songster adding his piece to it, as if to complete the music….and it's beautiful. It feels as though I'm in a ball, with the lords and ladies gathered together, to meet and greet, forging new friendships and igniting new fires of love, exchanging smiles and passionate gazes as they held their partners on the dance floor."
Sometimes, I get so tense but I can't speed up the time.
But y'know love, there's one more thing to consider.
His other hand went to hold her other hand, and he held it just as gently but just as tightly, asking a question he had never asked before, "May I have this dance, Miss?"
There was a pause, and it felt like it had lasted for a whole minute even though it was only a second.
Frederica gently opened her eyes and the phantom ball became silent as his apprehension peaked, making him hold his breath, unsure of what's going to come next.
And then…she smiled.
Her hand holding his left remained where it is, and her own left hand glided across his arm to rest upon his shoulders. He returned the courtesy, placing his free hand on her hip gently.
At this moment, he became the happiest he's ever been in his life, more than being free from that hellish Arena.
The Phantoms sang again, and the pair took that as their cue to start.
And so, they danced.
Said "Woman, take it slow and things will be just fine.
You and I'll just use a little patience."
Said "Sugar, take the time cuz the lights are shining bright.
You and I got what it takes to make it."
Frederica and Raeburn don't need to close their eyes just to hear the song anymore. With their gazes locked onto each other, the entire world just seemed to no longer exist. All that there is was the other, and eventually, even the song no longer existed, until it was only the both of them.
Tonight, the fires of love are lit ablaze under the gaze of the Moon, celebrated in cheer and joy by the phantom attendants.
And until the last of their 10 minutes have been used up, this very night and this very moment belonged to them.
The only witnesses to this romantic tryst were a pair of intrigued pink, a pair of fascinated blue, and a pair of wistful green.
|||| « ҉ » ||||
Raeburn entered the room with a grim face, his emotions guarded, his club hanging from his back with his right hand gripping the handle tightly over his shoulder, his form as stiff as a soldier before a cruel superior officer or a hunter finding a bear with its cub, and he locked his eyes onto the biggest danger inside the Mansion.
If it weren't for the curtains drawn to let the moonlight in or his artificial night vision to see through darkness if the room was left dark, he would not have noticed the Necromagus seated on the edge of his bed, an incredibly black robe replacing the ones he wore for 4 straight days during his comatose state, the fabric seeming to absorb any light that touched it, making him blend so unnervingly well among the shadows of the room like a specter. The shining silver threads that were his hair stuck out the most compared to the moonlight, covering nearly the entirety of his face and contrasting the almost-oppressive darkness of the room.
Compared to finding him in the Capital for the first time with no idea of his growth, his presence as an awake person inside a Noble's house only came off as catastrophically terrifying, prospects of collateral damage, needless violence, and long-term consequences present in every way, even with his friends and the woman he loves standing outside and as far back as the mansion fences.
It's a fucking miracle that he wasn't attacked on sight. It's so silent. No ghostly screams or howling inside his ears. No sensation of a brutal curse about to fly out from somewhere. Not even the sound of the air being cut as a sickle flies to his head. It always ended that way, and the fact that it didn't only worsened his worries.
The man was unmoving like a statue, as per usual. The Souls around him are neutral. Not a single indication of emotion present among them to give him an idea of how the Necromagus is feeling. As always, Raeburn is forced to make do with no foundation to work around with whenever it involves the Death Mage. If he could read the other party's emotion, he would have known what to do or say to get the desired outcome. Even if the man was angry, at least he'd have an idea of how to deal with him.
Realizing that standing still isn't going to do anything, he decided to just take a dive and see what happens.
Fist clenching, his grip on his club tightening, knuckles turning white, sweat building up on his face and neck, he began, in a whispering tone, "Everyone's turned off the lights, and they're far enough to not be seen. Once you come out, they'll stay out of sight. Exactly as you asked."
He paused, unsure if it was to await a response or to compose himself just so he doesn't come off as tense. Gulping, he continued, keeping his voice even and unshaken, "There's a spot in the middle of the woods just a kilometer away. It's quiet, and lit up by the moon. We can talk there."
He made sure to say what only needs to be said and nothing more. The sooner this one chance for the two of them to talk man-to-man can get over with, the number of worries he had developed ever since the Death Mage came to this world will significantly decrease. The sort of relationship they've had since meeting each other cannot go on forever. It will either waste their time or erupt into something bloodier and much worse.
They need to start over. No more of their unpleasant chapter together in Pandemonium influencing the way they act around each other. This is a new world. A fresh start, especially for him. If the man's capable of goodness and actually enjoys it by the admission of the Souls, he should just start being proactive about it. It's not like anyone will judge him the same way everyone did back home.
He doesn't like the man, not at all, but Raeburn truly wished for him to ease up and stop being so guarded as if the monsters of Pandemonium will find eventually him. He wants the man to find Peace. Isn't he the Hero that vanquished the accursed Sins of their world? It's long overdue. Raeburn had his own, it healed his Soul, it's time for his fellow Pandemonian to have it, even if that fellow Pandemonian was a coldhearted, hateful, and unlikable asshole.
If it was even possible for him to like or simply admire the man once the latter learns to be human, he would gladly accept it. He can only hope that Emilia's daily visits to his bedside had a life-changing effect on his mentality as well as his psychological health. It would make their eventual conversation so much easier.
After what could have been endless number of minutes have passed by, the man finally moved, the pale and black-robed corpse that sat on the bed returning to life as he smoothly raised an arm forward, as if he was gesturing someone in front of him to stop.
Then he watched the mana in this room congregate to his palm, tainted by his influence, and processed into fine energy that would make battle mages drool in greed. That mana became material, a white calcified piece of block appearing in the air, as flat as a square, and even more shapes came to be.
He watched with full focus of attention, eyeing every single piece of artificial bone he conjured connect together like a children's castle set made out of little wooden blocks or a doll's limbs to its doll joints. The sooner he saw 2 pairs of wheels with the other being larger, he knew exactly what the creation is before its completion.
A wheelchair.
If Raeburn could recall, this is actually the first kind of necromantic creation that isn't meant for the use of killing he's ever seen.
He felt hope. There's a chance. The man has accepted his proposal to have a talk. Despite the neutrality of the air around him, he knew how calm he is in Raeburn's presence.
When the construction was complete, the mobile chair wheeled itself forward at the beckon of his fingers, and he sat himself on it just like any legless man, adjusting multiple times which hand had to grip on to which armrest so his body can twist backwards properly upon hoisting himself to it. And the scene from the loothouse seemed to repeat itself, for he is witnessing the Necromagus being human.
All that unease Raeburn had carried since entering this room finally disappeared.
He quickly moved to open the door wider and stepped out of the way so the man can go first. "After you." He told, whispering still.
Leaning back against the wheel chair, half his sharp-angled face covered by a silver curtain, his mouth a flat line compared to the usual sneer, he pushed his wheels forward with his hands instead of doing so hands-free with his magic. Raeburn successfully guarded his face from looking flabbergasted and his jaw from dropping once again, his elation rising up underneath it.
A slight rubbing sound of bones following after the Death Mage, likely from the mechanisms of the wheels, he was finally out the door for the very first time and already on his way to the stairs.
The stairs that led to the second floor. There are no ramps in this mansion.
Raeburn quickly followed after the man in the extremely dark, unlit hallway, caught in the dilemma between asking if he can offer him a lift on every staircase or keeping his trap shut lest he ignite the man's extremely sensitive temper for talking to him even though that was the intention of what's going on. The Death Mage had exploded for less.
Turns out, the Death Mage didn't need his help. Raeburn should've known. The wheelchair grew 6 spider legs and it lifted him up, skittering over the steps all the way down, the seamless way they moved almost looked like the man was gliding over them as he reached the second floor and straight down to the first.
Raeburn followed after him casually, matching his pace and staying silent, making sure his feet didn't hit anything. He may have night vision thanks to what the Cult did to him, that didn't mean everything looked clear, vague forms instead of detailed shapes, a blurry box with smooth edges instead of a sharp cube. Like needing a pair of glasses to see better.
As they reached the front door, Raeburn quickly pulled both open, the light of the evening pouring in the interior to give it illumination and the intruding wind slightly blew the Death Mage's hair back, almost revealing his entire face. From what he could gather, he saw a tight grimace.
At least it wasn't a murderous scowl.
Taking the stairs down to the ground level of the elevated mansion, Tank was there waiting for him on the grass, his saddle and harness worn, his wagging tail going still as he sees the company next to his human brother. He growled antagonistically, hackles raised and his fur puffing up to increase his size.
Raeburn was quick to address it, running to his brother and rubbing every part of his head, "Ssh. Shush, Tank. It's okay. It's okay." He looked over his shoulder, the man pushing his wheelchair forward in the same pace as before, ignoring the liger and proceeding to the gate. "The man's alright. He and I are going to have a talk. A real one. So please, give us a chance to do so. Don't attack him."
He could see the exasperation in the wolf's eyes, wondering just when did he persuade the volatile Death Mage to such a thing.
Raeburn only smiled lamely, scratching his chin. "C'mon."
After opening the gate and the man wheeled past it, Raeburn closed it behind him with making them clang the slightest, making sure to keep the quiet of this evening sacred. He would rather have the man's mood be unbothered till the night is over. Taking the road that leads to Earlham Village, he continued to follow after the Death Mage, his confused wolf of a brother walking beside him.
After the long, slow-paced trek, the man turned his wheelchair diagonally to the right and then wheeled towards the treeline, the Souls beckoning the trio to the specified location of their conversation, eager for the proceedings to begin.
Raeburn felt slightly nervous….no, he felt worse than nervous. It was time. They are finally going to speak to each other as civilized beings, devoid of any anger or hostility. And he doesn't know what to expect. Will it turn out okay? Will it end with them now on better terms than before? The answer isn't obvious, the negative outcomes aren't something he can easily accepted either. Things could go horribly wrong.
God, I hope I don't regret this.
The Death Mage turned his head.
Raeburn froze, eyeing the first act of mobility the man's head has ever done. The object of interest was a tree, a simple tree that one could find anywhere. The man stared at it, the pace of his wheelchair almost looking eager as he approached it.
Stopping at arm's reach before the tree, the man scanned it up from up to down, as if he was to find something interesting about it. The Souls around him are carrying the same air of seeking. There goes another enigma. What is he looking for? At a first glance, there's nothing significant about it. A young tree with a few limbs bare of leaves. It's not weirdly-shaped, it's just a regular-looking tree.
He'll ask the Souls.
Secret stash?
No.
Mana pocket?
No.
Unnatural tree?
No.
Fascination?
No.
Message from the future.
No.
Damn it. He's out of ideas. If only he could be able to see into the man's mind….
Then the Souls around him were satisfied?
The Death Mage nodded, then he began gathering up mana in his hand again to corrupt, his fingers curling inwards to his palm like a claw as he processed the tainted energies into good magical fuel, a green vaporing ball that glowed enticingly.
With rather ceremonious movements, he stretched out the palm carrying the mana orb towards the tree, as if to offer it, and he flipped the hand around to push it against the trunk. Nodding to it in a rather honoring air, he leaned back against the wheelchair and returned to the original path.
Raeburn waited to see if something's going to happen.
…..
…...
…...
Nothing.
Raeburn raised his hands up, exasperated and annoyed. Just what the hell is this man? Why can't he be easy to understand!? Why is he such an enigma!?
He paused, remembering something….
….why are his people all enigmas!?
Raeburn just realized the weird look Tank was shooting him with, wondering why the hell was he flailing his arms around, mouthing soundless screams and rants.
The boy faced forward, unable to meet his brother in the eye, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Ahem, le-let's go." He failed to hide the fact that he was trying to get away.
Quickly enough, he found the Death Mage just ahead, and he's stopping again, staring to the opposite side this time.
He released an exasperated breath, losing his caution and the sacredness of the night's silence. To his credit, he maintained the volume of his whisper so things doesn't explode afterwards, "Jeez, is another tree gonna need your charity to—"
Alarm.
Caution.
Careful.
Hurry.
Run.
Quickly.
Panic.
Danger.
Panic.
Danger.
Danger.
Panic.
Panic.
Panic.
Panic.
"What the fuck….!?"
Tank was the quickest to respond to his brother's shock, bouncing off the ground and twisting around till he faced behind him, jaws bare and a powerful growl erupting from his throat, his steel-hard fur puffing up.
Raeburn's right hand instantly went up to the handle over his shoulder and hauled it forward, bringing Snakebite into a two-armed grip in a guard stance, his eyes scanning all directions around him, finding the danger that was agitating the Souls.
Not here.
Nowhere here.
Somewhere else.
Go.
Hurry.
Panic.
Panic.
"What the fuck is going on…!?" He hissed, glancing over his shoulder. "Necro. I think we oughtta hold off that talk for now. We gotta fi—"
He's gone. The Death Mage is gone. All that was left of his presence was the ivory wheelchair, empty of its former occupant, abandoned alongside Raeburn and his wolf.
First, he felt shock….followed by confusion…..then a realization….
…..and finally, outrage.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—
|||| « ҉ » ||||
A fireball exploded in the sky, colliding with an ice bullet that stormed furiously after it, and an explosion rung out, reaching all the way to the Mansion. And Frederica took that as a sign, a sign that the worst has truly come to pass.
Raeburn failed.
