FINAL REMINDER: The Lost Shards has an entry for scrapped Supplement VI: Once Upon a Time if you wish to see how the singularity played out. It's completely optional.
While Chaldea slept, the Summoning Chamber was ablaze. The intricate weaving of magical energy cascaded from the center of the room like a thundering waterfall. Luminescent balls of light orbited like planets to their star, offering thin strings of magical energy like spools of silky yarn. Rainbow in color, they tethered themselves to the glowing silhouette in the center of the light as they remained perfectly still. All eyes within were upon them, but only one set quivered with concern.
Even now, she could feel a pirate's eyes upon her. Many in Chaldea joked it was an oddity many got used to from Blackbeard, but his gaze felt sharper than his cutlass. While his silhouette stood crossed-armed along the shadowed sides of the room, his presence lurked like a specter in her mind. It whispered promises of all sorts of condemnation, even as he bathed in silence. She could feel his blade ready to slide across her neck, though he did nothing but stare.
Chaldea's newest caster hoped that's all it remained.
With her unique staff in hand, the scantily clad Arabian should have been eyed lustfully by the usually perverted pirate. But her body, barely concealed under silky cloths of whites, blues, and golds, which hugged all of her vivid curves, were likely the furthest thing from his mind. Behind her transparent veil, the dark-skinned woman's lips stayed locked on her task while her floating parchment scrolls danced among Scathach floating runes and Helena's familiars. Her long black hair flared in the prana winds like her sultan-like skirt, and her lamp staff glowed brilliantly like her current focus.
Her emerald orbs glanced briefly to her battle-clad companions. Scathach seemed focused and serious, and her presence did little to soothe the caster's nerves. Even the shorter caster at another end of the light worried her, despite the hopeful smile she wore. She dared not look to Blackbeard farther behind her, nor shift any more of her focus away from her current task. The silhouetted, nude form of the rider before her floated in the glowing tide of prana as a few others watched on quietly… possibly in judgement.
'Focus… Focus… You can't fail this or else…!'
Yet there was only so much focus that could go into any task. No, ever since she first stepped into that room, her focus was always divided. She gave a hundred percent, but part would always go to the fear that embedded itself in her very soul: The concern that death was only a minute away, and at another's simple whim.
It was true then, and now only worse as a servant. How many times could she be summoned to die? When would death come for her next? The questions and fearful concerns never ended. She'd managed to escape death only hours ago by the grace of an unbelievably generous soul, but how long would it last? No place was safe. Death was an inevitability… but what could she do to prevent it? As a deal with the devil, she'd tried at a possible hope… but fate only frowned upon her earnest desire.
Thus, she existed. Again. Doing whatever she could to avoid fate. Acting on fear to avoid what was and always will be in the end… Wondering when the end would come this time.
Right after she was done fixing what she'd done? Tomorrow? A few weeks? When they realized she was worthless to Chaldea's endless mission?
…Scheherazade didn't know. She didn't want to know. She just wanted to do everything in her power to avoid her fate in hopes maybe... maybe…
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Fragment 95: Happily, Ever After
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"Hey! Just hand me the damn rag and keep your hands where I can see them!"
"Unless you're blind, you could see them on your breasts. So putting them there is fine, right?"
A loud slap resonated through the room, followed by some cringes, a groan, and loud laughter from a content pirate. It was followed moments later by a combined chuckle and groan from the newly awakened rider. Uncaring who was around her, Drake clutched the white towel to her chest as she stretched one arm into the air; The saint graph correction was complete and perfect. Her entire backside was laid bare, but only Scheherazade was behind her anyway. With another content sigh, she began tying the towel around herself as a smiling Blackbeard stood before her with crossed arms.
It faded a bit when the legendary vice-admiral scratched her loose, unruly hair and asked, "So, Scatty. You mind explaining why I'm naked in the Summoning Chamber? I get hit too hard by Heracles at your training session or something?"
Though her eyebrow twitched at the nickname, the lancer crossed her arms. "Then you don't remember anything at all?"
"…Was it really that hard of a hit?"
"…I'm sorry. I'm the one to blame for what happened." Drake turned around curiously, then gawked incredulously at the caster at her feet. With practiced ease from hours of study, Scheherazade had quickly bent onto her knees with her head low. Her arms were presented in total apology in a pose sometimes glanced only by the Japanese servants. It only made Drake quirk an eyebrow as the caster lamented. "I ask for forgiveness. I've wronged you and others on a terrible level. What I did was an atrocious act, and I do not blame you for hating me, but please…! Please don't kill me! I don't want to die!"
"Woah, hey now! I don't even know what you did yet and you're begging for your life! Show some pride, will you?" Drake quickly batted down.
"Please! I'm sorry! I didn't want to die! I was just…! Please…!" Scheherazade was quivering now. The instinctual fear was getting to her. Drake, a powerful and legendary figure known the world over, stood before her after being wronged. She could destroy her outright with ease should she feel offended. The caster could die right here at her whim! The screams of the storyteller's own torment rattled through her mind and drowned out her heavy heartbeat. "Please! I'll accept any punishment, so please! Just not death! I don't want to die!"
"Sorry, Frances. This caster is annoying like this. You won't get a word out while she's cowering…" Blackbeard's tone was neither condemning nor joking: It was flat. Scheherazade dared not raise her head, but she heard his aggravated sigh. "Long story short… She worked with a demon pillar to kidnap you and a few others from Chaldea. She twisted your saint graph so you acted and looked like Dahut, a pirate noble from one of her many tales. You acted accordingly and we had to rough ya' up quite a bit since you weren't exactly going to just board the train home…"
Drake rubbed her neck like she was feeling for a sore bump, but there was nothing. She hummed in contemplation. "…What kind of things?"
"Nothing too crazy, all things considered…" Blackbeard shrugged. "Led a band of pirates to treat men like cattle and toys. Constant theft. Indulging in ephemeral bliss… I think you said you just disposed of a sex slave when we crashed into your… er, Dahut's? Dahut's mansion. Whatever the case, you weren't acting like yourself, and some of the stuff you spewed was nonsense. If we didn't confirm it was your saint graph, I'd have pegged ya' someone else."
Scheherazade raised her head upon noticing Blackbeard's growing tone of irritation. She still remembered seeing his face through the scrying orb… the sheer animosity and hatred. The yelled promise of making the one who twisted Drake suffer hideously. She stared with apology as her eyes watered quickly. Her fears grew wild, and a whimper swiftly escaped as Blackbeard now glared down at her; It rattled her nerves further. Her mind screamed like children before a hungry lion.
"I'm sorry…! It was my fault, but I…!"
"Will you just shut up with the worthless apologies already!?" Blackbeard's roar crashed the Summoning Chamber into silence. On the outskirts, Tesla's silhouette unfolded his arms in concern. Da Vinci and Lord El-Melloi II's shadows glanced to each other. Scathach and Helena merely stared while Drake gawked at her friend curiously. Yet all she could see was the fearsome pirate's terrible glare raining down upon her like acid rain. She couldn't say anything out of her growing, choking fear.
It only incensed him further. "I'm sorry this! I don't wanna die that! How is someone as pathetic as you a heroic spirit!? Where the hell is your pride!? Just when I thought you had some backbone helping out Annie or being revealed as the culprit, what do you go and do!? Start cowering again before anything remotely stronger than you! Why must you always run in fear thinking anything and everything will kill you!?"
"Blackbeard! Stop it!" That voice… That soothing voice she'd come to seek was sharp, but not to her. It earned Blackbeard's sidelong stare as the uniformed master stepped out of the shadows firmly. She glared firmly at Blackbeard, who held stern and steady while Drake stared between them. The moments dragged on as Scheherazade's heart beat in her throat. To her relief, her savior did it again; Blackbeard took a step back and crossed his arms.
"Shit. You can't say it doesn't bother you too, Annie…" he mumbled, but only watched as Anishka walked over to kneel beside Scheherazade. This was the third time the master had done this act… first for Fergus, who'd openly hit on the caster just moments after being corrected. Then Heracles, where the Arabian actually fainted from the violent, terrified heart palpitations. Scheherazade didn't question it anymore; She was just glad Anishka was so close to shield her again.
"Of course it does… but I don't blame her for it. She's been terribly traumatized…" Anishka's soft hand on her back was like drinking from an oasis. Scheherazade breathed with relief as she gazed up towards the pirates, then to the generous Indian master who smiled reassuringly at her. "It's alright… Please relax. They're not going to harm you. I promise he won't, no matter what he said."
Fearfully, she glanced to Blackbeard, who only glared at her and shook his head. "No, coward. She's right. My blood wrath was over someone defiling this crazy woman's pride, but you hastily fixed that. So I ain't gonna gut ya. If anyone would do it, it's Drake, but I doubt she will... Seriously. You couldn't have picked a better target for all that morally questionable shit."
Fearfully, her eyes gazed to Drake, who only scratched her head with a slightly miffed expression. "So I really slept with a bunch of guys and don't remember…? Did I party a lot too? Bloody hell, that's worse than a hangover. I at least want to remember all that fun…"
"…You're… okay with what I did…? …What you did?" Scheherazade mumbled quietly.
"…Sorta?" Drake shrugged with a light glare. "I feel wronged on different levels… but there's more to this story, isn't there? Must be if you're already with us and you cower over your life and all… If I were to guess, I'd say you're one of the easily manipulated types, huh? Rough quirk you got there, I tell ya."
Blackbeard scoffed lightly. "Well if Drake's fine with it, guess I've got no reason to hang onto my grudge any longer… Good to have you back, Frances. You worried me."
"Did you really get that worried over me? What a sap of the Caribbean…" she chuckled as she placed her hands akimbo on her toweled body. Suddenly, she smirked. "So how long was I worrying this lug? Did he cry? Oh, please tell me he was being wimpy and you got it on camera! I want to have that on my phone! Is it on Thronebook?"
At Anishka's quiet insistence, Scheherazade slowly got to her feet as Drake and Blackbeard fell into a squabbling fest. The caster could only stare in worried confusion as Drake slapped Blackbeard for something, and then winced when he let out a really weird laugh. Anishka giggled, but then placed a reassuring hand on Scheherazade. "See? It all worked out fine. Please rest easier for the night."
"I… I can't promise that, but thank you for your kind words, Annie…"
With a hesitant look, the caster glanced to Anishka. Further words were lost in her throat. After arriving just past dinner, she'd gone straight to fixing her errors diligently in hopes there'd be less aggression aimed her way. She'd been focused on nothing but options to diminish the chances Chaldea would kill her after… to prove she was truly apologetic and could still be of some use to them!
Yet, with that done, her path ahead became… unknown. She wasn't so sure what was going to try and kill her next, but she knew it was coming. It always was. Her mind was always on the look out for her next worry, so she could focus on avoiding it to live for the next dawn. It was only a matter of time until it appeared, but she'd be ready.
In the silence, she realized the pirates had stopped bickering. She turned to stare at them with worry, but Blackbeard only shook his head her way in disapproval. Before anyone else could speak, Anishka rubbed the caster's arm again, smiled reassuringly, and offered her words like a healing breeze. "You don't have to promise, but please try. I'll do what I can to ensure your stay is comfortable and safe. And with time, happy."
"I'm glad you found your backbone, Annie… It suits you." Blackbeard's calm compliment made Anishka turn to him in surprise. He merely smirked lightly, gave her a thumbs up, and nodded. He then turned a blank but dismissive glance back to the Arabian caster. "…Who knows. Maybe this coward will find hers too."
Scheherazade didn't even need to ponder over what was absolutely impossible.
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"Are you sure? You skipped breakfast, so I think it'd be nice to enjoy the resort's fresh air. It's very comfortable there, I promise."
"I must decline the offer. I'd prefer to remain here."
"…Oh alright. May I at least bring you some food you might like?"
"If you wish, but I don't wish to trouble you further, Annie… Thank you." It was a quick conversation, but not held with the best of manners; Talking through doors wasn't quite respectable. But Anishka was nothing but understanding, and Scheherazade preferred her sense of safety.
The polished wood walls of her room weren't the Great Wall of China, but they offered just enough for her mind. They were reinforced by Chaldean casters, yet their strength was nearly unfelt; It was an intricate weaving by skilled heroes. It unnerved her what those same servants could possibly do to her, but for now, these walls made by their hands were the divide that kept her at ease. 'A fence between keeps the grass green.'
Ever since she was shown her room, she'd never left. She didn't need to. Heroic Spirits had no need to eat, sleep, or much of anything else really. It hadn't even been a full day since she arrived, so her options were obvious to her. She was their former enemy, and her crippling fear of the repercussions could rear its ugly head at any moment. So to hopefully mitigate any animosity, the safest path was to avoid all interaction unless approached first.
Because time often healed wounds… or so she hoped in this case. That meant sitting in this otherwise plain and empty room, devoid of everything but the basic bed, a table, mirror, and some chairs. The closet would have a few clothes she'd hastily picked out should she ever need to leave, but nothing more. She wouldn't even risk bothering anyone about furniture.
A part of her secretly yearned for a somewhat lavishly decorated room, much like the one her King kept her in every night. It was one of the tiny senses of comfort she reached for in those trying days. A bed chamber had been both a comforting routine and a terrifying reality all in one, and now she found herself sitting in another one… wondering when her day to die will come.
Her hands gently quivered in her lap. No amount of anyone's reassurance could shake her doubts. Nothing explained or reasoned could break through the law of nature: Everything has an end. She will die again… and because her plan with Phenex failed, countless more deaths awaited her. Her time in Chaldea was just prolonging the inevitable, no matter how powerful or fortified they continued to make this place. Nowhere was safe from fate's natural course.
Thus, Scheherazade tried to plan again. Every day was a strict routine of polishing her words, actions, and path. Every little slip could mean an unintentional step to disaster, but every proper act could mean more bought time. But her options were currently limited. There's so much she didn't know about, and a lot of social politics she had to gleam in some way to avoid any misunderstanding. The last thing she wanted was to upset one of the many rulers she's felt here.
Quietly, Scheherazade thought in solitude.
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The new caster had spent an entire day in her room. No one had come to bother her besides Anishka, Sita, and at one point Medea. Her conversation with the ancient witch had frayed her nerves, even though she only asked simple questions about some of the stuff she did. It felt like an interrogation. Was it actually an interrogation she survived? Then why had she offered kind advice, saying that too much paranoia is often blinding?
Even if it hadn't been, it was a solemn acknowledgement that, sooner or later, others would try to talk with her. Though the night passed peacefully, she'd nearly jumped when she heard the familiar laughter in her head requesting her presence in the library that afternoon. She'd planned hectically for any possible scenario for hours, but even when the scheduled meeting arrived, the caster still felt horribly insecure.
Nevertheless, not showing up might have been a greater offense she wouldn't dare attempt.
Carefully, Scheherazade pushed open the Library doors and walked inside. Every step was slow and careful, as if the very carpet shrouded a minefield beneath. Her ears were perked for any audible click of an incoming explosion, yet the battle-clad caster was never in harm's way. The only signal of anything came from the far windows, where Shakespeare yelled out happily. "Ah! Respectfully early! How very kind of you! Please, come over! I've got some colleagues to introduce you to!"
Already, her heart beat with growing trepidation. She wasn't expecting there to be a meeting among many. She felt at least a bit comfortable around Shakespeare, but if there were others she didn't know… Who were they? What did they possibly want with her? The questions piled as she walked forward, even as her instincts screamed at her to put up an illusion, raise a shield, or flee like a gazelle within a lion's brush.
Still, her fear of offending anyone pushed her towards possible danger. As the others came into view, her heart hitched with guilt. Beside the playwright in a lavish green tuxedo sat one of her victims, even if she hadn't been tampered with. Yet, Helena only showed a happy smile as she sat in her lilac strapless dress with white chinos. She even waved at her invitingly without even a hint of animosity. "Greetings, Scheherazade! Haven't seen you since the other night."
"I've been keeping to my room. I don't wish to be in anyone's way…" the Arabian quietly offered as she gazed to the two other souls. She nearly mistook the smaller man in a bright blue suit for a child, at least until Hans hummed in a deep voice. His eyes scanned her like a hawk, and she felt his gaze reading her very soul. It unsettled her, but his blank expression betrayed nothing more to ignite her fear like a wildfire.
Yet something unsettled her more with the last woman. Medusa calmly eyed Scheherazade with the most unusual of pupils, framed by the most gorgeous of flowing locks. Her purple maxi dress hugged curves that could rival a goddess' beauty, yet there was something hidden and disturbing about the woman beside the child-like man. Naturally attuned to the air as a caster, her presence felt… like a cobra hidden within the most seductive treasure chests.
Needless to say, it made Scheherazade stand a bit closer to Shakespeare and Helena's couch than the other two. With her hands folded perfectly before her, she bowed towards them. "Shakespeare… You requested my presence?"
"Easy there! Remember what I said about formalities!" the playwright laughed as he stood up with his journal in one hand and the other outstretched. "I prithee thee! William! A fellow writer and storyteller may call me that if it's more comfortable! Oh, but there's plenty of time for us to go on about me and my wonderful works, but that would be unfair to you! This meeting is about you, after all!"
She struggled not to fiddle with her fingers, but her nervousness leaked out. "…I pray it's not-?"
"Oh no! No, no, no, rest easy, there's nothing to be scared about! Helena and I just thought it'd be wonderful to have another story enthusiast join us in the library!" He quickly insisted as he scooched away from the couch, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder that made her wince, and grin. "We've been looking for new companions to join us, and I think you'd make for a perfect addition! Another light for the gallery that will warm the stage! Another voice of exposition to welcome others into the worlds painted by words!"
Though his theatrics still unsettled her a bit, Scheherazade had to admit… he was inspiring. Every time he talked about his works to her, his enthusiasm leaked into her. It was clear how much pride and joy he took in his works, but even his simple talks conveyed the artistic prowess of an entertainer. Maybe if her circumstances had been less severe… would she have been sharing her works and conversing with as much genuine enthusiasm?
Hans cleared his voice, and Shakespeare quickly laughed. "Oh! Right, but of course! Introductions! You obviously know I and Madam Blavatsky, but these are our dear friends and coworkers! Famed writer Hans Christian Andersen, and the avid reader, Miss Medusa Gorgon."
Scheherazade's blood nearly froze upon hearing Medusa's name. This beautiful woman before her, who eyed her calmly with a tiny smile, was the famed Greek monster!? It's no wonder her presence felt unsettling, and though the caster's legs nearly trembled with shock, it was tempered by the calmness of the rider. Medusa certainly wasn't eyeing her like a snake… but the caster was definitely going to be extra wary around her. It made the idea of spending time here more disconcerting than this proposition first revealed…
Yet Hans brought his own sense of hesitation. He had this sharp look in his eyes. She also wasn't quite a fan of his stories with their myriad of hard endings. For some reason, she also felt like he was the rougher one between the two she just met; Her fine-tuned, paranoid instincts were usually never off.
"Hmm… Yes, that's quite something alright," Hans voiced dryly as he stared at her and sighed. "…Impressive. Just an introduction and you're a pale ghost. Your lack of intestinal fortitude is astounding, even given your past. I really do wonder how a quivering stick is able to breathe in Chaldea."
"Hans…" Helena warned lightly with a small pout. "Please don't… Sorry, Scheherazade. Hans tends to be an outspoken critic whether anyone wants to hear it or not."
"The truth is something that needs to be said bluntly! Something all these modern tabloids and so-called journalists can't seem to get right without tripping over their bias," Hans scoffed, but then quietly waved; It managed a mix between dismissive and apologetic. "But, I meant no real harm. I'm even a bit sympathetic, for once… I couldn't imagine living with such unbridled crippling fear over trivial insecurities. I'm intrigued. How do you manage?"
"Hans…" Helena groaned again, and Scheherazade began to ponder if it was just his nature. It was something she might have to deal with if she accepted this strange inquiry… but should she? This was a library, where many servants my frequent. The web of possibilities began to grow in her mind, and only amplified when the doors swung open. She took a quick glance over with the others as Medusa quietly excused herself to deal with the newcomer.
The Arabian man was certainly handsome and friendly looking. Nothing too frightening looking in his pair of jeans and a loose, black sweater. He even held a blonde girl's hand as she twisted and twirled cutely in a jean dress. Though he balanced a stack of children's books in one hand, Arash nodded kindly towards them… yet Scheherazade still twitched at his presence.
Whoever he was, he reeked of prestige and heroism. She shouldn't have been afraid, but she was just so nervous being a new resident but former enemy. She could already feel herself second guessing the most ridiculous possibilities as she fiddled with her fingers. Unknowingly, the other three were quick to see her do so. Hans rolled his eyes and groaned. "…I wonder if this storyteller will be a good coworker if she thinks everyone is going to kill her…"
"Maybe we should let her think about it first, and not pressure her into it?" Helena offered with a sigh as she stared at the clearly nervous woman. "Scheherazade, feel free to think it over as long as you need to, and don't feel pressured by Shakespeare. He's just very excited… but I heard you got an earful of that in Agartha."
"I did…" she replied, but honestly, it wasn't too bad compared to most things. She offered a quick bow as her nerves shook, and excused herself. "I'll be in my room if I'm requested."
With that, she swiftly vanished into spirit form. Hans blinked, shook his head, and sighed. He only glanced back to Shakespeare when he heard the sudden million-word-a-minute scribbling of the playwright. An eyebrow was quickly quirked to the vivid caster. "…You're writing awfully fast."
"When inspiration strikes, it strikes!" he offered calmly, then, with a content smile, glanced one last time to the spot Scheherazade previously stood. "Indeed… I feel this work might have a happier take than my usual fortes."
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Locked in her room, Scheherazade had mulled over the offer for nearly a day, and she still hadn't come up with an answer. For the most part, she'd been left to her thoughts again, but that finally changed when lunch arrived. Anishka had been surprisingly insistent about leaving her room at least once, which put the caster in quite the predicament. Anishka saved her, and was easily the master the caster was closest with… so to upset her and fray that rope bridge was not wise at all.
So, despite the storyteller's nervousness, she relented when Sita said she was joining them.
"Hey there! Finally out of your room?" "Oh, it's the new caster." "It's those clothes, dude. I can't help it." "Hi, Scheherazade!"
Scheherazade certainly wasn't expecting so many to greet her as she walked out of Club Cove and onto the boardwalk. Everyone was being surprisingly friendly, yet her anxiety only flared more. She wanted to believe they were nice, but it was too sudden. Too quick. It made her nervous and instinctively second guess if this was some elaborate trap where her punishment awaited.
…But the resort was so calming. She hadn't been expecting any of this, even when some of the servants talked about it in the singularity. Though she could arguably forge something just as pristine with her specialized storytelling, it still overwhelmed her. The breeze, atmosphere, and pleasant warmth… She was at a loss for words, even as the automata seagulls flew just over her head in search of food.
While respectfully returning the greetings, she kept close to Anishka. Maybe far too close since her body often rubbed against hers, but Anishka didn't seem to mind. The master in a cerulean sundress only offered a tiny reassuring smile every few steps while Sita followed right behind them as reassurance. Her powerful, but loving presence did just that for the taller caster, whose heart beat erratically in her chest just looking at all the servants under the Outdoor Cafeteria's shaded cabana.
Sita gently grasped her hand, and Scheherazade glanced down to see a warm smile that glowed more than the divine's scarlet beach dress. "Relax! You'll be sitting with all of us!"
Right. She was going to have very powerful protection by virtue of Anishka's closest friends. Though she quaked in fear at the many overpowering auras that waved around her, she trusted their words as the master led them to one of the most prominent ones. She'd felt most of them before, but never all in one spot. The overwhelming majesty of the gathered Indian servants was truly potent, and were it not for Anishka and Sita's word, she may have already fled out of paranoia.
Instead, she sat down in one of the comfy wicker chairs between Anishka and Sita. Barely a moment after she did, Sita was giggling as a small monkey hopped from her husband's lap into hers. "Hi, Junior! Did Rama give you your bananas yet?"
"Enough for now!" Rama replied quickly as he leaned in to plant a quick smooch onto his beloved's cheek. Scheherazade couldn't help but glance over at their tenderness. How his track suit matched her dress perfectly. How they were quickly falling into a smattering of public affection as Parvati sighed, but giggled at Rama's other side.
"Don't mind them… Nothing stops their love," the purple-haired goddess offered. Scheherazade looked to the unknown lancer, and nearly sighed with overwhelming relief for how comfortable her own presence felt even compared to the rest. Had she not looked so young, Scheherazade would have pegged her as a motherly type in her conservative blue shirt dress with tan shawl. "I'm Parvati. I hope we can make you feel comfortable. Eating alone isn't as pleasant."
"And I'm Karna. It's a pleasure to meet you," the white-haired man beside her offered. He looked very presentable in his cleanly pressed red suit, and she wondered if it was done to help her feel better. Then again, he was the legendary Hero of Charity from India… but also Arjuna's rival. That fact was something that could never escape her as her eyes glanced between him and the very archer at his other side.
Yet, Arjuna looked relatively calm in his black sherwani with ice-blue accents. No hard gazes to Karna. No fidgets of barely contained animosity or anger. Just a noble, reassuring smile her way before he quietly took a sip of his iced water. She gently bowed back to him, glanced around the table again, and soon fell prey to the delicious aromas wafting from the grills. Her small taste of thinly diced food yesterday was eye-opening, and now there was a buffet before her… but so many powerful spirits between her and lunch.
"I could bring you lunch if you'd like," Anishka was quick to offer.
Scheherazade glanced to the smiling master, but Rama was quick to support her. "You don't need to lift a finger! Consider it Indian hospitality!"
"I see… That would be very kind of you." It certainly made her feel better, if just a tad guilty they were being so accommodating to her. With a gracious bow, she offered a tiny smile to Anishka as she, Rama, and Parvati got up for their task.
After a quick smile, then a fairly long kiss for Sita, Rama nodded. "We'll be back with a sampler platter before you know it!"
As they walked off, Scheherazade fell further at ease since Sita remained. She currently petted the little monkey, who was happily chewing on an apple from the table's fruit basket. A comfortable silence fell, which allowed the caster to slowly try and ease her nerves. Nothing would happen here. She had the reassurance of Anishka and many mighty divine servants. Maybe... she could enjoy the nice atmosphere?
She glanced around curiously as a gentle breeze blew, but all she found were new catalysts to make her worried. There were a bunch of Mage's Association members talking at one table, and their occasional dismissive glances her way made her worry rise. Their own stern glances towards a nearby Vigil table made her even warier for conflict. If it was just them, she wouldn't have been so concerned…
…But some servants worried her. A headless servant in the distance seemingly glanced her way. There was another powerful hero who passed, yet the formally dressed count reeked with the promise of painful vengeance that made her hair stand on end. Then there was Heracles further away, who was keeping a large table of children company. His own glance to her nearly made her faint again...
...But at least that nightmarish armored assassin was nowhere to be felt.
"You're reading too much into things." Karna's blunt statement snapped her attention to the lancer, who only offered a kind smile. "It's in your nature to worry, but you shouldn't see fire where there's only wet tinder."
"Nothing will happen to you in Chaldea. We hope you'll come to see that," Sita offered graciously. "Rules are strict with conflict. If not us, the other Peacekeepers will come to your aid in an instant."
"Law enforcement… so it really is like a society here." She'd gotten glimpses of it in the past singularity, but now seeing it up close, she understood. Though the masters were theoretically the ones who could call the shots, the servants could act as they please… so long as it was civil; Chaldea was a community. It was a bit reassuring, but that amount of freedom was also a concern. "Then those who have met before… or have issues with each other...?"
"Everyone has their own way of dealing with things, but we haven't had a serious issue where a servant was forced to leave," Sita explained as Hanuman Junior hopped back into her lap. "I hope it never comes down to that, but if servants have issues with another, they often work it out with time. Arjuna and Karna are a great example."
"It was more on Arjuna's end than mine," Karna offered with a small smile, but Scheherazade froze when Arjuna's eyes narrowed his way.
"…Must you put it like that? Like I'm a villain?"
Karna's smile faltered, but he only stared blankly at the archer. "I was making a joke. Annie said I need to practice making them, so I did. How did that offend you?"
"It didn't," Arjuna insisted calmly, though his eyebrows were still a bit furrowed. "I just feel your joke could've been done more tastefully."
"You're still too sensitive about little things. You could do better on that too."
Arjuna glanced back, and his eyes were a little sharper than before. "I try my best, but you often make it difficult, whether truly intentional or not."
"Can you two not get into another fight? Last time you had a 'reasonable' mock dual, the casters were fixing the Training Grounds for an hour…" Sita sighed.
As their small disagreement seemed to escalate, Scheherazade felt the fear begin to mount. Karna and Arjuna were now lightly glaring at each other as opposed to smiling kindly but moments before. Didn't they just say those with issues worked it out with time? She thought Arjuna and Karna were on civil terms, but her doubts sprouted with their argument. Before long, their voices were a bit more raised, and Scheherazade's mind was going wild with the possibilities.
But it generated one strategy to protect herself: 'Run before you die in the middle of the almighty rivals' fight!'
Arjuna and Karna's small argument collapsed into surprise when Scheherazade whimpered and fled to the safety of spirit form. In a small shower of dust, she was gone, and already running back to the safety of her room. A dumbfounded Sita stared as the cafeteria fell a little quieter. Suddenly, there was a whistle from across the large area. It was Angra Mainyu. "You know, this begs the question. Who runs for their room faster when no one is looking? Osakabehime? Or Seherayzady-zade whatever her name is?"
Though some chuckles ran through the audience, Karna and Arjuna's stare quickly shifted to someone clearing their throat. They met the exasperated and openly annoyed stare of Anishka, who stood with two plates filled with various food. Parvati and Rama walked around her to help serve the other plates while the two rivals quietly glanced to each other with quiet realization: That was their fault.
As the two rivals dipped their heads ever so slightly in guilt, Anishka sighed. "…We had to try so hard to talk her out too…"
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
A day. It had taken a day and a direct promise from the two rivals to convince Scheherazade to leave her room for food again. Needless to say, that lunch went far smoother than the previous one, and it placed her further at ease. Slowly but surely, her paranoia of dying to Chaldeans was fading away… only to be replaced by instinctual gloom that an end by different means was still possible.
Still, with growing ease, she was convinced to come out of her room for that night's dinner too. The promises of French luxury and delightful cuisine were just a few extra bread crumbs. It was mostly the reassured safety of their group that sealed the deal.
Thus, Scheherazade, wearing her a flattering royal blue halter dress, sat under the warm glow of Salon de Marie's for the first time. Across from her, Anishka looked elegant in her beige saree with sapphire outlines; The others had yet to arrive. A robot was quietly pouring them drinks while another dropped off a basket of steaming garlic bread rolls. Once the robots left them alone, Anishka restarted their conversation. "So what do you think? Marie loves lavishing others in French hospitality."
"It's more royal than most of that palace's rooms…" she remarked as she gazed around. It was certainly very comfortable, especially because it didn't remind her of the impending doom; The powerful servant auras made up for that, unfortunately. "You said this palace was rebuilt…?"
"After we got attacked… but we're even more fortified now!" Anishka quickly reassured with a smile, and a hopeful glint. "We're still working on the last loopholes, like the one you used… Please don't blame yourself for that. It's in the past now, and it reminded us not to be complacent."
Scheherazade still nodded slowly and guiltily, but appreciated the reassurance. She reached over to take a sip from her water, but then felt time slow as she picked up a familiar tinge. There was no mistaking the color of royalty, and this one felt extra domineering… yet recognizable. What's worse is she knew who it was based on the overwhelming, disconcerting stench that emanated from their companion.
Another presence colored as a storm of lust… tempered only by its own winds as it hurdles forward.
"Well, well. Looks like you're out of your room again." Like a dove before a falcon, Scheherazade flinched. Yet, despite her wariness of former rulers, she glanced to Medb, who stood proud in her form-hugging white mini dress. Beside her, the muscular Fergus stood calm in a green sweater and matching pants. They were hardly a fit for the luxurious dining area, but such a distant visual nitpick never crossed her mind as she faced a Celtic tidal wave.
"Medb. Please don't scare her off." The caster was glad Anishka immediately jumped to her defense. "I'm tying to make sure she feels comfortable."
"Oh, relax, Annie. Medb just wanted to say hi," Fergus chuckled, then smirked towards Scheherazade. It was just a small smirk, yet she felt like she was about to drown in an unending pool of desire. His slanted eyes said it all, and she could feel his profound interest pour over her like sickly acid; She would definitely die before it ever proceeded that far. "And I just wanted to extend another friendly invite! The offer still stands, Scheherazade! My bedroom door is always open for such a shapely beauty."
"Fergus." Anishka's warning fell on deaf ears as Medb giggled.
He laughed. "What? I'm being honest! Anytime she wishes, the offer is there! I mean, if she feels more comfortable, you're more than welcome to join in-"
"Fergus!" Anishka snapped with a groan. "I told you, I'm not interested in men! Please stop asking me to join you!"
"Sorry, sorry… Didn't mean to step on toes! You know me… I can't help but keep raising the offers!" he quickly backtracked with a friendly smile. Though his presence was unnerving, Scheherazade fell even more uncomfortable when his smile faded. Medb rolled her eyes, and he let out a small sigh when he saw her slightly quiver. Again. "I'm just trying to do what you're doing in your own way, Annie. Show her that there's a lot of bliss for Chaldea to offer her when she's ready."
"…When I'm ready…?" Scheherazade wondered quietly, then withdrew visibly out of concern. "Fergus… It's not possible. Should we ever… I'll definitely-!"
Fergus quickly shook his head. "No, no… You got me wrong. Believe it or not, I'm not talking about sex anymore. I mean that problem of yours."
Scheherazade fell quiet and confused, but this time it was Medb to groan. "Your fear of dying. That fear you keep repeating? It's the most laughable thing I've ever seen from any heroic spirit!"
"Easy, Medb…" Fergus beckoned as he put a hand on her shoulder. She only crossed her arms and huffed while Anishka watched warily with a frown. Yet, Fergus' stare turned surprisingly calm and serious. "I wouldn't put it like she did, but your way of living… No. Absolutely not. We Celts can't agree with it."
"…I know…" Scheherazade mumbled. "…Your younger self understood my view, but don't you…? I'm not a warrior. I don't live for the honor of dying in glorious combat… I just don't want to die. I don't want to experience it ever again…"
"And there's the problem. You're so afraid of dying, you're no longer alive. You can't live," Fergus pointed out with a shake of his head. "That's what we don't agree with. Death is a guarantee, but you choose to let it control you rather than celebrate every day alive. That's what we Celts love to do… Party! Fight! Enjoy every day that comes! Even in death, we rejoice for what had been lived! Have you not heard of the Irish Wake?"
She let his words sink in, and while he may have had a point… It was hopeless. Her gloomy fear of inevitable death was absolute. "I… I see your point but…"
"Let's just go, Fergus. She's hopeless, and we're keeping the others waiting." Medb didn't hesitate to tug him along. Fergus followed with a sigh as the aggravated rider tossed the caster a very dismissive stare. Anishka openly showed her annoyance, but Scheherazade remained quiet and watched them leave. Fergus paused one last time to glance back at her. As their eyes met, she felt the genuine concern and faith of his younger self in his tiny smile.
"One day, I hope you stop gripping on to ways not to die… and find your first paths to live."
Anishka stared after Fergus as he left in silent pondering, but it couldn't rival Scheherazade's own thoughts. Though no one addressed it as directly as he did, many had a similar point. Her fear was crippling, and often blinding… but she couldn't help it. Try as she might, her comfort was in the greatest safety blanket she could wrap around herself every day. For dinner, it was the reassuring presence of the powerful Indian heroes again, and a growing understanding Chaldea looks past her actions.
Though she had to wonder, if one day, Fergus would be right… That the fear of death would no longer be a tight noose, but a dark cloud.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
Two days had passed since then.
Scheharazade had come out for some food, but now she was comfortable enough that she would actually walk there alone. Perhaps she'd come a little too early this time, because she wound up being one of the first to lunch. The sparsity of servants was nice, but the lack of Anishka or her companions offset it. After all, it was only five days after her arrival, and though she felt far more at ease, who knows what animosity still secretly bubbled.
Quietly, she sat at a distant table and prayed no one would come up to her to start something tense. Her ears were perked, and her eyes turning. Some servants were talking about the new Mage's Association representative that was supposedly taking Vernier's place in a few days. Others were laughing about how the masters' most recent summons were nothing but mystic codes, craft coins, and quantum piece fodder. A few were alone or on their phones.
Her muscles tensed for a split second as a scarlet macaw flew onto her table. It quickly lost interest and left, only for a growing commotion further away to snag her eyes. The spring bells of children's mirth echoed into the shaded cabana, and she felt herself smile just a bit with relief. Soon enough, the gaggle of children in school uniforms poured into the outdoor cafeteria to lay claim to a table. Many discussed where they should stake their claim for the day.
One eyed her curiously. A moment later, Nursery Rhyme skipped over with a cheery hum on her lips. Wariness flourished, but Scheherazade stared calmly at the cheerful girl now standing beside her. "We haven't said hi yet! You're always so hard to find alone so… hiiiii~!"
"Hello… Did you have a nice day at school?"
"It was boring, but fun. Janna and Miyu got into another fight about who was smarter, but Miyu always wins that. Especially in maths."
"I see… so you're getting a real education here." She kept the conversation normal and inconspicuous. She wasn't afraid of any of the children by far, but she was definitely scared of what ideas their parents might get. The Einzbern's berserker caretaker was her main concern above all. Even now, she feared the berserker popping up and getting the wrong idea just talking to… to…? "I'm sorry, this was rude of me. What's your name?"
The little girl giggled cheerily, and even pulled a tiny smile from the Arabian caster. "I'm Nursery Rhyme, but you can call me Alice~! Everyone does~!"
Suddenly, Scheherazade felt the growing momentum of curiosity widen her eyes. In the limited knowledge given by the throne before her summoning, she'd been told of those of fiction who became reality. One in particular stood out… a collection of stories that became a heroic spirit of sorts, for they were what the tucked-in children held close at heart. Tales and lessons told to children to bring happiness and wonder before they drift off to sleep.
It was a concept that enthralled her, and now stood before her as a cute little girl with twin tails. Her heart and mind were so enraptured by her discovery, the storyteller didn't realize she'd fallen silent. Nursery Rhyme blinked, but tilted her head cutely. "Are you okay, Miss Scheherazade?"
"…Oh! Please excuse me… I was just thinking of…" She hesitated for a second, but the eager smile from the smaller caster drew out the truth. "…About you. As a servant. You're the embodiment of fairy tales as a little girl…?"
"It's a lot more complex than that. The easy way to explain it is I can be whoever I want to be, for myself and everyone!" she chimed happily. "…But I choose to be Alice, my former master I who touched my soul deeply."
There were so many questions, but Scheherazade only fell more curious. She'd actually forgotten about her lingering worries for a moment… until another child skipped over to them. Thankfully, it wasn't one of the Einzbern trio. "Alice! I saved you a seat between me and Mia!"
Janna skidded to a halt next to Alice, but then quickly glanced between the two casters. She blushed lightly. "Oh… I'm sorry. I'm interrupting. That was rude of me… Oh, can I introduce myself? I'm Janna d'Arc, Jeanne's cutest little sister! It's nice to meet you Miss Sherryzah!"
Scherezade blinked at the outright butchering of her name. Nursery Rhyme put a hand to her mouth to withhold a giggle. Janna blinked, blushed a bit, cleared her throat, and coughed. "It was an accident! Sorry I mis-pronounded your name Miss Sharahad!"
Nursery Rhyme giggled, and even Scheherazade slowly raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a growing smile. Janna's blush grew with her a tiny pout. "…Shayrazade! …Sherrahaza? Sherhadazare!"
"Please excuse my friend… We rescued her from a singularity, and the throne didn't really gift her any proper knowledge…" Nursery Rhyme offered as a bright red Janna pouted and stomped her feet childishly. Scheherazade was now openly giggling for the first time, and still hadn't realized it. Nor did she realize how far the gloom of inevitable death drifted from her mind.
"Sahara!" At the sudden yelling of a desert, the giggling casters stopped to stare at the still blushing, but now proudly chest-puffed, Janna. "It's not her name! It's a cute nickname! Mhmm~! Everyone knows the best way to show acceptance and appreciation for someone is to give them a cute nickname! Sahara it is!"
"…You're just doing that to cover the fact you couldn't pronounce Scheherazade." Bright red again, Janna turned back to the table further away to throw a stink eye at Miyu. The black-haired caster only slyly smiled back as Kuro laughed beside her. "Another point for me, Janna."
"I'll beat you yet!" the tiny saint huffed as she crossed her arms in embarrassment.
After collecting herself, Nursery Rhyme glanced over to the growing aromas from the grills, then back to Scheherazade with a smile. "We gotta go back to our friends… but it was nice meeting you! Oh, and before we leave, I had a question! May I ask? Please?"
"…What do you wish for?" Scheherazade's small smile still hadn't faded, though she'd begun to realize her current sense of comfort.
"You're a famous story teller so… Could you read us some stories sometime? Miyu, Illya, and Kuro might get bored but… A bunch of us really like story time!" Nursery Rhyme's glittering eyes, full of eagerness, evoked profound curiosity and wonder from Scheherazade. A collection of stories still wanted her to read to them… Did they run out with time? Nursery Rhyme answered the unasked question. "Our parents or guardians usually read to us, but I think you have some fun stories to tell too! Could you… Um, if it doesn't bring back bad memories, that is? Pretty pwease?"
Kind and considerate… Yet still filled with childish hope and a simple request. There were many reasons to say yes strategically, especially for her growing acceptance. But a spark reignited for something she'd long since forgotten under the primed guillotine of failure: Her love of telling stories. And here stood a child requesting tales with, she truly and safely assumed, no strings attached.
Her smile remained. "…I'll see what I can do. I just hope there's a suitable, quiet spot where we won't be bothered."
Janna's eyes sparkled with wonder, and Nursery Rhyme giggled in victory. "That's the easy part~! There's lots of places… but after noon please so we're out of school!"
As Scheherazade negotiated, she was unaware of Sita and Anishka watching and smiling from the boardwalk.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
That night, the time finally came to read a story. Though she'd worried and racked her nerves over what could go wrong, in the end, she steeled herself. She needed to do this. For Chaldea to trust her fully, she needed to prove she could offer something. Maybe then the last nerve-gripping concerns of reprisal would finally disappear with her true acceptance.
All that would remain was the gloom of reality, but she could feasibly live with that.
So, she dared to walk down the hallway towards Salon de Marie. She'd agreed to read to most of them in a public area, so others would see she was harmless while also showing she can be trusted. Thankfully the Emiya family was doing something else, but those three were apparently the ones least interested in story time. It worked out for her settling nerves, at least.
Though the walk felt like an eternity with eyes secretly watching her, she'd passed through the ornate double doors. She'd waved calmly to Gilles and Sanson as they cleaned glasses at the bar. She took a seat by a set of ottomans to wait, and kindly thanked D'Eon for a nice glass of water and some pretzels. Then, she merely waited for the children to pour in.
But it was Helena who strolled in first, with a small white present box clutched to her black wrap dress. She glanced to Scheherazade, smiled, and waved. The Arabian caster returned the gesture, with less trepidation than she held days ago. Helena was clearly fine with her, so her mind only held lingering guilt for dragging her into that ploy. Yet it was courted by surprise curiosity as the small caster walked up to her with a hum. "Evening, Scheherazade! I heard you're meeting the children here?"
"Good evening, Helena. And I am… Alice requested a story, and I can't say no to a child or my specialty."
"I can imagine," Helena giggled as she sat down on one of the ottomans. Scheherazade could've sworn the box just moved… and then she felt a tiny presence of magical energy within. Sensing her curiosity, Helena smiled and patted the box. "It's the spectacular Helena's gift for Jackie. Or a prize, to be exact. We had a little Halloween contest and a few lucky entrants got to pick their own little pet."
"Ah… Like the many others you've created for the resort. You're very talented," Scheherazade offered with a smile. After a small pause, she then bowed her head before the silence grew. "…I'm sorry for taking so long with your offer. I'm just…"
"Oh no! No, no, take your time! There's no rush if you wish to join us," Helena reassured quickly as the first two children finally flew through the salon doors. "Take as much time as you need to! The library isn't just going to get up and start walking, but, by Mahatma, that would be amazing if it did, wouldn't it? …Oh, perfect! Jackie! I finally got your prize! Sorry it took so long!"
Scheherazade couldn't help but smile at the small assassin's glittering eyes. She looked adorable in her black pair of sweats, complete with a cartoony skull on the front. Her giggling sister looked far more elegant in her black sundress. Nursery Rhyme waved to her, then eagerly sat on the ottoman right beside Scheherazade; The older caster was secretly satisfied she did.
They turned back to Jack, who had sat next to Helena with barely controlled, wiggling fingers. Grinning like a million dollars, Helena placed the box in Jack's lap and nodded. "Well? Let's not keep him in there much longer!"
As Jack hurriedly unwrapped the ribbon, Scheherazade leaned towards Nursery Rhyme to sate her curiosity. "…She's really the serial killer Jack the Ripper? I would have never guessed…"
"No one does… She kills by cuteness these days," Nursery Rhyme offered as a loud squeal shattered the serene, royal air. Not that anyone would complain. Scheherazade's worry over the fearsome Jack the Ripper was swapped with growing adoration and amusement for a giggling girl… One who now held a very unusual pet in her arms as it happily hugged her back.
"Poyo~!" Scheherazade had made many creative characters, but this… simple, small, and cartoonish creature was a whole new scale of adorable. From what she could see, 'he' was best described as a pink ball with cute little arms and giant red shoes. His eyes were almost baby-like ovals that stared around at its surroundings, then to her. Even the paranoid Scheherazade felt nothing to fear from this thing, who might as well have been a walking cute face. "…Poyo?"
"Kirby, Kirby, Kirbyyyyy~!" Jack happily sang as more children appeared from the door. "Thank you, Auntie Helena! He's the cutest bestest pet! I'll take good care of him!"
"Just feed him a lot. He can't do any of that transforming stuff, but I don't think he'll mind playing dress up~!" Helena winked, then giggled as Jack dragged her into a big hug with her new pet. "Awww, I'm glad you love him, Jackie!"
Upon seeing Scheherazade's curious and wondering stare, Nursery Rhyme smiled, leaned in, and whispered. "She chases happy and cute things like a wolf does to the three little pigs. It helps her feel better about her past lives where… Um, sorry, it's depressing. To put it simply, she's the manifestation of countless girls… but she collects happy moments for all the voices who never got to have a single one. When you're more comfortable here, isn't that something you want to find too? Some happy things to live for?"
She couldn't answer, and fell speechless. Watching the happy Jack playing with the little ball of pink was one thing, but then Nursery Rhyme's revelations sparked another. Jack was also a collection of sorts, but one making up for the past. She was using her disappointment and lack of experience as a fuel… whereas Scheherazade's crippled her. Fergus' words rang in her mind again as she watched what was, as she was told, a conglomeration of lost children embracing every happiness they never got to have.
Even if time in Chaldea was ultimately fleeting, and the mass of children had been joined together, Jack was still trying to make something new…
…How many of these servants have been pursuing something like this? A second life? A second chance? A new form of liberation of afterlife?
The questions piled, even as the children began to gather for her first story reading. Others had come to watch on, but for the first time, she wasn't concerned about what the older, observing Chaldeans thought or considered. Her mind, while anticipating the joy of a story told without the fear of death, toyed with the curious concept of a new beginning. Yet her fear still promised… where there's a beginning, there's an end.
Nonetheless, Scheherazade began to court the new curiosity rather than her married gloom.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IX ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
It was evening of the following day, and though her mind was now pondering the possibilities… her melancholy fear had returned, as usual. It was as if sleep had just reset her to proper boundaries. It was simply what was, and something that's steered her perfectly in her trying, former life on Earth. But she was making some headway with comfort, at least.
Wearing a new white sheath dress with complimenting cerulean Arabian sash, she quietly returned to her room for the night. The hallways were mostly quiet, and in her thoughts, she missed two tiny blurs scurry across an intersection ahead. Lost in planning, she wanted to understand further what other servants pursued here… and possibly plan some secret observation the next day. Nothing suspicious like spying... just subtly watching people in the resort. From safety of course. Safety always came firs- "AHHHHH! LOOKOUT!"
The unknown servant's presence had appeared so quickly, Scheherazade's instinctual caution couldn't even warn her in time. As she turned the hallway corner, their collision was inevitable. Perhaps even fated. But Scheherazade could only think of fear and worry as she felt a course of pain run up her back as she fell onto the ground. She'd crashed into another servant… and worst of all, this presence was both strong, and whispered of desert authority…
…A familiar kind that brought nothing but terrible memories of a past life. 'Oh no! It must be one of the Pharaohs! You've just upset one of the Pharaohs!'
"I'm sorry! Please forgive me for not watching out! Don't harm me, please! But if you desire so, I'll take any other punishment but death!" In an instant, Scheherazade had flipped herself back over and took on the Japanese stance of total apology; She was in such a panic, she'd chosen an obviously sorry posture over something more fitting for an Egyptian. But she had no time to think. Time to think was time to beg for offending one of the prideful Chaldean Pharaohs! "I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry!"
"Hey! Stop! Stop apologizing! It's really refreshing for me to hear something like this… but you're making me uncomfortable! A Pharaoh demands you to cease!" Her fear fell like a low tide; At least this voice wasn't the boisterous Ozymandias. Instead, she dared to raise her head in curiosity to stare at Nitocris, who had stood back up swiftly. From Scheherazade's view, she looked like a mighty, judging Pharaoh as she stood firm with hands akimbo on her form-hugging, white evening dress… a dress that now had some scuffs on its golden sash.
Scheherazade swallowed and braced for the worst. "Please pardon my offense… but I have marred your attire. Your sash has been sullied."
"Hmm…?" Nitocris asked, then stared at her sash. She blinked. "Ah… You're lucky it's not a stain, or I would've been really mad that you weren't paying attention! This is nothing, but if you want to make it up to me, you can- Hey! I didn't even…!"
She didn't need to finish her sentence. Fear compelled the Arabian storyteller like a booster rocket to the atmosphere. In an instant, she had summoned a clean rag in hand, and was perfectly polishing the silky sash. She'd handled far worse wine stains from that dreadful king, so this was nothing. After completing her task, she took a respectful step back, bowed, and prayed for the best. "My apologies. I have fixed your clothing to the best of my abilities."
Nitocris, stunned and dumbfounded, looked at her clean sash and breathed her surprise. "…You actually cleaned it? I didn't think… Hmm. You've made me a very impressed pharaoh. Thank you."
Scheherazade bowed and hoped that was the end of it. Instead, Nitocris furrowed her brow and put a finger to her lip. Her Egyptian headpiece twitched. "Oh right… You're that storyteller, aren't you? The one we just rescued after you were manipulated by that demon pillar…"
"…Yes, Pharaoh. I am that one. Scheherazade, of the Thousand and One Nights," she introduced with her head bowed again. "I hope I don't offend you with my presence."
"…Huh?" Nitocris was growing bewildered, but she quickly waved it off. "Why would I be…? That'd be hypocritical! I came to blows with Chaldea too so… Oh, that's a trivial matter. Why do you think others would be offended? You were the one being manipulated… not the other way around."
How should she explain it? Every possibility had to be accounted for. She was on the wrong side. To Scheherazade and many ancient kingdoms, that's all that mattered. Before she could piece together a response, the pharaoh shrugged. "Mmm… I see you're as skittish and paranoid as some of the others have been saying. Was it traumatizing…? Those thousand nights?"
A flash of gloomy reminiscence across Scheherazade's eyes made Nitocris immediately backtrack. "Don't answer! It's best we leave it at that, though I don't know what you have to worry about here. Chaldea is very peaceful and… Ah! My kittens! That's right, I was chasing them before I crashed into you!"
Again, Scheherazade's instinctual shame and apology surface. She bowed. "My apologies, Pharaoh. Because of my negligence, you've lost track of your esteemed pets…. If I can make amends to soothe your irritation, please allow me to help you find them."
"…Hmm. I won't say no to more help," Nitocris pondered, then she puffed her chest up pridefully. "You have this Pharaoh's permission to accompany her then. It shall be your amends!"
It completely passed over Scheherazade that Nitocris was just trying to be prideful, and partially joking, because she was about to take this search very seriously.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ X ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
They'd found the kittens in minutes after Scheherazade sent out a proverbial army of cartoonish scouts…
…Yet, it'd been two hours since then, and the two were still sitting on some boardwalk stairs. The night was young, yet incredibly beautiful. The stars twinkled hopefully up high, and the tiny waves gently lapped as the ocean slumbered. Most of the animals had fallen still, but a few monkeys happily scurried across the sand, pausing only to glance towards the two women.
With her feet buried in the sand, Nitocris showered one of her celestial kittens with loving affection. The other was trying to draw more gentle pets from Scheherazade beside her. And it was working. With a gentle purr, Kamilah rubber her head into Scheherazade's palm as she stared in wonder at the young Egyptian phantasmal. She scratched the kitten in just the right spot, yet again, to elicit a happy purr.
"You're really good with kittens. Did your palace have one?" Nitocris wondered.
"A young tiger… but it playfully bit the King, and he had it killed…" she admitted, and she flinched at the memory.
Nitocris' headpiece drooped. "Oh… I'm sorry. That reminded you of a bad memory."
"It's okay. It was just how fickle his moods were… but it was a good cub. The King let me take care of it the most."
"It shows. Kamilah is like putty in your hands," Nitocris smiled gently as the kitten let out another happy coo. "I'm sure she'd like it if you came to say hi again."
"…If I may be honored with such a privilege, I won't challenge your trust."
"See to it that you don't, and this Pharaoh will be pleased," Nitocris commanded, but it had lost a lot less of its bark in the past two hours. Strangely, the Egyptian caster has quickly noticed how very uncomfortable Scheherazade got when prideful, commanding tones were aired... as a joke or not. Even stranger, she actually apologized for being a bit too forceful, and toned it down to ease the Arabian's anxiety.
It's not what Scheherazade had been expecting from an ancient pharaoh at all… and she was appreciating every second of it. Enough so, that she'd spent the past hour in her company and actually fallen at ease. Before, her nerves prayed to be granted leave from a prideful ruler. Now, her curiosity and interest wanted to know more about the unusual pharaoh beside her.
An unusual and often very clumsy pharaoh. "OH NO-! ….Ohhhh… Thank you, Scheherazade…"
"You're welcome." Had Scheherazade been a moment later, Nitocris' phone would've been swimming in the sand. That's what she would've gotten for pulling the golden-cased device out with one hand while barely holding an energetic kitten in the other. Instead, Scheherazade offered the phone gently, but stared at the Hello Kitty key chain dangling from it. "Is this a kitten from a story?"
"Oh, um…" Nitocris blushed lightly as she took her phone. "Hmph… Don't tell anyone. It's from a cartoon I came to like, but I don't think the Sun King would find it very becoming of a Pharaoh… So I put it back on when the other Pharaohs aren't around…"
"I see," Scheherazade mused, then smiled gently. "…It's cute. I'd like to know more about this cartoon. I won't tell anyone either, Pharaoh."
"Nitocris." It took two hours for her to finally reveal her name, even if Scheherazade already knew… Mostly out of fear of the mighty. But she recognized this act. It was like a break of sanity for her former king, who'd opened a door to her after so much worry. But in this case, it was much simpler: A request not to be called by a title. "Cleopatra calls me Nito sometimes, but I don't know if I like it… And as much as I loved you addressing me so respectfully… I don't have very many informal friends so… Nitocris, please. Okay, Scheherazade?"
Scheherazade paused for a moment, but smiled genuinely. "…I understand. Thank you for this honor, Nitocris."
"You were very kind to me from the start, and just sitting here talking with you is fun," Nitocris smiled back, then hid her embarrassment a bit. "…And you're three for three on helping me with my fumbles… The others just like laughing when they catch them."
"I'd never laugh at your fumbles. It'd be rude to a Pharaoh." The kitten in Scheherazade's arms mewled in agreement.
Nitocris smiled again. "That's why I like you. You help instead of making fun of my goof ups… even when it was my fault I ran into you earlier… Hm. You don't have a phone yet, do you? I was wondering why you didn't have a Thronebook account yet."
"I didn't think I needed one. I haven't felt accepted here," she admitted quietly.
"Not accepted…? Everyone just thinks you're very quiet and distant… and way too scared…" Nitocris countered, but smiled. "But you're really kind and respectful, even if the scared part is true. Haven't you met anyone else who told you too?"
She's met a good number by now. Anishka and her companions. The children were another set. But all of those were small conversations compared to her long, truly genuine and free-flowing talk with Nitocris. With her, they talked about such simple things rather than getting-to-know-each-other stuff. It felt… almost like what friends would have.
Scheherazade glanced away to glance at the distant, rising moon over the ocean. "…In their own ways, I suppose… That I'm afraid to live, because I fear death so much."
"And here you are… sitting around talking with an Egyptian Caster who commands the might of the Underworld," Nitocris joked, then quickly backtracked when Scheherazade turned back with growing surprise. "Ah! I have that authority, but I didn't mean it like that! You've got nothing to fear from me, Scheherazade! …Hmm… You really are that terrified of death… That's no way to live like a proud heroic spirit."
It wasn't. And honestly? Scheherazade was tired of the gloom. She was tired of fearing for her life, but everything she tried meant little to nothing. She just kept instinctively grasping for little securities rather than nourish the tiny growing flame that was reborn within her hear-
Nitocris hummed. "Hmm… It's not something I can easily make, but... I got a memorial essence two days ago that lets me craft Death Charms. Ah, don't freak out just yet! They actually do the opposite! In almost all cases, they shatter instead of the wearer's life ending! It's something Da Vinci wants me to hopefully start mass producing but… they're very complex. Unbelievably expensive too… and incredibly hard to make… And I can't think of someone who could benefit from it more than you."
Scheherazade stared in outright disbelief at Nitocris. "…We only met today. I offended Chaldea over a week ago. Why would I deserve something so powerful?"
"It's less something you deserve, and more a gift I think this Pharaoh should give you," Nitocris countered with a small smile. "Seeing you so crippled by fear and jumpy at everything… If it makes you a bit more comfortable so you can finally relax, then I think it's something you should have."
Scheherazade was speechless, but her eyes said it all before her tongue could voice her complaint. "But it's expensive and intricate. You said so yourself!"
"It is. It's a lot of time, energy, and materials, so it's a gift that should be considered carefully. Still, I believe you should have the first," the pharaoh insisted calmly, but then offered a small smile. "…However. If you think there should be compensation, then I know what my demands will be… I'd like to spend more time with you in the future. Whether a planned meet up or something spontaneous… This Pharaoh really enjoys your company, so let your company be your payment for the desert's bountiful generosity."
Though she held the proud, satisfied smile as Scheherazade prepared to bow down in outright, unabashed gratitude… Nitocris blushed lightly and faced away. "And um… One more demand is to help me make the charm, or at least watch me. You're obviously a very skilled caster, so… What I mean is, I know how to, but I never actually made one before and… Something tells me I'll fumble with something…"
Overwhelmed by so many thoughts and emotions, Scheherazade stared at Nitocris silently. The waves may have lapped a thousand times in her silence. But when the pharaoh finally turned back, the Arabian caster had chosen one to act on. She didn't shower her with thanks or praise. Nor did she bow down and show her honest shame of feeling unworthy. Instead… Scheherazade giggled freely. She tired to stifle it with a hand, but she giggled.
Nitocris flushed brighter and pouted. "D-Don't laugh at me! I was being honest and you! This isn't something a Pharaoh easily admits...! It's not funny! This is a serious artifact Chaldea could benefit from and I'm not even sure if I'll…! Ohhhhh…!"
"Forgive me. You'll get it right. No question." Scheherazade's reply made Nitocris' pout vanish as the Arabian storyteller smiled gratefully to the kindest ruler she'd yet to find… and likely, a true friend she could be comfortable around in the future. "I'll make sure you do... Thank you, Nitocris."
Even after the moment passed, and Scheherazade's heart felt lighter, the two talked for hours longer.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
Ten days had passed since the events of Agatha.
It was snowy that Sunday, but the blizzard's harsh winds couldn't disturb the calmness within the library. It was unusually quiet that afternoon, but none within its walls minded. Frankenstein and Anton were reading quietly in a far corner as Medusa accompanied them. Hans was quietly growling and trying to re-sort a section due to an influx of modern books. At the front desk, Helena was going through a cart of delivered antique books brought in from the recent supply sortie.
The battle-clad, short woman dusted off an unmarked leather book and placed it onto the wooden counter. Her friend in a terribly gaudy, silky emerald suit merely sat at the desk and made no motion to help; The caster didn't seem to mind. Even if tired from the return, she'd personally leyshifted back with the plethora of books to arrange herself. If anything, she offered an occasional glance Shakespeare's way as he continually scribbled in his notebook, all while he tossed glances to far away bookshelves.
"Oh… That's Arash? I should've made the connection when Paula told me… I could've met him sooner."
"He's one of the easiest to approach. Their whole family is. Easily the friendliest family in Chaldea, but if you'd like, I could arrange a meeting."
Scheherazade, with a smile as simple and beautiful as her blue Arabian dress, stared graciously to Anishka. "…I would love that. I was told many stories of Arash and his heroics when I was a child… so to meet him in person would be... I don't know how to describe it."
Anishka smiled. "I'll arrange the meeting then! I'll see about making it happen tonight, too!"
"Thank you, Annie." The caster paused arranging books on the shelf in front of her to then bow to the battlesuit-wearing master. As she did so, the golden chain of her necklace drooped, but the small centerpiece remained clutched in her dress; It was a flat, phoenix-shaped charm made just yesterday. "I can't thank you enough for all you do to help me."
"It's what I do… I love seeing others well," she smiled back, and Shakespeare's writing speed increased dramatically. He nodded contently as Helena stared at him, then back to the two distant women. After stifling a giggle, Helena smiled when Shakespeare closed his notebook and opened a fresh, leather-bound journal. It already had some words written on top that her eyes glanced over happily.
"I thought this kind of style wasn't your thing, Shakespeare."
"I prefer my own. But in this case, I want to try my hand at something different. An experiment of sorts, just because I think it suits this tale better than my own!"
"Once upon a time, there lived a woman gripped by the fear of never seeing tomorrow… a woman who wished to be spared from promised death, but wound up finding courage to seek what her heart desired beyond a new dawn…"