Life and other stories have been taking my time. No need to kill me here.
Apologies to everyone who has been suffering through the wait and ended up to this point. And thank you for those who are still sticking around.
Guest(1): Thanks! I sometimes worry that I might write too much, but then I fear of writing too little. Glad to know you enjoy it.
DeLacus: Good to have some feedback on the cover. Thank you. As for if Jessy will get caught up with the slavers… You could read the original story (although it is cringy) and find out. :) I am pretty sure that you might have already read it, considering how much time has passed since my last update… sorry.
Crystal Blue Butterfly: You did say you are looking forward to the next chapter. Here you go, almost a year later. I still hope that you have been waiting and enjoy this one.
Guest(2): Thanks. I needed to edit the last version since my writing could cause any literature professor to wince.
Guest(3): An OC ending up into a fictional world is not very original, but I also like the kind of stories where it does happen. It all only depends on how the author writes the story the rest of the way and I wish to be doing a good job so far. Thank you for your words and support.
Guest(4): There are barely any Yunan pairing fanfictions around. It makes me a bit sad sometimes. That is precisely why I was itching to write this. Again, I know it has been a while (a long while) but I finally got this chapter finished, so enjoy.
"Courage is not the absence of fear,
but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.
The brave may not live forever,
but the cautious do not live at all."
-Meg Cabot
It's bright – everything is too bright to be imagination. Colors are blinding and decorating every wall, every person in crimson, purple and green. Maybe that's why it has such a numbing effect on a person's nerves to the point that it all looks like a dream. Still, many are moving around with equally radiant smiles on their faces, without a care, like there's no tomorrow and no care in the world. It's as if every care in their lives has been forgotten.
Both the drums and the stomping of feet cause the ground to tremble. They pierce the ears and cause deafness.
There's no ceiling, so the voices carry on to the night starry sky.
Only one person doesn't let their voice be heard.
The wine is strong. So strong in fact, that few people could get drunk by merely smelling it or topple over from taking a mere sip. And that very liquid has been spilled over across the busy room. The scent of it is clinging to every breath and piece of clothing the party folk has and would without a doubt last till the morning and after.
Glow. That's a word that could describe the festivities.
"Oh, my. What's this?"
The voice is teasing, soft and velvet. It has brightness equal to what the entire hall holds within itself.
"Someone is actually sitting in a corner all by their lonesome?"
A flutter of hair and long white tranquil cloth fills the vision. A pale hand reaches out and lips spread into a smile far brighter than what anyone else in the room is wearing. There's a blush crossed across a gentle face framed by golden jewelry that twinkle as their owner moves their head into a curious tilt. This person does not dress as lavishly as the rest of the people around them, but that does not make them less beautiful.
Suddenly, all the unnecessary noise from the surrounding fades and there are only two people in the entire space. The music becomes nonexistent and the scent of smooth and bitter alcohol isn't so unpleasant anymore. It all becomes enjoyable and pleasant, like the nearing and growing headache wasn't going to form, to begin with.
The hand is pushed closer, inviting someone to take it. Thin and golden bracelets cling on the wrist and contrast to the color of flushed skin. It's soft, as another hand takes hold of the limb and thin fingers around it.
Clear bell-like laughter outstands everything else.
"Come now! You don't appear drunk enough not to dance!"
The amount of people seems to only grow along with the scents of sweat and drinks. The excitement of the party only keeps on rising over the non-existing roof as the bracelet covered hand keeps on pulling another along in the middle of this sea.
Suddenly, another decorated hand reaches out to a single cheek and caresses it with the softness of a feather. The touch is warm and fluttering.
A serene smile shines.
"… I do not belong here."
A laugh. "Do not be silly! Aren't we friends?"
"…"
"This is for our victory, so don't let yourself be left out."
The words are meant to raise the mood even further and bring forth a smile. It would be natural to react like that. What this person is saying is the very reason why this magnificent event is being held in the first place – there's nothing to be sad or sour about in here. Nobody should be alone and without a smile on their faces during a time like this one. The meaning behind the smile and words speak more than a thousand pictures and the truly kind intention is not lost.
Whatever smile had started to rise on a worn-out face fades and is replaced by glazing of the eyes. The hand holding the bracelet covered one becomes slack and the liveliness of the party disappears all around them. It's as if the deafness for the music and loud laughter is becoming real and the hearing is permanently damaged. Still, the two different hands – delicate and thin, sturdy and strong – remain locked, neither of the sides ready to let the other go just yet. However, whatever warmth is left in that decorated limb also fades and is left with a hollow shell.
Wrong.
The eyes that are so gentle and smiling, stare up at the solemn person in puzzlement. They're deep in color and twinkle to the point that anyone could be lost in them.
This is all wrong.
The hold is broken, and the fair hand desperately tries reaching back for a contact. In the end, it's left hovering in the air. Alone.
He is alone.
"Long live the king!"
Everyone, but he, raises their goblets.
This is the worst.
Jessy doesn't have to even blink or be aware of being awake. It's the unimaginable sharp pain of thousand needles and knives inside the skull that wakes her up. The pain is the worst she has ever had and to the point where the cry of pain gets stuck in the back of the throat. No matter how much Jessy wishes to curl up into a ball and hide beneath the covers, a small twitch sends another jolt all the way from her spine to the head.
Still, the ability to move comes back within a second, when something lurches within the deepest part of her gut. Immediately, her right hand launches up to her face and covers the lower part of her face.
There's not really a way for her to figure this out, but in the brunette's mind, she's more than a bit abnormal because she doesn't recall the last time she threw up. So, this is the first one since the time when she was an infant.
"Ugh!" She chokes on whatever has started to rise up the throat.
From the background, there's a faint sound of chair scratching against the ground and a moment later a bucket is thrust right under her chin. Without much hesitation – like her entire body is moving on its own – she grasps on it and lets acid liquid pour down from her mouth. The worst part is that the out coming liquid doesn't seem to stop easily and burns her throat and mouth with a bitter taste.
Everything is a blur, both figuratively and literally because of how tears start blocking the vision. Nothing pretty much makes sense, except when a tentative touch lands on her back. It smooths down the wrinkles on the shirt and has a calming effect.
"There now. Breathe," Yunan's voice speaks softly as he continues rubbing her back.
Jessy rasps for breath and once everything has been emptied, she raises her glazed-over eyes to him. The first thing that her eyes see is his own bright blue ones, but then squint when the light shining from golden chirping birds around him blind and stab her vision. They are not shining any more than usual, yet currently, they are too much for her to handle.
Needles poke the sensitive areas in the brain and her face scrunches up in pain. "Y-yunan… I feel like shit."
The first reaction she would have, if she wasn't feeling like someone is drilling into her skull, would be to laugh at the shaken expression on the blond man's face. But because she can't only a small and barely noticeable quirk of her lips serves as a sign of amusement. However, as soon as that emotion comes, it goes away from the nauseous wave climbing back up and the bile that follows soon after that.
The sickening feeling becomes ten times worse when she realizes – in the midst of throwing up – what has just slipped from her mouth. The tips of her cheeks feel flushed enough as it is, but now they only lift up in flames from shame. I just cursed in front of Yunan… should I feel this ashamed? The said magi's hand has stilled on her upper back, but his other hand starts to gently push any stray hair that might get in front of her face. As expected, his touch is gentle, and it brings the young woman nearly to the point of crying.
Even after cursing and now being a disgusting human being by throwing up in front of him, he is still being so kind. This man doesn't deserve this!
Finally, when hopefully she has gotten everything out for the last time, Jessy's head drops down on a pillow, the rest of her body following. There is no care whatsoever in her head from the fact that she might get the covers dirty with her sweaty self or if something decides to rise up again. She's merely glad the worst is possibly over and closes her stinging eyes tiredly.
Yunan's hand does not, however, stop from brushing her hair away, though. "Here, drink this. You will feel better after."
"Hm?" The back of the throat feels horrible, the woman notes, but still manages to crack one eye open to see a cup hovering just a few inches away. Her face scrunches up into a frown. "What is it?"
"Some herbal tea. It works better, when cold, so I hope you don't mind."
"Are you kidding?" She grumbles, letting the roughness of her voice come through and spares him a glance but does reach out to the cup and starts sitting up. "Thanks."
The shocked expression is gone from his features, but Jessy can still vividly recall it from that mere second, she saw it. The blue eyes had been wide as plates and mouth half-open. He's now back to smiling softly down at her while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as his houseguest starts gulping down the drink.
Jessy's brows twist together when the taste hits her, and she has to pull away to momentarily think whether she can get it down or not. It certainly has a unique taste, if you could call it that. "Tastes like cut grass and pineapples."
"That's an interesting description?"
"Do you have to make that sound like a question?" She quirks an eyebrow, but then drinks the rest of the stuff down, shivering from the aftertaste. Body listening to the drumming occurring in the skull, she puts the cup away and lays back down with a heavy sigh. "Seriously, what happened? Weren't we at the party or whatever and – ow!"
He chuckles softly, the sound barely agitating her nerves further. "I guess a headache is expected."
"W-what?" Green eyes blink confusedly and then close when the bright light from the ceiling becomes too much. She can't make sense of anything; not why she's here nor why she's in this condition. Every thought is fuzzy and thinking straight is nearly impossible.
Through this blurriness and aching, Jessy feels a cool palm brush off the bangs from her forehead and her eyes open widely. Not surprisingly – no, she's definitely shocked to the core – the blond man is leaning over the bed and pressing his hand against her skin. Honestly, the brunette has taken notice of this one fact more than once, but Yunan really does have pretty features. Especially his hair and Jessy follows as the heavy braid slides along his shoulder and lands between himself and her. Loose strands stick out of it and in a certain light, they appear to glow.
Looks soft… her thoughts trail off and she continues staring, not really even noticing how the hand on her forehead moves away. It's only when the owner of the locks shifts and casts a shadow on the braid that those glowing pieces of hair dim into pale silver.
So pretty.
"In case you don't really recall a thing, you accidentally drank what is called Demon's Blood. It's very powerful alcohol and can be used as a sedative, too," he chuckles. "Anyway, it seems to me like you still have some of that in your system, so you should continue resting and…"
He continues talking, but the coolness of his hand has created a phantom print on her forehead. She misses the touch as soon as it's gone and listens while barely hearing a thing. Her green eyes keep on following the hair and the young woman's fingers twitch – she wants to touch that hair. It's so much longer than hers or any female she has ever seen that it's almost unfair.
Jessy is in a trance-like state. Did he say alcohol? That would explain why she feels like a giant boulder has been dropped down on top of her. It also explains why there is a hint of daring bubbling in her chest. There's no trace of uncertainty or hesitation.
And that's why there's no thought when she reaches out weakly towards the magi. He's still talking, barely noticing the cautiously approaching limb. But the moment he slides his blue eyes back to the young woman the words die on his tongue and his mouth stops moving. It's exactly at that moment that her palm makes a contact with his cheek, much like his had with her forehead earlier.
Warm. She strokes the smooth skin beneath her thumb. In contrast to the pale skin tone, her arm appears as if it has gotten a tan.
"Jessy?"
Instead of being offended or pulling away, Yunan blinks and peers down at the brunette with curiosity, like expecting her to explain this strange act, which is so unlike her. Jessy can only think how disappointed she's from his reaction – there should have been more flustering on his part.
Green eyes are half-open, hooded by whatever thoughts are coursing through their owner's head. She moves her thumb again and watches the two blue orbs blink. An unknown emotion causes her chest to tighten and it isn't pleasant – it hurts and is too uncomfortable. The room is filled with warm light, but suddenly it becomes narrow and suffocating.
The silence is so thick that she can hear her steady heartbeat.
"I can't believe you're real."
Maybe it would have been better if those words hadn't come out. The damage has been done, though. The serenity of Yunan's face seems to fall. He is not frowning, but there is an obvious drop. His lower lip drops as if to say something, but whatever that is, it dries up in his mouth. There is a silent understanding of what she means, and another silence falls over them.
Seeing his speechless demeanor, Jessy smiles and lets her hand drop. The smile on her face only widens, when the blond man doesn't make a move to speak or otherwise move away. However, there's nothing humorous in her eyes, which have started to become over pooled with fresh tears. They burn much like the back of her throat had at the moment of waking up and despite not remembering a thing from last night – or really caring anymore – there is a certainty that the burning had been far worse.
"You know," she starts softly and closes her eyes, letting more drops trail down her cheeks, "when I was younger, I kind of wished to be here. It's probably one of the basic dreams anyone would have if they had watched stories of this or another story. A way to get away from their worries and troubles in real-life – fantasy is so much more appealing… but not anymore it seems. I am stuck in here without any way of knowing what happened or what is happening back at home. And put a cherry on top of all of this, I regret ever wishing to end up into this situation. What kind of an idiot would actually want any of this? No offense Yunan, but I feel like shit. No matter how many times I try learning how to read and write this world's language, eat and sleep like nothing is wrong and act all natural, I literally am and feel trapped. What's the use of all of this? Every day without really thinking I start wondering, if today is the day, I could find some answers from slight clues… Ha! Are there any clues, though? I just ended up in here without any logical explanation whatsoever and am wishing to find just some sort of miracle… how stupid."
"It's not stupid to have hope."
She doesn't even blink, too engrossed in her own thoughts for the second time to hear his words properly. It's like someone went and put stuffing between her ears. Even when there's a sudden soft touch on her hand, Jessy doesn't react. The burning within her throat and the aching in the skull are what keep her attention occupied. And there is also what has just come out of her mouth…
If it weren't for what is supposed to be alcohol – there's no way that hellish liquid can be counted as one – Jessy wouldn't spill things out like this, she wouldn't even behave the way she has.
"Yunan," she whispers and weakly clenches the covers before the fingers fall limp. "I'm so scared."
Again, there is silence and her green eyes remain closed. The warmth of Yunan's hand around hers brings no comfort and has the opposite effect. The heat feels like lava and burns the brunette's hand to the point that she finally stiffens. A moment ago, the thought of and touching him hadn't bothered her, but now the physical contact is an awful reminder where she truly is.
Instead of acknowledging who is truly the one next to the bed, behind her closed eyelids, Jessy starts imagining the faces of her beloved ones. Anyone is better than the blond man's worried expression flashing before her.
"Every day," she breathes out, gripping the hand in hers without realizing it. "Every single day is so hard."
"…everything will become easier for you, Jessy," the soft voice's tone makes a turn. It almost sounds melancholic and… something else that is left unclear. "I promise."
Treating Yunan unfairly isn't right. He is only trying to show compassion and genuine kindness, but she snorts and pulls her hand away weakly. To her, what he's saying is nothing, but empty words. Her gut flips and suddenly her chest feels worse than the ongoing headache when the feather-like touch of the Rukh lands on her limbs. The warmth and light are for comfort, but that's the last thing that happens. Besides the touches, the sound of their chirping is reaching the level of being unbearable.
Finally, through some sort of clearing in the mind, she opens her eyes again. Yunan has not moved, but there's what can be considered close to a frown on his features. The brunette has to choke down a chuckle and smiles painfully. "You must have a really twisted version of reality if you expect anything to get easier for me… do you honestly think that I can stand being in this world much longer? This place isn't my home… and you aren't in a position to give these kinds of promises."
The expression on the magi's face twists, deepening the frown and the Rukh around him swirls more mildly. The latter is a relief, but otherwise, a sharp emotion pierces through the young woman's otherwise intoxicated consciousness – guilt. He doesn't appear annoyed or insulted but hurt. It's very vague, but that's the faint emotion green eyes are able to catch in blue ones. The reaction is something new and foreign and strange in Yunan's usual expressions.
Still, she closes her eyelids again, swallowing the tightness in her throat. This is the third time she is thinking this, but she would definitely keep her mouth more firmly shut if she was sober. But no matter how still and ready to fall into unconsciousness, the guilt continues gnawing her insides. No… maybe I wanted him to feel hurt all this time. A small part of her wants him to experience even a fraction of what it has been like for her all this time.
Nothing is said between them anymore. The fluttering of the golden birds can barely lighten up the heavy silence.
The next time Jessy wakes up, the headache is gone. The only thing on its place is aching, which still makes her sway from taking the first steps from the bed. The lack of proper balance is the last problem that she should be fully concerned about, though. There is a bitter and raw taste of both bile and something else sour hanging on to the back of the throat and not even swallowing does any good. To summarize, this is the kind of feeling anyone would have while knowing that something unpleasant has occurred.
That 'unpleasant' thing comes back piece by piece, the moment she stops in front of a bathroom mirror. The sight is shocking and for a second, she thinks it's a stranger and flinches back.
The strands of her hair are messily gathered up across her scalp, the usually straight hairline is going here and there in sharp turns. This sight is not too unfamiliar, though. This is normal, but it only makes the rest of her appearance appear more unruly and horrible. The skin under the eyes is darker than the rest of the face's complexion, like rings and stand stark in their bluish glory. The rest of the face is swollen, clearly showing how restless the sleep was last night.
In that image of herself, the same green eyes staring back, Jessy starts recalling and her shoulders visibly stiffen up.
Robotically, the water is turned on and she splashes the cold liquid against her face in a hurry. She wishes the water to take away whatever shame and guilt have started wrenching the gut open and even make this all to be a simple misunderstanding or misanalyzing of memories. The second time she looks up at the reflection, her eyes are wide instead squinty.
No, no, no, I can't believe it! She shakes her head in denial and goes back to washing her face. At one point, an idea to simply drown herself into the sink does come to mind. By the time the constant flushing starts feeling futile, some of her thoughts have managed to clear out. There is barely a memory intact from the party, but the first time, when she woke up, is coming back with rapid speed. She remembers the way she has gazed up at Yunan, stared at his features and then touched his cheek… Heat equal to flames burns her skin. What else have I done!?
Almost tripping over a small stool near the door – she has got to remove it at some point – the brunette bolds out of the room and towards the stairs in a panic. The thought of what her host might think or is doing send a jolt of unease down her spine and only fuels the legs to move faster to downstairs.
"Jessy?" The second the kitchen is in sight, the voice of the person she's looking for calls out from the other end.
She freezes, whirls around, throat tightening and joints stiff. "Y-yunan…"
Unlike her, he has the appearance of someone who has been awake for hours. The large green hat is gone from the top of his head and a mug of steaming tea is held in his hand like this is another day. He looks so normal, but when a familiar soft smile spreads on his face, Jessy becomes both confused and terrified. He shouldn't be so calm and collected – the total opposite would be nice.
"Good morning," he greets with a nod of his head and walks over to the table, placing the cup down. "How are you feeling?"
For some reason, instead of becoming lax, Jessy stiffens. "Um, good? How about… you?"
The signs are there – a subtle change in the pools of blue and twisting of facial muscles. Whether he tries to hide it or not, Yunan's expression sends a wave of nausea down into her gut and not even the smile that comes next does anything to stop that sensation.
"I'm well, thank you." His smile brightens, bringing hers down even further. The magi doesn't appear to notice this uncomfortable tenseness in the air.
She hides her frown, confused and struggling to recall the events from yesterday. Honestly, there had been many questions in her mind just a moment ago. Now, it is like the tongue has turned into sandpaper and the cogs in her head have stopped spinning. There is only stillness, save for the blond sipping the tea – his rather obvious obliviousness is becoming rather annoying. But it does make her doubt that anything too bad happened last night. Maybe she is worrying about nothing?
Stiffly, but feeling a bit better from the small reassurance, the chair scratches the floor, as Jessy sits down. Like always, the food is lined up on the table. The breakfast goes on in silence, which is nothing unusual. Usually, Jessy would have an urge to say something – mostly pathetic small-talk – but not today. Her tongue is tied up. With the days spent mostly inside this one magically large and vast house, there is not much to talk about. It is fine, peaceful. That is how the day should be starting with one occupant suffering from an obvious hangover. However, there is a noticeable rigidness in her posture – even she admits knowing this silently in her mind – and the way she glances up at blond locks, glimpsing further up at the clear blue eyes. It isn't like she wants to do it. The act is more of a natural reaction to discomfort. There is really no way that she can merely sit here and eat peacefully.
Another sharp sensation throbs in the depths of her skull. The slight pain is a reminder of her worries and gets a piece of fruit stuck in the back of Jessy's throat. The images of last night's festivities flood back, and her eyebrows knit together, almost painfully. The memories of the bright flames and chatter give a feeling of ease from back then, but then it turns back into mortification from the flash of a face hovering above hers.
For the second time, the skin across her face burns. Steam rises up her lungs and bursts through the ears. Finally, it becomes unbearable.
"Did I do something last night?"
At the moment of the question, Yunan is in the middle of taking another sip from the tea. Unlike in any entertainment shows, he does not spit it out or look taken aback by the question. As an opposite, he gives a small, awkward smile.
"Not… really?"
Her eyebrows create a deeper crease. "What did I do?"
"It was really nothing. You merely fainted," he laughs at first and coughs awkwardly into his fist, particularly interested in avoiding eye contact. "More fruit?"
"No thank you," her answer is dry, a deadpan, but the flush on her face is still obvious. "Whatever it is, I will find out."
"Now, now. You look a bit pale – here, have some more to eat," he pushes gently a basket filled with steaming bread.
As a habit of insecurity and discomfort, the brunette crosses her arms, eyes wavering between a suspicious stare and worry. It is painfully obvious that he is lying – the magi should also realize it. She has to stop the increasing embarrassing and horrible mental images of different possibilities, though, when a wave of nausea hits. W-what did I drink? There is a faint memory of her wondering this same thing last night. Whatever it was, she will never again have even a sip. Ugh! And that is all it took.
Tiredly, green eyes close. And behind the eyelids, the colors of both green and red mix together, forming another headache. Although the horrible taste is gone with the food from the tongue, it is not enough. Honestly, she craves the kind of taste she is accustomed longer to – the taste of food from her world. The thought is almost startling. The wish comes out of nowhere and so does the mood of depression over her head.
"Seriously," she finally grumbles and closes her eyes tiredly. "I am never drinking again."
"That reminds me, they are happy to have us any time, soon," Yunan comments, with much more enthusiasm than showing on Jessy's face.
Looking over her arms at him, she raises an eyebrow. "Any drinking involved this time?"
"No, not that I am aware of," he says, obviously suppressing a wider smile. "You don't seem to be used to drinking."
"What gave that away?"
They exchange small smiles – the brunette smirks with strain, while the Yunan's remains soft and amused. However, as soon as the former has turned her attention back to the food on the plate, she misses the brief flash of emotion from the blue orbs.
She doesn't even notice how one golden bird lands on her hair.
They are everywhere. Spread across the bed, hanging from the chairs, some even still wrapped in small packages with small ropes to hold them together. If not for the background of a simple, wooden wall with one window to see into the dark rift, someone might think they were in a very unusual clothing store. That someone being Jessy.
"Um, Yunan," she asks, a clumsy smile spreading on her lips – should she be smiling? – and turns around to see the magi standing right next to her. "What's all this?"
"It is for you."
Didn't really think that you would wear them, she almost wants to say but is distracted by bumping into one of the packages on the ground. She crouches down and opens it to find a simple green tunic. However, instead of an awkward smile or bashful 'thank you', a frown tugs her eyebrows down.
They all look very nice. Some of them are the brightest color of pink that she has seen in a while, while others are simpler. A few are dresses, others are shirts and pants, and a few pairs of shoes. They don't definitely look what a man would wear, at least at first glance. But for a moment, Jessy thinks this as a jest, a joke. Although, a few seconds later she thinks of that to be unlikely. This would be going too far, even for the blonde magician.
She strokes the fabric of the tunic, surprised how soft it is. There is no coarseness and a waffling scent of flower fragrance reaches her nose. Jessy is not rather fond of too strong perfumes, but this one is mild and sweet. It makes her nose tingle.
Slowly, green eyes turn to look at Yunan with uncertainty. He is surprised by the emotions close to fear appearing in them.
"You aren't planning on getting rid of me, are you?" Jessy finally asks and unconsciously squeezes her hands around the clothing.
He blinks in confusion. Usually, he would probably tease her a bit, but the words get stuck in his throat for a second. When his silence drags a bit too long, though, her expression turns even more downcast. "No, no I would never do that. What makes you think like that?"
"W-well," she starts, looking unsurely around the room. "You… are giving these to me?"
"Yes."
"… You didn't cast some kind of explosion spell on them, did you?" Now, her gaze narrows in suspicion.
Yunan's mouth opens, then a hearty chuckle escapes from his chest. "No, I did not."
"You sure?" She asks again, suddenly very well aware of how closely she is clutching one of his 'gifts'. It is quickly set down to the nearest gaining a safe distance from the things scattered across the place, Jessy frowns for the second time. Well, he probably isn't the kind of person to do such things.
This is the first time anyone has presented her with this number of gifts. At least, one person doing all of this out of nowhere is startling. Whether for practical reasons or simply because he feels pity for her small amount of choices in clothes, she isn't sure how to truly react. Honestly, her heartbeat is rising, and her palms are turning into shaky jellies. There is only a silent prayer in her head that hopes Yunan can't see these reactions.
This is troubling – she is both very happy and bothered at the same time. More than that… she has never received anything like this from a man before. Relatives don't count, a whim by a fourth-grader boy doesn't count… anything that has happened to her before doesn't count. Jessy is flushing red and suddenly can't look at the blonde in the eyes.
But…
"T-thank you," she manages out. "But there wasn't really any need. Y-you already take care of me – let me sleep here and… such."
It is clear from the pauses and stutters how uncomfortable it is to talk about this. Jessy curses herself under her breath.
"But I wanted to give these to you."
A bit shyly and ashamed – for some reason – goddamn girl, get a grip – she does look up at Yunan again.
He smiles brightly, the Rukh flying softly all around him.
"It has been a while since I have spent time with someone like this."
For some reason, those words don't make her feel any better. No matter how he would put it… Jessy feels like a burden, out of nowhere. The trembling of her hands lessens, and all traces of previous, small joy vanish. This is too much, she wants to say these words, but guilt gnaws her chest from the thought of it.
Probably seeing the distress, Yunan places a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I never considered how you would feel about this."
She takes one look at his face and cringes. His smile is now smaller and very apologetic, as he looks down at her with large blue eyes. This is definitely as close to a puppy-dog-expression as he can get in this situation.
Without thinking, Jessy takes a step closer to him, in full-mode panic. "Look! It isn't that I don't like them – they all look very very nice. But I am just not – "
"So you will accept them?" He asks, hopeful spark filling his , it makes him look like any child he is so afraid of and always running away from.
Still, the words get stuck in Jessy's throat for the second time. "Didn't these cost you?"
He shakes his head, the smile growing. "Not at all. I made them, using a few simple spells. If that is what bothers you, you won't need to worry."
For a second, Jessy wonders how many people would be jealous, back in her world, that Yunan himself became her magical seamstress. The thought should be amusing, but it doesn't even make her laugh. Instead, she wants to wipe down the annoying Rukh chirping so close to her ear that thinking is nearly impossible.
The hand on her shoulder moves softly up to the side of her head, snapping Jessy out of her spiral of depressing thoughts. No, my hair is all dirty. She hadn't even brushed it for a while, but he touches it so casually. Like she is a child.
"Consider this a gift between friends," he says gently and leans in closer. "Please, for me?"
A lump forms in her throat. In the end, she can't say no.
He called me a friend.
It is a Deja Vu all over again.
This time, instead of finding random objects scattered across the place, the entire room has been changed. The color of the walls has been changed into the light, grass-green shade. Surprisingly, it is not the kind that makes one want to puke but is very calming.
What Jessy can't get over with, is the fact that her bed is growing out of a random tree sprouting out of the ground and forming the edges around the lush and white mattress. It looks like a cloud, ready to rise up and fly away. The tree holding it all together has branches cast over the entire ceiling, green leaves blooming from those same branches. That is why the room has the scent of the forest to it now.
Shocked – secretly delighted – and further curious, Jessy inches towards the bed. It looks so soft! She clenches her hands, not sure what to do with this discovery, but then leaps and falls down to the soft covers.
"W-whoa!" She yelps, when the entire length of her body sinks deep into the whiteness and the bounces back up a few seconds later. It continues bouncing her up and down a few more times and then settles.
Now even more flabbergasted, Jessy slowly rolls to her side, gasping how her body just keeps on sinking and then sits up. From the waist down, her legs have created a small valley on the covers. The bed has already swallowed her hands, too, almost hiding them from wrist downwards. It's like a cloud. Jessy blinks, but then a slow smile spreads on her lips.
"So soft!" She sighs out loud, getting giddy all of sudden and falling back down. A wholehearted giggle escapes past her grinning mouth. She definitely looks like a silly kid now, the kind who jumps on beds and couches for the fun of it. Surprisingly, she also doesn't care.
"You like it then?"
The question makes her freeze, but the bed is apparently against her because she keeps on bouncing a few more times again before laying completely still. Cold sweat trails down Jessy's back, as she meets Yunan's eyes which are looking at her from the open door. He is looking at her expectantly, but at the same time with amusement.
Straightening up and standing on her feet – which feels so strange after sinking into cotton – Jessy blushes a bit. She hadn't meant for him to see her antics.
Jessy purses her lips. "Is this another gift?"
The fall in her expression isn't probably what he expected, but Yunan doesn't stop smiling like he has caught something interesting. "Not exactly. I thought that a change might be refreshing. Seems that I was right."
He is giving her a look now and green eyes dart down. The magi was clearly enjoying watching her childish jumping just now and she hadn't even noticed. The corners of his eyes are cringed, which means this isn't one of his typical happy-go-lucky expressions. It also seems like the way the brunette keeps on shuffling her feet is a source of his entertainment, as well.
It must be because he didn't call this a gift. Otherwise, Jessy wouldn't start gathering up herself and looking at him pointedly. "The bed is alright, but…" she points up. "The tree has to go."
She isn't paying attention.
Yunan halts with whatever he is trying to read. His attention has shifted to Jessy, who is leaning over a parchment of paper with a writing tool in her hand. A strange, stifled smile has made its way to her face and it has gotten him curious about what she is doing.
The woman is obvious to his thoughts and continues scribbling. The use of ink was terrible at the beginning, but currently, she has somewhat gotten the gist of it. At least, there aren't as many black splatters scattered all over the paper as at the beginning. The edge of her sleeve hasn't escaped unscathed, though. Jessy would probably pay more attention to that if her mind wouldn't be so far off in the space.
Suddenly, something brushes over her shoulder and she jumps. It is a hand.
"What is that?" Yunan asks, leaning over her. His voice doesn't exactly tell what he is thinking.
Jessy looks up at him to see blue eyes staring down at the paper in her grasp. It is like being caught doing something she shouldn't – a teacher-student confrontation in a class. This situation is a bit similar to that. She was supposed to practice her writing but instead ended up doing something completely different.
As expected, there is shame, embarrassment, and shock written all over her flushed face. How did he get there!? He was sitting on a chair on the opposite end of the table the last time she checked.
"U-um," she stumbles with words. "These are…"
Yunan tilts his head. "Are those… smiling faces?"
Flowers, smiley faces, clouds, everything possible that a person can doodle, when bored. It is a bit strange that out of everything, the magi is paying attention to only one detail. Honestly, Jessy doesn't know, if there are any smiley faces or similar emojis used in this world. If so, then why does she need to explain them in this situation? Even a few golden birds have landed on the table, like also curious and aware of what is happening.
A greater power above obviously seems to be tormenting her.
In the end, all she manages is: "Yes." There is no hiding how she hasn't been studying.
Without a word, Yunan leans further over, the end of his large hat poking Jessy's head. She doesn't notice. She remains frozen. He takes the paper and looks at it once, open curiosity obvious on his face. Then, the corners of his lips curl up.
"Is this me?" He asks, turning it over to let her see a single, blob-like figure at the corner. The only similarity he shares with it is the rather noticeable hat.
"Yes," Jessy cringes, cheeks growing warmer. She keeps on staring intently at the doodles, refusing to look at the real person next to her. He looks like a mutated gerbille in that.
"It is very good."
This time, it is the shock that makes the woman look up at the smiling magi. He is looking at the drawing again, with no negative emotion.
Incredulous and dubious, Jessy frowns. "Really?"
"Yes. You can draw better than I do," he says in a genuine voice. It is the sound of a proud parent trying to make their child feel better.
Is he serious? He might be mocking her, but by the way, his expression doesn't change, it mustn't be the case. The gentle squeeze on her shoulder doesn't reveal any deception either.
A day later she wakes up like she usually does – sleepy.
However, this time around there is something different about her 'morning'. In a place surrounded by darkness, the Great Rift, there is no telling whether it is a morning or night. You would need to use a clock, or like in this case, an hourglass. And that is what Jessy does, although she isn't yet sure how to define time with it.
If the sand hasn't even filled the glass below half-way, does that mean it is still a night? The brunette doesn't ponder those things for much longer when she spots a tray left on the edge of a night desk.
It is the same wooden tray she has seen in the kitchen, but this time around it is in her room and filled with things. It is all that she usually eats at breakfast; bread, tea with honey – a strange combination and courtesy of this house's owner – and porridge with fresh berries. It is all waffling with steam and delicious smell, the latter just keeps on spreading across the room.
The sensation of the cloud-like bed under her weight makes the woman wonder if she is still dreaming. She has to be.
Jessy whips her eyes towards the door, like waiting for the culprit to appear there. However, there is no one smiling at the door, which remains closed. It is just her and the tray that seems to be eagerly sending the steam of food towards her face.
It is the absence of familiar blonde hair and an explanation that scare her the most.
She sits up abruptly, feeling a bit dizzy afterward. No, no, no, no, no, something is very wrong here! Yunan has been acting a bit strange lately, but if this overly-gracious-host act keeps up Jessy is worried about her health. Even now, her heart is leaping from her chest. Impossible and ridiculous ideas of the food being booby-trapped even enter her head.
After thinking a while for a motive, a white note which she hadn't noticed before is suddenly standing next to the food. She takes it, already knowing who it is from. There is really no other options if you live in a house with only one person to keep you company.
The note has simple words in it, easy for a novice learner like her.
'I will be back after dinner. Enjoy the food.'
At the end of the note, there is one smiley face staring right back at her. The sight of it erupts a snort – it is weird to see something like this and know that one magician has done it.
Again, there is no changing the fact of how similar entire landscapes appear on the map. Where there should be a familiar continent, like the United States or Asia, names like Reim or Kou Empire apparently reside. That is all that Jessy has been able to gather so far from the beginning of this conversation. Everything else has gone flying through her head.
Why is he teaching me geography again? The suggestion had come out of nowhere. First, there were the reading and writing lessons and now this… it all truly feels like a small private school. Again – for probably the hundredth time – unpleasant memories from the times sitting in a class surface. But currently, those images are pushed aside the longer Jessy keeps on staring down at the map.
"You know," she starts, once Yunan has paused in his explanation about the basic mountains in the East. "This world is a bit similar to mine."
Even without looking, she can tell how his eyes spark like a Christmas tree's lights. "Really? In what way?"
"The continents here have a bit familiar shapes and locations, just like in the maps of my world," she points down to where the names like Rem Empire and Parthevia Empire are located at. "Around here would be where I come from if we were to compare the two maps. Then, in the northern East, there would be what is called Europe and Asia. The latter's culture resembles the Kou Empire a bit, too. The Reim Empire, on the other hand, reminds me of Ancient Rome, but those people lived in Europe," she chuckles at the end. "I always wanted to visit Europe."
When a silence follows from the end of her sentence, Jessy looks over at the blonde man to see him staring down at the map intently. She wonders what he is thinking under that serious expression – which has come literally out of nowhere, much like this lesson.
"Do the people in your world travel a lot?" He asks and looks back up from the map. His eyes are even more full of curiosity, this time around.
"Yeah. Especially in my generation and the younger ones – many want to just get out of the country and see places."
"Besides this one place, where else would you have liked to travel?"
This time, Jessy is the one who pauses. "I think… I would have like to go to a place similar to the Kou Empire. Or just travel around in Europe. The food around those places are sold in my country to some extent, but I would have liked to eat those in where they came from."
"You are only interested in the food?" Yunan chuckles, but it does not make her feel insulted. He is still interested.
"Yup!" She grins, getting a strangely warm feeling in her chest from remembering all those different foods she used to dream of. "Don't you know that food can tell a lot about the country? Plus, it makes you happy."
You sound like a kid, the voice in her head whispers, freezing her tongue. Unconsciously, the brunette clenches her hands into fists. For some reason, every possible time that she has eaten in front of Yunan resurfaces and every small scrape of food she ate back in her world comes to mind. Then comes the feeling of homesickness. Small, imaginary pebbles just keep on falling on top of the heart – that is the only way she could describe the feeling.
The smile slips and green eyes dart back down to the map. It is also the wrong choice on her part. The sight only causes frustration. These are familiar, but still unknown landscapes. Everything would be much better if this was some fantasy land drawing created by a kid, but… the fact remains that this is not the case. The sights she has seen here, out of this darkness, up on the steady ground with the sun shining down on her, are the same, but different at the same time. It is all too surreal.
Jessy is looking at a completely different world that has become her cage.
No, don't think. Jessy inhales and tears her gaze away. You will just end up crying again.
"Where did you travel to?" Yunan's question barely pushes aside the thoughts of home.
Jessy is silent for a moment. "I once traveled to Canada, it is in the North from where I live. Then, I stayed at German – which is in Europe – once with an aunt of mine, but… that is pretty much it."
"Were you planning on traveling before you…" the magi trails off, his eyes wandering around a bit, falling into silence. Then, he seems to gather his composure back just as quickly. "I mean before you ended up in here?"
There was this one thing a friend of Jessy's used to call a 'witch's cycle'. By this, they had meant that no matter how many times you would try escaping something, it would come back from the source of your discomfort, no matter how many times you might stifle it. This seems to be true because the topic of traveling just keeps on hitting her directly in the face.
"No," she says, suppressing the tightness in her tone. A small smile does form on her lips, though. "I am… pretty much afraid of traveling. We can travel by air – "
"What?" Yunan's jaw drops, cutting her off. Once he sees her expression, though, he clears his throat, sweat gathering on his forehead. "I-I apologize. That just threw me off guard."
"Seriously? You can fly and all, but this surprises you?"
He doesn't even chuckle but does give a small smile, matching hers from a moment ago. "I guess I thought I had heard it all in the world. I recall you explaining at one point that your world doesn't have magic."
Jessy frowns, looking at him strangely. "So? Magic isn't a lifeline that you need that desperately. Humans can invent things and use their hands too, you know," she speaks with a hint of incredulousness from the fact that he is so surprised. Then, she gains a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Just how dependent are you about magic anyway?"
"When you use it pretty much every day," he starts, lifting a single feathered pen up by simply using his finger, "then it is only as natural in the world as breathing."
She doesn't stop frowning, but her gaze softens from the sight of him playing with the object. Unlike him, magic doesn't seem so natural for her, even after everything she has seen him doing with it. "I get your point, but… it also makes this place sound like a teenager addicted to a phone."
The feather freezes in mid-air, mimicking the confusion frozen on Yunan's face. "A what?"
"Basically, something that you do not want to part with, but is not completely always that necessary for your survival," she says, after putting a bit thought on how to explain what a 'phone' is.
He seems to accept her words quite easily and lowers the pen. "You mentioned to be afraid of traveling," he continues, an innocent – or not – smile spreading on his lips. "Might that have something to do with your fear of heights?"
Instead of appearing flushed, Jessy glares at him. She turns defensive. "So? Everyone is afraid of something."
There is a flicker of surprise from her answer and attitude, but otherwise, Yunan sobers up. The smile on his face is completely flattened. "I am sorry. I did not mean to insult you."
She huffs but softens her glare. He really looks like a kicked puppy, from what she is seeing. "I just… don't like them. Nor the idea of stepping on any form of a contraption that could essentially be my one big coffin. Also, I am pretty much… a coward."
"Huh?"
Blue eyes look up, but the green ones don't meet them. Jessy is staring at the map, again, and blankly trails her gaze across every country. Yeah, this is definitely 'home'. She doesn't even get the pleasure of understanding what is said in this world's language on this piece of paper. In its place, there are melancholy and pain. Maybe, she should get used to this – feeling fine at one moment and depressed at next. The witch cycle that never ends…
She didn't travel much because she was afraid of every possible thing she could come up with. Accidents, arrests, natural disasters, kidnapping, just paranoid thoughts one after another. Whether it is something to do with a mental illness or just her weak mind, the brunette has never bothered to find out. So, whatever dreams and wishes she had to travel in younger years, when she was a teenager, had been smothered.
You are a coward for staying here.
Inside these four walls, there is no way that she could find a way back home. Yunan can't help her, so who can?
You are taking advantage of his kindness.
The lessons in language have been dragging slowly forward. And since the Torran tribe festival a few days ago, she has not gone outside. Now that she thinks about it, why hasn't she?
Take one step out of this house and you will be crushed.
The hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
You are a manipulative…
She starts to stroke the palm of her sweaty and cold hand absentmindedly. Unconsciously, her facial muscles grow tense.
"I think we all are cowards."
The tenseness on her shoulders – since when was she this rigid? – remains, but her face slackens. She meets Yunan's eyes this time, puzzled at the kind expression on his face.
"As you said; everyone is afraid of something. We may not always show it or see it, but people can let their own fears take control. This happens to every person and they all must wish to run away at some point in their lives," he finishes and lifts his hand up to let one golden bird land on it.
"But what if a person just runs away forever?" Jessy asks, ever so pessimistic.
"If they find something worthy of being brave for, then they will stop running," he answers easily, like being used to answering these kinds of questions.
A frown mars, once more, her features and Jessy unclenches her hands. Inside the ribcage, her heart is pounding and sweat gathers to her back, as she continues thinking deeply. She mulls over Yunan's words. She has something to be brave for – her home, her family, her life… Again, why is she still sitting here?
Yunan has lived a long life, she knows this. He must have seen many depraved people in the years. Compared to her, he still says such things in an optimistic manner. And then there is her, over two decades old – she doesn't even want to imagine how old he is – and contemplating so skeptically to the magi's words. If they find something worthy…
Suddenly, the blonde releases a weak chuckle. "I think that I will have to work on my own fears, as well. Can you imagine anyone else who runs away from a horde of children?"
It takes more than five slow seconds to tick by, but in the end, Jessy snorts. She even covers her mouth, weak mirth forming in her eyes. "Poor you. What made you so scared of kids anyway?"
"T-they just keep on pulling on my hair," he starts, looking ready to cry. Grabbing the rim of his large hat, he starts blabbering, words flying out of his mouth without a rest. "Then they chase me and try to steal my hat. I try to hide, but they will always find me anyway. It is impossible for me to get away and t-then they start poking me with sticks and – ah!"
"I mean, I don't blame them," Jessy says and holds the hat in her one hand. Feeling bolder from the lifting mood – she wants it to stay this way – and the forced desire to push away all the negative thoughts, she places the thing on top of her own head. "How can you see where you are even running with this thing?"
"Waah, Jessy! Give it back!" Yunan cries out helplessly, strangely vulnerable without his signature headpiece. He reaches out, but she merely evades the touch.
"Seriously. If you loosened this weird hat, then maybe you wouldn't get chased around in the first place."
"'Weird'? There is nothing weird about it!" He defends and stands up, looking like an overgrown child with his round cheeks flushed and round.
Chuckling at the sight of his reaction, Jessy merely grins and raises the rim to give him a look. With a shrug, she says: "You have a weird fashion-sense then."
"J-jessy!" He exclaims but almost pauses from the sight of a wide smile on her face. Without realizing it, the panicked expression on his face is replaced by something else.
In a few awkward and silent seconds, the brunette notices the change. His eyes are always so large and wide open, much like a clear window showing out into the blue sky. That's one of the reasons why it has been hard for her to completely shut herself down from everything.
Yunan, at least to her, isn't the type who can hide what they are feeling. It is both a gift and curse – those children in Torran Tribe clearly enjoyed the frightened expressions he was making. It is a part, which makes interacting with him feel almost natural. At peace.
Yunan can't lie. Not with his eyes. It is as clear as a day to anyone who has known him even for a few days.
That is why he would answer her why the face he is making seems so sad.
However, she doesn't ask.
A huge sigh explodes in a room. Jessy has fallen down on the bed – on purpose – and stares up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Even the unnaturally soft mattress can't seem to make her fall asleep immediately anymore.
She feels restless. And it has all to do with just being in this house and staring into the Great Rift's darkness through every window. Nonetheless, that is not all which is making the stream of her thoughts in and out of the ears like an overfilled office desk. The second factor for tossing, turning and downright frowning at every possible thing is the golden-haired magi. He is definitely having a good night's sleep, contradictory to her situation.
He is at it, again.
By it, Jessy refers to the new clothes that 'appeared' into her room today. It has only been two days since the previous load Yunan gave her, too. This time, the number of clothing has diminished, but… why is he doing this?
As if the enigma has the mind of its own, one of the new shirts drops down from a chair. Strangely, despite being energetic – or still too bothered mentally – Jessy doesn't rise up and pick it off the floor. Instead, she stares at it like a grenade ready to burst into flames.
Again, for the hundredth time, Jessy lets out a sigh. She can't exactly pinpoint what it is that the magi is after or trying to convey with this, but… she is starting to believe that whatever triggered this has to do with her and nothing else. However, the problem is that she can't find out what it is. It isn't like she has gone and insulted the holy spirits of this place – debatable. Nor does Yunan seem to be planning on throwing her out – could be an option. Would he want her to carry all of this out with her then? Surely, he is not planning on scaring her off with all of these?
Ugh! Think! What did you do to piss him off!? Her mind has screamed this for a while, and it has, in all honesty, caused her a headache.
As if having an inner turmoil wasn't enough, Jessy soon finds herself being surrounded by a giant mass of Rukh. She starts thinking that they have the mind of their own and decide to bother her whenever it suits them, or they simply appear in random numbers without a purpose.
One of them lands on her nose, which wrinkles from the feather-like contact. "I don't suppose you could tell me what is going on with him?"
A flap of wings and the golden bird flies off.
"Didn't think so," she sighs and lays back down, pulling the covers over herself. The Rukh is just as strange as the magi few doors away.
I should really talk to him about this, is what Jessy thinks, as she closes her eyes, determined to fall asleep. But as if the golden birds know what she is thinking, again, one of them – possibly the same one from a moment ago – lands on her forehead. Forget Yunan, what's up with the Rukh all of sudden?
The brunette frowns but otherwise doesn't react to the brushing warm sensation on her skin. It is calming.
Too bad that she knows nightmares will find her tonight as well.
The smell of flames is something that could be described with few words. It is warm, but bitter to the point where your eyes water up. The worst part comes if you dare to touch it. It burns, spreads across your skin like you are but a piece of burning paper. Anyone can imagine that burning alive isn't one of the most desirable ways to die.
It is the fire that first comes to her mind, as soon as she sees the scenery. There are no flames, but the odor of ashes and burning flesh is what fills the air, quite vividly. The ground, the crumbling buildings, even the air seems to suffer from the enormous destruction it surrounds. The ground is pitch black, charcoal scattered all over the place… At least that is what Jessy hopes she is seeing. That somebody merely decided to grind together black art supplies and splatter it all over the world.
Unfortunately, everything is almost too vivid to miss more gruesome details.
All over the place, there are people laying on the ground – not standing, swaying or crawling, but laying very still in every possible direction. They are so immobile that their forms almost blend together into one huge pile of masses. However, that is only because they all look nearly the same. Whatever clothes they may have worn at one point are nowhere in sight. Either they were destroyed, or they had none, to begin with, these don't change the facts that these people have been burned. Burned to the point where their skins have turned ink black, limbs stiff and reaching for the empty grey skies.
This place is one huge human wasteland. Besides the charred corpses, the once what was probably a city made out of white stone has fallen apart. Roofs of tall towers have collapsed, huge chunks of walls and pillars lay next to the bodies… or on top of them. The city continues on and on as a mere ruin, beyond what human eyes can see.
Jessy looks around with her eyes, otherwise remaining completely still and stiff, like the burned corpses near her feet. There is nothing else, besides her, who can move in this place. There are no patches of green grass or birds chirping – deadly silence. If she were to let out even a small sound, something that did all of this could find her.
"Help me."
She whirls around, the ash swirling and twisting around her as she does so. There is no one around, but there was definitely someone calling just now.
"It hurts…"
For the second time, she turns. Again, nothing. The same horrifying sight as before. The voice continues, but this time there are multiple accompanying it.
"It is so painful."
"Why must I suffer like this?"
"What did we do to deserve this?"
"Why are we in so much pain?"
"Mama… it hurts."
Instead of continuing turning around helplessly and staying fearful, Jessy walks forward, down a road void of corpses blocking her way. Still, no matter how much she walks, the voices do not vanish or grow quieter. They follow her, towards the place where the end of the city looms.
"I want my daughter back."
"I should have protected them."
"Curse the (statistic sound)!"
"Why didn't (statistic sound) protect us?"
"Who is to blame for all of this?"
"If only they had used (statistic sound) this wouldn't have happened!"
She covers her ears, not taking eyes off the road. The brunette has started running, but even with that, her ears echo with desperate sounds. The longer she continues forward, the louder and more frightened, angry they become. It is like they realize she is trying to get away from them and this place, that they are planning on shattering her eardrums.
"I am scared!"
"Someone help me!"
"Save us!"
The ground feels like sand, but the kind made of ashes. It is harder to go on. By this point, Jessy is panicking. She doesn't know why the edge of the city keeps on getting further and further away. This place smells of death, she wants to get back to her house.
Her eyes water, when the smell of ashes fills the lungs and starts flying around her. Suddenly, the corpses start twitching, their arms and legs moving in unnatural angles. The sound of the voices don't come from empty air anymore – it is all coming from their burned mouths, down from their smoke-filled lungs.
"Gyaaah!" Jessy screams when scrawny fingers grab and scratch her legs. She gets away, but they don't stop.
Those hands that should have had their nails melted start tearing and sinking into her skin. Every time there is a pull, Jessy can feel pieces of her flesh starting to fall. She screams but continues onwards. Even when they start pulling her hair, grabbing and mangling her face. And the end of it all isn't getting any nearer. Not when her entire hand feels like it is being pulled off of its sockets or when crimson liquid starts dripping down her face.
"No, no, no! Stop! Please!" Jessy continues screaming. And then…
The ground beneath her feet crumbles.
"sOmEoNeHeLp Us!"
She falls. Down into the abyss, getting one last look at the grey sky. She isn't sure what she expects to see while reaching out for some kind of savior. But somehow, the sight of night-black sun glaring down at her feels like the most natural thing in the world.
From somewhere above the edge she fell from, the image of her father stares back at her. His eyes are in the distance hollow, void of any eyes and look down with empty eye socks. He doesn't move from there, like a statue. He too holds his hand – the same dark, twisted and stiff one as all the corpses have – towards his falling daughter, without ever making a contact.
Her eyes close.
And she screams.
Flames burst out of darkness, turning her body into ashes.
The room is dark. The trace of the Rukh is gone and the complete darkness has engulfed the entire room. This is what Jessy sees the second she wakes up. Her mouth and throat are all dry and she gasps like her entire body forgot to breathe for a few minutes.
W-where…!? She panics, hands reaching out. The heart in her chest beats wildly as if hoping to escape through the ribcage and all the layers of muscles surrounding it. It is just that dark that falling into a bottomless pit turns into reality and seems more likely than simply having a bad dream. It isn't until the sensation of soft covers and lack of pain and wind on her back that Jessy's hands freeze and then fall down.
She inhales deeply, feeling like she hasn't done so in years. Raspy gasps reach her ears, which she later – in a few seconds – registers them coming from her chapped lungs. Expanding her chest with each breath helps the non-existent rocks fall off of it. Large breaths gather up the air that doesn't smell like fire and ash anymore, but wood and freshly cleaned covers.
It was just a dream.
Jessy clenches her hands – they are clammy – staring widely up to the ceiling.
This is not some abandoned city in ruins, but a simple bedroom. There are no corpses here that could start moving, nor could the ground suddenly collapse beneath one's feet… these are what she wants to believe. But no matter what her muscles stay rigid. The brunette truly starts believing she is going to be dragged down again, her skin tore from the flesh for the second time.
She shivers, gathering enough rationality and calm to pull the covers over her entire self. Now, like a child, she curls into a ball, shivering even though there is nothing to be afraid of… why is she trembling, though? Her fingers curl around one another, clenching to stop the unnecessary shaking. It is like she could kneel over the edge of the bed. Her stomach flips and clenches. Until there is a burning sting on her lower lip, the brunette doesn't even realize how hard she has been biting down with her teeth. A hint of iron touches her tongue.
Almost every night, she would have a nightmare. It wouldn't be so bad – it has gradually lessened over a small period of time from the comfort she has been receiving. At mornings she would merely wake up a bit startled and then continue snoozing until the tiredness would wear off. These nightmares would always have something to do with vehicles, cars – the same one she crashed with.
But this time… the nightmare had been completely different. Just like something out of a horror movie. And then there was…
Again, involuntarily, her teeth bite down on her lower lip. It stings.
Dad.
Her eyes start to sting.
He can hear her before she steps down the stairs. She knows and he knows it. She merely takes her sweet time and lets her full weight drag both of her feet across every step. The brunette walks like in a trance, almost.
Like always, Yunan is up before her. He has already set the table, sitting in his seat while happily drinking his morning tea. Everything is like usual… expect it won't be for long. Jessy wonders, if she is making that so obvious by stalling at the end of the stairs like a deer caught on headlights. He is oblivious to her inner thoughts and turns his bright blue eyes to her with a smile.
"Good morning," he says, the Rukh around him appear like a bunch of flying flowers, for a moment. It is truly like a scene from a manga or a show – two moods, different vibes from the two characters.
She only wishes to be as lax and free of care as he is at the moment.
"G'morning," replies the brunette and sits down on the opposite end. Her hands reach hesitantly out for an apple, but visibly shake and she withdraws it. "Yunan… would it be possible for me to go out?"
He pauses with breakfast. "Of course. I am sure Taran and others would like to see you again."
The back of her throat tightens. "I am not talking about the Torran Tribe… I want to get out of this continent."
It becomes so silent that you could hear a pin drop in the distance. She was frozen like a statue, to begin with – her shoulders are starting to hurt from the constant tension on them – but Yunan turns into another person right before her eyes. He was about to take another sip from his drink, but his lips are now only an inch away and do not get closer. Under the rim of the hat, the underline of the eyes has visibly pulled down, signaling that his eyes have widened.
The starting of this conversation is like ripping off a band-aid. Only now the wound underneath is out in the open and the skin around it tingles and flushes red. It has been exposed. Jessy only wishes she could fish out the old imagery band-aid out and slam it back to stick in the same place.
Much like her, Yunan also has lost his voice. He has raised his head, though. There is only one word to describe the expression on his face – shocked. The sight creates an uncomfortable pressure in her chest. A desire to shake him out of the stupor nearly makes her grab him by the shoulders. He could say anything, anytime soon.
Jessy bites down on her tongue. Just say something already!
Finally, he opens his mouth. "I… I see no trouble in that. Where would you like to go?"
He is assuming she is about to venture into something harmless. That is what can be seen from the ever-so-calm face he wears. It is either that or he is doing an exceptionally great job at not letting his true feelings show. Jessy can only wish to have that sort of talent.
Again, her throat tightens. "It is… I am not exactly sure where."
The unsureness in her tone has some kind of effect, because of a small smile forms on his face. "Would you like to travel somewhere warm, perhaps?"
Warm.
Without him seeing, her hands tighten into fists under the table. "Maybe… but…"
It becomes physically painful for her to merely purse her lips and sit still. The bottom of her stomach clenches uncomfortably. She is nervous, almost terrified. Maybe it wouldn't be too late for her to turn around and forget this?
Just tell him.
"Jessy?"
"I think," she says and inhales like those few words were too long, "that the place I want to go is very warm. But… that is not a-all."
He is curious now. Innocently – oh, how guilty that makes her feel – the magi tilts his head and looks at her with patient expectancy. Without thinking, Jessy closes her green eyes, too strained to meet his blue ones. Inside her chest, her heart beats too fast and she fears he might hear it. Which he quite possibly might.
Oh my god, she whines silently in her head. Here goes nothing, I guess.
She opens her eyes. The brightness of the Rukh almost blinding.
"I want to find Ugo."
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