Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 04-05-23.
Chapter XVII
Ungrápigendea Flītcræft
(Ungraspable Logic)
Chapter Theme: Sakuzyo — Grief.
XXIII • CM Hidesdæg of Thrimilce
(The 23rd Day of the Month of Three Milkings, Worker's Day, 900)
Ablaze within the explosion, a rod of metal rips inside her abdomen. Natsuki next sees the flash before the roaring shatters her eardrums. Then, fate sealed, the silver limousine is obliterated into oblivion.
Her sentience warps, colliding with her very soul. Where is she? Who is she? Why is she here?
An instant later, a memory storms before her. It is days prior to her untimely demise. Sitting before her desk, she stares at what appears to be her Archmeister.
But, why does she look like she did as a teenager? What are those ridiculous clothes? Is that a Zipangese spear…?
Her reality again deforms and constructs her a ruined church.
She stands up to implore Shizuru, finding that same Eastern weapon gorging within her gut. Choking upon her own blood, for a moment Natsuki wonders why she hears gurgling.
Alas, she is making that noise.
Vision black, her body slams against the floor—dead.
Throwing her body upwards, Natsuki wheezes for air as her hands fly to her torso. Heart smashing against her ribcage, she is stupefied that her organ doesn't explode.
S-she… A dream… it was… just a dream…
That had been real though, hadn't it? The way she has died in her previous lives foreshows her state when Viola divulged her.
Grounding her hands against the sheets, pelts and hay, Natsuki stares at the tent's ceiling.
Wait.
Clasping her head into her hands, a groan escapes her. A terrible migraine envelopes her senses, followed by aching muscles and a chilled sweat. Did she have a fever…? Her eyes scope downwards, gazing upon the blankets which conceal her nude body.
Naked. W-Why… is she here? Stare hardening, her thoughts trace back to Durandal. 'Twas easier said than done, for her mind is cloudy.
Natsuki can faintly remember entering that breach in reality. She had found...—where is it? Her hand unconsciously leaps to her throat but she did not discover the Anchor.
Panic swells inside of her, her body twisting to look around apprehensively. W-whe—
"—You're a lifesaver, Arcewælcyrge. Thank you so much."
Oh, Gods'. Like a mouse cornered, Natsuki covers herself modestly. At this moment, Viola stoops into the tent, panicked viridian locking with curious crimson.
Those swirling eyes remain trained upon her for the briefest time, until quickly shifting elsewhere. "You are awake." Viola remarks, making sure the tent's cover is sealed before approaching. Spotting Natsuki visibly flinching, she pauses. "What is…"
"I…" Natsuki cleared her throat. It feels raw. "Sorry." She mumbles. "I had a nightmare. I feel awful." Among other things. Natsuki still refuses to look at her properly, only occasionally stealing glances.
Her previous self's feelings are intermingling with her own. They brew a strange concoction that is meddling with logic. Has there ever been any semblance of that in the first place?
Lips parting, Natsuki's hands clench into the sheet. She is unsure whether her heated face is thanks to the apparent fever or not. Neither is Viola armoured, seemingly warm in her mere trousers and shirt. 'How?' Natsuki internally monologues, she's freezing! Wrapping an arm around her front, Natsuki mildly shivers.
"It is fine." Viola sits herself down beside her—neither too far nor close. It is a respectful distance. Those words Natsuki has spoken of… Does she truly remember? If so, of what? Viola's gaze falls upon Natsuki before they flee once more. "You were drowning in icy water when I found you. I am sorry, there was no other way." She motions towards Natsuki's lack of attire.
"I huh…" Pressing her hand's heel against her temple, Natsuki sighs. "The drowning? No. Durandal leading me away like a jerk?" She mutters under her breath disgruntledly, unable to find the correct words. "I suppose there's no helping it."
Natsuki scratches her jaw, still refusing to look at the elder fully. A sharp tug recalls her to that fiery place. She has met Viola's previous self. She—it? ...They?—felt remarkably like hers from her past se—"Agh!" Throwing her hands into her hair, Natsuki startles Viola beside her. "This is way too confusing!" Arching her back, she glares at the tent's ceiling before a cough racks her body.
That was… A soft smile cracks Viola's lips, her hand gliding along Natsuki's back soothingly. What is on her mind? Many things, evidently. She has experienced such; the overwhelming bombardment of her thoughts, feelings and memories colliding. Somehow she has overcome them. For now.
"V-Vio—Shizuru, I...—" Natsuki's tongue catches within her mouth, feeling like lead. "I-I… I know how I…" Teeth clenching, an inexplicable fear washes over the Ánhere.
Is it the fever? Is it her selves trying to dominate for control? Memories pour within her psyche, paralysing her train of thought: Bygone flashbacks driving her close to the edge of her Earl existence.
Of her life in the Aries Republic—that country does not exist here—as a child. She had been a delinquent, always disobeying her mother and nanny. Oh Gods', her mother. The Countess of Kruger outlived her daughter.
Memories of meeting Tokiha Mai are next; a rivalry both confusing, bitter and exhilarating. Had she perhaps… loved her?
But then, her senior bursts into her mind like a cataclysm. Shizuru Viola; the Archmeister of Garderobe Academy. She loved Shizuru with her entire being. Nothing can have ever replaced that.
Garderobe. Windboom. Fumi Himeno. Corals. Pearls. Assassination. Love. Hatred. Engage—A choked sob releases from Natsuki. She is unable to control the emotions which have spilled forth like a gushing wound. Body bowing downwards, the world feels as though it deadweights her.
"I-I… I was—assass-sinated. W-we were g-onna get engaged. I thi-nk." A whacking gasp jumbles Natsuki's speech incoherently. It did nothing but frustrate and anger her. She must sound pathetic… Viola is looking at her so pitifully. "I can't—"
"—Hush." Viola murmurs, adjusting herself to face Natsuki properly. Wrapping her arms around her Ánhere, she eases her close. She's still cold. "I understand everything. The pain is excruciating. But… it fades." With time, everything does. "Pain, memories, love, hatred… life."
But, nevertheless, Viola's heart races. Natsuki has called her Shizuru. She hadn't said that in… well, months!
Due to the disaster that befalls them, they have called off her shrine ceremony.
For now they will delay it and allow Natsuki to recuperate. With her intel, they should be better prepared to intercept Kiyohime. But… Do they have enough time?
Viola notes the wetness dripping into her ruffled shirt. Natsuki's brow is against her neck, hiding into her body desperately. "The sun has just set." She mentions casually, fingertips brushing through coal strands. Viola honestly hasn't a clue how to respond.
In seemingly moments they have advanced from awkward acquaintances to—this. Whatever this is. Her heart thrashes furiously within her chest; so much so she is amazed Natsuki doesn't complain. Her Ánhere has fallen all but silent, perhaps dwelling within the dark pits of her mind.
No. Viola understands that pain far too well. "Natsuki." She says, uncoiling her arms around her. Instead, she delicately cups her cheeks, drawing her close. "Will you listen to me for a moment?" Her voice isn't condescending; only purely soft.
Dull emerald eyes lock onto hers, making her lose herself within them.
When Viola had found Natsuki, her eyes had been bloodshot—they still are. What on Earl happened in that shrine? Natsuki has found an Anchor, as well.
"Where did you find the Anchor?"
"Y-ou have it? Where is it?" Natsuki starts panicking again, before Viola quietens her. A thumb runs along her cheekbone, forcing her to settle. This… isn't like Viola. Or has she simply been hiding it? Natsuki squeezes her eyes shut, not realising her blanket lay forgotten at her waist.
It has been there for a long while, but perhaps neither cares.
Slipping a hand beneath ruffles, Viola reveals the Anchor. "I kept it in a safe place by my heart." She teases, albeit her smile dropping a moment later. Natsuki's focus is upon it immediately. "It is fractured. I am amazed it has Ardour within."
"I… I don't know how to e-xplain." Natsuki pulls away then notices her blanket. Flushing—through her fever and all—she tugs it back against her chest. "I-I—" Why must this tension between them be like this? Natsuki's heart feels like she is treading on eggshells.
"Begin from the start?" Viola supplies, guiding the Anchor from her neck. The chain jingles, dangling from her fingers as it hangs. What a strange feeling this Anchor radiates. It isn't like her foreboding Anchor. This one feels like serene water about to be disturbed by the current. She feels she can ask it any question, and it will answer.
"If you become stuck, give yourself time." Viola clutches the chain, edging it towards Natsuki. Quizzical, weary green stares at her, the chained Anchor being placed around her neck. Between the Ánhere's breasts, the Anchor thrums with crimson energy. It is a mysterious and clear power.
"I… huh… Durandal led me down into the chamber. There was this…" She shakes her head, having nearly described the breach. "A thing—portal. I ended up going in there and… I was in another world…" Natsuki's eyes darkened, becoming lost in thought. "This Anchor… it was just... there, like it is expecting me." Then her mind fogs over. "Zhang was there—the servant too, I think and... you."
A portal? But rifts have long since been sealed? "Me?"
"You were the Archmeister of—" A palm silences her, but it isn't teasing. Viola stares at the tent exit, breath held. Is something happening? What's wrong—
"Wait here. Be as silent as the dead." Viola's command is firm but gentle as she rises to her knees. By the exit are their swords. She reaches for hers soundlessly, easing towards the flap. Maybe it is the Altains? Unsheathing her blade, she throws its scabbard aside mutely.
She hears the growl before she can react. A powerful, hefty force topples Viola to the floor. Stunned, she stares into Durandal's terrifying maw.
"D-Durandal?!" Natsuki exclaims, dread filling her to cause her body to refuse to move an inch.
Viola turns her head away from Durandal's snarling teeth, keeping perfectly still.
'Why is he still aggressive?!' Natsuki thinks erratically. 'A Key must be killed before it can serve.' That's what Durandal had said. S-he has to—Natsuki starts moving, yet Durandal's glare bolts her. He remains looming above Viola. Is he using her?!
"Natsuki." Viola hisses a whisper, holding her breath as the great warg growls down at her. "Your Anchor—use it!"
B-but how? Snatching hold of the crystal, Natsuki painfully tears it from around her neck.
Durandal waits.
Hand clenching upon it, she stretches her arm unto the silver wolf.
He still doesn't move from atop Viola.
I-is he allowing her to kill him?
The seconds entwine into uncalculated aeons—or, that's what it feels like. The atmosphere is nerve wracking. Why is nothing happening?! No Ardour escapes the Anchor nor her ability to cast ice occurs. Rather, the foreboding terror ravages her psyche. It's not working. She can't save Viola! Why now?
S-stop it… stop!
Durandal pounces forth, bludgeoning the air from her very lungs. Winded, Natsuki can nary do a thing. That is, until Viola screams out. Thrusting her hands towards Durandal's muzzle, her Anchor dandles dangerously from its chain around her fingers. Then, Natsuki is temporarily blinded by crystalline energy tearing from her hands. Blades of ice blast the great warg's skull apart, sundering bone, cartilage and flesh alike. Rendered headless, the Key's blood rains violently within the tent, his body collapsing onto Natsuki.
A-ah. The Ánhere stares at the gorey wolf pinning her down. She does not notice the hole within the tent, nor that the drenched Viola shakily stands. Neither can she see the panicking Knights emerging, for a scream tears from her.
Viola has never seen anyone that petrified before. Not even the faces of those whom she has killed.
She is sitting by the fire, staring into the embers. Her mind is clouded by what she has witnessed some hours ago. Once she had heaved Durandal's corpse from off Natsuki, she had cursed her with such desperateness.
'P-please, save me! I-I d-on't want to die! I-I...I!' Her Ánhere's plea echoes within her mind, her body covered in blood.
Viola roughly swallows, the action feeling almost impossible to accomplish.
His...—life force was then ensnared by Natsuki's Anchor. She had succeeded in capturing her Key, but at what cost? Sanity? Viola's spooked gaze sought after the tent some yards away. A sheet of material has been sewn onto it, patching up the hole Natsuki had created.
Her scarlet gaze retreats, looking back into the flames which flicker within the icy breeze. It is far too late; the Moon is distant, partially hidden within the Altain mountains. She gazes upon it, staring at the crimson star. No, she… Viola takes her temple into her hand, fingers soothing along her gashed forehead.
A moment later she kills the fire, blindly heading for the tent.
"Natsuki?" She murmurs quietly within the darkness, but does not receive an answer. Viola can hear her breathe; it is calm—asleep. She releases a sigh of relief, settling beside her. So she finally finds slumber.
Durandal has already been done away with. His body hadn't faded away within sparkles for some reason. Though his soul has clearly been shackled to the Heart of Transmission. Even within the pitch black, Viola sees it. The Anchor thrums with crimson light, dimly illuminating Natsuki's torso.
She continues to watch Natsuki sleep for a while, until exhaustion hits her. Though there are two beds here, she—Viola pushes the thought aside.
Is it selfish to feel like this? To need her Ánhere?
Viola pulls the blankets away from Natsuki's body—now clothed within loose trousers and a tunic. The Wælcyrge had to bathe Natsuki with what little they had: Mere water and rags.
The blood has long since dried within Natsuki's hair; undoubtedly it will remain.
Slipping off her black boots and belt, she throws them aside carelessly. Dully they thump against her armour and equipment within the corner. Concerned not, Viola eases into the blankets behind Natsuki.
It is warm. At least there is this.
She prays that her Ánhere isn't traumatised by her Key. But what if she is? It suddenly feels so similar to her own experiences. Viola stares into the back of Natsuki's skull.
Hesitantly, she reaches out her arms for her. After what feels like eternity, Viola coils her limbs around Natsuki's body, dragging her close. Her previous self would be dancing for joy upon this action. Herself?
No. Not quite.
Viola's chin rests by Natsuki's head. What can she do? What is she supposed to do? Is there anything at all she can attempt? To soothe Natsuki's pain, that is…
Though none of that is physical. Or, at least yet.
"M-mhh…" Her Ánhere mumbles, half awake. Something warm and soft is wrapped around her. It isn't itchy and rough like her blankets. Woozy eyes stir, staring into the darkness for a while. The prior events smash against her psyche, causing her to intake a sharp breath. Her body is pulled backwards, pressing into Viola's warmth. Confused and unsettled, she starts moving. That is, until a palm stops her.
"No." Viola's hand seizes hers beneath the blanket. "It is alright. Do not be afraid."
V-Viola? What's she doing—Natsuki peers over her shoulder at the woman. The hungry kisses from before rip into her. "A-ah." She stifled, deluged by the flash of the memory. That is real, isn't it? She thought the fogginess had perplexed her senses. One moment Durandal had pounced, her sallet had gone flying, then…?
Nothing.
That moment between them feels distant—ancient. Like it belongs to her past self.
Her Ánhere looks as though she has seen a ghost. "Natsuki?" Viola breathes, staring into guarded viridian. Oh, how much she wanted to… What?
"...are you doing here?" The accusation leaves Natsuki's lips before she can stop it. Isn't it obvious why Viola's here? "Don't tell me you're 'keeping me warm'?" Why is she getting angry? When Viola does not answer, her suspicions rise. "You—"
"—I do not know." The Wælcyrge confesses. "Perhaps there are many reasons. But I… do not quite know the answer yet." A breath. "Do you not appreciate me here?"
Does she? Natsuki stops her staring contest, glaring in front of herself instead. Suddenly, the tent's material seems the most interesting thing in the universe. Nevertheless, she falters. No. She very much likes her being here—but it's Viola!
Confusion reigns supreme inside Natsuki, making her feel all the more frustrated. "I don't—agh." She growls under her breath, hand pulling from Viola's. She holds her head within her palms. "I just don't know anymore! I want everything to stop."
At least then, will she receive respite? Or, will Natsuki at all? Mayhaps she is destined to experience strife for an eternity. Her past life's demise certainly seems to be the case.
Alas, Viola draws her closer yet, pressing her lips into coal strands. "I understa—" Viola starts to remove herself, but is stopped. "Ah?" Natsuki's hands entangle her forearm, ceasing her retreat. An unsure smile graces her lips, before this expression falls altogether. Is Natsuki crying?
"I-I'm… I hate this…!" A fleeting gasp escapes Natsuki. Again, is it her fever or something else? How can she be attached to Viola who is essentially a husk of her former self? She does not remember the life which Natsuki does. What… happened to 'her Shizuru'?
Did she mourn for her? Did she do okay? Suddenly, Natsuki yearns to return to those old ruins. That Garderobe is hers, isn't it? The Founder recognised her that time. "I—"
"—I know. I know, Natsuki." Viola scoops her into an embrace, listening to the sobs that wreck her Ánhere. She feels so much sorrow, doesn't she? "Would you like to discuss it?"
"I do-on't k-now."
"It is alright." Viola's hands become entangled with Natsuki's. "Take as long as you need."
When Natsuki next stirs, all's quiet.
Through the tent, the early morning light can be seen. She hasn't slept long, has she? Natsuki groggily stares into the corner where their weapons and armour lie. That pile and the calm breathing clearly indicates Viola's presence. She hasn't left her side all night, has she?
Arms are loosely entangling her torso, keeping Natsuki close. Perhaps she's 'her Shizuru' after all?
Natsuki chokes a raspy breath, feeling as though all the logic flees her all over again.
Why is she doing this to herself?!
'Why does Viola care for me so much?' Those nightmares she experienced from Viola's own past—they are nothing but that. Nightmares. Her Wælcyrge has said it had also been unrequited love—so why?! It makes no sens—Natsuki holds her breath.
Calm. Calm down.
She touches along Viola's sleeves, the white material feeling so soft. Is this her favourite shirt? It is feminine with an intricate frilled front. From her time, it is feminine, but here, the fashion is unisex.
A rocky sigh releases from her, listening to Viola's slumbering breath. Natsuki can't quite believe she is thinking about the Wælcyrge's attire. But it has always suited Viola.
Oh, what is she thinking? She'd blame her fever, but her migraine has laxed. Albeit the ache is still present. Natsuki did not want to move—yes, it is because of the ache. It is not because of how Viola holds her.
'...Right, Natsuki?'
The tight swell within her chest says otherwise.
"Natsuki, you think too hard." Viola's weary voice interrupts her contemplation.
Easing upwards, Viola smoothes a hand along her face, gaze gloomy. After a moment, her focus returns to Natsuki who remains huddled within the blankets. Is she pretending to sleep? Crimson eyes narrow at the possibility. This appears to be the case as Natsuki won't shift.
Feeling Viola dip close, Natsuki holds her breath. What is she doing? All semblance of tranquillity—what little she has—vanishes. An anxiety bolts Natsuki in place. Viola's breath is upon her ear; what is she doing? With this, strong arms loop around the Ánhere, drawing her near. Her legs as well, they entangle with Natsuki's, enveloping her entire being with warmth.
She thinks she might cry again.
"It is alright to feel sad." Viola murmurs, tone dreary. She is awake. "Do you regret no longer being ignorant? Are you mourning for what you lost and what you became? Or, do you hate it all?"
Natsuki listens to her Wælcyrge's words, finding it unbearable. How can Viola understand her? Months previous they had been awash with tension. What kind though? Anxiety, terror… attraction?
No. Natsuki hates Viola!
Of course she d-id… The fear she has felt when Durandal charged Viola bites into her.
No. No. No! Natsuki partially springs from the bed, but a hand seizes her wrist tightly. "L-let me go!" She cries, head dipping down. All Natsuki can do is wrestle until her back is pressed down. "L-leave me alone!"
"I will not." Viola straddles her, taking Natsuki's cheeks within her hands. "Look at me." Her hair cascades, framing Natsuki within her shadow. "Natsuki, please."
"I—n-no, I w-on't, I—" A precarious kiss silences her at that moment. Somehow, it quenches her scatterbrained turmoil, making her calm at last. As the kiss is broken, her lips quiver, hands leaping to snatch the ones cupping her face.
"Please, Natsuki." Viola drones sadly, watching as her Ánhere's gaze fled from hers. "Talk to me."
It's foggy, making it needlessly difficult for Natsuki to see.
For the past hour, she has been mindlessly wandering the camp. Nobody has stopped her yet, perhaps not noticing her. She… Natsuki doesn't know what to do—let alone how to feel.
Lumbering towards a stocky oak tree, Natsuki slumps down against a thick root. Only the distant drone of camplife intrudes upon her.
Here she feels a tad semblance of peace. Outwardly, that is.
Hugging her torso, she mildly shivers within the chill morning breeze. She should probably not be exposing herself to the snowy climate. Oh, who cares…? She needs this time alone—specifically from Viola.
How does she respond to her? Viola's not hers yet is at the same time. There's also an awful dread penetrating her mind; when she was assassinated, what happened afterwards?
Somehow the Founder back at Garderobe recognised her still. Was she never removed from the System's registry? What the hell happened?!
What are Anchors? How do they precisely work? Who is she? What happened at Windbloom Harbour and the Cathedral? So many questions are spiralling out of control yet again. S-she's...—
"—Natsuki." It's Viola. Unbeknownst to her Ánhere, Viola has followed her towards the treeline. Shaking off the snow from her boots, she sits herself down beside Natsuki. Within her grasp is a small tube.
Uncorking it, she prises out a small roll of parchment. "How are you feeling?"
The question echoes within Natsuki's mind as she stares down at her feet. Scuffing her boot, she watches as snow is smeared aside. She guesses she cannot have some time alone. But honestly…? Natsuki's gaze turns to the parchment that her Wælcyrge reads. Is that from a pigeon carrier? How did it know where they are? She has so many questions.
Natsuki sighs.
"..." Turning her attention from the note, Viola watches as Natsuki hugs her legs to her chest. "What is—"
"—Who are we? How do Anchors work? What's up with Windbloom? Ugh." Smearing a hand against her face, Natsuki's frustration starts showing. "Please! Just answer me truthfully! I need to know."
Viola stares only with mild surprise, having partially expected this outburst. Stringing the parchment back up, she places it back into the message canister. "What will you have me explain?"
"Everything."
"That is a difficult demand." Shifting on her perch, Viola studies her Ánhere attentively.
She appears so frustrated—but that look is in her eye. Natsuki's still afraid, isn't she? "As you know this is an Anchor." Prising her crystal from beneath her shirt, Viola removes it from around her neck. "An Anchor—as its name implies—locks something into our reality. Whether this is an object, building or sensation."
Natsuki watches her so closely she feels self-conscious. Inhaling, her gaze pulls away from her Ánhere. "These Anchors have been used for generations by the Wælcyrgan. For some reason, we—and yourself— are the only ones who can use them."
Natsuki's mind flashes back to the Windbloom Catacombs. "I… When Tomoe touched that Anchor inside the Catacombs, it didn't react. But when I did...?" Why is that? "How's that possible?"
"Mh…" Viola pulls her head back, peering up into the oak tree's canopy. No leaves are present; only snow enveloping its branches. "We do not belong here, but we also do. Maybe…" Viola sighs, her hot breath transforming into condensation within the chill. "...Because of this, we have that control? Miyù stated that—" Sudden realisation hits her.
"...Viola?" Natsuki eyes her oddly.
"We are linked directly to Grimmsyll. Its Heart are these Anchors." They are Anchored: Theoretically, can't they Anchor themselves elsewhere?
"I don't really get it." Natsuki props her chin to her knees. Will she ever? Returning her gaze to Viola, a question which should have been difficult leaps from her lips. "Did… did Durandal hurt you?"
"No." Caught unawares, Viola's gaze locks with hers in surprise. "He did not reopen any wounds." She presses a palm against her chest. Beneath soft fabric, she feels bandages. "Somehow." The great warg's weight had been monstrous. A faint smile graces her lips, watching her Ánhere shiver. "Are you cold?"
"No, I'm basking in desert air." Natsuki sarcastically drawls, throwing Viola another odd look. She's absolutely freezing! Ever since they have made camp, all she has experienced is the clinging chill. Lifting her feet, she props them against a tree root instead. Here they are no longer within the snow.
How cold even is it? Clearly it is below freezing, but still. "How are you not cold?"
"I prefer the cold, it helps to keep me in check."
"Weird." They fall silent for a time. Until Natsuki fires another question, of course. "What's the deal with Wind Cathedral? Why are the undead in the Catacombs?" The Anchor was meant to control those husks, but they still attacked?
"I honestly have no clue. Wælcyrgan have been ordered to cull its population for centuries." One of those reasons being they aren't driven insane within that subterranean hellscape. Viola hums, equipping her Anchor and slipping it beneath her ruffled shirt. "We shall probably be ordered there once returning."
"If we return." Natsuki mumbles.
Viola sure seems confident even though she had nearly died. They both nearly had. One snap of Durandal's maw and—Natsuki freezes, staring into space as the scenarios flood her mind.
What will it feel like to have your Wælcyrge die? Especially when that Wælcyrge is your former life's lover? Clenching her teeth behind her lips, Natsuki's face scrunches up.
"If we are to view the world more positively, we shall feel better—I hope." Viola murmurs, noticing she only has half of Natsuki's attention. She looks afraid and aloof. "Natsuki." Landing a palm atop the Ánhere's shoulder, she nudges her gently. "...Natsuki?"
"H-huh… Sorry, I thought of something."
"Of?"
"Just…" Natsuki releases a frustrated sigh. "So many of the people here I know from my past life. But they're different." How does Viola cope with that? How many people does she recognise from her own previous existence? "Worse, there's multiple versions. That servant from ages back—her name is Mai. She was my friend who went missing. Yet… when I went through that rift, I saw her there too."
"I did not know my Wælcyrge, Anh." Shizuru reveals, causing Natsuki to look at her with surprise. "But I know she killed me, like I killed you."
"That's…"
"It is a gut feeling." The Wælcyrge squeezes her shoulder before releasing her grip. Easing up, Viola straightens to her full height. "Come, follow me. I have an idea that may suit your needs."
Reluctantly Natsuki heaves up onto her feet and lumbers on after her. Mindlessly following Viola for a few minutes, she starts realising she is searching for something. "What are you looking for?"
"Writing materials and something to lean against."
This search continues for a few more minutes until they stumble across Chie Hallard. The Knight-Commander is only partially armoured for once, not sporting her helmet nor cuirass. "Fetch the barrels from the stockpile, we need more drinks." She orders a group of Knights who immediately do as told. The three quickly depart, brushing past Natsuki who watches them leave. "Ah, Arcewælcyrge, do you need anything?"
"In actuality, yes." Viola loosely crosses her arms, leaning against one leg faintly. "I require an inkwell, quill, parchment and preferably a table and chair. Do you know where these are?"
"Last I heard the Knight-Captain was writing reports. You should visit her tent."
"Thank you." Heading further into camp, Viola has them turn a corner where less tents are. In the far corner is one which Viola beelines for. Approaching the flap, she asks: "Knight-Captain, are you present?"
"Yes, come in." They obey, and are greeted by Sarah Gallagher's back. She is sitting at a table, scribbling down on parchment. "What is it you need?" Twisting within her seat, she quickly catches sight of Natsuki. "Ánhere." She nods.
"Is this the only table in the camp?" Receiving a nod, Viola muses thoughtfully. "Then, may I borrow it once you have completed your report?"
"I'm actually adding the finishing touches. You can have it in a few minutes."
"So." Natsuki says once everything has been transferred to their tent. "Will this really help me? To write everything down like this, I mean?" Natsuki is sitting at the table with Viola standing behind her.
"Your mind is in turmoil. Logically speaking, by doing so, it should clear your conflict." With greater clarity, Viola hoped Natsuki would stop pushing her away. They have unlocked a portion of their memories. Refusing to speak of it now will be disastrous. "If you do this, so shall I."
"That's… fair." Natsuki moderately nods, giving in. She supposes it will help. If only a little. "But what if I get stuck?"
"Then write that down. Who says that this has to be any more difficult than it already needs to be?"
Natsuki sighs. "I guess you have a point." After some moments, Viola goes for the exit. "Viola?" She stops. "I'm sorry. I must be infuriating as an Ánhere." The Wælcyrge did not move, simply staring at the tent. "That and you lost Tomoe."
"Not at all." Not another word is spoken, Viola stooping to head out.
'I hate seeing copies of people I kn—' Natsuki angrily scribbles this sentence out before finishing it.
For an hour now she has been whacking her brain for anything. Alas, it is all jumbled up inside her mind, distorting everything further.
'My mind tangles up when I see people from my past.' Propping her jaw against her palm, Natsuki's face scrunches up. 'It confuses me because—' What? The ink sluggishly leaks from the quill, spilling onto parchment.
'—sometimes they're totally different people with other motives.'
Her mind drifts to the Captain of the Guard. During her lifetime, Haruka Armitage had been a bumbling wildcard who was manipulated easily. Here she is… different.
'Everything's alien and familiar at the same time, it drives me insane.'
Putting the quill back into its inkwell, Natsuki smears her hands against her face. This is a load of crap. How is this supposed to help her? All it's doing is making her feel more frustrated!
Leaning backwards, she glares skywards at the stitched tent. Rather than earn respite, Durandal flashes within her mind. "For fuck sake."
"How is progress?"
Natsuki jumps, nearing flying out of her skin. "V-Viola?!" When had she gotten here?!
From the tent's entrance Viola is standing with two helmets within her arms.
Calming somewhat, Natsuki instead sighs for perhaps the ten-millionth time. "I can't get him out of my head." Wait, isn't that her sallet? Her eyes beeline to the dark helmet.
"He is your Key, you have full control." Heading to Natsuki, she places one of the helmets against the table. The sallet meanwhile, is popped atop Natsuki's head, remaining unstrapped. "One of the Knights found your helmet, you should thank him later."
Huh? Natsuki had been sure it went missing for good. "What do I d—" She stiffens because Viola is invading her personal space. Swiftly she discovers the reason; Viola is merely fastening her sallet. "—do I do?" She asks, her visor being shut next, the action oddly making her feel safe.
"How am I supposed to control something that terrif—"
"—Natsuki." Viola clasps hold of her shoulders, forcing her to lock eyes with her. "Did you forget who your Wælcyrge is? It is fine. You are anxious. Your mind will have you believe a mountain will crush you."
"But that's—"
"—Obscene?" Viola receives a nod. "That is how anxiety works. If you do not realise what it is doing to you, it will eat you alive."
Natsuki parts her lips before her head sags downwards. "That's… logical. I always dealt with anxiety in my previous life. I had hoped that it would…" She growls, pressing her hands to Viola's torso to push her away gently. "I wanted it to just disappear. But it did anything but that." Is it worse? Natsuki hasn't a clue.
"Then—"
"—How do you always know what to say?!"
The confusion and infuriation quickly gets the better of Natsuki. "Why do you always make sense?!"
Why can't she be like that? If so, at least maybe she will feel confident?
Worse, Viola's looking at her so understandingly!
"...Stop it." She lowly mumbles, feeling as though the weight of the world is upon her. But, instead of receiving a vocal answer, she receives a physical one. "V-Viola?"
"Hush, I know." The Wælcyrge entangles her arms around Natsuki, having her head—sallet included—rest against her chest. It is painful against her tender flesh, but who cares? "It is fine to feel like this. You died, now you are here having to contend with all sorts of things. Natsuki, you say you have lived a lie. Do you feel this is still the case?"
Natsuki can only nod, unsure hands rising to grip Viola's shirt.
The people are nearly the same yet are drastically different. Viola is but isn't her Shizuru. There's forever never ending questions spiralling out of control. So much so that Natsuki is certain she has asked these questions billions of times.
"I… maybe I'll get over it one day." Or… perhaps she shan't.
Scene Theme: Taishi — (Phant Solo III) Chapter 2, A Place Shrouded in Death.
XXV • CM Mynetdæg of Thrimilce
(The 25th Day of the Month of Three Milkings, Coin Day, 900)
Neither woman can quite believe what they are doing.
For two long nights, the encampment has been preparing to enter Kiyohime's Shrine.
It is excessively risky as Viola's Key is the embodiment of deceit. How can they possibly hope to overcome that? Furthermore, how are they meant to prepare? Neither know, thus they are diving into the unknown depths.
"I can't believe you expect me to use Durandal." Natsuki mutters beside Viola.
Both are situated by the shrine's entrance before a campfire.
"How do you know he won't turn on us?"
"I do not." Viola ignores the stare of disbelief thrown her way. Instead, she sits herself upon one of the short stools and starts warming her hands. Like Natsuki, she is armoured, though her helmet and gloves remain on the floor beside her. "Sit down, the others are still preparing."
Her command is obeyed—albeit reluctantly. Viola herself is dressed within her mahogany-red gambeson. Around her arms, her rerebraces and vambraces are latched together by couters at her elbows.
"Do you need help checking your armour?" Her gaze lifts momentarily before fastening the buckles of her cuirass.
"No, but—" Natsuki presents her sallet, showing Viola. "—can't you chisel holes in the eye slot things—"
"—Occulariums?"
"—Yeah… that. can't you just make the occulariums bigger? So I can see?"
The two gaze at each other, until Viola bursts out laughing.
"What?" Natsuki can only continue staring helplessly, watching the Wælcyrge adjust her gorget carefully.
"You are far too reckless, Natsuki. But somehow?" Viola studies her for a time, until continuing: "It makes you adorable."
Natsuki grumbles under her breath, gaze veering into the fire's flames. She watches Viola out the corner of her eyes, embers making the woman's armour glow. "Stop it, you sound li—"
"My previous self?" Viola cuts her off, only receiving a hesitant nod after a while. "Well." She sighs. "I cannot say I am familiar with the one you know."
Heaving onto her feet, Viola spins on her heel and lifts her boot. Setting it upon the stool, she stoops to check her sollerets, poleyns and greaves. Once confident that the lower armour is accounted for, she checks that everything's fastened correctly. "I hope she treated you well."
"Huh… yeah… she did."
Viola barely catches the mumble through the breeze. Pausing, she fires a glance at Natsuki, locking their gaze. "That is good to hear." She forces a smile, returning to her task at hand.
What was that about? Natsuki unconsciously scratches her jaw, disliking the heat she feels there.
But it's so cold! How can her cheeks—ugh.
It is clear what has happened. Instead, she sits there awkwardly, glaring at the sallet within her lap. Either way she finds it obscene just how poor her vision is in this thing. How she'd see a thing in a potential battle is beyond her.
With a sigh, she unties the string from her wrist and reaches behind herself. Tying her hair into place, her eyes remain fixated on Viola.
The woman in question sits once more and studies her own helmet. It's an armet decorated with air holes in circular patterns. Natsuki can't imagine her wearing such a thing.
As if overhearing Natsuki's mind, the Wælcyrge says: "The others are coming. Can you help me with my bevor?" Sure enough, in the distance, Natsuki spots Knights dredging through the snow.
Also wrapping her hair back, Viola unpockets a clip. "Behind the helmet is a disc. The bevor's harness must rest above that rivet."
As Viola pins her hair back, Natsuki cautiously takes the woman's armet helmet. There indeed is a disc hammered into the skull plate. Curiously there is another rivet against the side of its visor as well. "What's this thing?" She points at it.
"It makes it easier to lift the visor up when wearing gauntlets."
Huh, well. That makes sense, Natsuki supposes. Fiddling with the rivet idly, she observes Viola equipping a padded cap. That looks itchy as hell.
Will it really help wearing this literal bucket? Natsuki's attention pulls back down to the armet, her face scrunching up. Natsuki prayed she wouldn't have to wear one.
Why should she anyway? Her sallet has padding built into it.
"Natsuki." Their eyes meet and the moment they do, Natsuki snorts. Viola looks ridiculous! "You will not be amused if you wear this." Viola's gaze narrowed faintly at her accusation. This immediately silences the Ánhere. That is, until Viola threads the cap together tightly, making a bow.
"I-I ca—" Wheezing, Natsuki bursts out laughing, much to the Wælcyrge's chagrin. The awkward hair bulge within the cap doesn't help Viola's state of attire either.
"Just help me with the helmet, Ánhere." The Wælcyrge hisses. Natsuki isn't sure whether to feel concerned or amused.
"Fine, fine." Lifting to her feet, Natsuki approaches her—alas, straining to control herself.
Gods', she looks ridiculous!
"Here." Her lips twitch.
"A few weeks ago you were too terrified to even bear amusement at me. My previous self must have not been vicious at all."
"You'd be surprised at that." Natsuki can't help but smile sadly, reminiscing mutely. After a moment, she realises her mistake, handing over the armet helmet. "Is it hard to breathe in a full helmet like this?"
"Very much. But you get used to it." The Wælcyrge slips it onto her head and shuts the visor securely. Now Natsuki can hardly see her eyes through the occulariums. "The bevor is by my feet, help me fasten it across the armet."
With Viola's voice now muffled, Natsuki has to strain to hear her. Where is...—ah. There it is, the bevor's covered in snow. Picking it up, she smooths the chilled metal clean. Having Viola press the bevor to the helmet, Natsuki painstakingly fastens it in place.
"Ánhere!"
Natsuki turns, curiosity rising.
The Commander is approaching with a dozen Knights. Within her arms is a cuirass. Wait, is that meant for her? It's the same dark hue as her armour, so it seems the case. "Is that for me?"
"What kind of question is that? Of course it is!" The Captain—Gallagher—is striding beside Hallard, holding the woman's helmet. "Come on, I'll suit you up. Don't make the Knight-Commander cry now."
Ugh. Whatever. Natsuki sighs, fiddling with her gorget. This thing protects her clavicle and throat. As such, it rests on top of the cuirass, so sensibly she unhooks its halves and removes it. "Suit me up, Commander." She responds dryly.
A group of Knights pass them by as Chie drops the rear portion of the armour. It dully lands within the snow, an imprint crunching around it.
"Firstly." Chie says, pressing the front to Natsuki's chest. "I want you to keep this here. I will harness the back for you."
This procedure is surprisingly straightforward. Though Natsuki figures it's because the Knight-Commander has plenty of experience.
"As this cuirass has no faulds or tassets, you won't need to worry about adapting your movement. Don't let the cuirass get to your head—you aren't invincible. Your joints are still exposed, making them viable targets to cripple you."
Next comes the gorget, the two halves being linked back above Natsuki's shoulders.
"Off you go." The Commander pats her upper-arm.
That was quick. Natsuki blinks, raising her arms to check out her new armour. It amazingly suits her well. From what little she can see of it within the darkness, anyway.
Another round of Knights approach, heaving a wheeled battering ram over.
So that's what they have been building in the woods? Natsuki had overheard the concern that they will get separated again. Though a functional siege weapon? The Royal Guard certainly knows how to impress in such short notice.
"As discussed—" Chie yells above the muttering which her voice quickly silences. "—the Arcewælcyrge will take the lead as we descend. The Anchor of Manipulation is attuned to Kiyohime itself. Theoretically, she'll sense trouble way before any of us."
Stepping aside for another group, they carry two long planks over. These are dumped down the shrine steps and two Knights follow with hammers. "Start lowering the battering ram down!"
Chunks of wood are quickly nailed below an occasional step to give the planks greater foundation. The battering ram is eased onto the planks, causing the siege engine to sluggishly slide downwards. The Knights above slow its decline with rope, though are hesitant to climb the icy steps.
"Follow me under all circumstances." Viola's voice muffles within her helmet as she orders Natsuki. She turns to the fire, kicking dirt and snow atop to kill the flames. Next, she then equips her long cuffed gloves, eying Natsuki within the dim light. "I expect Kiyohime will respond to you with great interest. Whether this is negative… we shall see."
Unfortunately.
"Okay…" Natsuki mumbles, taking a stressed breath.
Now that it's time, her nerves are starting to get the better of her.
Tightening her hair back more securely, she scrambles for her sallet. Popping it atop her head, she makes another exhale. 'Calm. Just calm down.' Alas, for the Knights start descending the steps.
Natsuki's clearly at her wits end. Viola studies her through her limited vision, snatching her Anchor from the stool. "Come." She seizes her wrist.
They make their slow climb downwards, taking the lead upon entering the shrine.
"Ánhere." The Knight-Captain, Sarah Gallagher appears by Natsuki's side, easing a lantern within her hold. "Be mindful of the path, it's rugged and damaged in places." With this, she lowers her armet's visor and shifts back within the darkness.
But, a question remains, plaguing Natsuki. "Do we really need to do this?" She asks Viola, edging closer so only the Wælcyrge can hear. "Do you want to do this? Should we? All because Miyú said so?" Instead, Natsuki receives a reaction she never could have expected.
Discovering she is unable to answer, Viola smiled sadly—the notion unseen. Yet, even so, Natsuki gazes at her puzzled. Can she tell she's smiling, somehow? Through the darkness, Viola grasps Natsuki's hand who stares harder.
Pulling Natsuki close, their armour rattles as their sides meet. "I do not—"
An angry presence disturbs her. Easing Natsuki away, she lifts her hand to signal the others. The battering ram that grinds and shakes, halts to an immediate stop. As do the Knights; their bodies and eyes shifting with unease.
Something—no, someone watches them from afar. Her presence is enveloped within a crimson glow, yet nobody once witnesses her. The foreboding entity starts stalking them—never too far nor too close. Nobody senses a thing—all except Natsuki and Viola.
The Arcewælcyrge is the first to look within Yukariko's direction. Nothing. Except, moment's later, she sees something.
Veering her scarlet gaze towards it, Viola spots a shadow figure walking then disappearing into a far wall. Eyes locking where it had been, her heart races.
'W-what was that…?' A dread fills her soul and she isn't sure why.
"Viola, what's—" A gloved palm silences her, Natsuki's view momentarily blocked by it. They continue on, a stone archway with an inscription engraved upon it.
'Upon thou shadows feast.'
...What does that mean? Natsuki isn't the only one to be confused either. The Knights take particular fascination in this archway, many helping to illuminate it with lanterns.
'Thy darkest fear shall reign immortal.'
"What does it mean?" She hushes to Viola, gaze falling to her Anchor. It's glowing. Viola notices it as well, the viridian as vibrant as the summer sunlight. It quickly overwhelms the expedition; many startled by the sheer gleam.
Then—quaking fear.
'Betwixt terror it shall be buried.'
Around them, shadow figures materialise, manipulating the very atmosphere. They morph into such impossible things—of people they once knew, loved or forgot.
"T-that's—" A Knight gasps, recognising a comrade long since dead.
"Stop!" Viola rebukes, turning on her heel sharply. "It is a trick!" Her back faces her dead Wælcyrge; Anh's cold gaze burning into her very conscience. But, some will not listen, for they approach these shadow figures.
Before Viola's eyes, a Knight is engulfed within dark tendrils and ripped apart internally. A gurgled scream which ploughs from him will forever haunt her dreams.
Blood, gore and bits sail through the tunnel, some Knights getting drenched by the meaty shrapnel. Several moments proceed as they silently watch the Knight slam to the floor; armour rusted black. Then, carnage breaks loose.
T-this cann't b-be happening?! Natsuki is bolted to the spot, acutely aware of an unknown organ splattering her shoulder. Oh, Gods'. She ignores it—desperately tries too! Alas… s-she—
"—Natsuki!" It's Viola. Her armoured physique calms her somewhat, until of course, she sees Anh behind her. Natsuki doesn't know who it is, but within the viridian blaze, notices her guts are hanging out. Her cold eyes stare through her, glaring into her soul. "Natsuki!" Viola shakes sense into her.
"B-behind you!" Natsuki cries, the Wælcyrge spinning around just in time. Anh has struck out with a broadsword: The blade having been parried at the last moment by Viola's sabre.
"A-Anh…?" Viola's strength all but evaporates upon a single strike.
N-no… this isn't Anh.
She won't be manipulated again! "Y-you are not Anh." Her tone becomes brittle with venom. Her Wælcyrge died a long time ago.
Behind her, Natsuki can only helplessly watch as she cuts down the hallucination.
As she sinks her sabre into Anh's midriff, visuals barrage apart her senses. Within seconds, Viola is above Garderobe before it had become ruins. But this is impossible—wrong. Everything's backwards! S-she… how?
Anh flies before her, a tian peng chan within her grasp. A gurgled choke releases from Viola as it rips inside her chest.
"V-Viola!"
From an impossible angle, something watches Natsuki from the shrine rafters.
The Ánhere kneels beside Viola whose knees crash to the floor. "Viola! Snap out of it! She isn't real!" Yet, everything within these chambers very much is so. Situation rough, Natsuki is yet to notice they are the only ones left.
Sensing it, Natsuki freezes. All is quiet.
"I-I…" Viola mumbles incoherently, her hand shooting towards her glowing Anchor. "It-it is…"
"...What?"
"She's here."
A brutal pressure swarms the shrine. Before they have a chance to react, the thing from the rafters sweeps down.
The monstrous lindwurm crashes into the floor, sending dirt and pebbles flying around her.
Kiyohime has arrived.
The Key's powerful flailing causes reverberations across the shrine, creating terrifying whispers to hiss around them. Slamming her tail into Natsuki, the Ánhere is slammed into a far wall, bones snapping upon impact.
Nobody notices the crimson glow encroaching upon Natsuki.
"What have you done?!—" Viola demands, her voice full of pained hatred.
Agony engulfs her, Natsuki's injuries setting into her own body. Again her legs buckle, her knees crashing against freezing stone. A brittle cough hacks her body—blood.
But Viola's command is never answered, for Kiyohime transforms herself. Humanoid, scaleless and fraightfully pale, a beautiful woman now stands before the stunned Viola. Hair blacker than the night and eyes a gleaming red, Kiyohime apprehends her Wælcyrge in an embrace.
"I am your darkest self—" The Key's arms wind around her shoulders, Kiyohime's flesh phasing through Viola's armour. "—and you are me." Her voice is low and sultry. Like a hot, humid day: The total opposite of her appearance which is cold and dead. "Don't you like us?" She whispers, her serpentine tongue grazing her Wælcyrge's ear. Opening Viola's visor, she continues: "You shall become me."
· · ·
"...—Atsuki!"
· ·
"Nats—…!"
·
Standing before a shoreline overlooking a modern city, Natsuki is unable to comprehend her situation. W-what's… where is everyone…? A dread seeps into Natsuki's psyche. Moment's ago she has been attacked by Kiyohi—
Sinking downwards, Natsuki's knees and hands crash harmlessly into sand.
O-oh, her head…
W-what's going on?! Is she dead?!
"Not yet you aren't." A voice which should not exist hisses out with pure malice towards Natsuki. The Ánhere's head shoots upwards, eyes widening to greet Tokiha Mai. "You've killed him!" The redhead, dressed within an odd uniform roars, her clothes transforming into pitch blackness.
I-is… is this the rift from before? Natsuki tries to stand, but Mai's hands snatch upon her collar. Wait, collar? She's not dressed within—
"Kagutsuchi!"
The terrifying dragon which attacked the Palace materialises before Natsuki's very eyes behind Mai. Unfeasibly, before Kagutsuchi can bellow molten fire upon her, another entity sweeps into action. A quaking rumble causes Mai to shove Natsuki to the sandy floor before spinning around. "No!" She yells out, a monumental squid-hydra setting upon Kagutsuchi from the water.
Everything goes mute and dull, like Natsuki's in space. She scrambles to stand, but notices an argent light gleaming beside her. Hesitantly she turns her head to regard it.
"To stabilise thy worlds, the Keys must be sacrificed." Miyú's ethereal form floats before Natsuki, blocking her view. "This scene happened long ago during a previous existence. Wyrmgærd is a broken world which the Dark Whisperer tarnished." Around them, their environment warps, changing into something entirely different. "Betwixt the roots thou shall behold truth."
Gasping for air, Natsuki—now within her armour—stares skywards. All around her are twisting roots and bark.
They stretch up for thousands of feet, suspending a gigantic crystal above. She… she already knows what this is. The Heart of Suihōhime.
"Y-you're here!" A distorted voice from before invades Natsuki's mind. She stares hard at the Heart; its surface chipped and cracked. "Get… g-get us out of here!" Another voice begs, one she has not yet heard.
"W-who… are you?" Why does it sound as though it has come from the Heart? Furthermore, why have the voices gone silent?
A wariness beholds Natsuki; gaze wandering Grimmsyll's great chamber. Then, she is back at the shrine.
Standing before the archway, her head throbs with anguish. W-what had—?! Knees buckling, her hands clasp her sallet desperately. "I-I—" Her lantern rolls across the floor upon being dropped: The lightsource dying as it barrages into the archway.
"Natsuki?" Viola's muffled voice is the first to sound, quickly soothing her fried mindset. She squats beside her fragile Ánhere with great concern. "What happe—"
"—W-we can't g—" Natsuki stutters, unable to untangle her tongue. Her hands fling for Viola's cuirass, fingertips uselessly slipping across iron. "Thi-is—this already happened!" She forces the words to pour from her mouth, trying desperately to look into Viola's eyes. Woefully she can not, for the darkness creeps in closer.
"Well, well, well." Kiyohime manifests amidst the Knights, causing some to shout in shock.
They scramble away from the naked beauty, but it isn't enough.
"Stability to a fickle thing." Her form shimmers, vaulting forth to seize a Knight. Within confusion, she staggers against Kiyohime as her body phases through iron. "Like life—" has Kiyohime just possessed this Knight?! "It can be snuffed out and pulverised."
The group can only watch on as the possessed Knight unsheathed her broadsword from her scabbard. To their horror, the Knight then slices through unprotected fabric: Thoroughly gutting herself. The body smashes to the floor, blood pouring across debris and cobblestone.
"R-remain calm!" Chie orders above the roars of confusion and screaming.
"How the fuck do you expect us to do that?!" A Knight screams in her direction, taking off for the exit. He is swept into darkness, only an echoing scream revealing his final moments.
"W-we're gonna die in here." Natsuki mumbles, still crouched beside the archway. She continues muttering incoherently, fingernails scraping against her sallet. "I-it's a nightm-mare! A-a trick!" This isn't happening! No, no, no!
"But it is happening, Ánhere."
Viola sees it before it is too late. Swerving around to check Natsuki, she witnesses the foreboding presence of a possessed Knight behind Natsuki. A shout releases from her lips, but never makes a sound.
Her Ánhere yells out in fear, standing to then flawlessly unshealth her sabre. The foolish Knight hadn't worn adequate neck protection. Thus, the sabre rips through his throat, his arteries, muscles and veins getting severed.
Bits of gore pelts across the chamber, and his blood spurts from his neck. The image will forever be engorged within Natsuki's mind.
But his words will scorch her psyche the most.
"Be-c-come W-æl-c-cyrge!"
The possessed Knight's body crumples against Natsuki, sending her sabre clanging to the floor. His weight is too heavy to move, sparkling emerald shimmering from his body. W-what is this?! A cry flees Natsuki's throat, the Ardour engulfing the Ánhere like a spiritual waterfall.
Then, soul madness commences.
Voices of the impossible swarm Natsuki's mind like locusts. They scream in multitudes of languages, both of Earl and the unknown. A voice so far yet familiar whispers at her. 'Þær hit nu gen lifað.' ...Rushed beneath the earth... 'Oþ ey wæs ofereode.' ...Until it's overcome... W-what? "I-I-I'm…!"
"N-Natsuki!"
Arms envelop Natsuki's body from behind, the gust of turmoil sweeping her mind still. Unable to recognise who it is, she wrestles within Viola's arms. "L-let go!" Her voice sounds so broken so—i-is… is this what… Viola experienced…?
What's happening to her?
All the reserved strength left her body at that moment. Crumbling, her body is held upright by Viola, the Knight's body sliding to the floor.
The chamber is no longer illuminated within Viola's Anchor. Instead, an unnatural light beholds the shrine. Ancient black stone surrounds them, revealing the true origin of the archway.
"Upon thou shadows feast. Thy darkest fear shall reign immortal. Betwixt terror it shall be buried. Thou shalt not be wrathed. Only those around thou ond thy most precious. Tis thy reckoning."
Kiyohime presents herself beneath the archway, a sinister smile lining her lips.
Her provocative stance drives the Arcewælcyrge into a rage. Before the others can stop her, she has set Natsuki to the floor gently. Upon doing this, she charges the Key with an Ardour never seen before.
"Yeees! Like that!" Kiyohime hisses with glee, arms outstretching as Viola strikes. The sabre gorges inside her bare gut, dicing intestines disgustingly. "N-now we're whole—"
"Silence your tongue, wench!" Viola spits, anguish present even through her armet. Twisting her sabre so hard, she feels it snap within the Key's stomach. Yet it isn't enough. Kiyohime splutters against her own blood, laughing until the very end.
As the laughter dies, Kiyohime's body unceremoniously hammers the floor, blood oozing from her midriff and mouth.
Viola gags for breath. T-this bitch! Ripping her sabre from the body, the flesh disintegrates before her.
"Is… is it over?" Chie unsurely approaches.
Viola merely stares at where her Key had been. The hilt of her sabre remains within her grip uselessly, until she carelessly discards it. The shattered weapon clangs noisily, echoing awfully throughout the tunnel.
"It is." She says, her voice dangerously level. Without another word, Viola lumbers towards Natsuki calmly.
Chie can only watch on after her, sensing the aura radiating from the Arcewælcyrge. If any of them neared either woman, they shall meet their doom. Or rather...
If they approach the Wælcyrgan.
A/N: As always, check my profile for updates! I will probably work on some other stories as timelining this monster is brutal.
Reviews
Elizabeth Charlotte: Yeah there's loooads of hanging details which need addressing. They will be explained, albeit slowly. Cyne Wælcyrge is my magnum opus, so it's doubtful I'll finish it anytime soon. Five-ten years? No idea. I have an ending loosely (extreme emphasis on the loosely) planned out, though it'll definitely change with time.
You also asked where my creativity comes from? I'll be personal here.
I'm a cocktail of High Functioning Autism and mental illness. (I actually had learning disabilities, was partially mute, nor could I walk). So, well—it helps me a lot to explore imagination and emotion. There are certain things I do not experience: jealousy, empathy, libido etc.
I don't quite know how well I write these compared to neurotypicals. But for other things, they're on hyperdrive: anxiety, depression, anger and loneliness. Those four key emotions are my strengths, and I've totally embraced them within my writing. It acts as both an emotional release and escapism.
I grew up in a very different world compared to others. Existing within a society that's systematically made to destroy you offers different insights, I guess. But, my Autism has gifted and cursed me with obscene focus. Mediaeval history is my life long "special interest" and I'm sure that's clear as daylight.
Cyne Wælcyrge is my world that I can hide within and be myself. Natsuki has a lot of me inside her, whilst Viola is what I want to become, to a degree.
On a final note, these are the main musicians I listen to when writing Cyne Wælcyrge: Kajiura Yuki, Jason Graves, Nathan McCree, Peter Connelly, Schwarzwald Ano (corvus), Taishi and Sakuzyo. I fully recommend you listen to Taishi's Phant Solo albums. Many of Cyne Wælcyrge's scenes use his tracks as inspiration.
Cthulhu-Anne: Bless. I watched your posts pop up with a lot of amusement. It will probably help you a lot to simply make an account, right? At least then you won't need to memorise your name. Even better, it'd mean easier writer-reader interaction. It always drives me a little insane when anons speak since I can't directly reply or identify them. I love to interact with you all. ︵‿︵( ͡༎ຶ ͜ʖ ͡༎ຶ )︵‿︵
Darwater: Speaking of music placement, the final scene ended up being an absolute pain. It almost completely changed from what I had planned in the timeline. I'm satisfied with this outcome, though I'm not totally happy with it. But I never am so there's that. HARD WORK AND GUTS!
