Shionne: I'm Sowwy
Shionne wanted a hug. She had cut herself on the edge of the lab table, and it hurt. She was crying, trying to suck on the cut like she was supposed to. One of the doctors came in to ask what was wrong, and she was just so happy to see another person. She ran up and wrapped her arms around his leg.
He recoiled, screaming.
The shock of the noise startled Shionne out of her tears. Blinking, she looked up and saw the doctor collapse to the ground, grunting and shaking, her thorns jittering through him.
Another doctor rushed in, grabbed the first and dragged him away, leaving Shionne alone again.
Cut long forgotten, Shionne looked up to the door panel, just above the top of her head, waiting for that red light to turn green, to know that someone was coming.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The scream of the doctor echoed in her mind, and it was the first time in her short life that she connected the dots that her thorns hurt people. She looked at the cut on her hand, remembered the spike of pain, and frowned as her young mind projected that sensation to the doctor. She… caused that pain…?
She started to cry again, crouching down and pushing her face into her knees.
"'M sowwy," she said between her sniffles. "'M sowwy, 'm sowwy… 'm sowwy… come back…"
Her next visit was at dinner, one of the doctors coming in with a tray of sweets, giving her a wide birth and placing it on the lab table. "Do you want to eat?" she asked.
Shionne nodded, her nose was so stuffy it was hard to breath, and her face felt really messy from all the tears. She rubbed at her face as best she could, standing on tiny wobbly feet and shuffling to the stool she alway sat at.
"Dr. Brack said you were crying," the doctor said, voice soft. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Shionne looked at her meal, protein soup and bread. She pulled apart the bread, taking a nibble. She wasn't hungry, per se, too numb to feel much of anything. She stared at her bowl as she explained. "I cut my han'," she said, lifting it up. The doctor flinched but otherwise didn't move. "I wanted a hug." Her eyes watered. "I didn't know the thowns would do that." She sniffled again. "I'm sowwy, I promise I won't do it again. I promise…"
"Here," the doctor said, and Shion looked up to see a rough cloth being handed to her. "Take it from the top fold so we don't touch, and use it to clean up."
Shionne moved very carefully, concentrating with all her might, and she rubbed the terrycloth over her face, cleaning the tears and snot, blowing her nose and putting the cloth safely on the table. "I'm sowwy," she repeated.
"I know," the doctor said gently. She reached out and tugged the cloth to her, putting it in an oversized petri dish. "I know. Those thorns are the whole reason you're here. We want to learn what those thorns can do."
Shionne looked up. "Reawwy?"
"Yes," the doctor said with a soft smile, tugging at her blonde hair. "Your thorns are a brand new, never before seen anomaly on Lenegis. The other doctors and I, we want to learn about them."
Shionne frowned, thinking as hard as she could. "Will I learn to not hurt people?"
"I don't know," the doctor said. "But that would be nice, wouldn't it?"
Shionne nodded, resolving in her small mind to do her absolute best.
Rinwell: Touching Energy
Rinwell's earliest memory was when she's four. It was of sitting on her father's lap, a warm loving presence surrounding her, massive hands holding a book bigger than her, and a honey-soft voice reading it aloud to her. She couldn't read the words or even recognize the letters, but the first letter of every page was this ornately decorated picture that she would stare at as her father brought the myths and legends to life. Tales of castles and Dahnan lords, rainbows after thunderstorms. Sometimes she leaned over the pages of the book, so engrossed, until her father's large hand would engulf her belly and push her back to his chest so he could read the next line. Sometime she would lean against the chest, looking up at a dark, fuzzy beard that was fun to play with. There was a fire in that first memory, golden heat flickering and making the space magical; there was a blanket, hand crocheted from her mother and always smelling like luxurious cinnamon.
Time made the memory soft, fuzzy. More about the feeling of safety and warmth and wonder and being surrounded by love than about season or events.
Her mother's memory was different, but no less warm. Her mother, she remembered watching as she sat on a table, cleaning and cutting roots dug up from the snow and tossing them into an oven over the fire, stirring with a wooden spoon. Rinwell remembered delicious smells, the feel of flour and dough in her hands as she "helped", of climbing down to the dirt floor and moving to sit by the hearth, savoring the smells and the sounds of a working knife, reaching out and touching the worn hem of a heavy wool skirt. There was a song, somewhere in that memory - or maybe a tuneless hum - that drifted through the fascination that somehow could get stuck in her head even if she couldn't remember it enough to actually recite it.
Their home was a one room log cabin, up near the top of a mountain. Before bedtime her mother would let her play in the snow outside by the glow of a lantern. If both parents were home they would climb up the mountain and Rinwell could see the floodlights. In a child's mind they were these streams of light, portals to mystery and imagination. She asked once if they could ride those beams of light to the other realms.
Her father would chuckle, patting her shoulder. "That's not in the skillset of a mage," he said gently.
"The ideas our girl has," her mother said with a beleaguered chuckle.
In the morning she would wake with both parents wrapped around her in their single bed, covered in blankets to guard against the cold, and all she knew was that she had the most wonderful life ever.
Most days were spent out in the darkness, foraging from the mountain: firewood, tree sap, mushrooms, roots, rabbit or venison, fish if they traveled far enough below the freeze line. Sometimes one of her parents would disappear for three days, and when they came back there would be salt, rice, flour, lard or oil, sometimes cookware, or on a really good day a new book to read.
As Rinwell learned her letters, she also learned to listen. If her attention wandered, she could hear her parents talk in hushed voices on the other side of the cabin. She learned new words that way, words like "clan" and "aunt" and "cousin." She didn't know what they meant yet, but she felt like she got smarter when she did.
Her father was out for three days when she first touched her magic.
She was helping her mom outside, way waaaaaaay down the mountain. Her mom was teaching her how to identify edible plants - how to look at the shape of a leaf said there were beets in the ground, or where to find and old abandoned wheat field.
"It was abandoned during the colonization," her mother said, a new word Rinwell didn't know. "So many things were, back then, and when we find one we have to give it honors."
Rinwell walked around the wheat, uncertain how to show it respect. It looked like really tall grass to her five year old mind, and she reached out to pull at one of the blades. It felt different in a way she couldn't describe, so she moved closer to figure out what the difference was. She followed the feeling, down the baby leaves to the main blade, then down to the ground itself. She crouched down, then got to her knees, putting her hand in the snow. Nope, not the snow, so she dug deeper and put her palm on the frozen earth. There! She felt it again!
She concentrated, gold eyes tracing the black shadows of the perpetual night, sensing further down… further down… further down… and then she touched the thing that she found.
It touched back.
"Oh!" she giggled, delighted at the new discovery. She shifted her weight on her knees, wiggling in anticipation, as she reached out to touch it again.
"Rinwell!"
A hand shot out and grabbed her palm, jolting it and her back up into the air. Concentration broken, Rinwell lost the feeling as she turned in shock to see her mother, gripping her wrist so hard it hurt, and a look on her face that she'd never seen before. Her mother's eyes were wide, her brow furrowed, and her teeth visible in a way that was scary.
And then she pulled Rinwell into the tightest hug.
"Oh, baby," she said. "You have the gift."
Rinwell didn't understand. Not at first. They finished gathering the wheat and roots, her mother working faster than Rinwell had ever known. The walk home had Rinwell's hand in her mother's, the older woman all but tugging her home, moving into the cabin and closing the door. A block of wood Rinwell had never noticed before was lifted to bar the door, and cloth drapes were pulled over the windows to block the view of the outside darkness. Her mother paced around the small space, putting the supplies away in bursts and muttering to herself before stopping and taking a deep breath.
"Come here, Rinwell," she said, voice soft and sitting in father's chair. "There's a few things we need to talk about."
"... did I do something bad?" little Rinwell asked.
"Oh, baby, no," her mother said, spreading her arms. Rinwell gladly entered the hug, her mother lifting her up to a lap and a tight embrace. "It's not bad, what people like us can do. You have the gift, you can touch the astral energy of Dahna."
Several of those words were new to her, and she waited.
"Our planet, it has so much life in it," her mother said, rocking back and forth. "You can see it everywhere: trees, birds, wildlife, plants, insects, zeugles, people. So many things cover the earth, and we all have a little bit of energy in us. That energy connects to everyone else, do you understand, baby?"
"... no," Rinwell said, frowning and trying her hardest to think.
"Hm. Alright, so you know those roots we took?"
"Yeah."
"When we eat them, they give us energy, right? We stop feeling hungry, and we can play in the snow and read our books, right?"
"Yeah."
"The roots are giving us their energy to help us. We give them our energy when we feed them water or fertilize them. Does that make sense?"
… Five year old Rinwell could follow the logic, even if she wasn't sure how it all connected.
"That energy, baby, is called astral energy. All the energy on this planet, all the energy in all of Dahna, is connected in that cycle. It's an energy constantly cycling through us and around us. Tell me what made you kneel in the snow like that."
Rinwell thought back. "It felt different," she settled on.
"That's right," her mother said, rocking back and forth and giving a warm smile. She reached up and ran a hand through Rinwell's hair, pulling it behind an ear and then tracing a finger down her cheek. "What you felt, that was astral energy."
And all at once it made sense - she had always wondered why certain things felt different, and now she understood that she was sensing astral energy. "Wow…" she murmured, mind alight with possibilities.
"It's a beautiful feeling, isn't it?" her mother asked, her smile warm.
"Yeah!" Rinwell said. "It touched back! It was really fun!"
The smile turned sad, Rinwell saw her mother's face change to something she'd never seen before. Both hands held her cheeks now, and her mother bent down to put her forehead on Rinwell's. "It is," she said, the tone in her voice different. "It's warm, and happy to find us, and it can do so many things if we know how to ask it."
"It can?" Rinwell asked, excited. "Can it clean the dishes?"
"Hnn, no, baby, it can't. But it can do other things. Your father and I, we'll teach you. We'll teach you everything we know. We'll teach you our history, our spells, our gifts. We'll pass it all on."
"Woooooooow!" Rinwell said, buzzing with excitement.
"No, baby, wait," her mother said in a firm voice, and the hands on her cheeks went from soft to firm, holding Rinwell's face, and her mother pulled back, a hard look on her face. That was the word - the softness was gone, the warmth was gone, and in its place was something hard. Not cold, but… hard. "We'll teach you all of it, but you have to promise us you'll never use any of it. Not one single spell, not one uttered word."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because people like us are very rare, Rinwell," her mother said. They were still rocking back and forth, but it had slowed and now stopped. "We're what's called mages. Not many Dahnans can touch astral energy. There's another type of people who can touch that energy: a people called the Renans. Do you know who they are?"
"... You and Dad talk about them," Rinwell admitted, "When you think I'm not listening. Who are they?"
"They're the colonizers who made slaves of our planet," her mother said. There were a lot of new words in that sentence, and none of them sounded good. "Three hundred years ago they came here, and… you're too young for all of it, but a lot of bad things happened. These days Dahnans… we don't get a say in what we do or how we live. If someone says something, a Renan will touch that astral energy and make us feel pain. Mages like us, we don't do that, but by now anyone who can touch that energy is scary to a Dahnan."
"But how is it scary?" Rinwell asked, trying to understand. "It was fun, it liked me, and if… if atsal energy…" she tried to repeat the words, "If it helps people we can tell them."
The smile was back, wrong in a way Rinwell didn't have a word for until she was older: a sad smile. "I wish the world were like you," her mother said, starting to rock again. "I think you have the right of it, but it's not safe yet to tell people. When you're older, we'll take you to the village down the mountain. You'll see. Once your father comes home, we'll call a meeting. It's past time you met the rest of the clan."
"... Clan?" Another new word.
"Yes, baby," her mother said. "You're about to meet the rest of your family."
Kisara: Burial
Kisara was seven, Migal fourteen. The western edge of Menancia did not have fertile land like further in the valley; butt up against the mountain that was the boundary with Mahag Saar. Farmland there was hearty livestock: goats and their milk and cheese; chickens that could live anywhere, pheasant, root vegetables. Not that any of this mattered, Dahnans weren't allowed to eat any of it, if they did they were killed. Seven year old Kisara didn't know how, none of the kids did - it was away, out of sight - and the more likely deaths they saw were from zeugle attacks. Not all of the attacks were strays, either, sometimes the master of the farm just… wanted to assert authority.
Their parents had died when Kisara was five. Mahag Sarran winds had brought a storm strong enough to partially collapse a barn, and they were some of the slaves tasked with fixing the structure as fast as possible. That meant working at night by torchlight, and it meant ignoring weather conditions, and… well. Migal said that it was probably for the best - that their hearts had died a long time ago. Kisara didn't disagree, even as young as five, she understood that sometimes the mind died before the body.
Other realms in Dahna burned their dead, but in the Land of Green it was customary to bury the dead. Kisara didn't think about it until she was much older, when she realized the Renans were putting Dahnan bodies back in the ground to even use their corpses to feed the earth astral energy that was being harvested. At five, however, it was just what happened.
After their parents' death… it was just her and Migal. They were too young to take over their parents' jobs, and their owner wanted older, stronger labor for the farm. After two years of trying to stay they were reassigned to the capital. Kisara clutched her brother on the journey, having never been down the mountain, uncertain what Viscint was even going to be like. It was the two of them and four other children, all from scattered farms on the mountain, being led by a Renan in armor who could somehow walk faster than any of them. He was supposed to guard them from zeugles but mostly complained that they were slow. They were expected to make camp and see to their own, the soldier just sat by the fire, occasionally drinking cilligan.
"Kisara," Migal said, at the very edge of camp. "Promise me," he said, "Promise me we'll stick together."
She nodded immediately, understanding that neither of them would survive if they were separated. The other four were even younger than them - from four to six.
"We're the oldest," he said, "We have to make sure we all survive."
"No matter what," Kisara said, fierce in her agreement.
Migal was like no one else she knew. He was so much smarter at fourteen, picked up things so much quicker, and he was the spokesperson when the Renans wanted something. That put him at great risk, and Kisara was determined to make sure she did everything she could to keep him safe.
It was a two week hike to the capital, no zeugle attacks, but they both learned very quickly when to notice if the four year old Lev was tired and needed to be carried. Kisara took the weight gladly so Migal could do whatever fetch and carry the solider demanded. Six year old Euto had a stick to play with, and tapped on the ground in tempo to keep everyone's steps even. "We're marching!" she said with a smile, "I'm helping!"
"You sure are!" Migal said, warm smile on his face that disappeared as soon as his eyes turned back to the soldier, so far ahead of them. The twins were always quiet, at least, but both were prone to exploration, and Kisara could never tell them apart. Lev was not so trained, asking questions and demanding to go potty, and singing tunelessly to whatever was playing in their head. Migal was constantly shushing them, and Kisara took to walking next to them to slap a shoulder or cover their mouth. They were too young to understand, however, and cried when Kisara did it.
The solider was not a fan, telling Migal to "Keep your Embedded brats in line," and Kisara tried even harder to keep the child quiet. Euto, ever helpful, tried to tell the four year old, "We have to be quiet," he said, "Zeugles like noise."
Lev shook his head and cried again, slapping their cheeks and crouching down. Kisara scooped them up on her back, and the child hit her repeatedly, but she didn't let go, even as the crying turned to shrieking and pulling at her hair. She bit her lip, trying not to react, knowing she had to keep the children quiet so Migal wouldn't get in trouble. Euto tried to shout over them, telling them to be quiet, and the twins, Kisara saw, were stopping at a bush and crouching down, looking at each other and picking at the leaves.
"Guys!" she was forced to call, "Get back in line!"
Migal was forced to intervene, pulling away from the solider and moving to grab the twins as Lev finally managed to tip back and pull her hair hard enough that her neck started to strain, making her let go with a grunt. They ran, Euto following and shouting that they had to stay with the group.
"What is going on back there?" the solider demanded, stopping and turning around. Kisara was rolling her shoulders and massaging her scalp while walking after Euto who was in chase of Lev. Meanwhile Migal had a hand on each twin, pulling them away from the bushes and telling them not to eat anything they didn't know was edible.
Vines erupted from the ground and engulfed the screaming Lev, trapping them as Euto and Kisara froze, knowing that it was an astral arte. Lev was too lost in their cries, and Kisara risked a glance back, seeing the soldier's arm raised as Migal and the twins looked on from behind, wide eyed.
"You've been nothing but a burden, Embedded," the soldier said, walking forward. "You need to learn your place." From nothing a spear appeared, and the soldier drew back.
"Wait!" Migal shouted. "I take responsibility!"
"Me, too!" Kisara agreed. "Please!"
But the soldier did not heed their pleas, and plunged his spear into the vine's cage, and the crying stopped very suddenly. The twins jumped, clutching each other, and Euto was stock still, staring with wide eyes.
The vines retreated, and little four year old Lev was crumpled to the ground, blood leaking from a gash on the forehead, face streaked in tears slowly turning red.
"That'll teach you to make so much noise," the soldier muttered. "Come on, we're wasting time." He turned and left, continuing the march to the capital.
Kisara and the others all stared at each other, but Migal as always thought quicker. "Come on," he said softly, moving up to Lev and rolling them to their back. The motion snapped Kisara to action, and she darted over, turning and offering her back. Lev didn't make a sound, body limp, and one of the twins pulled at a sleeve, ripping it off and tearing it to strips to help tie the child to Kisara's back. Migal's eyes were dark, Kisara could feel him examine Lev's head and tilt it side to side.
"Mind his breathing," he murmured, and Kisara nodded, everyone silent, as they fell back in line and had to half run to catch up to the soldier and his tepid protection.
By nightfall Kisara could hear labored pants and the occasional moan - it wasn't good, listening to it - but for several hours she had been afraid the breathing would stop all together. They set up camp, and Kisara laid Lev out close to the fire, giving her blanket to them and using the strips the twins had donated to wrap the gash. Euto had spent the walk gathering rose petals to press into the wound, and Migal came in to open their eyes. He sighed, mouth pressed into a thin line, and stood with a determined look on his face.
Kisara immediately fell in line, following him as he approached the soldier.
"Sir," he said, "We have a problem."
"And what is that?" the soldier asked.
"Sir, it's Lev. Their eyes aren't right, and their breathing isn't right."
"Serves the brat right for making a ruckus," the soldier said. "It'll be a miracle if a stray doesn't attack us tonight."
"Sir," Migal said, "They need healing."
"No, they need to learn a lesson. I'm not wasting my astral artes on an ungrateful liability."
"They're four," Kisara said, trying to keep her tone correct. "They don't know any better."
"But now they do," the soldier said, flat.
"A gel, then at least," Migal bargained. "So you're not blamed for damaged goods upon arrival."
The silence stretched out, Kisara biting the inside of her cheek.
"I can see why you did house work, boy," the soldier finally said. "You speak well for an Embedded. Here." He reached into that ethereal space and produced from nothing a crumpled paper package, tossing it over. Kisara caught it, letting Migal keep eye contact as she unwrapped the package. Inside was an apple gel, the green slightly sour in color. She thought through her letters and sounded out that it was past expiration. "I want that brat in pain for a while," he said, "let the lesson sink in."
"... Yes, sir," Migal said, voice low and resigned.
They turned back to the fire, Kisara seething but unable to do anything. Migal crouched down, the intuitive twins pulling Euto back to give space.
"Can you read the directions?" Kisara asked. "It's past expiration."
"I know," Migal said, squinting at the package for a few seconds. "It says here the effectiveness is reduced, but it's all we have. It'll have to work."
"Do they eat it?"
"No, it's applied to the wound," Migal said, still squinting as he read with his bad eyes.
"Okay," Kisara said, peeling off the linen and rose petals. Migal ripped open the package, the smell making both of them make a face, and squeezed out the gel. Lev didn't react as it touched the gash on their head, and Kisara dutifully started rubbing it in, the gel cool and gooey. Migal poured water from his ration, sacrificing it to help clean the wound as best as possible. The gel started to warm, and Lev's face scrunched up slightly as she kept massaging the gel along their head.
"Rest now, Lev," Migal said, "You'll feel better in the morning."
The next morning Euto didn't say a word, didn't bounce her stick for marching rhythm, didn't do much of anything but stare at the ground and hover close to Kisara. The twins were looking at each other constantly, holding hands and staying close to the road. The mood was different, now. Darker.
Kisara hiked Lev up onto her back, the soldier wordlessly starting the march. The twins carried her pack, giving her a look and nodding, one of them risking a smile. Euto stayed close, looking up at little Lev constantly.
The day was, indeed, quiet, but not in a way that felt good. It wasn't the quiet concentration of work, or the simple silence of companionship. Everyone except the soldier looked to Lev on Kisara's back. They hadn't woken up once during the night, and all of them were tense at the idea of them doing so. The day stretched out, heavy and cloudy, the soldier keeping his relentless pace and all of them struggling to keep up. The break for lunch had the soldier on high alert, something keeping him marching around the six of them, head swiveling back and forth.
"Why's he so scared?" Euto asked.
"He's not scared, he's tense," Migal said quietly, leaning forward. "Do you see anything?"
"... No."
"... the birds stopped," one of the twins said, everyone turning in surprise to hear one of them speak.
Kisara shifted her focus and noticed the truth - the birds and stopped chirping.
"There's a zeugle," the other twin said. "That's how they got Da and Dad on the field."
Euto's eyes widened, and she moved closer to Kisara and Migal.
"Let's move," the soldier said, summoning his spear.
Kisara took Lev back onto her back, eliciting a whiny moan, and they shifted their weight. That was the most she and Migal had gotten out of him, and she shared a tense look with her brother: if they decided to wake now it could be bad, and Migal decided to keep closer, giving the soldier a bigger lead as they moved down the mountain. The twins were more vocal now, softly pointing out sounds that they were supposed to hear, and how to step so that they didn't break twigs and announce their location - everything learned from herding goats. Euto kept hands on her mouth, looking around so much she gave herself a headache. Migal picked her up, grunting at the weight but otherwise telling her to be his eyes. "I can't see too well at a distance," he said, "It all gets blurry after a bit. You'll have to keep your eyes straight ahead, let me know when there's a rock or something, got it?"
"Mn," Euto said, nodding and frowning in intense concentration.
Lev was moaning again, shifting on Kisara's back and obviously trying to get comfortable. Kisara risked shifting the four year old to her front, felt Lev wrap their arms around her neck immediately and bury their head into her. There was a hum, and a sigh, and at last they relaxed.
"... ma… my…"
"Sorry," Kisara whispered, stroking their back. "I'm not your ma."
The soldier raised a fist, all of them freezing, and motioned for them to stay as he moved off the trail and into the forest. Kisara looked up at the dense canopy above them, wishing the sun were out so they could see more shadows. The twins were utterly still, and Euto was clinging to Migal's neck.
"We need to hide," her brother said. "We're sitting ducks out here."
Kisara nodded, eyes roving around. "That bush?" she asked.
"Poisonous," one of the twins said, "You'll be itching for weeks."
"Over there," the other one said, pointing. "We can eat the berries while we wait."
Migal and Kisara carried the little ones as they followed the twins as they scurried under a huckleberry bush. It was a tight fit, Kisara was certain her brother's tall frame peaked out, but they were able to put Lev and Euto between them and shield them with their bodies as they waited for the soldier's return.
There was a low howl, the distinct sound of an arte, growls and gnashes. Migal pressed down, and so did Kisara, the twins huddling close. They saw the soldier roll out onto the road, spreading their feet and lift an arm, casting an arte, wisps of blue glow exiting front the helmet. Rocks lifted from the ground, and immediately afterwards green vines shot up to ensnare whatever the soldier was fighting.
"Damn those brats," Kisara heard, and the spear pierced the cage much like the prior day, only there were several other strikes after that first. The vines retreated, and there was a massive, tusked boar, gored and bloody, collapsed to the ground.
"Embedded! Time to earn your keep! Where are you!"
Migal crawled out, Kisara following suit and turning to help the kids. The twins had purple hands and mouths, stuffing their packs suspiciously as Euto dusted herself off, Kisara pulling the increasingly fussy Lev up to her chest.
"Sir," Migal said. "What do you need?"
"Start cutting this up," the solider said, rolling shoulders and hips. "Sale will make up the loss of travel time and be a bonus to my hazard pay."
"Yes, sir," Migal said, "We'll need knives to cut up the zeugle."
"Here," the soldier said, pulling one out of air again. Migal took it, and for a moment Kisara wished… and she saw he had the same thought, but he simply nodded and turned to the carcass. Kisara minded Lev and Euto as the twins moved forward, clearly knowing what they were doing when it came to breaking the beast down to cuts and also expertly sneaking parts of it to their own packs right under the soldier's nose.
Lev was moaning again, muttering "It hurts…" and leaning back and forth into Kisara, unable to get comfortable. They weren't pulling hair, at least, and Kisara shifted back and forth to keep the child quiet. Euto was pressed into her leg.
The soldier seemed to finally finish stretching or whatever else he was doing, and looked. "You two," he said with a gesture, "Help break down the stray."
"I can't, sir," Kisara said, back straightening. Migal was immediately watching the conversation. "I'm keeping Lev quiet."
"Is that stupid brat still making noise?" the soldier said, moving toward them. He was so big, and seven year old Kisara was so small, and she couldn't help holding herself still. But she mustered her courage and kept talking. "They're waking up," she said, "and they're in a lot of pain."
The solider cursed. The helmet turned to Euto. "Go."
She jumped with a squeak and moved to the carcass.
"Let me see," the soldier said, and Kisara leaned back as a hand reached out, but there was ultimately nothing she could do. The soldier roughly turned Lev's head back and forth, the four year old moaning and scrunching their face up, a loose tear leaking out. "Stupid Embedded," the soldier said. "You let the wound get infected."
Kisara blinked. "What?"
"Stupid slaves, can't be trusted to do anything…" The soldier ripped off the bandages, Kisara getting a full view of the soured apple gel and streaked blood and some kind of… of… puss leaking out from the wound. "What a waste," the soldier said. "Perfectly good stock ruined. Now I have to put it out of its misery."
"What?" Kisara said, shocked. "You can't…!"
"I can and will, girl."
"Sir," Migal said quickly, wiping animal blood off his hands and stepping forward. "Sir, the solution seems simple: use a healing arte."
"And reward the runt for all the trouble they've caused? Show them if they make enough of a ruckus they get what they want? This is why you're all slaves you know, you're all lazy idiots who wouldn't do anything worthwhile if we weren't here to look out for you. And this is the thanks we get for giving you honest work. Honestly."
"Sir," Migal said, trying to save face, "It's like you said, it's a waste of perfectly good stock. Healing them won't cost anything, and there's no loss that way."
"There's no loss either way," the soldier said, coldly logical. "We have zeugle parts to compensate, and still give me a little extra."
"No," Kisara said, trying to think as fast as her brother, "Please, they can still work, they… they have all that astral energy, still! How are you going to harvest it if they're dead?"
"That's not my problem," the soldier said, and faster than Kisara could react he reached out and grabbed Lev's head, twisting it in Kisara's grip. She heard the snap, screamed and dropped Lev just as the soldier let go, the body falling to the dirt road. She put her hands to her mouth, instinct making her quiet as fast as possible.
"Finish harvesting the zeugle parts," the soldier said. "I'm going to bed."
That night, Kisara and Migal carried Lev off the path, into the woods. Migal chose the spot, and without tools, all they could do was start digging into the earth with their hands. Menencia soil was rich and pliable, but it was still a lot of work to push deep enough into the dirt to make it work. Without the zeugle knife they had to use sharp rocks to cut through roots, their hands were covered with insects and worms as the pair disrupted the tiny homes.
Kisara looked to her brother, his face lost in shadow. She couldn't cry yet, it wasn't safe to cry yet - noise could attract zeugles - or worse, the soldier. The tears occasionally leaked down her cheek, and she scrubbed at them viciously, determined to be quiet. Sniffling, she kept digging, even when her eyes were too blurry to see. Migal's eyes were always blurry, he needed lenses and they didn't have the gald to buy food let alone make Migal see properly. She wondered how he could even see in the night to dig the grave, but her brother didn't talk at all, she was unwilling to break the spell of silence.
Finally, they were deep enough that Kisara could stand upright and be at eye level with the ground. She shimmied out with her brother's help, and for a moment both of them just sat there in the warm air, breathing next to a pile of dirt and a body too small to be a body.
"Lev," Migal said, "You were a sensitive kid. You didn't like textures, or being tired, yelling set you off, and you needed things to be just so. Well, you also helped Euto keep rhythm on her march, and you knew when it was time to eat. You were a kid, and…" His voice warbled, and he had to stop, filthy hand coming up to cover his mouth.
"... and you were really light," Kisara said, voice watery. "You weighed nothing, and it was fun carrying you. Even when you pulled my hair."
There was a moment of silence, and together they rolled Lev into the hole, taking position behind the pile of dirt and shoving it over the body, filling the grave. The work was quiet except for the occasional grunt of effort, and it was dawn by the time they had finally finished the burial.
"Come on," Migal said, standing.
"... Yeah," Kisara said, joining her brother. "We don't want him to think we wandered off."
The rest of the journey was without incident, but for some reason Kisara felt an unbearable weight on her shoulders.
Author's Notes: And the twins are finally at it again.
Our mental health took an absolute nosedive in the last school year, to the point where we just came home and trolled youtube for hours on end. Then we finally got a game: Tales of Arise, and it was like we woke up again. We were talking at dinner, dissecting and analyzing the game, and just... we had a lot of fun with it.
And so we humbly offer this fic up to the universe, a collection of snippets from the cast before the game started. To set expectations it's worth remembering that no one in this game had a happy life before the game started. We are going to hit that button as hard as we can over the course of this. This is an angst fic in what we assume to be it's purest form. Hurt, no comfort.
This is by no means an exhaustive list of every idea we had, but these are the ones that were the most fully formed. So enjoy the trauma congo line, guys. If we did our jobs right you'll need tissues.
Next chapter: we've meet three of the six protagonists. Time to meet two more.
