((So, i've been absent again and I apollogise for that.
Net issues, discomfort while writing, etc, have made me absent just long enough that it made me feel anxious resuming this, but, if people'd like, I'll resume this, get back into the flow and work towards the eventual conclusion of the story.))
---
"Worse than usual," you echoed those words as you felt the already weak memories of what you had just been through fading, as if no more than a dream.
You had to admit that she likely had a point here, that your injuries never quite had a chance to fully heal before you took fresh ones on. At this point you were injured severly, sporting several slow healing gunshot wounds to your chest. At this point, you were dependant upon her for your well being, your safety.
At this point, you had to rely upon one whom's interest in your well being was questionable at best.
You didn't know what had placed those seeds of doubt, yet it all seemed so clear to you now.
You could feel the masked reluctance that she bore seeping from her like blood and puss did from your poorly treated wounds. You could feel the reluctance giving way to fear, to resentment, to the well masked inability she had to deal with the fact that something was inherently wrong with you at this point.
Wrong, from the perspective of one who was a walking abomination.
No, you couldn't let these thoughts, these feelings take root.
These were alien thoughts, ones that you couldn't permit to influence you, thoughts that came from somewhere deep inside you. Thoughts, likely born of paranoid anxiety and insecurity given the state in what you were.
"Do... Do we have the money to aquire fudge?" you asked as you moved to set your head against her shoulder, as you dug your heels in for a moment. Your reluctance to move another step was fast noted as she paused mid-step to give you a moment to breathe, as she took a moment to consider the question that you had posed.
"No, the money we'd have had for such would have been the bursar's domain and... I don't know, maybe there'll be a way for us to get in touch with the..."
The manner in what Anne trailed off, in what her facial features creased visibly even in the low light that reached you still told you that she wasn't certain how to answer this question. Worse still, she clearly wasn't entirely certain how she could assist in the matter. Still, the mention of getting in touch was one idea that you could play off, as there were fair odds that you could find means to communicate with someone in the chain of command, someone on the queen's staff.
Someone, who could handle the issue of funding for your needs with the promise that the credit you were granted would be repaid.
"We'll handle it once we're there," you responded tersely as your legs protested further attempts to move. "We've overcome greater problems, after all," you added, doing your best to smile as you felt yourself growing faint.
"You're really not looking good, do you want to sit down for a moment?" came her worried response, yet all you could manage was a smile as the world started to spin.
Darkness rushed up to embrace you as you lurched forwards, as the woman you used for support cradled you in her arms, as the last things on your mind were how vivid the scents you were picking up were.
There was the damp of the caverns, blood, soot and fire.
There was the scent of the oils that Anne's feathers were coated with.
There was the stink of tainted flesh.
You were not entirely certain how long you were out for, yet when your eyes opened once more you found yourself gazing skywards, your body rocked steadily by the lurching cart. Clouds passed overhead, clouds like wisps scattered in the skies, torn and cast to the wind that were coloured by the dying sun.
"I'm telling you, there's something wrong with him Joy," came Anne's voice, on the edges of your hearing as you struggled to gather your wits.
"As you have stated multiple times already."
"Listen to me you, I don't care if I have to repeat myself a hundred times to get this across. There's something wrong with him and I don't like it. He wasn't himself in that place, he did something that felt wrong, like he dredged a part of the world we've forgotten up and used it to destroy the things there," Anne hissed, her tone coloured by agitation.
"You called it magic. There is no magic," came Joy's flat response.
"Not anymore, no, but he somehow dragged it kicking and screaming from its grave and made it serve him. Magic's as real as fairy tales, people keep saying, yet look at me, look at you. Are we really fully possible to explain with science?"
There was a long moments silence as Joy no doubt digested this.
"Well?" came Anne's voice, her tone pointed as she pressed for a response.
"Yes. The origin of the taint has been explained as a creation of alchemy, that the-"
"You're wrong, Joy. There was something down there with Roman soldiers, something that had been there for countless centuries that was as tainted as you or I. The entire thing's a coverup and I don't like it."
"You complain too much." came another voice, this one masculine and deep.
"Yes, yes, complain more!" squealed another voice.
"No! Less! Less!" the deeper one bellowed as the pair of voices degraded into bickering that made picking out anything further impossible.
Wonderful, Bill and Bob were back.
Your left hand clenched down upon something hard as you shifted, something smooth that you fast realised you must've been holding onto the entire time. Something that you felt drawing your attention to it, something that the more you squeezed upon it, the less real you somehow felt.
The stone you'd picked up in the cavern, the stone marked with a symbol that glowed still in a soft blue light. The stone, that you could feel drawing your attention inward in a manner that you knew you should have resisted, yet a part of you demanded that you did so, a part of you told you to open your mind to it, to-
"Eurochkoles, you're awake?" came Anne's words, tinged by suprise as your attention was stolen from the rock, as the petty bickering from the two headed one ceased immediately. With all eyes suddenly upon you, you found yourself barely able to do more than twist to face them, to smile weakly at them before you shook your head.
It was as if you were trying to rid the inside of your head of cobwebs, as if the inside of your head was somehow full of cotton and your thoughts were somehow impeded by this. "Wh-" you started, only to pause as Anne leapt over the back of the cart, all traces of her prior concerns washed away as the mask she wore in your presence, the mask she wore for you was once more donned.
"We're heading to one of the nearest coastal towns that we recognised the name of, you wanted to get fudge for her majesty, Queen Victoria after all. Also, I can fly. You have no idea how wonderful it feels to have the wind on your face as you soar through the skies like a bird can, to be free of the world beneath and the rules that man imposes."
"I see," you responded as you pushed yourself onto one elbow, the rough wood beneath you reminding you that your now sleeveless shirt was ruined. "How far off are we from the town?" you asked, ignoring the mention of flight for the moment.
"Half an hour to an hour maybe, we'll be there-"
"And your wings are strong enough to sustain flight comfortably now?"
"Not comfortably, no, but I feel as if they will get strong enough to do so fast. You have no idea how excited it makes me to know soon, I may be able to-" she was beaming as she spoke, yet one hand was raised to silence her as you laughed weakly.
"My head is spinning, Anne, give me half an hour to gather my wits and meditate. Once I feel more myself, then I promise you can tell me all about it when I am able to take in just how special it is."
A brief nod and a pout was followed by a word that bore a near childish tone with how disappointed it sounded. "Promise?"
"I promise," you responded as you struggled to sit upright, ignoring the dirty looks that came your way from Bill and Bob as you did so.
You had a feeling that this stone you held was special, an aid, a conduit to your inner self. Eager as you had felt to use it when you had first came too, you were starting to feel apprehensive about the idea of utilising it.
Did you plan to mediate using it?
To call upon a prior incarnation of yourself for communion?
To simply sit there until you had gathered your wits?
Or was this agitation enough to motivate you to pursue another course of action?
Author
Topic: They told me I could be anything... (Read 78863 times)