[PP-NK-F5] In the Wake of An Apocalypse

[Teion 0]

((Source post))

Teion pulled herself out of bed, rubbing at her eyes as her foggy mind began to wake itself up. Cardinal had kept her appearance in its usual state--a single braid pulled back across the right side of her head, the rest of her violet hair resting on her shoulders and spilling down her back. She was used to sleeping in her equipment by now--the loose tan shirt underneath a dark brown leather bodice, skintight brown leggings and several decorative straps connecting the protective leather sections. The woman let out a yawn, feeling apathetic for another day. Perhaps she would go out material hunting for some new crafting ideas.

Before she had mulled over the idea or decided on a task for the day, something on the counter of her shop caught her eye. "Hm?" She mumbled, still shaking off the feeling of sleep that clung to her. Walking over to the counter, her brows narrowed as she looked over the items. A crystal. Two gemstones that looked strangely familiar. And a black-and-gold straightsword that caused her heart to stop for a split second. She reached out a hand, hesitating a moment before grabbing the hilt and inspecting the item. 'Sh-Shi's Talon...?' She read the name of Beatbox's sword. She placed the weapon back on the counter, hastily grabbing the gemstones to realize that they were Rhaegal's Emerald and Zylara's Quartz--the first two rewards of the Dragon Hunter Anthology quest chain. The very quest that they took together when they first met. 'What's going on? When did he leave these here? And why...' She had far too many questions without any answers. Finally, her cobalt eyes fell upon the recording crystal. She placed the gems back down and hesitantly reached for it, activating the item once it was in her hands.

@Killia

[Killia 0]

The fifth floor was about the furthest I felt safe to go. Fortaleza provided little sanctuary from the scalding sun and the chitin on the local mobs felt like punching beer kegs. As I walked through the dusty dirt roads of the main settlement, I nursed my throbbing hands. The red stain from where a scorpion's stinger still marked my exposed chest. I guess that was the trade off. Less clothes to get caught on things and make you stuffy, but more raw skin to get poked, cut, and bludgeoned. A bead of sweat rolled from my brow and shattered into digital glitter in the street. I covered my eyes to get a fair look at the artificial sun broadcasting on the ceiling. Man, screw the guy that designed this floor.

My immediate next thought was some place to duck away from the bastard in the sky intent on burning me like a kid with a magnifying lens. A glint from a shop window caught my attention. From first impressions, it looked like a blacksmith's foundry. Chances are, it'd be far more sweltering in there than out here, but at least the place had a roof. Compared to the paper thin cloth and stick stalls in the streets, my options were limited. Here's to crossing my fingers for that programmed interior climate.

As the door opened, a bell jingled to announce my entrance. And to greet me, the lovely sight of flowing lavender spilling over fair shoulders. Her expression, however, looked of morose disbelief. By her hands, a blade unfitting of her and two large crystals sat upon the counter. I may as well have been invisible. Whatever I walked into, her mind was far elsewhere. How do I know? I've been there. I know that face. I know it all too well.

I'm not the talkative type and lord knows I've let my fists do more arguing than my lips, but my burden of guilt wrapped its fingers around my chest. I felt a sinking depth, like drowning. And under the darkening depth of that horrible place, she sank quietly within arm's reach. I swam to her by way of walking like a normal human being, but softly.

"Miss," I kept my words like a tree's whisper. "Are you open?"

Distractions. We needed to surface. Just like water, the longer you remain under, the better chance you have to drown. Whatever these objects signified, they just opened a wound. A deep wound. And the blade needed to be removed.

Edited July 21, 2017 by Killia

[Teion 0]

Beatbox's voice had faded away, the recording crystal in her hand deactivating when its message had come to an end. How much time had passed between then and when the door of her shop creaked open? Seconds? Had she been standing there for minutes, trying to comprehend the farewell message that had been left to her? It was a voice that broke the spell, causing Teion's head to snap towards the source. Her eyes appeared to be searching for a fleeting moment, only to realize that the person she was looking for was not there. Instead, a stranger stood in the middle of her shop.

What had he asked? Was she open? Teion had nearly forgotten what kind of establishment the blue-haired man had wandered into. Her grip tightened around the crystal still resting in her palm just like the grip that she felt around her heart. Torn between the aftermath of Beatbox's goodbye and the player pulling lightly at her attention, the woman didn't know how to react. "N...no." She managed, her voice nearly failing her at first. Her mind felt scattered. Should she just ask him to leave? What would happen if he did? She couldn't help him; with her depleted materials, she couldn't craft anything for this person even if her mind was in the right place to do so. What was the point in him staying?

[Killia 0]

Shock. Pain. That doe eyed expression of disbelief. This woman sat alone in an ocean of thoughts, questions, and the answers were no where on the horizion. I tried to use my voice as a lighthouse - something to give her a place to go. She wouldn't find what she wanted out there. I never did. I still don't have them.

"Oh," I replied, voice fading in subtle disappointment. "I just saw your shop and wondered if I could ask for a custom weapon."

Not really. I didn't care for weapons in this game. I couldn't trust a weapon, much like I couldn't trust people. Just these hands and even they let me down. But, I still felt like I needed to do something. People always want to be alone after something traumatic. I did. I didn't know what was going through her mind, but I knew that look. Despite that hollow pit of isolation, the fear, and the separation, being alone was the worst thing I could have done back then. My family, myself, and my guilt paid the price. She too would pay her own price, but much like the merchants here, perhaps I could lessen the cost.

"Did you make this sword?" I continued. I let my hands motion toward it, but slowly.

Swim. Do something. Don't tread water. You need to go somewhere. It's called moving on. We have to do it. The other option... please don't pick that option...

Edited July 25, 2017 by Killia

[Teion 0]

Teion felt herself at a fork in the road, each path calling out to her and vying for her attention. For a moment she began to wonder what was real--were the items in front of her genuine? Was the man standing in her shop just a figment of her imagination? Was she actually still laying in bed, fast asleep and unable to wake from whatever kind of bad dream this was?

Despite the unlikely possibilities that came to her one after another, his words still reached her ears. Teion felt her cobalt eyes fall back to the straightsword sitting on the counter in front of her. She hesitated before getting out another answer. "No... It's not mine." She stated in a quiet, solemn voice. It was as if she was denying the item, unwilling to accept it as being left in her care. It didn't belong to her. Its owner was out there somewhere, and he needed to come back for it.

That was when Teion's vision began to blur. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as reality finally began to cement itself into every crevice it could sink in to. A hard lump formed in her throat, stealing away her ability to speak had she wanted to continue. The black and gold sword stared dauntingly back at her as if silently arguing with her earlier claim.