Title Here: Multi-fandom Writings

[minuseven]

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The raccoon man and three of his thugs corner her after she leaves the dungeon. They surround her, walking next to her, boxing her in. They close in, their bellies to her shoulders. She seethes. She hates them. She hates herself for not seeing them.

She's still wearing her blue mage facet. She's been using it, because she can use both her robes and her weapon more effectively. Surreptitiously, from beneath her hood, she checks her assailants. The results make her grit her teeth. Estimating their strength from how tough they are, it's clear she has no chances.

She's stronger than before, but she's not that strong yet.

Liliruca Arde
[Wind]
Strength 316 :: Stamina 321 :: Agility 154 :: Magic 555
[Thief 8](0): Find Passages
[Knight 10](0)
[Black Mage 8](0): Fire, Blizzard, Thunder
[White Mage 4](0): Cure
[Monk 3](0): Kick
[Blue Mage 9](0): Check​

One of them, she could take. Maybe. All four, no, never. Scum like them like to gather in packs. That's how they feel confident when just one higher leveled adventurer could break their teeth in.

Canoe puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her, shoves really, into an alley. "Lili. It's been a while. We haven't seen you around." He pats her head with too much force. "We were getting' so worried."

"Where's your pack?" One of the others asks.

That's what they want. Her money and things. She opens her mouth, closes it. Why is it so hard suddenly? "I- Li- … Lili got robbed."

"Ahahah, really?" They laugh. "You got robbed?" The thief got made by another of her kind.

"I don't believe it. Are you lying to me Lili? To your own familia?" Canoe isn't nearly as amused. His hands go for her belt, riffle around her neck and under her robes. She tenses, but all he wants is her money.

They have no luck. She is telling the truth. She did lose all of her important possessions. Her crossbow, her special pack, her potions, and especially the key to her hidden deposit box. She was left with only the things that didn't have any true value. They get her pouch, with enough money for the next couple of days, and a potion she didn't spend yet.

"Looks like she really only has this."

She's been so focused on growing stronger and exploring her skills that she hasn't been making more than the money she needs for the immediate future. And because she knows she's a less tempting target like that.

"Tch." One of them scoffs. "Just this? A real good for nothing supporter."

"Now, now." Canoe says, sickly-sweet, and that's scarier than anything he's done until now. "It's hard to be a supporter without even a pack. How about I help you out and get you one?"

It's a trap. A favor, a loan. But Lili can't refuse it. She can't refuse Canoe. If she did- "N-no." What is she doing?

"No?"

The feverish fire that took a hold of her heart is raging, trembling. She can't stop now. "No, Mister Canoe. Lili can buy a pack, she just needs a little more time to gather money and-" -slap-

A slap throws her head back. "Huh? Are you refusing my generosity?" His hand is raised.

She can't say yes. "Lili really can do this-" -crunch-

The next punch is harder, throwing her head painfully against the wall behind her. Canoe is spitting, shoving her, talking about how she can't make it without the familia. It's the usual. But the hit… didn't hurt nearly as much as usual. The girl watches them behind shadowed bangs, thinking that, if she used her new magic, maybe she could kill them.

Her incantations are so fast. After they turn around, she only needs a second or two. And then they'd burn to death.

But she wouldn't get away with it.

"And you never know what could happen in the dungeon." Canoe throws as a parting quip.

No, you never know.

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Lili, after using Check on 'em punks: ...but what if murder?
Whoooo, the new forum view is weird. I need to mess with the settings.

 

[minuseven]

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More power, that's what she needs. Is this what other adventurers feel, the ones who have talent? Well, now she's also among them and discovering that even talent plateaus. The difficulty of growing is exponential.

After getting her skills to a certain point, it becomes harder and harder to grow them. On top of that, goblins and kobolds on the second floor are worth only as much as the first's. She believes that further down monsters will grant her more excelia, but she has been hesitant to delve deeper. She's been to lower floors many times before, but always with the protection of a party and the guarantee of decent equipment.

Two of her skills are lagging behind the others. Aside from that, she's been taking most crystals instead of spending them on getting stronger. She's been conservative until now. But nobody gets strong by being careful and conservative. Her situation won't change if she keeps being careful and conservative. Every fiber of her rebels against taking risks, but in the end, it isn't much different than stepping into the dungeon alone for the first time, or hiding monster stones from her employers for the first time.

She descends to the third floor, the fourth. With trepidation, the fifth.

Here, things change, the dungeon shifting, and her profits as well. She sinks her blade into the back of a kobold, striking precisely at its crystal and taking the power immediately for herself. The results are different, greater. Twice as much as she would get in the upper floors.

She adjusts her plans accordingly. Now knowing how to keep growing, she returns above. She needs money for the day, before she invests tomorrow. The rest will go towards making herself strong enough to kill that bastard.

Barehanded, she tears into monsters, growing. It's so much easier as a monk, but it's the white magic she needs. It's much later than usual when she returns to the surface, and she hides in the shadow of the tower until she is sure that Canoe isn't waiting for her.

They could be waiting for her here, or at the guild, or wherever they think she is sleeping. There are a limited number of places she used to frequent. But not today. Even they have to work for a living. At least, they have others to bully and extort. Cynically, she knows they won't appear for a while, waiting for her to gather some money. But it still keeps her on her toes, scared of every shadow.

How bad is it that she's more afraid of them than the monsters? She really hates this world.

Liliruca Arde
[Wind]
Strength 420 :: Stamina 425 :: Agility 159 :: Magic 580
[Thief 8](0): Find Passages
[Knight 10](0)
[Black Mage 8](0): Fire, Blizzard, Thunder
[White Mage 5](0): Cure, Libra
[Monk 7](0): Kick, Focus
[Blue Mage 9](5): Check

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uhm. that's my buffer gone. i've really been struggling to write recently.

 

[minuseven]

When I woke up, I was riding in a carriage
Ћьԙ чұнћхинлԙнћ чұхчь рұчҩԙд ьхрѧьљї. Нхьидх ҩԙҁћ ьԙр ԙїԙѧ чљұѧԙд.

I'd just had a dream…
Ѧхид ѧьԙ ђуѧћ дрԙхлԙд х нигьћлхрԙ.

I dreamed it was
Дрԙхлԙд ұф ћьԙ дхї ћьхћ ѧьԙ ъхѧ ћхҩԙн.

In the dream, the and his retainers found me
Дрԙхлԙд ұф ћьԙ дхї ћьхћ ћьԙ Дұчћұр ћұұҩ ьԙр.

"Oh Archon, we've finally found you. The can't wait to you"
Хљхѧ, ћьԙ ѧхгԙѧ ҁрхїԙд фұр х нԙъ гұд. Ьԙ ԙхгԙрљї ћұұҩ ћьԙ ұҁҁұрћунићї ћьхћ ћьԙ ѧхгԙѧ ұффԙрԙд.

The began, and everyone smiled as they gathered around me
Рԙхљизинг ћьԙ Љићћљԙ Љұрд ъхѧ хћ ћьԙир лԙрчї, хрұунд ьԙр ћьԙї љұұлԙд. Ћьԙї ѧлиљԙд.

Finally, I got back on the , and
Ин ћьԙ ԙнд, Нхьидх ъхѧ љұчҩԙд ин бї ћьԙ бљхѧҁьԙлұуѧ. Нԙәԙр, нұ ұнԙ рԙхчьԙд ұућ ћұ Нхьидх.​

It couldn't be said that the Knave loved the homeland. The natural beauty of its landscapes, its hidden wildlife and its night sky were soothing. She even held a certain fondness for its people; hardy, loyal, of a temperament not dissimilar to hers. But in her cold heart there was no love for Snezhnaya, especially on such an overcast night.

Certainly not while traversing the coldest corridors of Zapolyarny Palace, so devoid of anything resembling emotion that even her Majesty's frigid abode was warmer. Had she had any other option, she would not be in the Doctor's domain, but minor discomfort was not enough reason to bother the Marionette for her facilities. The bottled flames had been extracted successfully, leaving no reason to linger in this place.

Her footsteps were loud on the marble and mosaic floor, but quickly smothered by the very air, echoless on the grand corridors this side of the palace. It wasn't worth thinking why these walls were more soundproof than others. Despite that, trained ears caught an uneven rhythm, an odd sound between dreary walls. She raised one hand, briefly, but did not stop, shifting only slightly the way her heels hit the ground.

The hurried pitter patter slap of barefoot feet, the huff huff puff of panicked prey.

At the turning of a corner, a small shape barreled into the Knave's knees. Despite their differing momentum, the smaller, lighter one of them was sent sprawling backwards with a cry. Utterly unfazed, the Knave considered her unfortunate assailant. Strewn on the floor like a discarded doll, a child shook. She noted her peculiar appearance, long, pointed ears and waist-length hair of a shade just a tone off Arlecchino's own; and her clothing, if it could be called such. A plain white shift, two rectangles of cloth tied together, stained by darker residues, ash, soot or grease.

She knew where she had escaped from before the child's eyes opened, terrified, horrified, looking up past the great white regalia with its black collar and numerous insignias. Starry green met black pits criss-crossed in blood red, glowing balefully down at her.

The Knave leaned forward and the child leaned back, shaking like a bird. Her fear did not dissipate as Arlecchino knelt down, reducing the difference between their heights. She cowered even more as a black clawed hand, adorned in silver jewelry and red talons, emerged from the folds of that coat and reached for her. Those fingers brushed her cheek and the round line of her jaws, briefly, gently, and painfully.

The child flinched away with a pained gasp, hands flying to her face to pat down the burning licks of flame that had begun to spread from that single point of contact.

"Mmm." The Knave finally made a sound, a deep, thoughtful hum. She had remained completely silent until this moment, only the slightest rustle of cloth betraying her physical presence in the hall. Her shadowed gaze dissected the child's countenance. Whereas before a small spark of defiance had trembled with fear and tiredness; a new primal, atavistic despair now shone in those eyes.

The Knave pulled back her hand, extending it sideways, curling her fingers in some obscure pattern. At her signal, the form of an agent stepped out from the shadows they had concealed themselves with a few moments prior.

The child on the ground jumped out of her skin. Searching the dark corners of the hall, she discovered another fatuus idling behind her, and realized she was and had always been surrounded. Frustrated tears shone in her eyes as she curled in more on herself, ready to run while knowing there was no gap in their encirclement. Motion from the threat in front of her, closest and most dangerous of all, had her flinch. She made herself as small as she could, drawing her arms in front of her face and closing her eyes instinctively.

That hand returned, bypassing her meager protection without effort and grasping once more the edge of her face. The burning did not. The worn touch of scuffed leather yielded against her skin, holding her jaw without force. The little girl dared to open her eyes, slowly, following the grey patterns on a white sleeve to the black and red, ill-fitting glove covering the skin that had harmed her.

"Come with me." Said the Knave when their eyes met again. Her fingers receded, hanging in the air between them. It was not an order, or a question. It was a statement, open like the hand offered to her.

The child on the ground stared into Arlecchino's eyes. There was still fear in her, and a rising hope, tempered by a distrustful frown and the heavy caution holding her limbs ready to run. A shrewdness not found in innocent children's eyes sharpened the gaze searching Arlecchino's cursed orbs.

There was nothing to be found. The dead, black pits of her irises did not even reflect her form, her existence rejected by the image of judgment. An omen if there ever was one.

"Or would you rather stay here?" The Knave's voice broke through the dread her eyes invoked.

The child closed her own eyes, taking a shaky breath. No, she did not want to remain in this horrible place. She took that hand, placing a bet on this unknown, letting herself be pulled to her feet.

The same cold eyes that had frozen her in place appraised her bare limbs and tenuous stance, something approaching disdain in their glow. Somewhat mystified, the child observed as the Harbinger, still kneeling, released the clasps holding shut her greatcoat. A tiny gasp escaped her lips as the Knave took hold of her by her armpits and lifted her body as if she were a simple leaf. Without thought, her hands grasped the Knave's suit as she was pressed against her body, held in one arm at the woman's side. The great coat covered her in darkness, blocking out the outside world, and the invisible weight that emanated from the flesh of the Harbinger settled like a heavy blanket over her.

"Be careful not to touch my skin." The Knave warned before she started walking.

She did not hurry her pace, or slow herself. She paid no attention to the death grip the child had on her clothing, nor even to her presence, bundled close to her shoulder. The agent that had provided her with his gloves followed her silently three steps back, more of a secretary and errand boy than his deadly skills would suggest. Her operative had already departed. She allowed herself one single exhalation, carrying into the wind feelings that had no place in the present.

The Knave left the frigid, desolate hallways. Beneath her wing, freezing at the sound of every footstep and word, expecting to be discovered or revealed at every moment, Nahida hoped she had made the right choice. The black fur of the Harbinger's collar tickled her scalp and ears, and the near scorching warmth of her body felt like being too close to a devastating wildfire. Nahida was so tired and so sick that all the things she was tracking, that she needed to be aware of, muddled into an homogeneous, incomprehensible mass. In the darkness every so often invaded by the northern wind, the fire was almost a comfort, like a bare fireplace. Children just needed to be careful not to get too close to the flames.

Nobody stopped them or dared to approach them, gazes finding reasons to avoid the Knave, and Arlecchino left Zapolyarny Palace as she always did. Without looking back, heading to the House of the Hearth.

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Title sort of taken from Dark Souls II with the Fire Keeper's quote: "I am a Fire Keeper. I tend to the flame, and tend to thee. The Lords have left their thrones, and must be deliver'd to them. To this end, I am at thy side." Which fits a bit with this situation.

 

[NooneImportant]

Forcibly Nahidadopted