[centre][h3]ZIMA the ZIMMER[/h3][/centre] [hr] [center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPihtBiimDs&list=PLiN-7mukU_REnHQWRGvTmLZbCX71w8U_F&index=8][i]How To Feel[/i][/url][/center] “Didn’t I tell you to go home?” Mish-Cheechel asked. He was standing above her shattered and frozen form, the Green Murder’s own body some feet away. The trees loomed all around and his coal-black eyes were hard. “Didn’t I tell you not to follow me?” “W-What?” Confusion rippled with Zima’s voice. “Mish? But you were…” What was going on? “I… I had to follow you. You are my friend and I promised I wouldn’t let you go alone.” “Yes. But I told you to stay where you were; I told you to go home. Friends listen. You didn’t, and now… look at you.” He gestured to her shattered form, sorrow and fury etched on his face. “Didn’t you pause to think before rushing in?” “I… I didn’t.” Her voice grew soft. “I saw you in danger… Gesturing for me… So I did and I died.” The manbjork bent low and leaned over, gazing into the fractured remains of her eyes, stroking what passed for a kit’s lips. “And if you had stayed away, like I said, like I insisted, like I [i]ordered[/i] you when I was lucid, would you have been there to see the gesturing of a madbjork?” His eyes shimmered and there was almost a single tear in one of his eyes, but he looked to the side and blinked it away. “You… you acted selfishly, Zim. If you had any regard for me you would have listened.” “I acted selfishly?” She asked him, voice growing with anger. “Don’t push your guilt onto me! Don’t blame me for what I did! I am not some [i]thing[/i] to be ordered around, Mish-Cheechel. It was my choice to follow after you and my choice to jump into that burning spear. I HAD TO! For- For BEAR! Or did you forget him when you tried to kill that stupid god?” When her tirade finished, Zima was appalled. Where did those words come from? The manbjork’s jaw hardened at her words and he scowled down at her, though the hurt could hardly be masked from his eyes. “Here is a simple truth: Bear was a wild creature. Without that saddle, he would have mauled us. Did I care for him? A bit. Did I care for him as much as I care for you? No. But that bear taught me something. It taught me that you can die. It taught me that you are not built for the warpath. And it taught me that I would offer you up in sacrifice for the sake of vengeance.” His face contorted with guilt and anger. “And I [i]told[/i] you to stay away. I [i]told[/i] you Zima. And here you are! Dead; shattered; broken! [i]You should have listened to me.[/i] Better yet, you should have [i]felt[/i] for me. But you were so holed up in your own head that you just couldn’t could you?” He rose swiftly and kicked a block of ice into the dark depths of the forest, fists clenched and shoulders trembling. “I… You… Sacrifice?” She stumbled over the words, wrapping his words around her mind. His words cut something deep inside of her that threatened to overwhelm her in the same sadness she felt, she still felt, for Bear’s death. Her voice filled with emotion. “I have felt… Every bit of your pain. Every brush with death, from the moment we met and fought over Zabitsyn.” Though she could not feel it, she knew somehow, she was crying. “Hidden behind that mask of hate and fire, behind those brooding eyes; it’s just pain and the fear of feeling nothing. I thought that perhaps you would learn to smile and laugh again with me at your side. You cared for me and for that I am thankful. Did I make mistakes along the way? Yes… And I’m sorry for making you feel this way over my decision. We were two souls who only thought in the moment. But please, do not believe for one moment that I never felt for you. I have and always will.” The manbjork did not turn, but his fists unclenched and shoulders relaxed. “So if you understood… if you felt for me, as you say… why did you not stay away?” He turned back to her. “Why did you help pull this monster growing in me from the womb? Why did you let me kill you?” “Mish… My mind at the time was not thinking straight. I was so sad, perhaps I still am, where nothing at all felt the same. Like a dark hungry void saps all the joy away. Your words… I did not hear them as I should have. So when I came upon you in this clearing, my mind went to but one thing- Protect. That was what pap- father made us Nisshi for, after all.” She took a deep breath. “I died… Mish… Because I love you. Because even when all seemed lost, I could at least try to keep you from harm. I realize now that I failed you. But this isn’t you… Not really.” She sighed. “The apparition said… only one. But if this is how he feels… I’m so sorry.” The manbjork bent down and started gathering up her shattered pieces. Slowly her face - now kit-like, now otterlike, now not so unlike Homura - took shape, then the rest of her. As he brought her back together, the ice melted back into one and before long the nisshi lay whole before him. Quietly, Mish-Cheechel looked at her. He did not smile, but there was sombre thoughtfulness there. At last, though, he sighed and placed a hand on Zima’s head and spoke. “You’re good, kit, you’re good.” And he faded; the forest faded; the Green Murder’s form faded. All faded but Zima. She blinked and when her eyes opened she was somewhere else entirely. There was a stony path with a faint white glow coming from somewhere down it. Lining the path were trees and above them were an uncountable number of stars in the dark. She gasped loudly and was met with a laugh. Startled, she looked towards the source and found herself looking up at a very tall being. Her skin was tan, darker in the night sky, while her long hair was auburn with a glint of fire. She had a kind face to her, so unlike anything Zima had seen before. “I was just like you, when I saw the heavens. It was so beautiful.” Her smile was warm and Zima felt at ease in her presence. “Is this… Another trial?” Zima squeaked out. The woman shook her head. “No, this is a place for rest after the trial is done. My name is Lansa and I was the first to come here. You are the second.” “Lansa?” Zima said aloud, “I am Zima… the Zimmer. Why are you so tall?” The woman chuckled. “Hello Zima, it is nice to meet you. As for your question, I am tall because the Spirit Father made us this way.” “The Spirit Father?” She asked, floating around Lansa and taking her in. She wore a funny thing, like a skin over her skin. Was it fur? “Yes, the Spirit Father. The Guiding Spirit? Lord of Winter?” “You mean papa?” Zima asked with sudden excitement as she zipped in front of her face. “Papa…? Are you… one of his daughters, Zima?” Lansa asked. “Yes! Pa- Father made me, a Nisshi, with a lot of others. He made me aware and I have been living ever since. Well, not anymore I suppose. I died.” “I died too.” Lansa confided. “How did you meet your end, Zima?” “I… tried to protect my friend. We both paid the price though. He said he would wait for me on the other side of the gate. Whenever and wherever it leads. How did you meet your end, Lansa?” The woman’s eyes grew sad. “Death came to me in the guise of jealousy. I’ll spare you the details but here I am.” “I’m sorry, Lansa.” Zima said with a pang of sadness. She knew what it felt like to die. There was no need to pry for answers. Still, she did need to know one thing. “Why don’t you move on to the next gate, Lansa?” The taller woman looked down the path and smirked. “The first trial was hard enough. I might stay here for a time, see if I meet any others. I had some regrets in life, I need to know if I might ever get them resolved. Just to see. Don’t let me stop you though. I’ll be alright. There are plenty of stars to look at.” A simple idea came to Zima’s mind. “I’ll stay with you for a while. [abbr=Y U LITTLE!]Mish can wait.[/abbr]” So she did. [hr] [center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYjME2xuMck&list=RDMM&index=25][i]The Trial of Tears[/i][/url][/center] The sounds of birds chirping and running water came first to her ears and as she opened her eyes she was welcomed to the sight of a glade. Flowers of purple, yellow and red dotted the ground, with a few bushes of berries. The buzzing of bees was what she noticed next, large and bulbous without a care in the world. Zima smiled at that. There was a pond with lily pads and cattails too, fed by a meandering brook that cut the glade in half. The smells here were fragrant and floral, of honey and fresh air. It was beautiful. Still, she looked past what was before her and found that she was surrounded by pine trees as tall as her eyes could see. They were so dense and packed she could see nothing beyond them except for the brook that lazily winded down and cut into the forest right next to the… Gate. She had almost forgotten the apparition’s words. There could be many or none. It seemed her trial was not yet over. She began to walk through the tickling grass, past the small pond, by the brook and flowers. A reflection in the still waters caught her attention and she looked with a gasp. Staring back was not who she expected to be staring back up at her. It was her… but different. She touched her pale, almost translucent skin upon her new face. She pinched her cheeks and felt them. All the while, icy blue eyes watched what was going on in a mix of awe and fear. Why did she look like.. or sort of like Lansa? Her hair, a translucent silver, was long and curly. Her arms were skinny, and she wore fur- no, clothes (as Lansa had called them). It was a silly thing that covered her small chest and ran down past her knees. Very lightweight, she lifted it up to see an undergarment of a simple white cloth before letting the cloth go. It was very airy, not at all tight like fur, she imagined at least. Well, odd as it was, she found herself admiring her new form with her small button nose and round eyes. She flashed a smile and saw pearly whites. She giggled. But this new form in no way impeded her journey towards the gate, so as fun as it was to stop and stare, she continued on. Or at least she started until… She felt a tug on her new clothes. She looked down behind her and gasped. It was a bjork kit. [i]The[/i] bjork kit. Zabitsyn son of Mish-Cheechel! He laughed, “Nisshi! Want to play a game?” She blinked. “Z-Zabitsyn?” “That’s me!” He proclaimed with a beaming smile. “Oh Zabitsyn!” Zima cried, falling to her knees and hugging the small kit. He returned the hug, burying his face into her chest. She coddled and wept as she held the kit. It had been so long and his life had ended so tragically. Yet he was here now and Zima found herself happy. She hadn’t felt happy since… Bear. But the question still nibbled at her mind. “I wanted so much to hug you and the others. But then you n-never came and I…” She cut herself off and wiped her tears away before, briefly pulling away, and rubbing her hands across his cheeks. “How are you here now? Where is this place?” She asked him. The bjork kit giggled. “I don’t know! But it’s nice! Just like when we played at the creek!” “Those were happy days, weren’t they?” She said with a lax smile. She looked around again, holding the kit tight to her. Her gaze fell upon the gate and her jumbled thoughts pointed her in that direction. But… “Why don’t we play a game Zima?” he asked in a small, excitable voice. Zima looked back down at him and smiled. “I would love nothing else.” She replied. What was one game before moving on? Zabitsyn squirmed his way out of her arms, and began to run back up towards the pond. “Bet you can’t catch me!” Zima smiled and then laughed, “Oh I bet I can!” So the two friends, once apart, played games in the sun of the glade. They chased each other in games of tag, they would see who could jump the farthest into the pond, who could hold their breath longest under the water, who could swim fastest and who could make the largest splash. All the while they laughed and Zima felt content and happy. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed the interactions with the kits. It was a simple time and the memories were only of mirth. The young kit was a master of figuring out games to play, he could always come up with a new one after he or Zima won the previous one. There was never a dull moment and on the rare occasion they took a break, Zima would hug and hold him. They would talk of those days past and what it meant to them but… That was about it. There was never any talk of the future or the present besides, ‘do you want to play another game?’ and Zima began to wonder when the trial would start. Surely it would be soon? But the gate… her eyes were beginning to wander to it more and more. It was still open. “Zabitsyn?” She asked once. “I think I need to go soon. The gate…” “No!” The bjork kit shuffled onto his tiny feet and looked up at her. “Please don’t go, Zima.” He grabbed her hand with his two small paws and a pang of guilt wrenched at her heart. “Please stay for another game.” Tears welled in his eyes. How could she refuse? Zima was beginning to lose track of time. How long had she been here? How many games had they played? How many times had they talked of the past? It all blurred into one, like she was in a never ending loop of fun and happiness. She loved it of course, but she had a nagging feeling. Her purpose was to complete the trials and meet Mish-Cheechel on the other side, right? Then why was it so hard to do that? She knew she had to go but each and every time she said goodbye, Zabitsyn would disagree. He would become sad and distraught at the sight of his friend wanting to leave. It broke her heart each and every time, how he guilted her into staying for just one more game. As time passed and the cycle continued, Zima began to realize- or perhaps she always knew- what the trial actually was. She had to leave. No matter what. Despite the pain it would bring. Upon their final game, seeing who could collect the most blades of grass, Zima let Zabitsyn win. As the small kit whooped and hollered, Zima slowed down and looked to the gate, dropping all her blades. It was time. She walked before him and knelt down, wrapping him in a hug. “Zabitsyn. I… Had a lot of fun here.” She smiled, “But I have to go now. Your father is waiting for me, I can’t keep him waiting forever. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you died. I wish I could have protected you.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead and pulled away. The bjork kit began to cry. “P-Please don’t go Zima! Please! I’ll be all alone again! Just one more game, please? One more?” He cried, pulling on her hand. Zima looked past him and to the gate. Her own face felt wet and she took a deep, ragged breath. She wiped his tears away and with a smile, nodded. “Let’s race to the trees, alright? First one there wins.” She pointed him in the opposite direction of the gate. Zabitsyn grew excited, his tears turning to laughs and giggles. “Okay! I’ll win for sure!” “I bet you will.” Zima lied, lining herself up with him. “Are you ready? Okay… Go!” Zima watched Zabitsyn begin to run. She took off in the opposite direction, towards the gate. With tears streaming down her face, she began to cry. “Hey! Wait!” Zabitsyn called after her. “W-Wait! Zima! Don’t leave! Don’t leave me like my papa did!” He screamed after her. She felt her heart break with each step until she was at the gate. She didn’t look back, despite the pain, as she hurtled through. [hr] [center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ki4dbpAFqrY&list=PLiN-7mukU_REnHQWRGvTmLZbCX71w8U_F&index=12][i]A Test of Courage[/i][/url][/center] Zima found herself running through dark trees, the bright moon providing the only light that filtered through the treetops. She slowed down, trying to catch her breath. This place had a completely different feel than the trial with Zabitsyn. It was dark, almost suffocating and so quiet. There was not a sound to be heard, just her own breath and the beating of her soul. Every direction she looked was the same. Or it at least looked that way. There were trees, bushes and the earthy smell of decay. But no landmarks to identify, no direction that felt like the right way. She was just alone in the woods. It was dark but at least it wasn’t cold. What was this trial? What was she meant to do? Zima grit her teeth and steeled herself. Then she took a step ahead, not knowing where it would take her. But at least it was a direction. Except, she fell. For her direction had been a cliff. An eerily similar cliff, one etched into her memory, one that she could not escape from. She only began to scream when the rock below came to meet her. She expected doom but her eyes had been closed and no pain wiped her away. So she opened them and that was when the nightmare began. She was back in her old form, wispy and shaking as she looked up at the demon bearing down upon her. Its flesh oozed black and it laughed - a terrible noise to her ears. She panicked, fell backwards and began to back up as it approached with raking claws and broken bones. “N-no no no n-no!” She stammered, eyes wide with horror. It crawled towards her, crushing the bones and bodies of all the dead bjork kits from the massacre. The ground became a pool of wet, sickly blood, iron-tinged and smelling of death. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came. She froze when her form touched wet, matted fur. She shook with so much terror in her heart but looked anyway. It was Mish-Cheechel. His throat had been cut and he looked at her with cold, lifeless eyes. His spear was in his hand. “M-M-Mish!” She cried out. “Wake up!” She pushed him as the demon’s laugh came closer and closer. “S-Save me! Please!” She wailed but it was pointless. Mish was dead and the terror was almost upon her. She turned back to the creature and froze. It was Bear. For a split second at least. Before his flesh and fur were ripped apart as the demon took root. His bones broke with sickening cracks, his head twisted and shook with such violence that she thought it might explode. His glassy dark orbs became fueled by a green flame of malice. Horns sprouted from his head in a vicious mockery of a crown. Limbs elongated and claws grew long and sharp. His mouth opened far too wide, wide enough to devour her whole as it laughed. Zima grabbed her head and closed her eyes as tight as she could. This was too much for her. It was too much. She could not move, she was frozen with fear. Bear was her friend. She could not harm Bear. Even as the raking and the clawing got closer with each bloody stomp. Mish had saved her before, Mish would do so again. Right? He had to! She couldn’t do this by herself, she couldn’t- she couldn’t! Bear had died because of her. Because she was too weak. She hadn’t been able to save Zabitsyn or the other kits. She hadn’t been able to save any of the bjorks. She failed. She was a failure and she was going to die all over again. It was only right. Except, deep down inside her, something screamed to stand. To fight back. It was drowning in a sea of dread but it was there. She just had to reach out for it, pull it to shore. Save herself from a certain defeat. Could she do it? Was death not her punishment for failing them all so horrifically? The feeling grew. She opened her eyes, and everything seemed to slow down. The demon with its corruption was nearly upon her. Bear was gone, she told herself. So was Mish. No one was coming to save her. No one… but herself. And even as she thought it, a feminine voice echoed all around and in the depths of her mind. It whispered softly to her, with such calm as brought serenity wheresoever the voice radiated. “[abbr=Attributed to Buddha]No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the way.[/abbr]” It welled up inside her now, banishing the dread just enough for her to take a stand. So she did with a ferocious, primal shout. Zima grabbed Mish-Cheechel’s spear, stood up in swift - serene! - motion, and drove it deep into the demon’s skull. A white light erupted forth and suddenly Zima found herself standing before a great swirling gate that seemed to gyre endlessly and endlessly motion. It was over… So she walked through. [hr] [list][*][hider=Summary] -We follow Zima through her trials, first going through Chailiss’ which covers the virtue of empathy. In it she is the shattered spear and Mish is there, they are back at the clearing and the Green Murder is dead. Mish is upset at her for not listening and this devolves into a fight before Zima realizes she was not understanding of his feelings and passes the trial. -Before she reaches the next gate the scene shifts to a winding road underneath a beautiful starry sky. She meets a familiar face there and stays for a time. - Next we find her in Zenia’s trial, where she stays with Mish’s son in endless games and happiness for literal centuries. (Or as it feels like, as she is unable to move on). She notices that her form has changed to reflect the person she met in the previous trial with noticeable differences. (She looks like a spirit ghost girl). Eventually Zima grows weary of her time playing games and realizes she needs to move on. After a very painful trick, she leaves a crying bjork kit behind. -Her final trial is a test of Courage, Rosa’s gate. She faces the Wehniek once more in twisting horror. She is all alone, Mish is dead and Bear is the Wehniek. Zima almost fails this trial but is encouraged by a woman’s voice after figuring out she has to save herself. She passes her final trial and steps through the last gate.[/hider] [*][hider=Spirit] Zima = 3 +1 for post +1 for main character +1 for collab +1 for medium length +1 for extra length = 8 Spirit [/hider][/list]