[Center][h1]Afflicting Circumstances[/h1][/center]

[hr]

Zima fell upon her hands and knees into the pond's sandy beach. It sent ripples across its glassy surface, breaking the tension. It was an action that would have killed Fear's own body, had she been in control of it. Her body was, by all accounts, complex yet simple. No mere mortal would have survived having their head caved in and blinded by their own stupidity. But Fear had, because she wasn't just some mere mortal. She was born of clay and stone, her inner fire and water kept her alive and any more spillage would have sent her water out. It would have been a laughable way to die.

As the northern sky lay ablaze with lingering light that turned night to day, Zima shook her head.

Fear was too valuable, at least for now. A bargaining chip perhaps? But more or less a useful, gullible, tool. She already had plans for her, whether Fear was willing or not. But first things first, she would do her small act of kindness for what Fear did to free her and that would be finding her a new body. Or fixing this one. But as Zima looked into stilling water, her reflection made one thing abundantly clear- Fear was not the smartest of her sister’s. 

Zima had done what she could, filled the cracks and splinters with her own presence. Crimson smoke poured out those wounds. But more nefarious was how she had stopped the trauma to her head from spreading. It was not Fear’s own eyes that looked back up at them, for she had quite literally smashed them to pieces, but Zima’s. She had filled the gap in Fear’s head with her own, molding it to fit in a vague shape that could have passed for Fear, if it was more tangible and solid. She had even given her some hair back, now streaked with black. It was the only practical decision she had to make, otherwise her vessel would have died. 

She pawed at her chest, stone swirling with crimson. Zima grimaced. There was one spot that hadn't been cracked when Fear hit the wall, much to her annoyance. It was where Fear holed herself up from Zima's corrupting influence. Her heart, with a little bit of flame to keep it going. Her presence was weak everywhere else, almost nonexistent but it was there and Zima could not allow it to spread. She needed to break her heart once and for all. 

That was the true goal. Bend Fear to her own will and turn her against her sisters. 

For now, she would etch away at it. They had all the time in the world after all, for without Zima, Fear would be dead in her exile. All Zima needed to do was search for solutions in this strange new world she found herself in. She had flown far enough away that Keltra was a distant memory or it would be if they didn't come and try to find them with that boat. Her anger boiled just thinking of all those gifts her father gave them. What had she ever gotten? 

Abandonment.

Zima punched the water, sending droplets flying. These girls really were coddled. Innocent, doe eyed fawns. Well, even the innocent could fall and they were well on their way. She could break them all by breaking one. That would show them for overstepping their bounds.

She still didn't understand why Fear had gone through all the trouble to break her out. And who even were those others? They had a strangely familiar presence yet something told her there was no way Fear was working with them. Was it all a coincidence?

Zima let out a frustrated sigh. She stood up and gathered her surroundings. This red foliage was beginning to get on her nerves. There was little iteration to it and she had not the strength yet to do anything about it. She unfurled her wings and began to flap them. It was time to keep heading away.

“Still here?” a crackling whistle of a voice abruptly sounded from the treeline behind her. With the corner of an eye, she saw smoke drifting out from among crimson trunks. “The whole land will no doubt be ablaze in no time now. You should keep going until you no longer see red.” The voice hesitated before continuing - or was it another, distinct but identical, following on its heels? “How precious were you to them to stir them so?”

Zima used her wings to turn with a few flaps. She held her broken head high, eyes fixed upon the trees and smoke. She tilted her head ever so slightly, lips turning thin. “Precious-” She began to speak, pausing as the sound of Fear’s voice rang out. “Enough.” she finished. Where once Fear’s voice had been weak and diminutive, now it sounded stronger, more defined but cold and withdrawn. Zima hated it all the same but it would do for now. “And who might you be, hiding in the shadows?” she asked. 

“The shadows,” the voice flatly repeated, as though the words were in themselves answer enough. Three red eyes met her look from within the caliginous swirl. “We are what remains when all is stripped from life, down to itself. As are you. As is she, now.” The cloud drifted closer now, and it was three shades, even as those she had seen at Keltra. One of them raised a coiling strand of vapour towards her. “We are Eschatli. Welcome among the rejected, sister.”

Zima stood firm, holding out a hand and allowing the Eschatli's smoke to coil around her pointer finger. So they weren't all alone after all. Wasn't that great, Fear? She drove the thought into her host's sleeping conscious, followed by an image of the Shades before her. "So alike, yet different all the same. Curious..." Zima said to herself. "It was you who came to free me, along with this foolish thing." With her other hand she waved over her vessel. "Why? Do you feel akin to me? We rejected few."

“More than that,” the wraith who had spoken undulated, “One thing was left to you that was denied us.”

“Freedom,” another added, “You don't have to carry the weight of an Eye ever upon you. The favoured playthings of the gods are always bare for you to mar, at your whim and not that of brooding fate.”

“You can do so much more than us,” the third finished, “It were a shame to let you, too, languish in your master’s chains.”

"Ahh," Zima clasped her hands together, "You are enslaved. Such a pity indeed that we few are used so. But you have my thanks, or what's left of it, for helping free me. In fact, I would even go so far to say that I am in your debt. Or we, in this case. If I could break your chains, I would, but some bonds run deep." She next sighed. "Where are my manners? After all you have told me your name… names?" She shrugged it off and gave a slight bow, "I am Zima, this vessel is known as Fear. Soon to change."

“It is a fine enough name, for all her clay could be worth,” one cloud arched overhead like a stretching, drooping slug and glanced down at what remained of the champion’s head, “Pity her, Zima, for she has known our thraldom without our unity, and like us she has but passed from one hand to another.”

“But as long as you have enough, so will she,” another rolled nonchalantly, “Where shall you now, extinguished flame?”

"Do not worry, I feel nothing but pity for this one. She wishes to change me but I think by the end, it will be quite the opposite." Zima mused. "As for now, I shall head as far away from Keltra as I can. I need to fix this body and secure her… Freedom. Many will come to look for me, I shall have to find a good place to hide for a time, I think. What will become of you three?"

“So long as we are Three of Seven, we'll never want for something to waste our time,” swayed the last of them, “Doom knows no rest, so neither must we. You, however…"

She coiled about the revenant, and with the others she spun into a circling ring.

"You should not waste what you have now. What can any do to you that you haven't suffered already? Roam free, defile, despoil. Our spark will be a little warmer just for it."

Zima took them all in, wings folding behind her back. She placed one hand to Fear’s heart. "I will gladly do this for you, sisters. Wherever we go, suffering follows."

"Such is the way of things." The circle swayed. Were the Three still Three? Was there only One left with her? She could not see. "Go now, the world awaits you with its joys."

"To the south, there is an unspoilt garden of peoples, with none but measly leeches picking at it," another voice - or was it the same one? - continued, "To the east, many a divine finger is sunk in one small valley, ripe and vulnerable in its charges. To the north, the Sun's own eye dotes on the futile vehemence of the sand-dwellers. Which will you spite first?"

Zima thought a moment. She wanted to stray clear of any divine influence for the time being. South was the only option.

"I shall take us South and see what might transpire. It has been oh so lovely meeting you. Do take care and break the bonds that hold you." Zima said to them, unfurling her wings.

"Not too loud, now," the Eschatli chuckled in a nimbic crackle as they stretched and broadened their ring, giving way for her to take flight, "Or someone might think you speak in earnest. Travel well, sister, and don't forget what you are in the world."

"Of course." Zima murmured and then she was gone, leaving the Eschatli to return to the shadows. Three eyes followed her umbral trail as it blurred into the sky.

"How long before the underworld changes its mind about her?" asked one.

"If she was lucky, it would forget her," answered another, "But luck is down there now. If she's to defeat the end, she must do it herself."


[hider=Summary]

Zima, having hijacked Fear’s body, drifts southward of the newly glowing Keltra and makes a pit stop along the way. As she ponders the events of her escape, three of the Eschatli catch up with her, and a brief though cordial conversation on their respective places in the world and the pleasures of ruining things ensues. The sisters point Zima to a few zones of interest in the Galbar, ripe for mischief, and she decides to check out the Eidolon Plains first. As she leaves, they make some [i]cryptic[/i] and [i]ominous[/i] observations about her fate.

[/hider][hider=Spirit and Prestige]

The Eschatli begin with 4 prestige and gain 1, bringing them to 5.

Zima;

Started with 4

+5

=9

[/hider]