Lemons

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

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The seconds ticked by like hours as Alja stood in front of Leaves' door.

She'd been here so many times now. Couldn't count the times she'd thrown open the door of the chapterhouse, rampaged by Aag and Luci and Pris sitting by the table planning a raid or something, and pulled Leaves out to go paint the town. But now that oh-so-flimsy piece of wood that she could probably shatter with a single punch might as well have been a mountain range, for all she felt she could cross through it. She lifted her hand to knock again, and for a moment it hung trembling in the air.

But a moment later, it fell back to her side. She laughed then: a bitter, mirthless laugh. Amadan. Cowardly, childish, idiot. This is what you deserve.

She should've come here so long ago now. She should've come here literally the day after what happened. She knew Leaves would take it hard, damn it all. She knew full well. But she was too scared. Too afraid to face her, after she'd failed her so utterly and completely. She didn't know what she would say. She didn't know if there was anything she could say. What would it even be? I'm sorry I let everyone die? Just thinking about it nearly set her laughing again. It was just so...grossly inadequate. No, there was nothing she could say that wouldn't just make it worse.

God, but she should've tried anyway.

So, standing there dead silent in front of her best friend and first real love's door--and feeling a metaphorical but equally as painful door slamming closed in her heart--all Alja could do was let her huge form sag, and drop her head in shame. Her voice came out in a soft, mournful whisper:

"Tha mi duilich, mo ghràdh."

She stood there for a few more seconds. Just staring at the ground, drowning in her self-pity. Then she sucked in a sharp, harsh breath. None of that, Alja Frostguard. There are other people that need you. So don't you fail them too. With steps still leaden but carrying on nonetheless, she fought her way back up the stairs, scraping her way back through the entrance to where Luci still stood. it hadn't been very long, after all. At a questioning look, she shook her head, then smiled sadly. "If I were her, I wouldn't talk to me either."

She lapsed into silence. She knew she said that she'd talk to Luci after she visited Leaves, but...all the wind had gone from her sails now, and it was hard for her to bring herself to talk much at the moment. And Luci, gorgeous saint that she was, must've noticed it, by the way she tilted her head towards the door. She didn't exactly look the happiest, and Alja gave her a rueful look. "Later. I promise."

Then she shoved through the chapterhouse doors again, determined that it wouldn't be the last time.

Thorinn was hot and humid as ever. She started sweating almost immediately. Her jaw was clenched as she walked, first slowly, then faster, back the way she'd come. Don't you fail them too. And when she finally arrived back at the Laughing Worg, she was met with...

...With Captain Everrandis looking none-too-pleased. With Sieg looking like he'd just been hit with a mental freight train, and Sif looking like she'd just seen her brother be run over by said mental freight train. With Artemis nowhere to be found. And with Seele hugging an absolutely shattered Graves.

She slowed to a halt, staring at the scene almost dumbly. What in the blue FECK just happened here? Then she shook her head quickly to chase the cobwebs out before she walked slowly over towards the ones she was closest to. There was nothing wrong with Sif or Sieg, obviously. She wanted to talk to Captain Everrandis to figure out what the hell happened here. She wanted to know where Artemis was.

But they simply weren't her top priority.

She approached slowly, hesitant to disrupt them. But in the end, her worry won out, and she came in from the side, laying a gentle hand on Seele's shoulder. "Hey. Sorry I'm late." A pause. "Would you, uh...care to fill me in on what happened here, Seele?" She let her eyes play over the scene again before returning to Graves, with a look of deep concern on her face. "Seems like I missed a lot."

Amygdala Circuit

As Doctor Follen went on, Quinn found herself nodding gently along, as seemed to happen sometimes when he went on for a while and she thought he was right about it. And he was, in the end; she had started to consider the Aerie as hers. Her home. A real home.

That said, she wasn't exactly happy about the only way to heal herself from the scar her parents had left being time. She wasn't surprised by it, but hearing it didn't exactly fill her with happiness, either: she'd always have to live with this on her back. And though Doctor Follen was sure it'd get lighter, she knew that it would never truly go away. The tangled thoughts, the confused feelings, the crushing memories wouldn't ever just go away. They may get less tangled, less confused, less crushing, but a part of her knew full well they would never just leave her be.

"Try to understand them," she murmured to herself, face the picture of doubt as it dipped to look at her shoes. She didn't really understand a good deal of her feelings on the best of days. How long would it take for her to understand ones this potent? She let slip a quiet, almost mournful sigh. If Doctor Follen thought that trying to understand them was important...well, she trusted him. If he thought so, then she'd try as hard as she could. "I guess I can at least try."

A beat passed in silence before she raised her head, meeting Doctor Follen's eyes again. She took a long breath, screwing up her courage for the next question. "I have another question," she said quietly. "It's...it's about Roaki."

Another pause as Doctor Follen kept looking at her, waiting for her to keep going, scratching away at his notepad. "She still seems not to want to live, or at least not care about it." As usual, now that she'd taken the first step talking, the rest came easier afterwards. "You understand people, right? Do you know any way I can...I don't know, help her realize that her life is worth living?" And, tacked on at the very end in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "I don't like seeing her like this."

Amygdala Circuit

Midway through Follen's reply, Quinn closed her eye, letting him continue as she listened and thought.

It was true, she though. She didn't much like looking back on how she was when she was in the room, but only when she did was when she fully realized how terrible it had been. She reached up unthinkingly and gently stroked a finger along her chest, just beneath her collarbone, where she knew that a long, narrow scar lay. She didn't remember the operations, of course; she'd been knocked out for all of them, and what happened afterwards was all a fuzzy blur. But she deeply and vividly remembered the strange feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach every time she found a new scar, what she realized now was something like fear.

And, she realized immediately afterwards, he was right about the bad memories being all she had of them. Even the fragments of happy memories that she still kept--as was shown in a stark light after she'd visited Roaki last--only caused her distress now. Deep, profound distress. They were things that she perhaps wished she could forget, but they stayed locked in her head nonetheless. Like she couldn't let them go.

But then, of course, came Doctor Follen's last question, and the answer jumped to her lips before her mind could even really register it. "No."

And then, as she caught up to herself, she added quietly, "I can't imagine being anywhere but here ever again."

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

Twenty pages deep!

Amygdala Circuit

Going into Follen's office was like stepping into a nice warm bath. As soon as he closed the door, she immediately felt relaxed and at ease; she knew that she could tell him basically anything and he'd never judge her, not one bit. But even then, sometimes words still stuck in her throat when she was talking to him; things that she just felt strange and awkward saying. Like now. She wanted to ask his advice about Roaki, but...it just felt weird for the first thing she talked about to be someone else.

So instead, she talked about something that was about her. Her mood, so recently put at ease, visibly sobered, and she waited for a moment more, putting her thoughts together before she spoke:

"...I think my parents are dead."

Once she said the first thing, the rest came more easily, and she continued, "I never knew their names when I was back...back there. They were just Mom and Dad. But I looked them up yesterday morning. I wanted...I wanted answers. I wanted to know why.

She shivered a bit, and clenched her hands around the arms of the chair. "But I found out that they were coming back to Hovvi when they found out about the singularity opening, and now nobody's seen them since." She sucked in a long, deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. One. Two. Three.

"And...and I know they did really awful things to me," her voice took on a noticeable tremble, "and I should hate them for it. I should be glad that they're gone so they can't hurt anybody else. But...but it makes me sad." For a moment, she thought back to her dream of last night, of Quinnlash telling her it was because she was Mom. Because she dug herself deep into her mind, deep as she could. But Quinn didn't really know exactly what that meant.

Or...no, she knew what it meant. But...

But she was scared.

She wanted Quinnlash to be wrong. Wanted there to be some other reason. And if there was, then it would be Follen who knew.

"I don't understand. Why does it upset me so much?"

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn's hand finally loosened and she let the spoon drop to the countertop, then picked up the bowl and drank of the last of the cerealized milk with a quick gulp. Setting it back down with a thunk, she let out a soft, satisfied sigh. Then, swiping her hand across her mouth to take out any straggling droplets, she looked back at Besca and nodded.

"Kay, I'm gonna go then, okay? I'll see you and Deelie later!" She didn't sound enthusiastic, exatly; her head and stomach still hurt a little bit. But she knew well enough by now to know that to a pilot, any time she got was something of a luxury.

So, she hopped up from her seat, leaned in to give her favorite grown up one more big hug, then grabbed her jacket from its hook by the door, donned it as always, and threw open the door. Time to go. "Bye, Besca!"

Late morning was an an awkward time on the Aerie, one that she wasn't usually just walking out of the dorms for; she usually woke up earlier. At this time of the day, most people were already either doing their jobs or in bed, with only a paltry few people in the commons when she arrived. Those people did, however, not even hide the fact that they were staring at her this time. She gave a little internal cringe. She didn't remember much about last night, but she vaguely remembered stumbling through the station resting against Besca. It was almost enough to make her not want to go out and face everyone when things got way more crowded. Almost. But, not quite, since she obviously ha things to do. She just tried to be as subtle as she could, and make as few waves as possible.

Thankfully nobody came up to trouble or interrogate her, so she passed with only a few eyes burning into the back of her school as she finally made it to medical.

Though, of course, she was being stared at here too. Of course she was; the news would have spread around the whole station like wildfire. She gave a quite little sigh of frustration, then resolved to ignore the eyes headed her way and just wove through the sterile hallways until finally arriving at one of her havens on the Aerie. She knocked on the nice wooden door, then called out--well, not quietly, but louder than usual: "Doctor Follen?" She paused for a moment as she briefly ran through what she wanted to talk about. How to deal with the rumors, how she was doing now, and of course, what she could do to help Roaki. That sounded about right. "I'm here for my session!"

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn's jaw clenched so hard she thought she could hear it creaking.

"By then they either give up, or they keep trying, and settle for the good they can do."

Her fist tightened around her spoon.

They either give up, or they keep trying.

She pulled in a long, deep breath and lifted her head from its staring contest with the remnants of her cereal, staring Besca's eye dead on with an eye swollen and red and rimmed in burgeoning tears, but suddenly filled with a surge of determination as she dug deep into herself and found the oft-neglected steel that was sunk down on her core. That hidden part of her that had kept her fighting against Blotklau. Against three Modir. That had urged her onward more and more, hung on and refused to let go.

Give up, or keep trying.

Quinn found her her voice, thick and strained as it always was when she was trying to hold back tears.

And she found her courage.

"I'm not gonna give up."

She swiped her arm across her face, trying to wipe the tears away. There was a temptation to give up, certainly. Trying to do what she was doing was...it was hard. It was really hard. Her life would've been so much easier, she knew, if she'd just finished Roaki off. Everything would've been so much easier, so much simpler. But just like in her nightmare, any suggestion of that easy, quiet complacency shattered when she met Besca's eye.

Nuh-uh. No giving up. She was going to be someone that Besca, Dahlia, and Safie would be proud of.

"I'm not giving up," she echoed again. "I'm gonna keep trying."

No giving up, and no going back.

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn's head stayed hung for another few moments yet. It seemed almost like she hadn't heard Besca, only a quiet "mmh" confirming that she had as she stared into the mostly empty cereal bowl like the brown-tinted milk held the secrets of the universe. A dull ache returned to the back of her head, and she echoed Besca, letting a long, slow sigh seep from her mouth.

She'd tried her best to help Deelie and now she was locking herself in sims out of pure worry for Quinn. She'd tried to help Roaki, but she still didn't seem to care about living, and Besca was still driving herself to distraction trying to handle the political fallout of her being here. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried, the things that she cared about only grew further away, and the things that she didn't care about but everyone else did like who won the duel or your phase speed is so fast seemed to cling to her no matter if she tried to distance them. Nobody cared that she'd never wanted to be a pilot, and that looking at Ablaze still sent a harsh shiver down her spine. But it didn't matter. She needed to. She'd needed to, or else she would've been sent back.

So if she could do all these things everyone else cared about except her, and she had to do them, then why did the things that she wanted need to be locked behind a thousand closed doors? It wasn't...it wasn't fair! Why didn't what she wanted matter? Why was everyone important except her?

Her voice was thick and strained, if quiet, when she spoke. Almost broken too. A sure sign that something had to give, and it was almost certainly going to be Quinn. Tears had beaded in her eye, though it was a little tricky to see from the angle she was leaning over the bowl.

"How long until my best is good enough, Besca?"

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn shook her head, firm but quick. Any more might reawaken the nausea or headache and that was the last thing she wanted, but an emphatic head-shake was an emphatic head-shake all the same. "Nuh-uh, I've already been putting it off. I was going to see him yesterday before," she swallowed uncomfortably.

"I just really need to see him soon. Aaaannd...I wanted to ask his advice myself, too." She sighed. "Roaki still doesn't really seem to want to live and I wanted to ask him what he thinks I should do. Last time I asked him, he mentioned making her an informant like...um...what did he say his name was...Gast?" She took a deep breath, collecting herself as her thoughts began to run away with her. "He said she'd be safe if she did but I never brought it up because I never felt like it was the right time."

She started to go on, but her head started to throb again. She winced, then took another spoonful of cereal and slurped it down, staring off into the distance. She should've mentioned it to Roaki by now, she knew. But a part of her knew that it wasn't because she never felt like it was the right time.

She was scared. Simple as that.

Scared that Roaki would yell at her for suggesting she work for Runa. Or, even worse, terrified that Roaki would just...say nothing at all. Would turn and face the wall again. And Quinn had no idea how she'd react to that.

Roaki didn't deserve to die.

After a long spell of cereal slurping and spoon clinking, she spoke again: "I just..." she lapsed into silence again, trying to collect her thoughts as they started to fray, then hung her head as her voice dropped to just above a whisper in a tone filled with self-loathing and self-pity.

"I just want someone to tell me what to do."

Lem's Stash

S H Y S C A
S H Y S C A

^{"Everything's different now. I don't understand. Is this the Divine Aeter's path for me? Was the Virtuous Mother lying to me all along?"}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ Shysca Celicantha is a young quarter-elf Cleric who swore herself to a faith that worships an entity known as the Divine Aeter, and was gifted powerful divine magic. She doesn't need any kind of focus, but she finds that it helps her think more clearly if she uses a long metal staff colored white to match her clothing. Why metal? Well, in addition to a kind of spellcasting focus, it's also surprisingly useful for whacking a stubborn adversary over the head. Speaking of her magic, it's very supportive in nature these days; healing, shielding, curing, reviving. While she can unleash the smite of the Divine Aeter in a flash of white light and flame, she very much prefers not to do that, firmly believing that violence should be the final recourse. --- "I love you so much, my little light." It feels like it's been a lifetime since then. "Oh wow, Shysca, did you bake that all on your own?" Like a whole world has come and gone in the time it took to blink the memories back behind her eyes. "Of course daddy is proud of you, my little light. How could he not be?" ...Had it really only been ten years? The cool morning air smelled of the past. Of early morning dew and early spring frost. Of strawberry pastries and pinecones, and the wide bank of the river. It smelled of the stones that she used to skip over the gray water. She breathed deep and closed her eyes, savoring this old simple joy, and all thoughts of guilt and redemption evaporated like mist in the sun as she walked lightly through Ardenfel like a great weight was gone, like she'd never known it was there. As she walked, she saw the children that she knew so well. Danyl on the other side of the street. Lyndii would be reading, probably, even on a day like this. A kind of foolish pleasure seeped through her as she smiled. Mary walking in the other direction towards her and her heart swelled. She opened her mouth to call out when another smell undercut the blissful haze. Smoke? She blinked, and the world was suddenly a blur. Fire. Steel. Screaming that she didn't realize was her. She looked around frantically and found everyone gone except Mary. And as soon as she started towards her, her hands ignited in searing pain. She looked down in panic and found them livid with a seething white radiance that soon spread over the rest of her body as she fell to the ground, twisting in agony. She looked up, trying to find MARY again through the white light,a nd onl y f oun d h e r s e l f--

C H I L D H O O D I N A R D E N F E L D C H I L D H O O D I N A R D E N F E L D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Mr. and Mrs. Yarrel and Talulah Celicantha (but please, call her Lulah) were fond of calling themselves the best bakers in Ardenfel. And they were very, very good at it; people would walk from the other side of the village to avail themselves of a fresh hot loaf, or a fruit pie baked to perfection. They were masters of their crafts; and though they were small town bakers that obviously didn't know how to make the delicate pastries that you might see in the big city, they were no less skilled for it. But then everything changed, once their daughter was born. Even Lulah didn't know that she had elven heritage. And Yarrel certainly had no idea at all; having hair that pale was unusual, but not impossible, obviously. Not until Shysca's birth. The hair that later grew on her head could be excused just like the mother's. The slightly oddly-colored eyes could be played off in any number of ways. Every odd quirk of her appearance could be explained away, save one. There was no getting around the sharply pointed ears. And Yarrel did not appreciate the idea of there being elf in his family. Talulah loved Shysca enough for both parents, and made sure she grew up knowing that she was loved. But as she aged and her elven traits became more distinct, well, Yarrel grew what you might call...distant. He didn't grow violent, not until she was ten or eleven, when Talulah started to take ill. But moreso he just...neglected her.I t was like she'd lost her dad. Or, more accurately, like she'd never had one at all. Like she was a ghost to him. And so her mother's kindness became the most important thing in her life, and she began to mantle it. From that point on, she tried her best to be something like a mother--or, more likely, an older sister--to all the other kids in Ardenfel, or at least the ones she knew. After all, maybe if she acted like mommy then daddy would listen to her, right? No. Obviously. Once Yarrel started hitting her, that smile came less often. But, given she was in her double digits, that certainly wasn't the worst thing that would happen soon,would it? Because then, the bandits came. L I F E A T T H E O R P H A N A G E L I F E A T T H E O R P H A N A G E ________________________________________________________________________________________ In the Landeil orphanage, though...the smile came back in full force. It needed to be. She knew these kids. She'd played with them in the street. She'd patched them up after they'd scraped their knees. She'd heard them talking about their parents. She knew those kids; she loved those kids. And what those kids didn't need was another person crying. They needed someone they knew to turn to, she thought. She didn't know what the family who owned the orphanage were like when she first got there, so, quite simply, she devoted herself wholeheartedly to making everyone's lives better. She threw herself into it and didn't look back. All smiles, all the time. She comforted Mary when she had nightmares. She tried to talk things through with Teth, even when she didn't want to listen. She spent hours around Danyl; he always seemed to lean on her so much, after all. She spent a whole year like that. It wasn't a particularly good life. It CERTAINLY wasn't a comfortable one. But it was all that she needed in the end, right? Even after Mary ran away, leaving Shysca's hands and lower forearms marred with a large and encompassing burn that turned into a painful scar, even then, she kept trying. There were still kids that needed her help. But then the Church of the Virtuous Mother stopped nearby. She didn't know much about them. Didn't know anything, really. But just out of curiosity, she went to listen to the sermon. Just once wouldn't hurt, right? And then Shysca was transfixed. She fell hard, and fast. All thoughts of responsibility fled her mind as she heard them preach, and she felt a fire stoke in her heart. After the sermon, she approached them and explained: she had just come to hear them speak, she felt as though she'd been born anew. She lived in the nearby orphanage, could she leave with the and join the Church? And they acquiesced and lifted her out of the orphanage to return to their monastery with them, and live her life anew. O N W A R D: A N E W P A T H O N W A R D: A N E W P A T H ________________________________________________________________________________________ It was in the Church of the Virtuous Mother--a monastery high in the mountains, a long way away--that Shysca first learned of the Divine Aeter, the grand embodiment of all light and purity in the universe. And though she had some doubt at first, she became something of a zealot in a relatively short period of time. The Virtuous Mother and, by extension, the Divine Aether became beloved in her eyes. An idol. And the problem with idols is that you stop really thinking about what they're doing. Over the past ten years, there are numerous times that Shysca, using her newly-learnt holy divine magic, 'brought nonbelievers into the Divine Aeter's light' in the most permanent way possible. Things that she would've balked at not long ago, she barely noticed, she was so thoroughly indoctrinated into this cult. It was like she had only half a mind of her own. Word has begun to spread about her, slowly spreading through pockets of people: stories of the wrathful black-clad cleric with the burn-scarred hands. Though...she did keep one secret from the Virtuous Mother. When Mary had fled the orphanage, Shysca had seen horns on her head. She'd seen the phantasmal flames that had writhed around her in her sleep back then. She knew that there was something demonic going on with her. She should report it, and she should be brought into the Divine Aeter's light. But... But she couldn't. It just felt wrong. Not long ago, she remembered something that she'd nearly forgotten. Old friends. A promise to meet. People--children then--whose faces she could still see ever so clearly in her mind's eye. And as she thought about their smiles, she felt a revulsion rise in her throat. Would they ever smile at her like that if they knew that she had killed? With no warning to the Virtuous Mother, she dropped the amulet that marked her as a member of the Church into a mountain chasm beside the monastery, replaced her black church robe with a dress of pure white, then fled off into the night to return to her old home, see the old faces. Perhaps it is only when she does that she'll resolve the crisis of faith that swirls inside her skull, and the horrible nightmares that have again to begun to plague her will perhaps abate. The Church is behind. The road awaits.

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