Completed [Bronze Woods] Morning of the Walking (And Floating) Dead

[Fubuki Kouri]

Fubuki Kouri The Bronze Woods, 6th of Bell, 63rd of Summer 513 A.V Syna was just about to rise in all her shining glory, gracing Syliras and its surrounding wilderness with light. Birds chirping, deers grazing, bears scratching their claws on tree trunks, all in all, it was a natural morning in the Woods. If not for three unnatural humanoid beings taking a "picnic" on one of the many small clearings in the forest. Two ethereal little girls accompanied by what seemed to be their caretaker, also one of the dead herself, but corporeal. "Kriemy! I want more!" Rena was jumping up and down in front of Kriemhild, their Nuit maid. The ghostly sisters were having a "breakfast" of some sort, with Kouri and Rena consuming the soulmist produced by the spiritist Nuit. The Nuit produced some soulmist earlier and smeared them on her fingers, Rena was sucking Kriemhild's left index finger like some kind of candy. Kouri let Rena have most of the portion as she could sustain herself rather easily due to her powers. Heck, even without spiritists, she could literally suck the life out of a living creature by using her frost touch, her mastery had gone to the level that she could fasten the regeneration of her soulmist that way. After a few chimes, their breakfast session was done and Kouri stood up, followed by Rena "Hehehe~ We're going to play now! Do you want to play, Kriemy?" "Hmm... if I may, I would prefer to just observe you both, Mistress. I... am not exactly fond of physical activities..." "Awwww~ Okay then!" With that, Kouri took Rena's hands and both of them launched off to the sky, playing an aerial tag of some sort. "......" Kriemhild leaned her back to a tree trunk and just observed her new Mistresses, Kouri asked her to be their maid, not a slave. She was actually doing a respectable job for once. She supposed Rena would be asking for more snack soon so she began to concentrate to produce more soulmist.

[Isolde Seibold]

The Nuit was concentrating very hard, and was already feeling the tuggings of exhaustion pulling insistently at the corners of her mind. Had she been alive she was certain that she would have been absolutely covered in sweat from head to toe from exertion.

Isolde had been out since before dawn, getting a head start on the day, knowing that it would take longer --now that her muscles wouldn't stop complaining and she needed to take periods of time to rest-- for her to make the long trek out to the Bronze Woods. Peppering her journey with little stops every ten chimes or so really did add up to a lot of time wasted; worse yet, her endurance for the aching pain in her joints and muscles (especially around her left shoulder) seemed to be diminishing every day. It was getting to the point that she wouldn't be able to jog out anymore (already that was a step down, she'd used to be able to run the whole way). Soon enough she'd be forced to walk out; having to do so would probably shorten her available practicing time by half, considering how long it took to get into the proper mentality these days. There were just too many things to be worrying about; her own growing impatience and irritability, bouts of depression, aches and pains, tendency towards self-loathing, moral instability, lack of funds, and reluctant need to switch out for a fresh body were only a few of the more prominent troubles she'd been having within the Summer season. It'd gotten to the point that she just wished Summer would be over already, a blasphemous thought if she ever did know one.

Honestly, the Nuit wouldn't have come out at all, had it not been for her reluctance to mess up all the effort she and Matthew had put into cleaning up their study place, the Inner Sanctum. Had she been confident in her control, she would have stayed in the city and used the building to practice her Reimancy, perhaps doing tasks such as hovering pieces of paper across the room and flying paper airplanes around on the drafts, exercises that seemed simple but actually took a fair amount of concentration and skill. Unfortunately, she wasn't all that convinced of her ability not to wreck the room one way or another, even despite the magical glyphs set up to stop inexperienced wizards from ruining the place. No, she wasn't so desperate as to risk screwing everything up. But she was getting close. Even now as she swayed through the motions for building up a wind she could feel her shoulder straining, the nerves echoing out a dull sensation of pain that was growing stronger with every tick.

Ouch. Ouch. OUCH. The Nuit glowered at nothing in particular, the flowing movements of her arms growing jerky and stiff as her shoulder put up more of a fight. It was enough to cause her to wonder if a massage would do her paining limb any good... but what would it matter, regardless, because who in the world would want to massage a dead body? Certainly nobody at the Soothing Waters, and the Nuit's torso and arms had gotten so mottled with bruises that she would not step foot in that place even if someone paid her. To say nothing about actually removing her clothing in public...

OUCH. OUCH. OUCH. OUCH. Her arm twitched and moaned and bitched at her. Okay, okay. That was it. She couldn't do this anymore. She wasn't going to subject herself to this torture. The Nuit gathered the wind that she'd been working up, twisting her mouth into a grimace of utter concentration, eyeballing a low-hanging puff of a cloud in the sky with determination. It was actually a plenty large gust that she'd managed to pull together, rocking the wind back and forth across the meadow, lulling it to grow and keep a certain shape. It had gotten large enough that the excess wind had startled the birds from the trees, causing them to chirp in irritation... before they realized what an opportunity for some fun this strange rocking wind was, and went about swooping and riding in it, singing out their pleasure. If Isolde imagined hard enough their tweeting almost sounded like laughing... Well, at least someone was enjoying her effort, no matter the agony it was putting her through.

But she couldn't hold onto the wind any longer, and so she focused her sights once more on that single little cottonball cloud--

Drawing in a deep, deep breath, feeling her lungs fill to capacity, a sharp, expanding sensation in her chest--

Then loosing the breath in something almost like a shout, raising up her hands, first two fingers on each pointing, directing the wind where to go, and as she let out her breath her res went with it. The strange, whitish-blue mist transmuted into even more wind, pointed at that lonely little puffball cloud.

Her artificially-created wind gathered up the natural wind she'd already been stirring up, taking it like a mother would take a small child by the hand, and with a colossal whoosh the combined whole of it went roaring up into the air--

Her control didn't reach that far, and so she knew little tendrils of the wind would have started to whisper out in all directions, but most of it would probably still heading for the cloud in a wave, and she held her breath in anticipation. Come'on, come'on... Isolde was willing it to disperse the cloud or change its shape or do something interesting, at least, something noticeable to act as a reward for her work and pain--

And that was when two little forms went dancing into the sky, directly in the path of the wind. There was a moment of shocked recognition as Isolde realized that it was Kouri and Rena, chasing each other around... and then the wind-wave hit them both and scooped them up, and they were sent spinning and tumbling through the air as if on an invisible current.

Isolde just stood there and watched, dumbfounded, as the girls tumbled about in the sky. A thought came through clearly, sounding more smug than startled: Well, at least you managed to do something interesting, after all. Though she'd missed the cloud, entirely.

The Nuit had grabbed her shoulder, wincing, left arm brought in protectively to fold across her stomach. Now she waited for the girls to come investigate what had caused such a strange, sudden windstorm, knowing they'd fly over soon enough. They wouldn't have been hurt by it, she didn't think. Mostly it had probably made them dizzy, tossing them around, sweeping them up, not unlike the birds. Perhaps it had even been fun.

[Fubuki Kouri]

Fubuki Kouri "Ahahaha~" "Ehehehe~" The eerie haunting giggles of two ethereal little girls echoed through the leaves and branches. The ghostly sisters were having fun, in one of the moments, where Kouri acted like a true twelve years old little girl, not the sadistic phantom without numerous kill counts and a bounty on her head. Rena was chasing her older sister, she was "it" right now. Kouri kept dodging and swiveling in the air, utterly beating even the maneuverability of Ziths and Hawks. The little sister pouted in childish annoyance and thought of something... her tiny form suddenly vanished and appeared right in front of Kouri. "Ha!" She held out her hands and Kouri predictably crashed into Rena, the sisters tumbling in the air. "Ahahaha~ Clever, Rena. I didn't expect that..." Kouri was proud of her adoptive younger sibling, Rena was getting used to using her ghostly powers. She could detach herself to the "human" way of moving more now. "Alright Rena, I'm 'it' now!" Kouri ruffled her sister's hair and smiled lovingly, it was a genuine smile that the Vantha Kouri so often used to do when she was still alive, not the sadistic or fatally mischievous grin of the little devil girl. Just when the sisters were about to begin a new round, they were suddenly scooped up by a strange gust of wind out of nowhere. "Woah woah woah!" They exclaimed at the same time. Kouri and Rena were surprised but in a good way, Kouri didn't try to fight the current or blink them away from the wind's path but merely let themselves be carried. Their giggling voices echoing as they went higher and continued their game on new heights... literally. They didn't realize Isolde was the cause of the unnatural wind. Meanwhile, Kriemhild had been watching the sisters, she noticed the sudden push they got and suspected it wasn't because of Kouri's doing. She frowned in worry, not at her mistresses, oh no, Kouri was far too lethal to be worried, she had seen first hand when the little girl massacred and mutilated a group of slavers. She was worried that someone might try to attack the ghost... whoever it was, she could only hope her Mistress didn't take offense. They giggled and instead and went higher in the air though... meaning that all was good. Still, Kriem was curious on who exactly caused the sudden push, was it a wind? How could a natural wind move like that? Perhaps it was a mini-tornado? Kriemhild didn't know but she was curious, being with her ghostly sisters made her apathy toned down considerably. Kriemhild stood up and made her way to the ghostly sister's previous location... at least to the ground under them. Kriem then meet up with... a woman, a woman with dark brown hair, dull blue eyes, and rather pale skin tone but it looked slightly healthier than Kriemhild's sickly pale. The smudgings around the woman's eyes and mouth intrigued her, she also wore mismatched clothings that covered most of her skin, while Kriemhild wore a pretty black and white dress complete with stockings and a hair ribbon... obviously chosen by Kouri. She didn't really mind what clothing she wore, she didn't even mind being naked, this body was not hers anyway, she just kind of "occupied" it for the moment. Kriem approached the woman, her pitch-black eyes, complete with the almost-black sclera studied her. She had the guess that this woman was another one of her kind, one of the dead, Nuits. "So... was it you that cause the strange... wind, I suspect?" Kriem put her right hand to her waist, questioning the woman, her tone was the usual calm and emotionless. "If it was you... then it's a good thing Mistress didn't take offense... you would not want to anger her..." Isolde didn't open her mouth yet so Kriem didn't notice the most visually distinct traits of Nuits, their black tongue, but Isolde herself could see Kriem's own tongue if she paid attention.

[Isolde Seibold]

Strangely enough it wasn't the girls who came inspecting... but another being altogether.

And Isolde immediately recognized what this woman was. It was as clear as day to her. As obvious as if the woman had walked up and just socked her in the nose, saying, NOTICE ME!
Those dead eyes. That skin pallor. The black tongue. The gaunt frame.
A Nuit.
Another Nuit.
Isolde didn't know what to feel. For a moment she even lost herself completely, mind whirling back in time.

Haunting pale faces in the low light. The cave system. Wandering through the dark, Wynry clutched tight to her side, Kale pushing them along, herding them through a maze of dank passages. The room with the marks on the ceiling. The instruments. The table with the straps. And the men with their black smiles, expectant, waiting, beckoning with long, pale hands, fingers like sticks, reaching out towards her, towards Wyn--

And then Isolde came back to herself. She had taken a few steps back, shrinking into herself, making her seem even smaller than she already was. Her mind was dazed as if she had had the wit slapped from her head. Her emotions crashed against each other.

Fear. Fear was predominant.
Loathing towards this creature.
Loathing towards herself because she shouldn't be the one to judge, gods, no.
Hesitance. Did she want to talk to... her? Him? It?
Pain. Pain at the memories that this other being brought. The wide smiles of those other Nuits, the ones that had changed her. Their whispers, cracked voices gone dry with age and disuse. Trying to be reassuring, trying to hold her still, trying to make the... ritual less painful, less terrifying. Trying in their own way to make the transition easier for her, to give her comfort. And failing. Because they had forgotten what human comfort was. Their sick parody had been worse than nothing because all it had done was illustrate their total inhumanity. Like they thought that doing what they did to her was going to-- to help her. Like they had somehow forgotten how to be people, how to treat people. And Isolde was one who never, never ever wanted to forget. Never.

And then, finally... a morbid, undeniable curiosity. It was this last one that held the Nuit in place, stopping her from just turning and fleeing into the forest.

"So... was it you that cause the strange... wind, I suspect? If it was you... then it's a good thing Mistress didn't take offense... you would not want to anger her..."

Isolde opened her mouth, trying to answer, to get words to come out, but nothing would come. She stopped, hugging her left arm tighter to her, still hunched in, trembling. Then took a deep breath, holding it in without releasing it or taking another, and finally managed to speak. "U-Uh. It-- was m-me. Practicing. I was p-practicing." To demonstrate what she meant, because she certainly hadn't recovered herself to actually explain, she puffed out a breath of res, the whitish-blue mist falling from her cold lips, and then transmuted it into a brush of wind that moved to breeze lightly towards the other figure, barely enough to rustle her clothes and hair. The fact that she shouldn't tell this stranger that she was a Reimancer did not even touch her mind as it usually would have; she was just too shocked and frightened, having been knocked off-balance by the other Nuit's unexpected appearance.

"K-Kouri w-wouldn't hurt me. We're--" What was she to the girl? A friend? An acquaintance? A companion? She didn't know. Honestly, did she even know for certain that Kouri wouldn't hurt her? Isolde thought of how Kouri had come to her in disguise, pretending to be a Spiritist, and warning the Nuit not to get too involved in the ghost's affairs. Maybe Kouri would hurt her. She didn't know either way. "--well, w-we know each other."

Then, without hardly a pause for politeness, almost blurting out the question, "You're a N-Nuit?" Not exactly a question... more a statement. Isolde hoped it didn't come off as accusing as it had felt. "K-Kouri's your Mistress? Where-- did you c-come from? H-How-- did you come to m-meet her?" A lot of questions, and not really the ones Isolde wanted to be asking.

What's it like for you? Do you have the same troubles I have, morally? Do you always feel insecure, worthless? Do you care that everybody hates you? Do you hate yourself? What have you done with your... life? How old are you, anyway? Have you ever... made another? Do you ever feel like maybe it's not worth it, to keep going on as you do...? Do you ever wish to be alive? Do you ever miss the people you knew in life? Are you able to make friends, to find people who care about you despite what you are...? Do you care about them?

So many questions, and even more besides those, and none she felt like she could ask. Yet.

[Fubuki Kouri]

Fubuki Kouri "Reimancy... you are a reimancer" Kriemhild drew the most obvious conclusion, only reimancers could control the elements like that. When Isolde spoke, Kriemhild noticed the distinct black tongue of the Nuits on her, she didn't even flinch though, unlike Isolde, Kriemhild spent years under the thumb of her Nuit master back in Sahova. "I see you're the same as me..." She stated the obvious, Kriem had that kind of habit. She fixed her hair ribbon after the small gust of wind blew pass her even though she didn't care much for her own appearance, it was because for some reason, Kouri was fussy about how she should look, her Mistresses had it easy as their "clothes" were actually their body, soulmist body to be exact. Still, she had no reason to disobey Kouri, if her mistress wanted her to look "prim" and "proper" then she would do that. "You know... each other?" Kriemhild approached closer to her fellow undead. Her stance and form obviously much more calm and steady than the stuttering, quivering, fidgeting Nuit in front of her. "She would not hurt you? I see..." Kriemhild wanted to say You can't actually predict a ghost's mindset, believe me, I have seen it first hand, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it, it might send this other Nuit running for her undead life. Giggles still echoed in the forest if one listened closely, courtesy of the two flying little girls above, Kriemhild gazed at the sky but she couldn't find her Mistresses anywhere, some of her vision was covered by the tree branches. She tilted her head back and returned her attention to the slightly taller Nuit "Yes, I'm a Nuit as well, like you... Hmmm... does it really matter?" Kriemhild found it strange that a fellow Nuit would matter herself with irrelevant subjects such as birthplace. "If you must know, I come from Sunberth... I meet her when... she and her friends slaughtered the slaver caravan I'm in. Her group was led by a large muscular tattooed man, a Myrian. After the battle... she noticed me and just approached me like that, then she asked me to be her maid" Kriemhild explained matter-of-factly. She didn't really fell the need to hide information unless Kouri wished her so. Kriemhild became rather curious of Isolde's quivering form so she flowed her djed into her eyes and read Isolde's aura for five ticks before deactivating it and rubbed her temples to ease the headache. From what she could read from Isolde's aura, "curiosity" dominated it currently along with tinges of "fear" and "hatred". "So... I see you are curious, about what? I also see that you fear and hate... to whom? To Mistress? Or... to me?"

[Isolde Seibold]

"If you must know, I come from Sunberth... I meet her when... she and her friends slaughtered the slaver caravan I'm in. Her group was led by a large muscular tattooed man, a Myrian. After the battle... she noticed me and just approached me like that, then she asked me to be her maid"

Isolde stared at the other Nuit like she had just done a full head rotation. Horror. Complete and utter horror. Shock. And something that soon ate away those feelings, a sizzling anger, burning low in the pit of her stomach.

Gods, damn it. Slaughtering slaver caravans? Gods, damn it! Isolde couldn't-- She didn't-- She couldn't contain herself, letting out a low oath, holding up a finger to the other Nuit apologetically before pacing away, movements hard and choppy. Stomping like she was set her shoulder to aching at every step, ouch, ouch, ouch, but she just held it tightly, ignoring it for once. Soon enough the anger faded away, revealing sadness. Frustration. Gods, what was she supposed to do? She wished that Kouri would make it easy for her. She wished the ghost girl would just behave. Why couldn't she do that? Was she really past saving? How could she not understand that even evil people have some good, that there was always some hope for them, that they could always change and grow and better themselves? That even evil people have families, husbands or wives and children who love them or hate them, no matter. People depending on them. People wanting them to come home. Friends that they joke around with. Friends that will miss them, who will feel that terrible ache inside their heart when they are gone. Connections that shouldn't be severed because of their crimes. Even slavers. Because even slavers can be helped, if only someone would try. Hurting a person, that hurts many more than just that person. And killing them damages everyone they had left behind.

All those people. How many people? How many dead? Had it been quick, painless? Or long, drawn-out, those fucking deadly knives of hers whirring away, chopping and slicing into human meat, watching them bleed and scream and call out, bathing the ground in red, turning dirt to horrific crimson mud. Gods, and the fact that the girl thought that was okay. Thought that was good, even. How could something like that be good? Isolde might not know the best way to deal with people like slavers and rapists and murderers and all of those other, terrible sorts. And she felt... disgusted by them, by their actions, as much as anyone else. But gods. Killing them was not the way. Life was precious. She was one who knew.

When she finally returned to the conversation, she had settled a bit. But her eyes had taken on a hollow, haunted look, her pale flesh standing out pallidly as if she was sick. Gods. Slaughtered. The Nuit hadn't said that Mistress had killed them. Slaughtered them, she'd said.

The first words out of her mouth were flat. "I-I'm sorry for acting like this. F-For questioning you. But it is important for me to know. The Myrian. Do you r-recall his name? Was he called R-Razkar of the Shorn Skulls?" She stopped, taking a deep breath. Gods, she wished it hadn't been him. Not her teacher. Not encouraging that. Not helping Kouri hurt herself in such a way. Please, no. You had to have known that that was the sort of person he is, a voice whispered. All those scars, all the violence. Hidden under a face that could smile and joke, a voice that could be kind. But one with a grin like razors. "H-He would have, u-uh... a circle tattooed on his f-forehead. And skulls, lots of skulls decorating h-his back...? C-Carrying an ax and sword." Please, let it be some other Myrian.

"So... I see you are curious, about what? I also see that you fear and hate... to whom? To Mistress? Or... to me?"

The cool words, calm and collected and matter-of-fact, brought Isolde whirling back to the questions that had piled up in her mind. She winced when the other Nuit said something about fear and hatred... and she struggled to breathe deep, to banish those emotions away.

"I'm sorry," she said, almost in the tone of a child caught misbehaving or doing something offensive, "It's just... hard for me to be around a-another of m-my k-kind--" Those last two words were hard to force out, her teeth clenching, trying to resist the admission. Being what she was was the centerpiece of her life. She was always aware of the fact. But saying it out loud was another thing entirely. Isolde focused on trying to brew more appropriate emotions for this other Nuit. Not hatred and fear. This woman had done nothing wrong than be what she was. Isolde could forgive that crime. Plus, she had most likely seen hardships within her lifetime. Coming from Sunberth... well, that was bad enough. Being a slave, transported like goods in a wagon, waiting to be sold, not knowing what sort of person might purchase you, what sort of things you would be forced to do, without pay, without knowing how long you might be allowed to live... Terrible. It was a good thing that this woman had been freed.

Just. Not the way she had been.

"I'm curious... a-about you, actually. I-I've not h-had a lot of opportunity to m-meet another l-like m-me." Had she had, she would have avoided another Nuit like the plague, regardless. "I d-don't know w-what exactly to e-expect from you. I w-wish to ask you q-questions. K-Know about your life. W-What you're like..." Was it rude to say something like that aloud? Isolde wasn't certain. Hesitantly, the Nuit asked the other, "Um... what's your name? And... how do you feel about what you a-are? A-Are you... happy? I-If you d-don't mind weathering my q-questions, that is." Did this Nuit share in Isolde's emotions, or was it only her who felt so very wretched and conflicted all the time?

[Fubuki Kouri]

Fubuki Kouri "...." Not wanting to be in the sunlight for an extended amount of time, Kriemhild went to a tree and sat underneath its branches and leaves, sitting on the ground, and leaning her back on the trunk. She examined her black-white dress, stockings, and shoes a bit. Kriem wondered on who actually taught Mistress to prefer lacy and frilly clothes like this? Was it her parents? Or did she just came liking to it on her own? Then the Nuit remembered the grandiose dollhouse that the ethereal girls have back in the apartment, inside them were also dolls wearing the same style of frilly clothes. Kriem shrugged, maybe it's a fashion trend. Kriemhild noticed the other Nuit was just standing there, mumbling to herself, and generally being a hard person to talk to, she sighed in apathy, who was she to judge someone else's character? If the Nuit wanted to mumble all day then that's fine, it had nothing to do with her. Then she managed to piece herself together and actually asked her another question, this time asking about the particular Myrian. "Razkar? Yes, Mistress said his name was Razkar... it's as you said, circle tattoo, bronze skin, wielding ax and sword..." Kriemhild closed her eyes and rested her head on the trunk, she didn't like moving much, she didn't feel the need or urge to do so "Mistress said that Razkar was proud of her.... though I don't know if it's true or just the way Mistress saw it..." Kriemhild slowly opened her black-sclera eyes and sleepily looked at Isolde. "Oh? You are uncomfortable with what you are? Hmmm... why don't you just end it? I think Mistress can help you with that..." Kriem spoke as if suicide was a common thing... it was a common thing among old Nuits who seemed to find their eternity to be boring. Kriemhild didn't care much though, but her Mistress would be sad and she did agreed to her maid... forever. "My name? I am called 'Kriemhild'. Mistress calls me 'Kriemy'... some humans call me 'undead abomination' or the like... eh, you can call me what you like. I don't really mind..." Kriem shrugged, those sure were strange questions coming from a Nuit. "I never thought about it, hmmm... for now, as long as Mistress is happy then perhaps I'm happy... then again, I never really pay much attention..." It was the truth, being a slave almost all of her life combined with the loss of identity that came from changing bodies made Kriemhild a very apathetic person.

[Isolde Seibold]

"Razkar? Yes, Mistress said his name was Razkar... it's as you said, circle tattoo, bronze skin, wielding ax and sword... Mistress said that Razkar was proud of her.... though I don't know if it's true or just the way Mistress saw it..."

Shyke. Petch. That fucker. That fucking Myrian with eyes like black death. The Nuit had to wonder if Razkar knew what he was doing to Kouri. To a little girl. He had to know. How could he not? He was by no means stupid, those eyes saw everything. But if he knew, then that meant that he didn't even care about how he was hurting her, how dangerous he was shaping her to be. Oh for the gods' sakes, Myri included! Whether or not the warrior had actually been proud of Kouri for her actions didn't matter, or at least the Nuit was trying to tell herself that. Simply the act of leading the little ghost girl into that situation was bad enough, cruel and, yes, foolish beyond all measure. Of pointing her at men who would have no chance of defending themselves against her, she who could fly around and lift beds like they weighed nothing, and wield buzzing blades that spun so fast that you couldn't hardly even tell what they were. A slaughter. It had been a slaughter. Where was the pride in that? Not even giving your enemy the smallest chance. How did that make for a good fight?

Gods, she didn't want to think about it right now. She felt the last two knuckles on her left hand hurting, stinging--

And looked down to see her pale fingers clenched too tightly into a hard fist. How was it that she could get so angry? She had never used to get like this. Only sad. Or-- or blasé. Tired. Staring at the flames in the hearth and not moving, not moving an inch for years.

Isolde brought her gaze to the other Nuit, laying against the tree as if without a trace of life left to spend, her eyes sleepy and hardly wasting enough energy to focus.

"Oh? You are uncomfortable with what you are? Hmmm... why don't you just end it? I think Mistress can help you with that..."

Is this what Isolde had to look forward to? This languidness, which she had felt for so long before she'd managed to come crawling free of it? Would it come to reclaim her? The haze of memories, and then below that, further down, deep in her mind... that blank expanse of white and nothing. How could she fight it? By caring fiercely about everyone she saw? Trying to fix them because she herself couldn't be fixed? Trying to raise them up, and all the while sinking lower and lower, unable to fight the inevitability of becoming nothing once more. Losing herself, whatever was left.

Was she really helping anyone? Could someone like her do any actual good? Or did her mere presence make things in this world worse? How many people would live happier, healthier lives knowing that things like her didn't exist to darken the dreams of their children...?

But no. No. She had to go on. Forever on, or as long as she could manage. For Wyn. For the others whose bodies she'd taken, defiled. To scrape together some minor victory from this all. No matter how long her suffering went on. No matter how many torments she had to go through, how many people she saw live and die and each one far more precious than her.

How was that fair?
Life isn't fair. Death isn't fair, either.

Suddenly exhausted, Isolde settled down on the ground a bit away from the Nuit who had identified herself, apathetically, as Kriemhild. She paused, fighting some instinct, and then gave in and allowed herself to lay on the soft grass, rolling onto her back, right arm tucked under her head as a pillow, left cuddled securely to her side. She gazed at the branches above, at Syna's rays shining through, and wished to be laying in the sunlight directly, eyes full of golden light. But here would do. She was just so tired. It happened sometimes, after she'd worked herself up. Up, and then down, down, down. Always reminding her of the white nothing that was waiting to smother her for good.

"How far back can you remember, Kriemhild? Can you remember life? How it felt? What about about back then, had you ever been happy? Truly happy, happy for yourself, not for someone else. Not because someone told you to be, or because you felt like it was your duty." Remembering Wynry, Vaughn, Kale, her parents and brothers, all of them, all the people who had brought meaning to her life and who were all dead, only alive in her mind. Gods, it hurt, an aching in her heart and a stinging in her nose that wanted to bring tears to her eyes. But there were no tears. Not now and not ever. The Nuit stared up at the sun through the shadows of the tree, not bothering to breathe, just laying there. She wasn't giving up. She was just resting. Just resting.

"Name something that used to make you smile. Or can you not remember? Or did you never have a time like that?" And then her face twisted, taking on a sudden vulnerability that she turned away from the other's uncaring sight, and said, "You promised to take care of Kouri, right? And Rena?" The Nuit knowing that that was not what the girls needed, not someone like this woman, but finding herself hoping, perhaps, that this new friend of theirs might somehow bring them comfort, or peace.

OOCDepressed. :C Look what Kriemy's dooonnnnneeeee~!

[Fubuki Kouri]

Fubuki Kouri OOCAhahaha! IIRC, Most Nuits act like Kriemhild. Isolde is truly one of a kind. Kriemhild tilted her head every so slightly at the strange Nuit before her. She seemed to be angry and trying very hard to hold that anger, did Kriem offended her in some way? She didn't care and just closed her eyes again, if this other Nuit wanted to attack her for whatever reason then so be it, but her Mistress would surely not appreciate that and there would two undead corpses instead of one. Letting out a voiceless yawn, Kriem lay down on the forest floor, near the trunk and under the cover of the leaves. She almost fell into a lethargic sleep if not for the strange Nuit asking more questions. "I... don't really remember and frankly... I don't care..." Was Kriem's answer to Isolde's train of questions, no trace of doubt or hesitation could be heard from her voice, just plain cold straight apathetic answer. It answered both Isolde's question regarding her past and if there was something that made her smile. "Hm? I agreed to be Mistress' maid, does it mean that I promised to take care of her?" Kriemhild found it strange that accepting a job meant that you're promising to take care said employer "I'm just their maid, I do what Mistress says... why is it so complicated to you? Ah, don't tell me, I don't want to know..." As soon as Kriemhild finished her answer, a plethora of giggles could be heard echoing from the sky and *THUD!* a bloody corpse of an eagle fell down between Kriemhild and Isolde, the bird's body was utterly cut apart in two and the strange thing was that the cut was very clean like this bird was cut apart by a sword in mid-air. Then as if on a cue, Kouri came crashing down to the ground, making her dramatic entrance by causing a wave of chilling cold air as she landed. Rena was piggy-backing on her older sisters' back. Kriemhild shifted to a standing position and walked closer to the sisters. "Oh! Ehehehe~ That was so fun, Sis! But... I think you killed little birdy there~" Rena jumped down and examined the mutilated bird by poking it with her fingers. "Ah, that's okay, Rena. This bad bird was chasing another smaller bird... I'm doing the other bird a favor, you know?" What Kouri meant was she killed the eagle when it was hunting another bird, the ghost girl wasn't aware the natural food chain of predator eating prey and thought she was doing the right thing. She lashed the bird with her serrated tendril as the result, cutting it clean into two. "Sis... it's leaking red juices everywhere! Um... can you get rid of it?" Rena tugged at Kouri's dress, finding the growing pool of blood to be unsavory, her reactions were that of discomfort, not fear or nervousness at the sight of blood "Oh... is that, Madame Isolde?" Rena finally noticed and pointed at the Nuit with paint smudging on her face. "Eh? Eeeeh~ Eheheheh~" Kouri's lips curled into a mischievous grin, she crouched down and ruffled Rena's hair "Go play with Kriemhild first, Rena, I'll go to talk to her..." "Un! Okay!" Rena detached herself from her older sister and went to their maid's side, asking for more soulmist snack. Meanwhile, Kouri suddenly landed on the ground, no longer floating by a few inches above it, and 'walked' to Isolde, before a thick tendril jutted out from her back and it grabbed Isolde's right wrist, then forcefully pulled the Nuit to her by dragging her on the ground "Oh hello~ We meet again..." Kouri then materialized herself and put her right hand to Isolde's neck, her deadly freezing touch making contact with the Nuit's cold skin "Ahahaha~ It's a hot summer day, no? Let me 'chill' you out a bit..." She realized her touch was killing the Nuit, seeing Isolde gasping for unneeded breath as chilling mist hissing out from the place where Kouri touched her accompanied by the *PSSSSSSSSH!* sound of a dry ice hitting a warm surface brough a smile to her face. Kouri unmaterialized herself when Isolde was this close to dying and released her tendril, dropping the Nuit on the ground "Ehehehe~ did it feel good, Madame Isolde?"

[Isolde Seibold]

"I... don't really remember and frankly... I don't care... Hm? I agreed to be Mistress' maid, does it mean that I promised to take care of her? I'm just their maid, I do what Mistress says... why is it so complicated to you? Ah, don't tell me, I don't want to know..."

Isolde just laid where she was while listening to Kriemhild's lifeless responses, trying to tell herself that she would not allow herself to become like this woman, she would not. She closed her eyes, made all the more weary by the other Nuit's statements, wishfully pretending that she could sleep--

And then was forcefully pulled 'awake' by a nightmare.

There was a pair of wet splunk! 's as something hit the ground behind her head. Warm spray touched her face. Isolde ripped her eyes open, putting a hand to her cheek, sitting up in a flurry. Her pale fingers came away red. What the-- Is this--? Her eyes fell on the mutilated bird corpse and she let out a wail of pure dismay, like a child who had had their favorite toy broken. Gods, how had that happened? What had-- It-- The bird had been cut, chopped-- She was on her knees next to it, knowing it was dead, unable to keep herself from reaching towards it. The poor creature. Her mind wasn't keeping up, and only supplied the answer to this tragedy too late.

Kouri.
The girls descended from the sky.

Their conversation was a blur in the shocked Nuit's ears. Rena and Kriemhild went away. Leaving her alone with the ghost.

"K-Kouri, wha--!" She was being grabbed, drug over the ground and even over the bird's corpse to Kouri's feet, clothes catching in the pool of warm blood, staining. Then there was a yank and Isolde felt herself pulled up, hanging by her arm, hopelessly confused at this sudden change. Her mind had been elsewhere, she'd hadn't thought something like this would happen. Somehow she found herself thankful that the girl had not grabbed her left arm instead...

"Oh hello~ We meet again... Ahahaha~ It's a hot summer day, no? Let me 'chill' you out a bit..."

And then Kouri's hand was on her neck, and her touch was too cold, not just chill but freezing and painful, and the Nuit let out a gasp, automatically trying to jerk away-- but the malicious girl was holding on. She put her free hand to Kouri's, trying to get it off, but touching her simply worsened the pain, adding it to her digits with a shocking jolt. Her left hand went numb, the fingers twitching back from her neck, useless.

Useless. It was all useless.

When Kouri finally let her go to drop down to the ground, it took the Nuit awhile to react. She just laid there, head turned to the side. Eyes staring out, dull and blue and unblinking. One hand curled up to her neck, feeling the flesh there, which had turned an ugly shade of mottled blue and white and was hard. Dimly, the Nuit thought that it was her ichor that had been frozen underneath the skin. Was that why she had felt like she was dying? Like the life had turned to ice inside her?

"Ehehehe~ did it feel good, Madame Isolde?"

Eventually she pulled herself up. She was afraid to move her head, as if her neck might just shatter if she did. She knew the skin would unfreeze. It would return to normal, room temperature, it would. Over time, it would thaw. But gods, it felt like she'd been burned, given frostbite. Hurt. For no reason. From someone she had stuck up for. From someone she cared about. From someone she was loyal to. From someone she had protected and helped, even.

More of her was burning. Her stomach. Her stomach was burning. It spread to her chest. She was shaking, shaking very hard. Mist was coming from her neck. Mist started pooling from her mouth, dribbling down her front, sweeping out in a near-perfect circle, collecting in a shivering cloud around her.

Isolde was trying to contain herself. She really was.
But that burning. That shaking. And those words.
Did it feel good, Madame Isolde?

"Fuck you, Kouri~"

The Nuit raised her arms, the mist from her mouth billowing up in a quivering wave in response, and then it suddenly came crashing down like pale blue-white surf towards the ghost, surrounding her. Res was magical. Even Kouri would feel it lapping at her on all sides, like gentle water...

That was, until it turned into wind.

Hard air, summoned in, fast as the Nuit could, as much of it as she could, all at once. Her anger fueled her. That burning inside. That shaking. All of it pointed towards Kouri, a fist of wind that came bowling past the Nuit with a pop!, rustling her clothes, ripping her hood from her face, causing her dark hair to lash free of its tie, whipping for an instant around her head in a rage. Then the air hit Kouri, sharp, magically-imbued with a layering of res intended to hurt and cut and tear at soulmist even as it picked her up and threw her.

Isolde didn't hang around to see what it did, if it would pummel Kouri down to the ground or smack her against the tree or just send her flying off into space, she didn't care. The Nuit was up on her feet and sprinting by the time her attack hit Kouri, and she tore away from that place like Dira's Omens were on her tail, arms and legs pumping, more res pulsing out from between her lips, dribbles that flowed to the small of her back and then shifted into a soft wind that pushed her forward, lending her speed. There was a lot of pain happening all at once. Her left arm was on fire. Her left hand was still numb, the feeling slowly coming back, tingling with pins and needles. Her right wrist felt bruised from the girl's touch. There were no words for the pain in her neck. And growing stronger every tick, a sharp, breathy feeling at the top of her stomach, telling her she was very, very close to overgiving. As she rushed through the underbrush, snapping branches out of her way with panicked puffs of air before her, she tried to hold on. All she needed was to get far enough away from the girl so she could find someplace to hide out for a while until Kouri lost her interest, and then she would go--

Not home. Not where Kouri might find her, might be waiting for her. The Docks. She would go to the Docks, instead, for tonight. Find some place to tuck herself and try to blend into the wall. So she could recover from her injuries. Then... she would hope she hadn't pissed Kouri off too much.

But gods. Sometimes kids just needed a slap on the hand.

The Nuit continued to run, searching for a place to hide. When the pain from her diaphragm worsened, she stopped using res to compel herself forward. She slowed, looking around wildly, then came to a halt, her arms curled over her stomach, almost bent double from pain. Trying not to gasp too loudly, she stumbled her way towards a particularly thick clump of bushes, dropping on her belly to the dirt, squirming under the lowest branches --feeling them scrape against her forehead-- and then lodging herself into a small, protected hollow at the middle of the plant. She tucked her knees to her chin, curled up, trying to make her breathing silent (normally she would stop breathing altogether, but the pain in her abdomen was forcing her muscles into spasms, causing her to inhale and exhale). She tucked her arms in securely, making herself as small as possible.

It was a good hiding place. The thick leaves covered her completely. She just hoped Kouri was not too good at tracking, wouldn't be able to follow the path of snapped branches and disturbed ground that she had left as she fled.

Isolde was shivering and shuddering very hard, from rage and fear and exertion. Ticks passed, then chimes. She closed her eyes tight and simply waited, listening very, very hard and hurting all over.

OOCCongrats! You managed to REALLY piss her off! XD