Quest Dead Men Do Tell Tales (Ana)

[Balderdash]

50th of Spring, 513AV Shortly after midnight There was an eerie silence to Nyka after dark. Other cities, even ones like Syliras or Ravok where order reigned supreme, had some sort of nightlife about them. A drunkard meandering about. A small party breaking up and heading home, laughing all the while. Perhaps even a small trio of men engaging in some sort of illicit trade. In Nyka, nothing. Nothing but the scratch of monks maintaining the wards that decorated every door frame of every building, the swing of their lanterns, and the clack of their feet. But with only two hundred in every quarter, they weren't everywhere. And so, for the most part, Nyka was one of the few cities in Mizahar that was completely and utterly devoid of sound at night. Contrasted with the loud, boisterous days, it almost felt like a different city. This night was not much different than the others. One of the patrons had snuck liquor into his room, and had put up a fight when the innkeeper came to evict him. His head flew unceremoniously out of the window a few moments before the rest of him. In the quiet, his body crashing onto the pavement sounded much louder than it really was. However, stupid foreigners and well-maintained curfew were not why tonight was a night worth writing about. There was another sound beside the wet crunch of a corpse striking cobble. A man's voice coming from the back of the inn, by the cart used to haul out bodies, calling out to a certain foreigner. A soft, supplicating whisper. "Ana... Aanaaa... Ana!" If Ana Sol Starris wasn't awake already, she was now. She was wanted outside.

[Ana Sol Starris]

Perhaps it had been the silence that kept her awake, a tulmultous mind hidden within the physical constraints of a body; the quiet here was different than the soft whispers of wild life, or the breaking of glass, screams, and terror. It was different from the quiet of an oceans waves, and the occasional cheer of merriment passing by. The silence of Nyka compared to Spires, Sunberth, and Zeltiva was drastic, and unnerving, any noise to be made seemed amplified times ten. One didn't have to strain their ears hard to hear the sound of a pin drop, and then land on the ground. Perhaps it had been the different envirement Nyka casted during Leths grace that wound her up, despite a day of tiresome antics, and long winded insomnia. Next to the window she sat on one of the Hostel's provided chairs, she peered out the window and down to the streets below; there of course was little interest outside, but she found it intriguing to watch all the same. Sometimes a lone figure with a lamp would cross by, at other times she was certain she was seeing things, strange things, that dissapeared quickly from sight. Leaving her with a curiousity that bubbled up inside; but tonight, just as many of the nights before, was just as empty of mystery, she feared she would be bored to death soon enough and doze off. That when there was a commotion, a ruckus, she jolted awake and looked to the door, heart beat quickening and pounding at her chest. There was a gut churning crunch of flesh and bone that sounded from outside, squelching in the now sinister silence and invading curious ears. It gave her reason to halt, and then cringe; her stomach doing flip flops as she tried to look out the window to see if she could spot anything. From what she could tell where she was, someone had been thrown out but Leths light and her positioning would grace her with nothing more. Grimacing, she waited for the person to begin moving but when he did not she feared the worst, and hoped for the best, if he was knocked out- then she could sneak out and rob him and he wouldn't be any smarter afterwards. Smiling, she liked that idea, she would go do it; she affirmed to herself before getting up. However there was something on the air, she felt drawn in, not by prospect of gaining whatever it was on the man, but of something entirely different- she was being called outside by someone, and she wondered who? Or possibly she had fallen asleep in her chair and now she was indeed dreaming, whatever the case, she would go check whatever it was that was calling her out. It wouldn't hurt to look, right? Adventure itself called! Stalking to the door of her room, she first pressed her ear against the wooden surface and listened in, it would do her no good if she were caught. After a few moments of silence, she felt comfortable enough to open the door by a smidge and peek through. Flicking the optical back and forth, she saw nothing, heard nothing, she felt she was in the clear; opening the door just a bit further, but not by much (as she had noticed earlier the door held an awful screech within its hinges when opened more than half way) she shimmied her way through the small crack she had made herself, leaving the buckler behind, as well as her backpack, but she was ever armed with her dagger and shortsword to her sides- in case of danger. She wouldn't be caught without them. Tentatively she stepped through the halls, stopping only when she heard someone walking past, pat patting their hands together as if in cruel satsifaction, freezing, holding her breath before continuing on after the noise had dissapeared or when she felt as if it were safe to move. Like a mouse she was silent, scurrying with light steps towards the front door- out she went, immersing herself into the painfully quiet night and ultimately the dark shadows casted by moonlight. During the day she stuck out like a sore thumb with her less than colorful attire, but when the moon had rose, and the city itself submerged into darkness, she easily dissapeared with her black cloak, and darker clothes; she threw up her hood to further complete the process.

[Balderdash]

"Ana..." She rounded the first corner. "Ana..." She rounded the second, into the back alley. "Ana!" The owner of the voice was standing on the other side of the Hostel, just in front of the headless corpse on the street. A man in his thirties, with short, messy black hair, fair skin, and stubble around his chin. He wore a stark white collared shirt, with dusty black pants that were worn at the knees. Frayed dress shoes covered his feet, and there was a smile on his face. "It's been a long time, Ana..." Sinvelt Catrabuch didn't look a year older than the last time his little sister had seen him. Indeed, he was even wearing the exact same clothes. That was, perhaps, to the lucid and close observer, the first sign that everything wasn't quite right. It wasn't just that he looked exactly the same- He looked exactly like Ana imagined him. Anywhere her memory blurred, so did he. That wasn't to say that he was literally blurry, but certain aspects of him were, to be frank, made up wholesale. For instance, the shoes. While anyone living in such a rough and tumble environment as he would have to wear practical footwear, what Sinvelt was wearing now... Wasn't. That wasn't the only thing that was wrong, though. Sinvelt had neither reflection nor shadow, and he didn't seem quite three dimensional. More a perfectly lifelike painting than an object. When he grinned and opened his arms as if to bring the world to his breast, his body seemed somewhat floaty. It was the eyes that set him furthest apart from the real Sinvelt, however. The gold of his family was missing from his irises. In fact, his irises were missing entirely. As were his pupils. Instead, there were two milky white orbs, devoid of emotion, but not of sight. But would that matter to Ana, when her brother stood before him? Would she even notice? "You've grown so much!" Sinvelt chuckled, "And so far from home..."

[Ana Sol Starris]

The calling was more distinct now, stronger, familliar, this was no longer an idea to rob a man, but to figure out where the voice was coming from. She stepped lightly through the streets, making sure to stay close to the walls and out of Leths moonlight in fear of being caught by any lurking monk or creature. The closer she got to her destination, the more tangible the voice became, and with such a tangibility came memory; ghostly and disconnected from time, with an indistinct presence until finally she was where she had first heard the wet smacking sound of flesh against street. What she saw was unbelievable, she couldn't believe it; she had to be dreaming, this had to be a nightmare in the making... Sinvelt, her older brother from long ago was now standing in front of her in the moonlight, the only problem was- he was dead. Flashes of gut wrenching memory seared its way into her eyes, flickers of blood spurting, blades flying, and the sound of a body falling to the ground sent her mind reeling. No, no, she put her hands to her eyes to shut them for a moment to steady herself, this was a trick of the light and she was hallucinating. The thief tried to fool herself into believing anything but the reality of the situation, opening her eyes and peeking through her fingers, again she saw and he was still there. Upon closer inspection there were few traits that were missing of course but he looked just as she remembered him, distorted somewhat. "S-sinvelt..?" Ana whispered, as if afraid that this moment would dissapear from her forever, how long had it been since she last saw him? Talked with him? She took steps towards him shakily and uncertainly, covering her mouth with her hand in mock horror as the other would reach out for him, eyes wide. He sounded exactly the same, the same brother that she knew so long ago, that she had loved so very much, had yearned to be with him away from her home, wished he would whisk her away on to one of his magnificent adventures that he had "..is.. is that you?" Ana could still hardly believe it, and she didn't care either, she wanted to jump into his arms and hug him so tightly that he wouldn't be able to breath, but she did not- there was something keeping her from doing that. It must have been the life like body next to him, her eyes trailed from the brother she knew down to the headless corpse, following to the head that now lay in the dirt. The sight nearly laid her low, striking her hard in the stomach and repeatedly with terrible memories, things she wanted to push back under the surface of her mind. Regret washed over her thoughts, and she felt the gates to her eyes flood quickly as she shuddered, bringing both hands to cover her face in fear, she couldn't look at him now "...what are you doing here Sin? Shouldn't you be on an adventure or something, how did you find me in Nyka?" Ana began to deny everything that could have happened that one fateful night, but she knew the truth, she was the very reason he had died that night.. It was her fault. "I'm so sorry Sin, I'm so sorry.." she heaved out, straining her whispers, not caring if her voice travelled through the halls of uncertaintity "this is ALL my fault, all of it.. oh gods.."

[Balderdash]

A nod of affirmation. a weary smile. "There was no losing track of you, Ana. You leave such a long trail..." Sinvelt licked his lips, a strange hunger in his eyes. Eyes that remained far from human. He almost trembled with every trickling tear, though from what was hard to say. Hard to say for a while. "It is your fault." he sneered. "Why didn't you do better? Why were you so useless?" Sinvelt took a long sniff of the air, scarlet suffusing his cheeks. "You're pathetic. You were pathetic as a child, and you still are." What Ana didn't know, at least not yet, was that her weeping was feeding her brother. Or was it her brother? Making him stronger. And crueler. "Who else has died for you? Who else has suffered? How many lives have you ruined just by existing and polluting the cities you've leeched off of?"

[Ana Sol Starris]

His voice was quiet, but calculative- just as Ana remembered it to be, with a little something more hidden underneath the edges of his words as if he were hiding something. Had Sinvelts voice always been this choosy, and hidden? But.. If he found my trail, then that would me others would have been able to as well.. and that means.. Ana choked on the realization, she had changed her name for a very good reason. To her, being called as 'Neilles Catrabuch' was a taboo, as if blackened spiders could crawl on her skin at any moment, a hidden figure behind an alleyway holding a dagger at the ready to slit her throat; a fire, to consume her, and leave her as ashes for the breeze to pick her up and whisk her away for another life. Neilles Catrabuch had become Ana Sol Starris to avoid leaving a trail for those that wished her harm, she had isolated herself from people for many years on end in hopes of living a little longer in Sunberth, just so she could earn her own fame.. Without being related to her brother.. Now here was Sinvelt, her long lost and presumed dead brother, he had followed her trail, had used it to seek her out; and for what? Ana could hardly fathom his next words, was he confirming that he was dead, and now she was speaking to his ghost? Had abandoning the book he gave her inside Wrenmae's old, and now destroyed apartment back in Sunberth, brought back her brother? Did that mean he was a.. Ghost? The idea was ludricous of course, but an idea- none the less. Ana forced herself to look at him, face hidden by her cloaks hood and her hands plastered to her skin; she had always wondered what had become of her brother. Some had said he died, committed suicide, she rebuked them and told such blasphemers he was simply on an adventure, as he always was. For the most part, they believed her; or thought she was in shock of his proclaimed death, they left her to her thoughts, and let her believe her own lies. There wasn't any evidence, she hadn't seen a coffen, nor a casket, not even a single dropping of blood. Who was to say that the people in her nightmares correllated with her life? Of course she knew it had been her fault for him leaving, she had been told so repeatedly by her father, and that it was her fault she wouldn't ever see him again; but here he was now, his words weighing heavily on her, two certain words taking more toll on her mind than any words of hate could have. She was useless. She was pathetic. Her silently running tears stopped their flowing as if on que to thinking about all the pain she had caused to people, her eyes following down Sinvelts body to rest on where his feet were. There was a shiver that ran up her spine, curled itself around her neck like a noose would and tugged ever so slowly, it was hard to breathe. Sinvelt in life had never called her that, and despite a time back in Zeltiva that she was repeatedly told she was this, and she was that, especially she was useless, and she was pathetic. Back in a city called Zeltiva, she had been told she ate the families coin away with her medical expenses, she had driven her father to the bottle, she killed the two of her older sisters even if she had done nothing to warrent the violence, put her mother in the ground and sent her second older sister fleeing to never be seen again. Sinvelt never visited her after a Fall season, but Sin in the past when he use to visit and check up on her that she was alright and still alive within the abusive household she had been born into, he had tried to tell her none of what she had caused was her fault. It was hard to take in the fact that maybe none of it was her fault; what else did she know? Back when she was a child, she couldn't help but realize and connect the dots that everything was indeed her fault, people became hurt when she became involved; Jakobi, Zandelia, and Ximal were perfect examples. Ana breathed out to the ghostly image of her brother, eyes remaining on his shoes, hands raising themselves up to pull the hood back and turning her head upwards to look him in the whited out eyes, meeting them with her shockingly light honeyed ones "too many to count." The words came out like venom, spat out, she couldn't believe him- he had come all from whichever way to find her, to tell her this? Blasthemous. "You come from where, travelling for however long- just to tell me all this? What happened to the big brother that I knew, the one that would tell me stories, and share candy when he had it, or the big brother that shared secrets with me? That gave me his most treasured posession, a book he wrote himself..." She left out that part where she had possibly lost the book forever, and it was ruined underneath a pile of rubble from the Spring befores awful storm; she had felt terrible over it, but she knew to go back for it would be pointless, after all she had the entire book memorized within her head. Ana grit her teeth, voice coming out angered by the image, and his words. The Sinvelt she had known wouldn't have told her any of this, none of it, she felt a pounding in her chest that rivaled the chokehold around her neck "what did I do to make you hate me?" Suddenly those shoes didn't look all too familliar any more, hadn't Sinvelt constantly worn boots as black as night? The memory was blurry, she never really took much notice to his footwear before, but something about shiny dress shoes seemed off to her. The whited out eyes also sent little alarms in her head, her mind only clearing due to the rage that began to bubble its way through to her features, his eyes should have been gold- much like hers, and her fathers before her and from what she had been told by her mother- like her father's father's eyes before him (making that Gerron's father also had gold eyes, her grandfather, Ana never met him because he died before she was born.) The gold eyes were missing.

[Balderdash]

"A book you couldn't be bothered to protect." Sinvelt spat back. When she asked him what she had done to make him hate her, he turns around to reveal a knife stuck firmly in his back, the backside of his shirt soaked in crimson. "But then, I shouldn't blame you. You couldn't protect its author either." But he didn't answer her question as to where her big brother was. For, as it happened, he didn't know. He could see Ana's fears. He could see the things that made tears come to her eyes late at night when all had fallen silent. He could see her guilty pleasures, and those things that made her furious... But he couldn't see the simple joys in her life that got her through her day. Her big brother's smile, his stories and snippets of advice and reassurances were shrouded from him. So he had to make due with what he could. Anger would suit him as well as sorrow did. But she wasn't angry enough.

[Ana Sol Starris]

His words paused the beat in her chest as fears seemed to become true, nightmares, was she dreaming? She had to be... It was another logical assumption, they plagued her like grossly large amounts of locusts to a vibrantly gold wheat field. her heart stopped momentarily at the sight of the dagger in the back, face strickening, paling worse under the moonlight, blood rushing from her face, but the anger festered, hid, taken by surprise. Sinvelt had a dagger in his back, a dagger, how funny was that compared to the headless body next to the ghostly apparation? Not very. The blade, the blood, the gleam in the light above taunted her- cruely torturing her. "I didn't mean to Sin, brother...!" Ana breathed out caught unaware, trying to say what she wanted but in the end all she could do was stare. The sensation came at her in beats, intertwining with the rythmetic thumping in her chest steadily growing "...I...I was young, can you blame me for not being able to do anything? I would have- SIn- I WOULD have done anything that I could to make that stop.." she took steps forwards, to her brother slowly as she could, afraid that he would somehow vanish from thin air- she wanted to tell him how sorry she was. It must have been a nightmare, it had to be, with events beforehand going on, this was a nightmare, a nightmare. Her mind continued to echoe the blasted words, tumbling in her head. One step, and then two, she took three steps and then four, her body but a clunky mechanigasm reaching out for some form of comfort. Ana knew, somehow, that this was...Odd, why of all nights had he chosen to haunt her now? Could it have been the insults she threw at Revy earlier in the season, the very reason she was isolated from the two people she use to... NO... Still called friends. Perhaps insulting the dead had been a bad move, and she was paying for it now, but for the love of balance and order- the dead should remain as dead or just move the petch on. It was her fault that Sin had died, yes, she couldn't deny that, it had been her fault because of her curious intentions that brought her ambling out of bed. It had been curiousity that put her in this current mess. Curiousity, it would be her death one day, but so far death had yet to lay waste to her body and claim her. Ana froze in her tracks, nearer to the apparation now, closer than before with an arm outstretched to grab the dagger in Sin's back. Rivetting through her head was a chaotic mess of ill intent, she loved her brother, but she refused to see him in pain if he were, utterly abhored the image of that thing potruding from in the middle of his back and decided she would end him- put him out of his misery. Anger flared up, kindling next to it was regret, but her own resolve as well.

[Balderdash]

Ana's hand passed through the dagger as if it didn't exist. Indeed, she garnered no sensation from passing through her brother... Or elsewhere. Sinvelt's head was turned, so she could not see him grinning, could not see him licking his lips, could not see his nose twitching. But she could feel herself growing more distant. Detached. The force of emotion that had taken her to the extremes of murder had burst like an overfilled skin, its contents bubbling out onto the ground to be devoured. She was starting to feel numb. Apathetic, even. A faint stupor starting to settle over her like a haze... And then something very fortunate happened. A razor disk whizzed through the air, whipped through Sinvelt's head and clanged with a shower of sparks against the stone, causing him to whip his head around in the direction of the Hostel. The haze ceased its advance. "Over here!" a woman's voice shouted from a window. Vysia's. "Keep calm, girl! Help's on the way! Just give 'em a poker face until then!" And then she was gone, and Ana was left alone with Sinvelt again. A Sinvelt who was looking rather upset. "Why are you trying to kill me, Ana? Was once not enough for you? Are you getting bloodthirsty now?" She simply had to remain calm. Stay expressionless. Don't let him siphon any more from her. Just for a little bit, and she would be safe. Assuming she could hold out for that long.

[Ana Sol Starris]

There was some resistance to what she was about to do, she had never killed someone in her life- not even to protect herself in Sunberth. It had all been her squirmy, small bodied, cleverness that helped her to survive so long, larceny was but a small factor in her still being alive and coming out of that hellish hole of humanity physically intact for the most part, (not much to say for mental well being, however.) The act of murder was very foreign, but how could you kill someone that was already dead and still call it man slaughter? It was perhaps this small thought that allowed her to take those last few steps and attempt to grip the daggers hilt, to pull it out and end her brother right then and there but the dagger did not come out. Instead her hand had went through the item as if it were air, and straight into her brothers back, she stared at it feeling peturbed and panicky over this. Her body felt frozen, a chill entered her system and penetrated her skin, it was so sudden that she felt her muscles lock in place and with that her mind slowly detaching. The fear and anger she once felt dispersed itself, the flow of energy being pulled inside the thing she had stuck her hand into. Was there even sadness? She tried to ask herself many questions, why she was not taking her hand out of the spectre, why she was standing there like a fool, or how come she couldn't bring herself to care about what was happening right then and there? Her hand was in the image of her brothers back.. One blur of something, or whatever had zipped by and the fierce sharpness of the item slit the air in two with a harsh whistle. Breaking her out of her stupor and effectively giving her legs orders to back away from the thing in front of her, scrambling, stumbling, Ana stepped backwards until she was a few good feet away from her brother. Her head snapped in the direction to look where the second voice had come from, familliar to the thief in the form of Vysia's, she saw the monks robes retreat from the window but nothing more. Slowly her head would swivel to look at the hand she had used to grab the fake dagger in her brothers back. The one she had decided to use to stab him back to his grave, the one that sought violence. Violence.. Why had she gone to that method so quickly? Ana could feel the shake in her body, it started with her feet and travelled up her legs to grasp onto her shoulders, and branch out into her arms, and latch themselves to her hands. There was no emotion on her face so to speak, her eyes had become distant staring hard at the hand she had chosen to perfrom the deed, and her lips remained locked from any utterance they could have made in the current situation. The rise and fall of her chest had slowed, but now was returning to normal, it fluctuated upon her brothers distressed tone of voice- the words which spited her into looking slowly up to the spectre. The ghoul. Whatever it was, a fake image of her brother, and nothing more. Why did she go for the method of killing? Was it bloodlust? No. How could it be? Ana loved her brother with all her heart, and there would be nothing in the world that could shatter those feelings for her brother. It hadn't been a 'bloodthirst' that forced her to go through with the resolve, the hand went to the hilt of her shortsword in a slow, methodical way of reaction. Letting the grooves of the weapon rise, and greet her skin as she tightened the grip and pulled the weapon out; glinting from the moonlight above. Holding it up to the spectre, raising the opposite hand as well to cut into her palms flesh, she did not shutter, she did not flinch. Ana saw the pain for what it was, and she couldn't bring herself to care, even if it stung terribly. Inhaling slowly, and letting her eyes fall shut for a tick or two before opening them as blood would fall in droplets onto the ground, her voice clear, and harsh "Bloodthirsty? OH... You mean for this?" Ana held the palm flat up for the spectre to see and then flicking the hand away to hide underneath her cloak, taunting his very own words, turning the sword and pointing the tip at her so called 'brother'. Cooly staring at him, but with smouldering eyes of hate and fury coming to simmer underneath the mask of indifference "I did not kill you the first time, it was your petty confidence that did... For letting yourself love me, and continue to promise me that you would come take me away from that shyke home when I was old enough..." "You made good of that promise, but you wanted to kill two birds with one stone... Kill our father, and steal me away" Her expression seemed to crack, an angry flash to her gaze "... But you're not my brother.. My brother would never have accused me of his death, he was smart, and he made a mistake... one little mistake that involved me... so what I do for him will always be out of love and compassion for the effort and confidence he placed into my being his little sister." Jerking into a smile, Ana decided that she wouldn't give this fake the pleasure of seeing an angry reaction, instead she would smirk, and grin at him "come at me, brother." There was a clarity in her mind she hadn't felt in years, it felt wonderous, but she was cautious of the sensation.