Closed The Aftermath of Self Sacrifice (Zandelia)

[Ana Sol Starris]

Spring 36th, 513AV The Infirmary Once upon a time there was a little thief, she had blonde hair, and eyes that when they hit the light just right appeared to be honeyed in hue. A voice narrated inside the deep dark abyss that was Ana's dormant mind, body formless and empty, a mirrored image contorted and distorted to fit the storys view. Like water, the briefest of disturbances created vast ripples that travelled outwards, made the voice hard, and weary, changed it to be something else. The little thief had a family in Zeltiva, a mother, a father, two sisters and a brother, but no family pet to speak of. Little thief was also very sickly, the outside world ailed her and the inside of her home tormented her; to say there was love within the little thiefs household would be a lie, one sister died, and soon after her brother, next her mother; one sister fled far away. So far the mirrored image of Ana had remained quiet, listening, but devoid of any response. One pebble splashed, and sunk far beneath her feet. This thief had stowed away on a ship to Sunberth to escape her fate, thinking perhaps the anarchist city was better. How wrong she was. Another splash and two pebbles fell, her head tilted at an angle downwards to watch them sink to their watery deaths with a feigned innocence. Life was no better, she was only taken advantage of, and soon after she became anti-social despite her trade requiring her to get close to people. Sleep was hard to come by, ironically it evaded her much like how an ever elusive thief striking when one would least expect it. The narrator added whimsy, here and there, a tone that warbled between calm and hysterical, mixed with the rhetorical, if mirrored Ana could have seen the narrator she would have imagined it to be using hand gestures, and arms to add to the story, like a tale weaver. Mirrored Ana felt a trickle of life fill her veins, surely, and slowly, but now three pebbles fell through the invisible floor, bubbles floating up to greet her. Watching the bubbles float around her with mild curiousity, mouth opening to ask questions but her voice remain muted, and ever feverish. Compared to the narrator's voice, hers was non-existant, miniscule with little purpose to the meaning of her current floaty existance, while its was booming in stature. The thief! Oh, the thief, she met a man by the name of Wrenmae, by the name of Shroud, by the name of the Weaver of Words, she met him and with him she joined under a flag of crimson blood riddled with hypocracy. "Wrenmae?" Ana asked, semi-confused by the word which felt foreign on her tounge now, another name such as Egyptus Murdock in the written tounge. Yes! Yes, Egyptus, or otherwise Wrenmae the one that the thief entitled herself to "Wren.." in one night of desire to be something more in Shrouded eyes. "..mae.." She uttered out a mere whisper, hoarse from a lack of water; Mirrored Ana could only stare out into the darkness, horrifyed, her memory coming back to her with every word directed at her. Piercing her core with a deep seeded guilt that bit and tore at her image, a strong woman, turning to a writhing mass of pain in ticks. The narrator was not done yet. Four pebbles fell through, a fire underneath her feet began and grew steadily hotter with each passing moment spent huddled over. The thief abandoned the one with Shrouded Eyes despite what he had done "No" the thief left him for the trees. To hide in a sanctuary long since hidden, and what did the thief do there? NOTHING. Promises had been broken, new contracts had been made, and what did the thief get out of it by following through with the new? Accusations. "Stop" Mirrored Ana began to beg as flames licked at her body, surprisingly cool, and essence-less in form but still carried a scorching pain along her flesh. As if this was all a dream, one nightmare; five pebbles fell through. Cackling laughter broke out and echoed, bouncing back at her like maniacal ghosts of her past, distorting as they pushed through her much like stakes to the body. Mirrored Ana's heart began to beat ridiculously fast as her body burned but did not turn to ash, something gave in her chest, a beat of life- a brand being pushed against her skin to sizzle and mar her body terribly. An inhale of sharp air that stung the way it had been taken in. Cold sweat poured from her body, beading underneath the thin bed covers and dripping from her head as she was appropriately drenched in her own sweat. Ana's eyes shot open and she found she was in a strange room she did not remember, the place was empty, and as she sat up she found her arms were fine. Bringing one to hold her hammering chest, she looked around herself, afraid, had it all been a dream? It could have been.. Had the branding been a nightmare within her subconscience and now she was home in bed back in Zeltiva, or her home in Sunberth? Someone was calling her name but she could not see who, nor did she exactly think it was physical, but more of a mental call "Zand..?" Ana muttered out, hoping perhaps it had been her. Nope! Sharp, and thunderous, it gleefully screeched. The world fell away and suddenly she was free falling, her mind frozen- words forsaking her thoughts, and control, she screamed endlessly. Black enveloped her and she hit the ground hard. Jerking out of her sleep, Ana felt a white cold pain burn through her cheeks, gasping for air as her chest demanded that she breathe. The life came back to her, slowly, mind all a tussle and trying to comprehend the last few chimes of torturous hell. Leaning her head back, she gasped, and then groaned- the pain had been completely real. Oh gods, she could feel it in her chest, and her neck, in her arms, and a wrist, even a gnawing hunger tearing away at her bowels. The bed she was laying in was indeed soaked with her sweat, but it had seemed her body had recently worked off a high fever- something her body was use to having to do as a child. If it hadn't... she might not have been there right now, alive, Ana blinked once or twice, lolling her head around trying to get a good look of her surroundings. Where was she? First...However "...water..." she pled, to anyone that was listening- her throat was parched, and her tounge was as rough as sand paper. Surprisingly she felt more awake than she had ever been before, somewhat half expecting the floor to fall away again, though... Awful nightmares, terrible, but perhaps everything had been a nightmare and she was just now waking up? But if that were the case then she shouldn't have pain in her chest and neck, exactly where.. Zandelia branded her. oocAnything put in "bolded" is actually being muttered outloud for people to hear, anything italicized is inside Ana's head.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia had put off the visit for far too long, she knew that in the depths of her heart and loathed herself for it – just as she loathed herself for being the one to create the situation in the first place. She had tried to ignore it, avoid it and even deny it. Perhaps it had all been a nightmare after all? However, try as she might reality had always crept upon her with its clammy fingers, probing and prodding her until she could have stood no more of its intrusiveness. A score hadn’t been settled, it had been shattered. There was no forgiving what she had done, it had been far worse than the pitifully small words Neilles had thrown at her and Revy. She hadn’t deserved anything approaching what she had been through. As she entered the Great Infirmary, the sounds of the Celestial Square giving way to the quiet peace of the healers, she could only but believe she deserved to be the one whom was bedridden instead.

This isn’t right! If I had just been there…listened. If I hadn’t ignored her for nothing other than petty self-serving goals! I don’t deserve Neilles… she told herself, mentally adding on Revy’s name also as she doubted she deserved any form of loving companionship at this juncture.

“Can I help you Amelias?” came the voice of a young woman, her eye turned to regard her youth – she must’ve been no older than seventeen and working in a medical profession. Zandelia had barely escaped enslavement at that age.

“You…know my name? How?”

“Mistress Vysia instructed us of your name and description. She advised us you may be visiting and that all attempts to do so should be met with acceptance and aid. She was very…abrupt…on the last point” the girl responded, intrigue as to how a foreigner could be so well treated clear upon her face.

“Was she now,” Zandelia smiled at that, the first true smile in the past few days, “well I will be sure to let her know of your attention to duty…” she trailed off, awaiting the confirmation of name.

“Saguina. Thank you Mistress”

“Mistress?”

“Any friend of Mistress Vysia is a Mistress to me. Your…friend…is at the end. We kept her isolated as her condition was serious. She is doing well, though she has not awoken yet. Perhaps she will for you?” Saguina finished before nodding at her and leaving Zandelia to her own devices.

Well, at least it seems I haven’t lost Vysia forever then. Sly old vixen. I’ll have to have a talk with her soon it seems. She is starting to suspect something I’m sure… she told herself, leaving that burden for later and wandering towards where she had been directed.

As she approached the bed, turning into the small and singular room, her gaze was downcast. She stopped at the edge of the bed and could not bring herself to look further up than the rough wooden railing as she leant upon it with her hands. She sighed and gradually let her gaze slip upwards until the full horror of the sight was revealed to her. The injuries were less severe now but the purples, yellows and blacks of the punishment she had endured were still markedly present even if the swelling was much reduced. She approached Neille’s face and brushed it gently, she tried to stop herself from weeping but it was difficult. She bent forwards and place one, delicate kiss upon Neilles’ broken lips – it lasted for a few seconds before she withdrew and brushed her forearm across her eyes.

“Wren…mae”

“Stop!”

Zandelia’s head whipped back and latched upon her face, she was still unconscious and merely muttering. That name though, she had learnt that name and had grown to dislike it slightly less with the journal and letters she had saved for Neilles. Still, if she was reliving a nightmare after a severe beating she could only assume perhaps the mention of Wrenmae was connected. Did he beat her too? Is that why she was always so ill and down-trodden in Sunberth and yet flourished in the Spires and away from him? Her fists bunched, teeth creaked with their gritting. She would find out and make him pay, make everyone whom had ever hurt her pay! It was the least she could do.

“Zand..?”

“Yes Neilles,” she rushed to kneel so she was on a level with the other woman, “yes it’s me…you’re safe. It’s over!” she actually smiled, her emotions soaring and plummeting with every heartbeat, every thought.

“Water” was the first truly conscious word she said, her eyes flickering open then and tears began to stream down Zandelia’s cheeks.

“Oh thank Akajia you’re alive! I-“ she began put couldn’t continue, not then, “of course….water”

She exited the room and found Saguina, she was given a pitcher and two small cups with a warning to take it slowly in giving the water to Neilles – she was still very fragile and too much water could do harm upon occasion. She assured her she would be and returned to pour a cup and hold it to Neilles’ lips for her, tilting it gently for the woman to take a few sips before she placed it upon the table to the side of the bed.

“Why Ana…why?” was all she could ask.

She knew the reason, it had all been there for her to read, she just couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

Because…it’s me… her mind betrayed her and inflicted pain beyond measure with a few small words.

[Ana Sol Starris]

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The room came into vision slowly, her surroundings taking shape into that of a small windowless room, with only a barebones nightstand next to the cot she was laying on; underneath paper thin covers that did little to foster warmth. Garbled text, Ana became aware of a familiar voice that she knew all too well and cringed, uncomfortably tensing as guilt washed over. The events she last remembered came rushing in without mercy: stealing, the monk, the beating, to the Hostel, the crowds, and Zandelia; searing hot iron and the fall into oblivion. For how long she had been out it was hard to tell, she shut her eyes, attempting to will the event away from her mind. Zandelia had come and gone at this point, returning with a pitcher, and two cups, but Ana did not stir from her position, it hurt too much to move, she did not look up, or open her eyes, too afraid to look at the older woman.

There was movement, and she felt herself being slightly jostled, grunting in pain without thought, breath hitching but was rewarded with a refreshing coolness that passed by her lips. Water; Ana drank greedily, wanting more, her body on the verge of what felt like dehydration but the moment had passed, and the cup taken away. She opened her eyes finally, wide, golden irises flicking in the direction of the nightstand, and then up to Zandelia; who had questioned her.
It was a simple ‘Why?’ but to Ana it held more meaning, more question, and she did not know how to answer. “Why not?” Voice hoarse, lips cracked dry, she managed a rhetorical response.

Such clarity was a rare, and fleeting sensation, whether it was because of the widespread pain throughout her body, or the fact she had slept for days on end, it was there and she knew what Zandelia was referring to. There wasn’t point in trying to play dumb, they were past this point, both having of crossed a line they would not be able to step back over. Ana cleared her throat, trying to gain some volume to her words, attempting to lock eyes with her visitor. “I don’t remember why, just that I needed to.” She paused, inhaling deeply as waves of pain streaked out, spinning intricate webs over her body before she would speak again.
“Does what I did bother you?”

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[Zandelia]

When Ana spoke there was a momentary flickering of hope within but that was quickly quelled at what was spoken, words that almost seemed flippant but at the same time more business like than she had wanted. She had no right to niceness of course, she had just done what few could ever forgive one for, yet it would have filled her with a mite more happiness to think that things could have continued as they had before. A foolish hope but a hope nonetheless. She truly didn't know how to respond, her mind playing back the images and the smells, her face contorted into a wince at their coalescing as she turned her head away and shook them off. For now. She breathed deeply and wondered how it had come to pass.

“You...needed to? Needed?” she asked, tone incredulous.

She was in a mental world here that she was not familiar with. Motivations, desires, these she understood. Well enough to ply her trade when it suited her. Yet the realms beyond such things were a mystery, a mental landscape where getting a brand was something that was required was beyond her rationality. She shook her head nonplussed as she tried to process those simple words for what they were, what they meant. It was difficult in the least. She paced back and forth a few steps as she tried to find purchaser before finally giving up and simply staring at Ana, gaze trying to read the unreadable. It was painful to try.

“Just...rest, yes rest. I'll get you some food and...I don't know. Nothing makes sense now, it's insane. All of it insane. I swear Ana, I didn't want to do that. Not to you, to anyone actually” she began but stopped herself before it seemed too pleading in its earnestness.

Air swept out of her nose, short and sharp in its passing. She took up her own cup of water with trembling fingers and brought it to her lips for nothing more than a distraction to occupy herself with. The question, that was the stickler. So candidly asked, as if she were in this position every day of her damned life. She had only one answer, one that any half-decent person would give without hesitation. So why was she hesitating? Was it because through Ana's suffering she now held some meagre trust from the Monks? Was it because, deep down, some part of her knew what Ana was talking about. The darker depths that balanced advantage as if it were merely calculus. She opened her mouth to answer, shut it again and knew herself to be part monster.

“Yes, it bothers me. It bothers me that I had to burn someone I like. Someone who I've experienced much with. Who is more friend to me than those who watched me do it, that handed it to me,” she stated, voice stony, “that I got applauded for it. Like a choice little pet” she finished as her lips twisted bitterly.

“I don't know,” she sighed, “I just don't anymore. At least something beyond pain might come of it but still...I didn't want it like that” she finished.

There was not much more to say in response to what had been asked.

“Do you think it was worth it?” she asked, another important question that had been poking her incessantly.

[Ana Sol Starris]

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It was. Came the thought, clear, and simple; Ana’s expression altered in mere seconds, back and forth between teary eyes, and wistful gazes. Never settling on one for long because she didn’t know exactly how to feel at that moment, just that it was a complicated set of emotions, many vying for power: for voice to scream at the woman with either hatred, love, or a platonic mix of the two, or to comfort her with gentle words, calmly explaining, attempt to help her make sense of the situation. There was an obvious conflict in Zandelia’s words, Ana heard it, and angled her head, reached out with a frail hand towards the woman. Softly, gently touching her arm, the thieves’ fingers were trembling from the anxiety in the atmosphere, and the pain that continued to come in waves.

“It was..” Ana started, unsure just how to continue, she cleared her throat, fear flickering within golden irises. “I know it was.”

Ana’s grip tightened, tears brimming at the lids of her eyes; voice small, following the intensity of emotions that were now overflowing. “We’re friends again, aren’t we..?”

They had to be friends again, she had redeemed herself of her sins, had sought out punishment that would be beneficial for the sake of their friendship. It was a never ending ride of extremes but they had stayed together for most of the duration of it. They came down in swoops, salty water falling down her cheeks, chest heaving, a heaviness setting itself upon her shoulders, tears provoked and drawn out by the pain in her body, and the agony that was her mental status. The thief’s sobs began to echo in the small, nearly empty room, growing more and more hysterical with each passing moment. She gripped onto Zandelia's arm harder, that weakened quickly, fingernails beginning to dig. Letting go, facial expression transforming into a snarl of an expression, anger taking over sorrow, snapping the slow transition into little pieces.

"I proved something didn't I?!" Ana lashed the question out, not rightly knowing why it was that she was suddenly angry, just that she was. It was simply too overpowering to hold back.

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