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I'm Waking Up: Origin Stories.
You’re an old man who had a nasty run-in with Something That Went Bump in the Night, and once believed that the only way to make sure that you never had another problem like that again was to pick up a gun and shoot supes in the face before they killed you or hurt your family – and then some government shitheads called you up and told you that they’re your friends, you all have to get along. They took your weapons, sent you to some fucking program that felt too much like Alcoholics Anonymous. You hang up on them every time they check on you, but they still know exactly what you’re doing, every second of every day.
You’re a house wife in a quiet little town, accustomed to turning a blind eye towards the strange things that happened to people after dark because the local police either didn’t have a clue or were letting those things happen in the first place – and then some nice people in coats came in from God Knows Where, arrested some crooked cops, and made it all go away.
You make a new batch of cookies every Sunday, to give to the coated fellows who still hang around at the street corners downtown; some of them are young, so very young, and remind you of your younger brother. Your little ones want to be just like them someday.
You’re the kid who learns Judo rather than Track and Field after Math every day (Teacher Felipe says that you have to know how to defend yourself), then takes a quiz all about vampires, fairies and werewolves in Occult Studies. Every Wednesday, you tumble around with your classmates, and get mad whenever your best friend does his Superman thing and beats everyone to the top of the hill by flying there. Every Friday, a guy with more guns than you have teeth comes to school, takes over PE classes, and talks to everyone about what he does for a living. Sometimes, he takes “special kids” with him to another school, for special people like them. You hope that he won’t take your best friend away.
You’re the manager of one of the biggest call centers in the country. You’re happy because life’s been great ever since you opened your doors to the local vampire community. They’re damned good at their jobs, and you don’t have to deal with the HR nightmare of overtime, of medical bills and lawsuits anymore. And you feel safe, because you know that if one of them ever steps out of line, you know exactly who to call.
You’re the girl who leapt through time, who met a handsome stranger who took you to a fantastic place full of talking trees and flying fish, the girl who was loved and fucked and tossed aside when you started getting boring.
You came home and found that your house wasn’t your house anymore, that your parents have been dead for decades and all of your friends were old and gray while you haven’t aged at all.
They found you crying on a swing. They told you what happened, and helped you set things right.
You’re the drunkard at the local bar who sees monsters in every face, and still remembers what it was like years ago, when you didn’t have to be afraid of the dark, or wonder what’s beneath all the human skin and human smiles of every person you meet. The Truth fucked you up, you see. You wish that once upon a time, you had the better sense not to listen.
o r i g i n s t o r i e s.
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Should I take this as "yes, sir, you may touch me?"
[ Trying for a bit more humor now, wrapped up in an actual question. Her Masters did not do humor.
That was probably one of the many reasons why he had felt the need to destroy them himself. What's a world without humor? ]
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He is kind; that is unnerving. He speaks to her as if she had the right to speak back; that leaves her unsure.
A little louder than a whisper now: ] I do not wish to cause you trouble.
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In time, perhaps. ]
I appreciate the thought.
[ With that, he's taking hold of her arm and letting his fingers run over the wound. It heals instantly, and with nothing but a mild itching sensation on the girl's end. After that, a bit of water is bubbling up from just around her feet, seeping through the stones. It carries the blood away. ]
There's another wound close to your shoulder blade. I can do that without getting close. [ Smiling now. ] It wouldn't do to have you looking indecent in front of me.
[ And yes, he's speaking like she gets to control the situation, not him. And like he's perfectly fine with it, because that is just how things ought to be. ]
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This one is lifting her gaze back to his now, and since they're relatively close, she finds herself blinking at the unique color of his eyes before her gaze drops, once again, to the ground. ]
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Standing up now, and bringing his mask back up over the lower half of his face. The itch on your back should be gone, child. ]
Let's find you a place to change before we go back to the others. We need to leave soon.
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She'll wait for you to move and follow in your wake, sir. ]
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But he'll dwell on that later. She wouldn't be the first. She certainly won't be the last.
It doesn't take him too long to find a decent place: an outhouse, one miraculously intact after the assault of his armies. He opens the door for her, and gestures for her to go inside. ]
I'll be out here.
[ To wait on her, and to make sure nobody disturbs her. There is also that business of him not being able to have a cigarette since the fights started up. ]
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You'll likely hear the rustling of fabric, and the tiny exhale of surprise before she's finally ( and shyly ) stepping out.
She likes these clothes
even if they are new. They are warm.She does look a little helpless though. How does one... use... footwear. ]
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...Right. You've probably never worn shoes or anything close to them during your entire durance. He tosses the stick now, and crouches down in front of her with another smile. ]
Here. I'll help you with that.
[ And this time, he isn't going to wait for her to say yes, or give some sort of indicator that she's all right with it. Lacing and buckling those boots of yours up now. ]
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So she watches, observes, and attempts to make sense of how those thin ropes and metal things work. ]
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Makes sense. The Lost who survive Arcadia got by on watching everything.
He stands up again once he's finished, and looks off towards his contingent. His soldiers are checking on him through the psychic network that Tala set up for them. Everyone's ready. ]
Let's go. We'll be moving on foot for about a week.
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She only nods though, before she sneaks a glance to the other soldiers; the other children.
She will follow where the army goes. There was never anything but the Pit for her here. ]
Timeskip!
The girl is with him throughout the journey. He only leaves her when there is fighting to be done, or when he wants to step away and move through the temporary encampments they make on the road to see to the other children who will be a part of his kingdom very soon. Beyond that, though, he takes full responsibility of her well-being, which does include feeding her regularly and respecting her space. It's just too bad that he can't seem to get her to sleep the way that many of the other children are.
He decides to check in with Joshua LaRue and other parties of interest on the second night, when he's seated at a campfire he's made with the balefire from his fingertips. The camp is quiet. He can hear some of his soldiers patrolling the perimeter while others talk in quiet voices among themselves. Still others are attending to their children. ]
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The only movement from her end when he occupies himself with whatever that small, foreign-looking contraption is, are the way she glances over with just her eyes to study his face. When knowledge is not forthcoming, she turns her attention back to the fire.
It is calming, looking into those flames, strange as they appear, at least to her.
She startles just as she begins to feel consciousness slip, and she shakes her head in an attempt to fight off the sleepiness.
It doesn't work. She's starting to nod off at intervals now, but she's bull-headed and tough and... yes, that's her sort of just... sinking down, head awkwardly tilted against her shoulder. ]
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No one?
Well. That is a disappointment.
Watching her a moment, then standing up just long enough to fetch their blankets and head over to sit right beside her. No, he's never done that before. His excuse? It's easier for him to hand a blanket over to her if he's close. ]
Here.
[ This time, there is no statement along the lines of "you should rest". The gesture should be enough, shouldn't it? ]
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She does eventually reach out though to take it, but she's so tired that keeping her eyes open is hard, and her grip falters on the hem when a yawns crawls its way out of her mouth.
Her eyes are watery and her head hurts, but she still feels reluctant to go to bed.
What if she sleeps and they go? What if she wakes up and she's alone again -- or worse, realizes that the recent events were only a dream? ]
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They're a bit past the point of him needing to be careful about her personal space. The girl's practically dead on her feet. ]
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It's the fear of what she might wake to see that has her reaching out through the layers of her coat and blanket, though the most she manages is to bump her fingers against the soldier's arm.
She hopes he won't think her stupid or weak, even if she feels, horrifyingly, that right now she is both. ]
I do not wish to sleep. [ Her voice is so terribly soft and she tries to insist to herself inwardly, that it only shakes because of the cold. ] I do not wish to be left behind.
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It's funny how memory works, how the actions of another could mirror, so perfectly, things that have been done in the past. He's here in Arcadia with a girl so totally damaged that one might wonder if anything could fix her, but he's also centuries away, in a cave colder than this open plain, curled up against a hole sealed by a grate of metal that will scald whoever tries to touch it.
"I'm all alone."
His hand's running through her hair now, as his arm is coming around to draw her close to his body. ]
You won't be. [ He'd like to think that his own voice is soft because there's no need for anything else, not because he's haunted by a memory. ] I'll be here when you wake up.
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She has never had reason to smile, so she is unaware that perhaps that the first time she ever does -- under that massive sky overheard, out here in the middle of land that seems to go on forever -- she does, weakly, before she lets her body go slack as the soldier gathers her close.
She burrows into his warmth before she can think better of it. His words are the only reassurance that she needs, because after being so long exposed to the harsh watch of the Masters, here is kindness that she has taken two sunsets to observe; and it is a kindness that offers and asks for no payment in return.
Her last thought as her eyes flutter to a close, is that if all the people in the Blade King's Lightless Lands are like this one single soldier, the King may ask of her what he will, and she will gladly follow. ]
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Later, after taking a moment out for himself: ]
[ Then he's fetching his pipe, and having someone get him sake.
He'll sleep later. There are too many memories to keep him company right now. ]
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She's a good little girl after that. She'll sleep when the others do, return to her rhythm and wake just as the light peeks over in the distance. She's quiet again, yes, but it's a peaceful sort of silence that eventually eases into understated curiosity directed towards the changing landscape instead of the people she is with.
She never strays far from his side. And on several instances, she shyly attempts to see to his needs in a way that is neither forced nor coerced.
Let her be of use to you, sir. She would like to prove her worth to the people of her new King. ]
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On their second to the last day of traveling, she and the other children will notice that they appear to have lost daylight permanently. The landscape also appears to have shifted into something else entirely, reminiscent, perhaps, of some of the paintings the girl may have seen in the castle of her Masters. She will have a word for it later: ukyo-e, an art form known in a country called 'Japan', on the Prime Material Plane. All of the flowers glow where they are, right down to the Dawn's Promise that she gave him on their first real encounter. The stillness of the air is, as well, too often broken by the howling of wolves.
Said wolves start coming out of the shadows to join the contingent once they're on the main road, on the very last day of their travels through the outskirts of the Lightless Lands. They stare at the children with an intelligence that betrays their form, but make it clear to all of them that they will not harm them. Some, in fact, seem to really like it when the more daring girls and boys reach out to pet them.
One wolf is walking up to him now, head tilted.
MY LORD?
You've sent word ahead, I hope.
OF COURSE.
Now he's turning back to the girl, just to see how she is taking all of this. They're going to reach the capital soon. The buildings, in fact, loom in the distance among the swirling clouds and luminescent petals. ]
We're almost home.
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Some might have misinterpreted the way she refused to blink until those wolves moved away for wariness, but the truth of the matter is that all she feels is quiet awe.
Is everything in this kingdom a merging of the beautiful and deadly? What does that say then of the King? Will there be a place for her here, small as she is, brutish as she may be; she with her hands that have strangled the breath out of others so that she may eat. ]
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He's reaching down, to curl his hand around her shoulder and try to catch her gaze. ]
What is it, little one?
[ Yeah, the nickname kind of came around on their fourth day together. ]
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