Shrike's Heart (#4)

[idolpro]

The woman before you is beautiful—fair of features, with lovely golden skin and luxurious long black hair, petite. You have the immediate and distinct impression that she's just let go of your hand, and she steps back, and smiles.

It's not quite a happy smile.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's just nothing I can do, as things are. But the way is there; it just needs to be lit."

You open your mouth—maybe to say something, or to express confusion—but you have to cough, and taste something metallic, spattering black blood onto the ground in front of you. Then you realize—blood seeps from opening wounds in your arms, your chest, your stomach, your face. It rims your eyes and trails from your nose and you feel like you're dissolving—

—and you fall through the ground like it's the surface of a lake, and go down, down, down.

> Wake Up

Comments

Re: THE BARRACKS

[worthathousand]

[ Maybe she just fought a zombie army or something.
But now she follows the path to the barracks, and to the desk.

...Guess it's time to snoop on this letter, too. ]

Re: THE BARRACKS

[handpuppets]

[ Unrolled, the letter reads, in an antique script you seem to nonetheless be able to read Old Realm:

Dear Lark,

I don't know how to find you again. I don't know why you'd put yourself in danger for me again.

I also wish I wasn't so weak as to only find a way to see the world is beautiful because of you. I wish I could see what everyone sees in it.

I wish I could have been who you needed from the start, but I guess that might have not been meant to be, either. I'm not sure I'll ever be as much as you deserve.

The letter isn't signed. ]

Re: THE BARRACKS

[worthathousand]

[ ...since when can she read Old Realm.

She sits down at the desk, considering the scroll for a long moment.
Cardigan already got their letter, but this place seems meant for it, after all. ]

Shrike,

Do you recall what you told me, not long ago? You spoke of finding a better way to love the world. Do not abandon the conviction you have kindled in yourself: it is a worthy thing.

I know I am not the easiest woman to impress, but you have impressed me. The world is fortunate to have you in it. If I am truly dead, and the duty falls to you and my son,

[ The brush leaves a drop of ink where it hangs over the page. ]

then it is not such a harsh thing, because I know that Creation is left in worthy hands.

- General Amakura

wow, how dare you

[handpuppets]

[ you write your letter, and lay it on the desk. by the time you've finished contemplating your words, the candle lit in a lamp in the corner is necessary to see your writing. the room is lit by a few candle sconces, and night is falling quickly outside. ]

:3

[worthathousand]

[ Did darkness fall unnaturally quickly, or did it just take her hours to compose that?

She pushes herself up from her seat at the desk, and rolls the letter into a neat scroll secured with twine.

Then she walks past each of the beds: have other soldiers stayed here? ]

Re: :3

[handpuppets]

[ A mystery. But it did seem on the quick side.

Each bed is made meticulously; if you've been in Shrike's room, and you have, you know she continues to make her bed the same way even now. Five out of the six have also been laid out with a suit of white ceremonial clothing, a single lotus flower laid on top. The sixth bed is empty. ]

[worthathousand]

I wonder who she is mourning, this time.

[ She sits at the edge of the last bed, taking care not to rumple the sheets overmuch, and lets herself have a moment's rest: glaive set gently at her feet, securing her now-pale hair into a fresh braid.

Are there any signs of who this sixth bed might belong to? ]

[handpuppets]

[ the sixth bed seems to be set apart a bit from the others—the officer's bed, maybe.

it's at least comfortable enough, in here, although the darkness seems particularly oppressive, outside—rather than being out in an open area, as most army camps are, and in contrast to what seems to be the native climate of Shrike's homeland, you seem to be situated somewhere in a dense forest far away from civilization.

Somewhere in the distance you hear a gravelly howl of some great creature.

...wait, haven't you seen this, before? ]

[worthathousand]

[ She rises swiftly from the bed, retrieving the glaive.
It does seem familiar, though she can't place why just yet.

—And her immediate instinct is to consider the threat before anything else.

Glaive readied, she steps outside the door of the barracks, leaving it open behind her to spill light out into the trees. ]

[handpuppets]

[ The light doesn't travel far—the darkness is like a thick blanket, the canopy of trees overhead blocking out moon and stars.

Sound travels, though, and you can hear rustling in the brush—heavy footfalls, coming closer. Lamplike eyes in the dark. Something's coming. ]

[worthathousand]

[ Demon or spirit or Anathema—the list of possibilities is instinctive.
She tightens her scavenged bracers and retakes her stance. ]

Honored spirit, I bid you leave this place in peace.

[ It’s due diligence not backed by actual optimism. ]

[handpuppets]

[ Whatever it is, they don't seem to understand you; more footfalls, and a low growl in the dark—no, more than one growl. Even if they don't understand you, they've heard you, and seen the dim light coming from the barracks.

Three sets of eyes that shine as a predator's do, in the dark—though they have an uncanny glow to them. Black fur, barely distinguishable from the night. Taller than you by half; looking like an elongated wolf or a horse with many very sharp teeth. These are no demon nor spirit, some horrible primordial nightmare—and, you think again, haven't you seen this before?

But there's little time to think; two of them close in, slowly; the third wastes no time in charging you, snapping out with its knifelike teeth. ]

[worthathousand]

[ Where has she seen this before? It must have been someone else's memory—

But no, there really isn't time for thought. ]

I accept your invitation to battle.

[ And she is already moving, strike sweeping low to disable, and to send it stumbling backwards— a living shield against the two others. The next strike is an unbroken chain of motion from the first; she leaps with the naginata to arc it downwards in a severing blow. ]

[handpuppets]

[ You sweep your glaive across its legs, and it staggers, legs buckling, and you're able to leap atop it, driving down into its neck with a hard blow that cuts through flesh and bone with a crack—but the other two come in fast and hard, ramming into their downed fellow in a way that sends you falling backwards, against the wall of the barracks. ]

[worthathousand]

[ Her teeth grit as her back slams against the barracks wall.

But there's not time to catch her breath; instead, she uses the wall to brace herself for another charge, thrusting the naginata forward with every intention of letting one of the beasts assist in impaling itself—

—and then she goes low, anticipating what she expects will be the second beast taking a leap for her throat. If this works, she'll duck beneath it, momentum carrying her as she spins around, naginata following in a wide arc that strikes low to high, catching the beast's underbelly and hurling it upwards before it can land.

(If this works.) ]

[handpuppets]

[ if it works—that's the question.

you can feel it, in this darkness—that if you fell here, no one would help you; if you died here, no one would know.

but it's never occurred to you to give up, has it? one lone woman against the darkness, and you still fight like you have an army behind you.

Now that's a story, isn't it?

and suddenly the world around you is awash with light, like the sun has just dawned, and it's within you. when the light fades, it's brighter than it was—almost as if you yourself are glowing—and the glaive you hold in your hand shines gold, sharp, and true.

you feel strong, healthy, alive, awake, unbending. and you think you know where you've seen this before. and perhaps you have a guess why.

now what do you do with it? ]

1/2

[worthathousand]

[ It's like she can finally breathe again.

Essence rushes through her, and suddenly she realizes how stifling the fight had felt.

And... oh. Shrike really is him, isn't she? ]

2/2

[worthathousand]

Is this what it feels like, Shrike? Does some part of you remember?

[ She gathers this bright-glowing essence to her, lets it build until the blade of the naginata leaks bright shafts of light—
—and then charges forward again.

Her weapon is a golden whirl, and it catches the beast again with full force, tossed like a child's toy. She connects again and again before it hits the ground, spent essence shearing off of her like petals or scales. ]

It is beautiful.

Re: 2/2

[handpuppets]

[ Moving feels like poetry, or song; the essence comes when you call it, easily and powerful in your hands. It's been so long, now, that you almost forgot what it felt like, and this is even more so—the feeling of power to shake the earth, and maybe the heavens themselves.

The creature howls, and howls, thrown back and bleeding, and your blade finds a home in its neck, the edge now keen and sharp like it's just been forged and sharpened.

The last of them looks at you, and takes a step back, recoils—recognizing the superior predator. In the glow of your light, it looks less a monster and more an animal. ]

Re: 2/2

[worthathousand]

[ It is so perfect she could almost cry—powerful and expansive and glorious in its rightness, but all of it gathered in her. Just her, not herself-as-war.

That part is strange and new, and she can't decide how to feel about it just yet.

She stands straight, blade extended to point at the last remaining creature. ]

Go, then. Bear this warning to the rest of your pack.

Re: 2/2

[handpuppets]

[ it doesn't understand words, but it does understand a threat, and a chance to leave, and besides—

for all that night fell quickly, now the sky is lightening above, and the first rays of the sun are breaking above the horizon. it's dawn. the sky is clear, and it looks like it's going to be a beautiful day.

as the day breaks, the light fades from you, and from your weapon; but it leaves it with a newly-keen edge, and the memory of that feeling—that rightness, that strength, stays with you. You receive +1 WILLPOWER.

and, as it scampers away, tail between its legs, so too do you see a path forward. ]