I am the Forgotten King

@anankelotus

[REQ. UNAFFILIATED] Small hunting parties regularly venture beyond monastery walls to hunt for additional food to pad out supplies. On one of your patrols, your arrow manages to sink deep between the ribs of a young buck. He flees, alive, but leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Tracking him down will take all night, which is bad news when there’s snow already falling. Even so, you can’t just return empty-handed. [Grants Bow +1]

Rations on campus remain low and Felix grows tired of vegetable stews quicker than others, and the Blue Lions student becomes antsy for a hunting trip just for the sake of getting some meat to cook up. While he is never keen on using a bow and arrow to hunt, much preferring his sword, the staff at the Monastery insist on using arrows to hunt in order to avoid scaring off the fickle animals that live in the nearby woods. 

By the time Felix manages to land a solid hit on a buck, the arrow lodged perfectly between the young beast’s ribs, night is fast approaching and snow is beginning to fall in a gentle sprinkling. With a grunt of frustration, he watches the buck scurry off, a bright red trail leading the way to follow to its final resting place, and then Felix turns to the accompanying staff member he was required to bring along. 

And the blood left on the ground by the dying deer makes his head spin, and he regrets agreeing to this in the first place.

(It's so red. He's seen red like that before. Someone, something, dying, and he finds himself left behind, the crumbling soul of a dragon who no longer needed him. The blood pools around him, and he knows that he has done wrong. Wrong that he cannot right, not now, not ever.)

♫ ah yes, lyn and (looks at smudged writing on hand) athonkos

Anankos trails after her nephew, head hung low, long ocean blue hair pooling over her face as she droops. She does not know if she is capable of truly handling this. She could not take care of her own lands… how was she meant to help someone else’s?

And let alone the fact that the two of them were not even who they said they were, a mere act of deceit towards the villagers making the situation only that much worse.

She didn’t want to have to lie to them, but if that made completing their task any easier, she would less than happily do it if she had to. Besides, revealing the truth now would surely only make them that much angier. They had already been fooled once by imposters, to know that they had been lied to again - even if herself and Shigure meant no harm by it - would surely be another prickling thorn in their hearts that they couldn’t bear, a betrayal that would sting more than any other.

Anankos waits a moment, as one of the elders passes her a note with messy handwriting. It is just barely legible enough that she is able to make out the list of supplies and she bows her head.

“Worry not… I’m… sure that we will be able to get all of this, and perhaps more… we are… happy to be able to help you… right, Lady Lyn?”

The Silent Dragon’s song dips into a regretful thing—not necessarily unusual in and of itself, but coupled with their situation and the distaste that accompanies the regret, it makes Shigure wonder if his dear ojichan dislikes having to put on this charade as much as he does. Still, he nods his head when the older bluenette addresses him again. “Of course. We’ll get this all sorted out.” He waits for Anankos before 

Despite the list being written in a nigh-unintelligible hand, Shigure still manages to make out the different necessities the villagers have requested. He reads through the list and… er. Well. A few of the items are about what he’d expect of this size to need; others… clearly are not, and are most likely victims of the elders’ inability to hear correctly. He should’ve expected as much. It likely would have been less of a waste of time to have one of the other villagers do it, but the last thing he wants to do is trouble them more.

"Parrots... huh... I wonder what they meant to write..." She could not even begin to guess what the poor old woman who had handed her the note had wanted to write. But they still had to try their best.

Even if they were not who they said they were, Anankos' worst fear would still be disappointing the villagers. She could not take that again, not take not being able to serve the whims of the humans she loved so much.

♫ ah yes, lyn and (looks at smudged writing on hand) athonkos

Oh dear, these elders are quite… hard of hearing. Or ignoring most of what Shigure is saying in favour of hearing what they want to hear. Both possiblities were likely. But so far, Shigure seems to be taking on the role of Lyn quite well, for someone who did not seem to know her at all. Which, made them quite lucky indeed that the villagers didn’t seem to truly know here either. Though, Anankos does not think she looks quite old and wise enough to be considered a ‘sage’.

Ah well, it was probably best to… roll with it for now, as the kids would say.

“You… really should not have to pay for supplies that you are going to need… I’m sorry for your troubles, but we should not charge you at all! We will hunt them down to the best of our abilities, and should you truly want to pay us, we shall negotiate the deal afterwards…!” Her voice is raised far higher than it has been in many years, sounding rather squeaky in the air of the village. But she must be confident, to keep up the act that her dear nephew has already started to build. Besides, it wouldn’t be all that well for the villagers to figure out that yet another person had lied to them. Her shattered mind can come up with a thousand different ways this could all go wrong, constantly worried about what lurked behind any corner. And so she tred carefully, trying not to disturb the peace that they were starting to build.

She tugs gently on her nephew’s sleeve, pulling him down slightly to be able to whisper in his ear, taking care to not let the villagers hear her words.

“Shigure… we should proably do what they ask… lest they get anymore suspcious than they already are. I’m sure we are more than capable of getting whatever supplies they require anyway…”

As Anankos pulls him down to speak in private, Shigure listens to what the older bluenette has to say. After a moment of consideration, he nods. “That’s a fair assessment. Perhaps in tracking down the imposters we might well find the missing materials anyway, but if not,” he shrugs, “it’s easy enough to replace them, as you said.”

The sooner the two can do so, the sooner they can finish dealing with these elders. Nice enough and caring about their village they may be, the fact that they can barely understand the emissaries from the monastery makes it that much harder to… enjoy working with them. And Shigure has effectively already filled his quota of interacting with strangers for today; he itches to leave, to go on a soothing flight or take a dip in a lovely lake. Not that he’ll be able to do so if he and Anankos want to accomplish their task as soon as possible. So the teen bows Hoshidan-style to the villager group—“Thank you for allowing us to assist you. Please compile the list of necessities and hand it to us as soon as you are able.”—and turns, heading back to where Kaito awaits near the entrance of the town.

And let alone the fact that the two of them were not even who they said they were, a mere act of deceit towards the villagers making the situation only that much worse.

She didn't want to have to lie to them, but if that made completing their task any easier, she would less than happily do it if she had to. Besides, revealing the truth now would surely only make them that much angier. They had already been fooled once by imposters, to know that they had been lied to again - even if herself and Shigure meant no harm by it - would surely be another prickling thorn in their hearts that they couldn't bear, a betrayal that would sting more than any other.

Anankos waits a moment, as one of the elders passes her a note with messy handwriting. It is just barely legible enough that she is able to make out the list of supplies and she bows her head.

he knows it's a gamble to sheathe his sword, to sprint forward like he has never before. even though seliph is fit enough with the blood of the crusader running through his veins, there's no knowing when his stamina will dwindle out. but he pushes forward, regardless, feet pounding against dirt and grass, as does his heart in its ribcage.

in the corner of his eye, yet another one of those vines is drawing closer with alarming speed.

no, not now—

seliph reaches for the offered hand.

please...!

gloved fingers clasp around anankos'.

he doesn't care if the branches scrape against the fabric of his clothes as he squeezes through.   &   seliph more or less stumbles out of the hedge, remembering to let go of the other man's hand.

"you must have good eyes. i didn't... i didn't even notice. but that really saved us, so thank you," the king speaks the moment his racing heart slows down. a grateful smile is offered in anankos' direction before blue eyes start looking around. ah. they are still in the maze, but they aren't being chased. not for the time being, anyway. "let's take a breather here and then continue on our way—"

a sudden thought crosses his mind.

"I... I don't blame you for not noticing... I think... most people would not have noticed..." Anankos casts his gaze towards the ground, flustered, dragging a nervous hand through his long waves of hair. He wonders if anyone else would have noticed at all. It was complete happenstance that he was here at all, that he was able to notice small things that he would not see if he was human - if his eyes were confined the norm that people expected.

"I... I think I could do that... though I am not sure how many more of those gaps there will be... this maze is... very strange... like it is somewhat alive beyond the shrubbery..." Nervous eyes glance around, searching for any single way out of this place. He can see now, that there is something going on here, but his heart can not take dwelling on it for too long.

His head perks up slightly, catching a small place that perhaps only could be broken through, rather than being able to wiggle through. He lifts his hand, pointing carefully in the direction of the weak spot.

But so far, they have only gotten more reasons that they should not be. Reasons that they should have remained dead and buried in the ground, like he had left them.

“Yes, I suppose broken things can be fixed… but humans are also strange… there are some who would keep broken things around, just because they have some sort of attachment to them… who is to say that I am not one of those things…? Though, I can’t imagine that anyone here is keeping me around for that reason…” They are slightly calmer now, though still ill at ease with the presence of the mimic. It is odd, the feeling. Like fear, but also a sense of wanting to care for them, as if they were Anankos’ own unsure child. Strange…

That rings true. They will never be human — One a dragon, one a tool. But Denning is, in their toolhood, a mimic, and thus the mimic must ever strain for the ‘ideal’, even as flawed as it seems. For beauty and power by the standards of Lord Nergal. By the standards, also, of living beings. That is their function, after all.

Perhaps the dragon, too, would 'suffer’ less for a function. They see now, perhaps — A life unmoored and lost, not un-like themself in that dread silence. How regrettable. For one, the morph has a function now, a hand to wield them.

They are wielded. Thus they know no true struggle as Anankos describes it, cannot know of it.

This too, rings true. Perhaps such a purpose would alleviate the dragon’s 'pain’ — A concept just as foreign. But if they struggle not, they do not live. Does Anankos wish for life or not-life? If they do not live, then why do others struggle with discarding them? Why struggle against it? Why cling to 'life’?

Then why did they return to the Isle?

They still do not comprehend. The buzzing in their head, now, assures them that for the moment, they cannot.

They will, however, return to ask more, at a later date.

Not knowing, too, is knowing.

Not knowing means there are gaps to fill. And this dragon, denying humanity but seeming so very human, so very alive…

A hum, rattling, ricocheting through their voicebox. There is much to analyse and pry deeper into, already. But their processing is already taxed to the limit, faced with so many behaviors and concepts they cannot comprehend, with the constant pressure of pure, pure quintessence, calling them like moth to flame, like a butterfly that has not yet learned to fear the sea.

’i do not understand.’ they confess, once more. ’but that too is valuable. for that, you have my gratitude.’

They give Anankos a bow, then turn to leave — Before, ah.

’i will seek you out once more. i would like to know more.’

'pray do not be discarded before then.’

anankelotus​:

Anankos’ head hurts, thrumming with a long forgotten power. Memories that lingered of a time that they did not want to remember. It pounds in their very blood, awakened by the strange little mimic who they cannot understand. And they hate it, they hate having to drown in their own thoughts and a pain that they do not want to have to feel any longer.

They do not want to remember the blood that stains their hands. The pain they had caused the very beings that they had claimed to love so much. The pain they had caused themselves by daring to hurt someone they cared about. It’s overwhelming, how much the pain will forever course through them. To the point that they are almost a very incarnation of that pain itself. The lingering soul of a old dragon who just want to die now.

They startle as the mimic continues to sign. And the way the mimic signs their name only makes them feel that much more like crying. It makes their heart tremble, makes them want to run away and continue hiding their very visage for the rest of all eternity.

“I do not apologise for you… only for my own pain… I know such constant apologies will not soothe my grief… but what else is there to say when I am something that should not even exist in this world any longer?” They do not expect the mimic to be able to understand such words, nor do they even truly seem to understand themselves. They are afraid, of the very person they have become, and they fear that they cannot understand themselves. They are so scared, that one day they will lose control again. That one day they will destroy everything that they have come to know and love again.

“Of course they can’t! Look at me! I am so far from beautiful and I am clearly the most shattered being present at this academy! How am I supposed to live when I am only a soul in its purest form?! I… I’m sorry… I don’t mean to yell…”

… Something that is not meant to be?

It is odd, that it strikes a chord. Lord Nergal called them, their kin Perfection, while humanity called them Abomination. Power, beauty — If that is what they are, then perfection brands as much as it uplifts. Is having one over the other not also some measure of it? Do those with hearts suffer more from the brand than they benefit from the elevation?

How useless, then, being human. Being inhuman-but-not-quite. Being dragon, being alive. It makes so little sense — Why apologise, knowing it means naught, knowing it does nothing?

A waste of energy, power, potential… Is this the leisure of the powerful, or the impotence thereof?

A sound rips from their throat against their will, crackling and unbidden. Being a soul in its purest form would explain why Anankos seems so blinding, so reverbrating to their own core — With no vessel to dim and contain, their own ordinarily dull senses are going mad. It is beginning to tax them, slowly but surely — Denning flinches not at the shouting, for it means little to them, but the outburst of the torrent of the dragon’s quintessence alongside kindles the tension behind their eyes further.

They know not how to name the burn in the throat, the pressure at the sides of their head. Still, their hands move. ‘many ‘live’ with less.’ it is not placating; simply a statement of fact.

But so far, they have only gotten more reasons that they should not be. Reasons that they should have remained dead and buried in the ground, like he had left them.

"Yes, I suppose broken things can be fixed... but humans are also strange... there are some who would keep broken things around, just because they have some sort of attachment to them... who is to say that I am not one of those things...? Though, I can't imagine that anyone here is keeping me around for that reason..." They are slightly calmer now, though still ill at ease with the presence of the mimic. It is odd, the feeling. Like fear, but also a sense of wanting to care for them, as if they were Anankos' own unsure child. Strange...

Artur’s gentle voice rose in volume just a bit, his confidence and demeanor changing just a bit as his hand remained on Anankos’ shoulder. One trapped in their own misery sometimes needed an outside voice to get them back on track… he’d known that all too well, after all.

“I’ve seen men and women in my time who’s minds and bodies are aching and shattered. Those who have lost everything they’ve ever known or can never return back to their normal way of life, but yet, they kept on fighting because it was the only thing left that they could do to make things better.. and i think you to be capable of doing the same thing, Anankos! Even if death’s presence still looms over you like a shadow in the night, even if everyone around you has passed on.. what’s stopping you from protecting what you have left here and now? There are people who care for you, still, experiences and places left in life still worth protecting…. Things to believe in, and you have the power to save those things, should they be taken from you!”

And just like that, his voice lowered once again, back to a slow, caring tone as his hand slowly and gently left Anankos.

"You... perhaps you do not understand the weight behind your words, but there are not many left in this world would look upon me and want to remain by my side... if there are any at all... I can do my best, but there will still be many more who will reject my very existence..." She thinks she may be fine with that, at least now she may be. Once, it would have upset her beyond reason, to know that the humans she loved so much wanted nothing more to do with her. But she was not that side of the coin, she was only as human as she could possibly be, and perhaps she would be okay if they were to reject her again.

“Well, you and I know better, I would think.” She gestures to her sibling, then to herself. “Clearly, if we were only beings of power, there would be no need for either of us to take on a human form.”

Gods who served them. What a strange turn of phrase, but not entirely inaccurate. Another sigh escapes her lips. “I don’t wish to fight with you either. I have never had any quarrel with you, nor our other siblings- unless they overstepped their bounds.”

She draws back, ready to return to the surface. “We have always occupied different spheres, brother. But that does not mean I enjoy violence. ”

It was the opposite, in fact. But unlike Anankos, darkness could never hide her. She gives one last glance to her azure-haired sibling, before heading back into the light.

"anankos, then." another nod, with his smile wavering a fraction, puzzled. seliph doesn't grasp why addressing his temporary companion as 'you' would be acceptable in the other's mind. calling someone by their name is only respectable, isn't it...? however, he decides against asking or commenting on it, only falling into a companionable silence as they head further down the pathway.

as promised, seliph watches their backs. blue eyes trace along the wall of greenery surrounding them at the sides. so far, they haven't been turned around, and his optimism grows into hope. perhaps this could be it...!

yet his gloved fingers tighten their grasp around the holy sword's hilt, for an uneasy feeling has settled in his gut. while nothing has yet to happen aside from the occasional rustling he hears, seliph doesn't lower his guard.

though perhaps no amount of caution could have prepared him for something suddenly closing around his ankle and yanking.

with an alarmed cry torn from his throat, seliph ends up on the ground.

something is dragging him back the way they came—

he twists his body. with tyrfing, he blindly slashes at his assailant.

the vice-like grip vanishes.   &   as seliph proceeds to scamper up to his feet, he blinks. is that a vine...?

no. there's no time to think about that.

"go! i will be right behind you!" the young man calls to anankos as he sharply turns on his heel. seliph doesn't wait to see if more vines emerge from the walls.

He struggles against his own mind, just barely able to turn and start running. But once he starts to run, the weight on his psyche eases, and with a quick look back to make sure Seliph is following, he continues to flee from the danger that pursues them.

He runs until he can't anymore, nearly slamming straight into a wall of the maze that contains them. To anyone else he knew it must look like a dead end, but sharp eyes - as timid as they may be - pick out a small gap in the shrubs, just barely big enough for a person to squeeze.

He turns, reaching out a hand to his companion, hoping that the boy will be able to catch up before the vines grab him once again. It's a long shot, but he can only hope that this way may lead to some sort of exit.

NEW! Oddly, the mages notice that Reason magic has been on the fritz lately. Even the most experienced sages find it difficult to control their magic, never mind the practicing novices that keep burning themselves and injuring others. A late-night attempt to study for a Reason exam quickly gets out of hand and sends a classroom up in flames. The Knights of Seiros and other members of the monastery’s facilities must rush in quickly in order to contain the fire and save lives. [Grants Reason +1]

🌼🌻🌼

She thinks it cruel that the dance of flame must appear before her eyes again in this lifetime ~~~~ that it must consume all that resides in its wrathful path ( and she thinks dreadfully of Belhalla, and of the wounds that yet plague her flesh from the madness therein. ) There is hefted into her stomach the churning weight of unease, and although her limbs are guided unburdened by dread, her mind is hazy and her ire is irked ( although there is no true culprit, but there must always be, she has concluded, in the arsonist's wake, for how else could this flame fester? )

She is ungarbed in an attire befitting a battle of flame, but there is in her anxious heart the merest of inclinations to care for the damage that might be sustained to her own flesh, instead seeking the safety of the students within scorching walls. She returns with one student lugged, in part, over her shoulder whilst her other hand ushers a student much younger through the cinder-kissed archway.

"Go! Now!"

Gingerly movements rest the elder student atop a cloth cot, and in resting him upon it does she hurry for the staff of miraculous Faith magicks at his side, ushering it forth in the moment's desperation ~~~~ his breaths are free and light, and there embellishes his image no burns of even a small degree ( and for such she must thank the Crusaders above. )

"You there," She speaks, and in standing rests the staff against the stone of the wall. He is a fellow hooded and unseen, and in the azure of his tresses she thinks of Lex and his strength, and by the Crusaders if more arms could be amassed in these rescue efforts. "I pray you can lug a body, come with me! We're rescuing some more students."

(Of course, all of these assumptions had to completely disregard that he had not been there at all when the fire started, nor did he even know any of Fodlan's fire spells.)

Weary eyes lift at the sound of a woman calling out to him, and he knows that he will be unable to fulfill whatever request she has to ask of him. Humans always expect so much, whether they know he is a god or not, expectations that he can often not fill, simply because he is always different that anyone can see from just a simple glance. He is a broken and shattered old god, the two halves of the coin that was his life split, one of them dead and gone now, and the other who was just trying to survive with a mind that constantly weighed down upon him.

"Oh... I... I don't think I could carry anyone at all... I'm sorry..." And he fears trying to use what little power he has - what little water he can create from the nothingness. One, because it is a power that he has not used in so long, lost to him after his death at the hands of his other half. Two, because he does not even know if this strange phenomenon that is affecting Fodlan's magic will apply to his own latent powers as well.

Memories are vignettes for one’s past, and often times, they are very telling.