#obsian

Castevet - Obsian

Profound Lore Records

The door of the prison closes behind Amar and he’s left standing alone on the wide stone steps leading into the building. He had tried raging at the guard, demanding answers furiously, but it had been no use. The letter offers Amar no new information besides the name of his boarding house, Herringbone Heights. There’s also a map attached. Amar inspects the papers, but everything about them is impersonal and almost frustratingly perfect, from the expensive paper to the meticulous way the letters are shaped. He folds the papers and opens the package. Amar empties the contents – a few everyday items – into his pockets and takes a steadying breath.

Amar hasn’t felt this uncertain for a long time. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, one that reminds him far too much of being seventeen, lonely, and afraid. He has to forcefully remind himself that this is nothing like that. There must be some kind of a solution here, a way to get out of this mess. He’ll find it. Right now, though, his new home seems like a good place start.

The harbour district reminds Amar of home, if only a little. The smell of fish, if not pleasant, is something Amar’s gotten very used to over the years. There are more rats than he’s comfortable with though, probably caused by the curious lack of cats, and Amar doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the never-ending darkness. Herringbone Heights, at least, feels instantly cozy. Amar’s room is a little drafty and the window gets stuck when he tries to open it, but it’s clean and quiet, something he has very much learned to appreciate. Amar finds he quite likes the owner too, an old sailor who seems happy to share her stories with him, even though she sadly can’t answer his more pressing questions.

Hana was very much lost in her new surroundings.

She didn’t seem to have much on her anymore besides a dead phone, her auto-blaster, and a crumpled, stained map some kid had hastily shoved into her hands before bolting off. Hana, being the kind of person who would choose a GPS over a physical map any day, was immediately confused by literally everything.

Firstly, the kid’s accent was almost indecipherable like Tracer’s. Well, more like a Junkrat accent, really.

Secondly, the handwriting was almost completely smudged and illegible. The most she could make out were labels for a market square and a palace square, and the rest was pure guesswork.

So... this has to be some sort of weird dream. But I don’t remember passing out... hm... for future reference: maybe 48-hour Starcraft II livestreams aren’t the best idea, she thought, weaving her way through a small group of people. But it was for charity, right? It had to be a good idea. Because charity.

She looked up from her small practically useless map to observe her surroundings again. Somehow, through pure luck, she had wandered right into the center of the market.

Oh, yeah. Markets. Hana could play the market stalls. Years of Busan market crawling as a poor kid taught her how to take advantage of these kinds of places. It all reminded her of home.

Which, in turn, made her extremely upset.

She sighed and took a seat on a bench, trying to force the tears welling up in her eyes to stop. Home... she hadn’t seen it in so long. She hadn’t seen her parents in so, so long. Her friends and her family... how long had military duty kept her away? And now all this Overwatch business?

The first order of action was to find the water. When Emily Kaldwin had awoken in the strange room with low light, a familiar panic overwhelmed her:

Kidnapped.

“Again,” she muttered. But by whom? The only clue left to her was a piece of scrap paper that had been left by the bed. “Welcome to Saint Angus of Heavering’s. Make yourself comfortable,” Emily read aloud for the third time. Where in the name of the Outsider was that? Neighboring province? Another country altogether? Admittedly, Dunwall never quite reached the peace seen when her mother was alive. It was quite possible that her current situation was one of political intrigue. But then she heard the familiar sound of a steadily rushing body of water. The sound of comfort. Emily had lived near water all of her life, a source of solace. She didn’t bother using the door; that was a surefire way of attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, the room had exactly one window. “Luck of the whales,” was about the only positive thought she could muster. And so out the window she climbed with relative ease. Then the smell hit her.

Emily stared above her as she hung from the side of the house. “A damned cave?” What kind of monsters would hold her prisoner under the ground? Had she imagined the sound of water? No. It was louder now. And the unmistakable smell of stagnant water. Not a great sign but one she would cling to. Hold one breath in... and exhale. A second later she was ten feet further than she could have gotten on foot. Another breath in and out, another ten feet. One more and Emily found it. “A river,” she mused while looking around. Across the river was a strange and ominous building. Westward lay a busier cluster of buildings. Emily could either go back to the house or explore.

Castevet - Obsian