When everything goes pear-shaped it's your lot's fault for not overruling me
When everything goes pear-shaped it's your lot's fault for not overruling me
Originally Posted by Arashi_Leonhart
I kinda want to explore Maria's hatred of nazis, but I guess that can wait. I'll pick the same as Raff.
- - - Updated - - -
Nope, it will be all on you, Raff!
She has been hyped for being an optional boss for a while. I don't know if she will stay on that place forever or we have the chance to fight her again. Besides, it is much more exciting this way.
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Yes. Same choice as Raff, too lazy to come up with my own choice now.
Following the herd
Totally holding Rafflesiac responsible for the ensuing phase
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
Hotel Manoir Atkinson, Atkinson Promenade 165, Valparaíso
Day 02
Night Phase - 04
Sheer Cold (-38 °C/-36.4 °F)
(BGM)Character Status
Maria gives up before reaching Oliver’s house, not even thinking of making the trek back to our hostel. We stop at the famous hotel at the end of Atkinson Promenade, and she doesn’t hesitate to make her way to the suite. It does not make much of a difference in terms of comfort, though: snow has piled on every surface, poured in through shattered windows and doors. She groans in complaint, but carefully wipes off the snow from the bed before dropping like dead weight on the wet mattress.
Glancing out of the broken terrace doors, there does not seem to be anything nearby. Looks like we were not chased. I can only count on Maria to detect Servants.
“God…” murmurs the young woman to the pillow. “That’s it. If anything attacks, I’ll just give up and die.”
“Don’t say that.”
Maria only groans, and then groans louder when a cold gust seeps into the room. Well of course this room is not boarded up, young lady. Looks like I don’t get to take off a single of my pieces of clothing tonight. So stuffy.
Maria invites me to join her, patting the considerable space left on the bed. I have absolutely no reason to decline. While she turns her head to look at my profile, I fixate my eyes on the ceiling above me.
“Nice clothes,” she mutters weakly. Looks like she’s already falling asleep.
“Ah, right. I raided Falabella and got these.” I halfheartedly gesture towards the backpack on the floor. “There are more in there. For Sakura and Mr. Drake.”
“Good,” she says in a perfectly flat voice. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“Not as much as you.”
She harrumphs, then closes her eyes. Well, if she wants to sleep, I won’t stop her.
Really, it’s been a long day.
Of course, there is no silence in this frozen city. But when no other sound can be heard but the song of the wind and Maria’s soft breathing to my right, the ears start to catch more subtle auditory inputs. The breakage of ice here, the grinding of a tank’s treads there, distant gunfire someplace else.
Aside from Maria, I have met two other people struggling to survive in this chilling hell. How many others are there, desperately clinging to their lives? Everybody else out there must have it tough. I happened to end up with some sort of magical super-warrior helping me. That…that was sheer luck. And even with that lucky break, I have been pulled away from death’s door twice by a mysterious benefactor (Or two different benefactors? Probably not).
What…should I do from now on…?
(BGM STOP)
“Aaaaaaargh!”
“Aaaaaaaah!” It’s hard not to scream when you are suddenly screamed at. I have to stop myself from rolling off the edge of the bed. Maria, on the other hand, has pushed herself to a seated position.
“I can’t sleep! The questions are killing me!”
“Eeeh…?”
“Gotta stay up a bit longer!”
For whatever reason, she has chosen to unleash her golden aura.
“I thought we were trying to stay hidden…?”
“Wake me up, melam! AURA SLAP!”
I have to wince when the girl slaps her cheeks with hands clad in radiance.
“I…don’t think the aura makes any difference—”
“Alright!” exclaims the grinning girl with cheeks now a deep red. “It worked!”
“It worked!?”
(BGM)
“Melam is amazing!”
“No-no-no-no-no, this is too stupid.”
Regardless of the golden aura having stimulant properties or not, the fact remains that Maria is now back in business, if only for a while. Apparently, she refuses to declare the day over until we’ve exchanged information, which I can decidedly agree upon.
“First!”
“Don’t point at me. It’s rude.”
“How are you all…healed and stuff!? I spent the afternoon looking for someone who could heal that arm of yours! It was burnt inside out!”
I nod, perhaps more to myself than to Maria. It is easy to answer, because there is not really much to say: someone snuck into the house, knocked Mr. Drake out, and then healed me. I was unconscious, so I couldn’t see the person, but it is easy to assume it may be the same person who healed the wounds inflicted by the Herald of Fimbulwinter.
Why would I tell Maria of the dream (vision?) I had in my convalescence, even if the details are already leaking out of his mind? Of the person who unilaterally declared herself my ally? Of the gap in my memories I did not know I have until this very day? Of the fairy I met in my childhood, whose name and face I still can’t remember?
Those things are my own, and in no way related to the fact I was healed. They are my issues to deal with.
“Hmm…”
…that’s it? That’s all she has to say?
…
…she’s staring at me.
She is looking at me as if expecting to say more.
What is she up to?
“By the way, Javier, you never told me how you figured out you have the magics, man. Children in magus families have it easy, but what I got is that I am the first magus you met in your life, right?”
I nod cautiously. Really, what is she up to now?
“I guess I was lucky, too; I had grandma to explain to me what the fuck was going on.”
She is grinning. Perhaps a little too wide, and perhaps I’m being paranoid.
“Did I tell you I first opened my magic circuits in the middle of fuckin’ Manhattan? Funny story, remind me to tell you about it some time. So, what’s your story?”
How…when did my magical talent first manifested?
(BGM STOP)
Gah! Headache! Fuck!
“Wha—Javier, you okay, man?”
I have to place a hand in front of me to keep her from inching closer.
“It’s just…just a headache. I, um, keep getting these.”
“Hmm.” Maria crosses her arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re not drinking enough water.”
That is certainly true, but…
I…remember, being frustrated, and angry at my parents, when they said we were moving to Concepción. I’m not even sure why—I didn’t have any friends I would be sad leaving behind—
I remember throwing a stupid, childish tantrum, and locking myself in my room to stew. I remember pacing in that room like a caged animal, irrationally angry at the idea of leaving Villarrica. And then, my desk was on fire.
“If anything, that got us out of Villarrica even faster,” I comment with a token chuckle. “My parents were terrified by my ‘rebellious phase’.”
“…that’s weird.”
“What?”
“Mnn.” Maria shakes her head. “Nah, nothing. Just thinking to myself.”
That’s right. That look on her face. I’ve got it figured out already; her mind is somewhere else.
“Ya know, I went to that church. Met that priest dude, the one with the German name.”
Apparently my face spoke for myself, because Maria doesn’t waste a moment to add to her words.
“He’s fine, he’s fine. Struggling for food and water like you’d expect, but he’s doing just fine.”
And then, she explains to me that the church is in the whole magic secret, and Father Scherer is the church’s liaison with the local magi.
…
……
………that shitty old maaaaaaaaaan!
I went through so much effort hiding my training while living at the church! I bet he was laughing at me the whole time! Fuuuuck!
Aaaaah! I wanna die! So fucking embarrassing!
And now even Maria’s smirking! She figured it out! Damn it!
“He told me a few things ‘bout ya.”
Aaaaah! Fucking geezer!
I’ll just groan and smother myself with a pillow, thank you very much. Stop chuckling at my expense.
“Ya know, you gotta tell me about that place, Villarrica.” Maria has placed a pillow and her lap and now rests her arms there. She has a sweet smile on her face, but I’m sure she’s still making fun of me in her mind. Well screw you.
“I’ve always been a city girl, so I can’t imagine how it is, living in one of those tiny villages.”
That does bring a chuckle to my lips.
“I’m pretty sure whatever image you’ve made of Villarrica, it’s wrong. It’s not even that tiny; it had, like, forty-five thousand people when I left.”
“That’s microscopic.”
“You’re microscopic.”
“Look at my boobs and say that again.”
“Have some shame, Maria.”
(BGM)
I feel like we’ve diverged from the important issues, but I indulge her. I explain to her that we did not live in the city of Villarrica proper, but in a small, somewhat isolated community to the north, built together by families of German ancestry. I try to remember the place as much as I can: the main Lake Villarrica, and the countless other smaller lakes, ponds, streams and waterfalls dotting the landscape around the homonymous volcano. About the wooden houses, and how in some parts of Villarrica and the nearby villages it really feels like you are in some German or Swiss Alpine village.
Once I start, it becomes easy to get lost in the fond memories of my childhood. Like they say, every person’s favorite topic is themselves. That is especially true when you have an attentive audience fighting sleepiness to listen to you.
I can’t stop myself.
She giggles when I confess, I was the one among my classmates who took the longest to figure out skiing, and smirk when I remember the look on Diego’s face when I beat them all in the final race downhill.
I admit I made my parents nervous many times with my propension to wander around, losing myself in the vast outdoors, but they eventually learned to trust me that time the whole family got lost in the national park, and I managed to find our way back to the camping area. My ability to find my way around in the wilderness is something I feel I can be proud of.
Of course, I tell her of my love of camping and hiking, and of how I dragged each and every single one of my classmates camping with me at least once. Maria rolls her eyes when I mention how the girls seemed to like camping more than the boys, but I then explain it was because I did all the odd jobs around camp so they could just fool around and have fun.
Inevitably, as I keep dropping more and more names, the reminiscence lands on my classmates. The community had its own school, rather than send us to institutions in Villarrica proper. I chuckle when I tell her how I ended up in the Special Course just because the school wanted to have the same number of students in every class.
Yes, the Special Course.
The group of twelve boys and girls I shared my days with.
Bunch of fucking snobs.
Maria gives me a strange, perhaps worried look, so I have to clarify that I wasn’t bullied or anything. It’s just, well, looking back on those days, it was pretty obvious I was the odd one out. I mean, it was the Special Course for a reason.
All those guys were just too much. Every single one of them was too much at something. Diego was too much at all the things. And I was “the normal guy” who was only there to balance the school’s accounts or whatever.
Like I said, I wasn’t bullied or anything. Sure, there was the occasional teasing here and there, and from time to time someone’s joke would go too far, but children do stupid shit like that all the time, and all in all we got along swimmingly. Rather, those guys were almost too polite most of the time, and there was always a teacher nearby in the rare situation in which things looked like they could get out of hand—more often than not when the Special Course guys got into a fight with those of other classes.
Yeah, those were some fun times.
And then, they ended. This I cannot tell Maria. Of course, she now knows my family moved out to Concepción when I was around twelve, but I don’t tell her that I was pulled out of that school a year before that.
Because I don’t remember why.
I don’t remember why I stopped getting along with Diego and the others.
Normally, I would not care about it. It would even be better to keep my childhood memories as a fond thing; to stick to the good memories and the good times we shared and forget about the bad.
However…
…there is now one thing—one person—I want to remember.
Once I have the whole story, I might share it with Maria, if she still cares to hear it.
As for the girl in question, she hums sleepily when I’m done sharing just a few of my childhood stories.
“Hmm…an isolated community built by German immigrants, surrounded by wilderness.”
“It was a great place to live. I liked it a lot as a child.”
“Sounds like a nice setting for a conspiracy. Or a horror movie. Or both.”
I chuckle at that, and I am briefly joined by the tired young woman.
“Yeah, I guess after Colonia Dignidad, anybody would have reason to be suspicious. But everything was very wholesome. No creepy cult or crimes against humanity there.”
I set it up as a morbid joke, but Maria does not laugh. She just stares at me with that thoughtful look of hers. But whatever it is that lurks in her mind, she won’t share it, so whatever.
“I’d say I’ve talked enough about myself,” I thus declare. “I’d ask you to return the favor, but it’s late and you look like you’ll drop any second now.”
Also, I don’t really care enough. It’s a given we’ll go our separate ways when this whole deal is done and over with. Or we’ll die. If she’s curious about my life, I’ll indulge her, but I’m not really interested in Maria Westinghouse’s childhood in American suburbia. More importantly…
“We do have to talk about anything you might have learned about the situation today. You, um, got into a fight today, didn’t you?”
With a tired sigh, Maria lets herself fall back on the bed. She still finds it in itself to smile, a dopey little thing that’s actually rather cute. Well, she is a looker, so she can pull it off.
“Totally kicked his ass…bastard got away, though…fuckin’ rockets…”
That sounds like a tale worth being told, but we better do this in order. We don’t even have to do the whole thing tonight.
“For now, let’s talk about this morning, before I found Sakura. You went to check out that weird cave, right?”
“Ah, right…that was creepy.”
I am regaled with a tale (in a sleepy voice) of a disturbing presence, a cave clad in supernatural darkness, a strange power assaulting Maria upon setting foot within, and being teleported back outside the moment she resisted that unknown magic. In other words, whoever lurks in that cave tried to do something to Maria, but once it failed it chose to throw her back outside.
Maria’s feeling of being creeped on, however, contrasts with the sheer hostility I experienced. There could be a number of things that could explain the difference, but the most obvious one would be, well, Maria being a woman.
So, we have some magical being that creeps on women and hates guys. How quaint.
And why the fuck does that actually ring a bell?
Seriously, I feel like I’ve read or heard something like this before. A cave, and a monster that preys on women…gah, I’m too tired to think. There should be somebody who knows, and there is definitely a place where we can learn about the local legends.
But anyway, Maria’s on to something; hell, she’s already dozing off.
Alright, let the lady have her beauty sleep. It’s been a tough day for both of us. There’s still no sign of enemies nearby, so it seems like a choosing a plan of action can wait until tomorrow.
Except, there’s this one thing…
*** ***
Port of Valparaíso
Sheer Cold (-40 °C/-40 °F)
(BGM)
It’s. Fucking. Cold.
Why did I even think this is good idea?
Yesterday, when I was healed of the wounds inflicted by the Herald, I was invited to the harbor at night. However, I prioritized rest over wandering through a frozen city in the middle of the night at the behest of a mysterious benefactor. It might be asking for too much, expecting that person to be waiting for me the following night, but, damn it, I want answers, and I cannot think of other ways to get them.
So, I snuck out while Maria sleeps.
There are still Nazi soldiers roaming around Errázuriz, but nowhere near close to the numbers of a two hours earlier. No sign of tanks, either, so it is almost trivial to avoid the patrols and reach the port. The city that without electrical lighting should be wrapped in darkness beneath the canopy of grey clouds, is gently illuminated by the eerie aurora spreading from the top of the tallest, southernmost hills.
I am surrounded by the familiar sight of stacked cargo crates. The port of Valparaíso is truly frozen in time, a snapshot of the very moment the utter cold captured this city. The grounds are littered with ice blocks encasing the port’s many workers. A man trapped with his hands still operating the hydraulic crane, the crate it was holding long having crashed as the wires holding it snapped. I catch a glimpse of crushed ice around the broken crate, and I hate myself for imagining the worst.
I notice the anchored Elysium a distance away, but I ignore it. There is nothing for me there.
There are no zombies or soldiers here. It is like the port has been completely left untouched, a monument to frozen stillness. It is quiet except for the onrushing wind from the sea, which makes me tighten the hold of my fuchsia scarf around my face. I can barely keep my eyes open—without goggles, it feels like my eyelids and eyeballs will freeze. So cold…so tired…really, I gotta be the only insane idiots wandering at night—
—yet, there is somebody here, right were the concrete ends and nothing but ice extends before one’s eyes. I…was not really expecting to find anyone, least of all this person. She wasn’t even in the list of candidates!
Seriously, what the hell!?
“Well met, child carrying the spark of the native gods.”
(BGM)
She speaks with her back to me, seemingly far more interested in the vastness of the frozen ocean in front of us.
“You have my gratitude, so be at peace.”
She who should look completely incongruous in this scene, instead melds flawlessly in it. As if she, too, were made of concrete and ice. Her scandalous uniform, skirt tantalizingly fluttering in the harsh wind, is also the mantle of her inhumanity.
I shudder before I realize I am scared. Her very presence, which my brain should register as bizarre yet accepts as natural, is terrifying. Yet, I remain alive and unharmed.
“Do…no, have we met each other?”
“No, this is the first time we meet.” A brief pause. “If you intend to intrude in my solitude, please come stand by my side. It is bothersome to have to raise my voice over the wind.”
I…am not exactly sure when my feet moved to do as she said. In any case, I now stand to her left, the two of us watching the flawless sheet of ice that is the Pacific Ocean. There is nothing but ice as far as the horizon…no, that’s not entirely true. Slightly to the right, a ship leans ominously as it is trapped and slowly crushed by the ocean ice. Furthermore, if I were to step out onto the ice and walk some 650 meters in a straight line, I would reach the very end of the city’s breakwater.
When I look to my right, I find the Maid already looking up at me.
“A good evening to you,” she greets with a curt nod.
“Ah, um, yes. Hello.”
With that she returns to her silent ice-watching.
And I…am a little confused.
This person is not the one who healed me. The voice is completely different: the mysterious healer is vivid and informal, like a young adult. This Maid is collected, austere, her voice older than her appearance.
This person…came completely out of left field. The very fact she can stand in this ungodly cold in that uniform tells me she has magic greater than mine. Because of course, after, like, fifteen years of hiding my magical powers from the world, now everybody and their mother is in the secret.
But anyway, didn’t find my secret benefactor. On the other hand, I made the effort to come all the way here instead of sleeping like any person with common sense (and Maria), so I don’t feel like leaving empty-handed.
“I was once told that the human experience is a ceaseless search for answers,” suddenly begins the Maid. My heart almost ends up lodged in my throat. “I say most humans waste their entire lives and never figure out the right questions.”
“Life is not complicated. Or at least, it should not be.”
With those words, she turns her body towards me. I turn my head to find her looking up at me with eyes imperturbable like the deepest Antarctic ice.
“Ask, child of spirits. I am a guide at the service of all humans, but I reserve the right to decide what questions to answer and what knowledge to impart.”
The Maid’s Lesson I
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
In Progress: Fimbulwinter Quest Project.
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my?Why would I tell Maria of the dream (vision?) I had in my convalescence, even if the details are already leaking out of his mind?
Also 10 sounds like a quick and easy way to die. Everyone knows what happens to someone who tries to monopolize an oracle's wisdom.
6 and 7
Although clarification of the current situation is necessary, it is best to improve our own arsenal first.
6 & 7
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
I tempted to go 10 but it definitely end badly.
3 and 7.
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1 and 7
Tempting as 10 is to to see just how we get the Bad End is... 5 & 7
Quest of Fate
Apocrypha Universe Fate Quest Project
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Hermes Servant Collection Master Post
Spontaneously develop Professor X-level of telepathic abilities and just grab all the information from her mind.
No? Not an option?
Fine! Then I pick 3 and 7.
Port of Valparaíso
Day 02
Night Phase - 05
Sheer Cold (-40 °C/-40 °F)
(BGM)Character Status
She looks up at me, as if…what, precisely?
No boredom, but also no excitement.
No interest, but also no dismissal.
Her perpetual smile feels like a wordless mockery, or maybe it’s a dark side of me, trying to convince me this person is looking down on me.
Why is she here? Why is she willing to answer my questions?
This…Maid, is completely unreadable.
However, if she is willing to talk, then I won’t hold back.
“Um, I’m Javier, miss…”
“That is meaningless information to me. It will be forgotten.”
Ouch.
“Names are used as labels for acknowledgement and interaction within a society. They are also used as marks of ownership or relationship” She blinks. It is slow, as if done consciously. “Perhaps more importantly, they are a mnemonic guide, allowing the human mind to associate a name to an identity.”
Blink.
“I am not a member of your society, nor do I intend to establish a relationship with you. Furthermore, I have no need for mnemonic shortcuts to record your existence in my mind. Therefore, I have no need to know your name.”
Uh…alright?
“Ah, um, alright, but, um, do you have a name, or am I stuck calling you Maid?”
Blink.
“If I give you my name, I would be obligated to make you my enemy. Do you still wish to know my name?”
I…guess Maid will have to do.
I do not speak those words, and the Maid turns away from me, to resume her (frozen) sea-gazing.
I consider my next words carefully. In a way, I am grateful for the Maid’s no-nonsense attitude. I, too, can do without empty platitudes. So I filter out “the things I have to figure out on my own” and “the things I can figure out with Maria’s help”, to focus on the things I could not answer anywhere else, until now.
“So, I take it you know about magecraft.”
A glint in her eye. Perhaps it’s just my imagination again.
“I excel at every aspect of the mystic arts, yes.”
Now there’s a way to put it. Well, it’s helpful she is not being coy about it.
“Well, I…I guess I’m a, a magus, but I don’t really know that much. I’ve met other magi here, but they…they can’t teach me anything but the very basics. Nothing that can make my own magecraft better.”
I wonder if this is how it feels, talking to a psychiatrist or a therapist. The Maid has not given me any guarantee of confidentiality, but right now It feels we are the only people in the world.
“I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck for a while, to be honest. I mean, there’s got to be more to my magecraft than the alchemy tricks I can do. Magic, well, I guess magic should be…um, maybe not necessarily ‘flashier’, but…”
“Awesome,” she says. “You believe your magecraft should be something that inspires awe.”
…yeah.
“That is a misconception you would do well to get rid of.”
Yup, this woman is merciless.
“Know very well that, in the earliest times of man, there was no distinction between science, religion, and mysticism. The distinction was born upon mankind’s choice to turn their back on the World, and establish our own system of rationality. At the most objective level, what we call magecraft is merely a means to understand the world and exert our will upon it to achieve our desires as human beings. Schools of magecraft are practical disciplines, tools meant to be useful to humans. And like all tools, they are meant to be simple to use.”
Her finger draws traces of light in the air, faster than I can keep up. By the time I think of looking at the symbols themselves instead of the blurry, glowing fingertip, these have already disappeared, and surge of warmth and freshness fills my body.
I feel…clean, like I just stepped out of the shower. And the wounds from the zombie fight don’t ache anymore.
“Any and all complexity in magecraft is a limitation of the magus, not of the system.”Status Change
With a flick of a finger, the warmth disappears, or at least drops to the former level. Only my clothes protect me from the harsh cold again.
The Maid looks at me from the corner of her eye. Her lips remain turned in that perennial smile of hers, but her eyes are sharp, almost accusing.Status Change
Blink.
“My duty is to guide. If you seek instruction in magecraft, I will give it. But I have no interest in those who seek magecraft to aggrandize themselves, nor in delusional seekers of the Root.”
I don’t really know what she means by the Root, and the promise of instruction in magecraft is too good to ignore.
Ah, she blinked again. Why does her blinking keep grabbing my attention?
“I…really, I just want to know how far I can go with my magic.”
“Magecraft is a path to elevate yourself as a human being,” declares the Maid. “On the other hand, you, child touched by spirits, also have the choice to elevate yourself as an instrument of the World.”
Right. That thing.
“I take it this has to do with that ‘spark of the native gods’ or whatever you mentioned.”
Blink.
“You…do not know.” This is clearly not a question. Yet, it elicited a very real frown on her pretty face. “That…is hard to believe. The Other Me should have…”
Apparently reaching a conclusion in her head, the Maid again turns towards me. I could swear her inhumanly crimson eyes gleam a rich gold.
She blinks.
“Be still,” she then says as her hands grab the sides of my head. The moment is abrupt, yet I do not feel threatened so I let it happen. It is obviously not the beginning of a romantic moment, either.
“Duga zizida a Nanna cuninae.”
When she whispers those meaningless words—too long to be the name of a spell; some sort of incantation?—, her bright eyes suddenly lose their luster, and it does not seem like she’s looking at me anymore. Also, no blinking.
Wait, is it some form of self-suggestion? She pulled herself into a trance? But her hands are still firmly attached to my head…
Um, how long is this supposed to take? Were I more of an asshole, I might have already taking advantage—ah, she blinked. I guess that means she is back.
“I understand now,” the Maid declares, letting her hands fall and clasping them in front of her in a very maid-like posture. “I shall explain, to the limit of my abilities.”
I can only nod. Explanations are good. Also, blink.
“You carry a factor of the divine, bestowed upon you by the divine spirits of Villarrica.”
…what?
“It is nothing to be surprised about. There are many examples of gods bestowing power to newborns destined for some great purpose. I myself am one such example.”
She makes a brief pause, as if pondering whether additional words are necessary. She blinks in the midst of it.
“It is not something that happens often in the modern era, of course. Divinity has declined, and Authorities no longer work like they used to.”
…no, really. What?
“No, no, no, wait. What does—what do you—what are you talking about!?”
The Maid is in no way bothered by my voice raised in volume. She just blinks.
“What is it you do not understand?”
“Everything!”
She blinks. There is a new light in her eyes—unlike me, she has figured out something.
“I see. I must apologize. It has been a long time since I guided one so completely uneducated. I will strive to improve my instruction."
Yeah, this whole…thing, is too weird for me to feel insulted by that. Please dumb it down as much as you must.
“You are knowledgeable of the mythic lore of Villarrica.”
It is not a question. She knows this for a fact.
“You mean the Mapuche legends.” She nods and blinks. “Well, yeah, I…um, I did read them.”
Of course, when I learned magic is real, I immersed myself in the traditional, mystical folklore of my country, and specifically the region of Villarrica where I lived as a child. However, the cosmic vision of the Mapuche did not really click with me the way theosophy did years later, perhaps because I am not Mapuche myself.
“Good,” asserts the Maid. “Then you know of the spirit court of the Villarrica region, centered on its volcano.”
“Well, yeah, but—am I supposed to assume they’re real? Like, spirits and gods, and—”
She blinks, and it stops my words as if she had interrupted me with her own.
“Their reality is defined in a separate layer to you and me, but spirits and gods are certainly real.”
Her eyes now sparkle with something that might just be amusement.
“You ascertain the existence of magic and mystery. The undead roam the streets of this city. What makes the existence of spirits and gods harder to believe?”
“No, but, that’s, that’s different. We’re talking here about spirits, and, and gods, and religions, and whether there is a true faith, or they’re all true, or they’re equally meaningless—”
She raises a single open palm, and my rambling mouth halts immediately. There was no magic involved; my mind and body merely acted on their own.
“You do wrong by seeking objective truth in the intrinsically personal experience of spirituality.”
Blink.
“For now, please accept the existence of divine spirits. While I would be delighted to discuss divinity and systems of belief with you, it is better left a topic for another time.”
…fair enough. Yeah, I gotta focus on the important stuff.
“I have concluded that your departure from Villarrica, among other things, impeded the proper development of the divine factor. The boundary separating the Reverse Side of the World—by this, I mean the realm of all things of this Planet rejected by the current Rationality of Man.”
She blinks and waits for my assenting nod to continue.
“It is weaker in our current location. This has allowed the native spirits to become aware of your presence, which has, in lack of better words, ‘reignited’ the divine core.”
The Maid goes quiet. I get her at this point: she will not speak again unless I ask another question.
I let my face fall on my cusped hands, and take a deep breath.
That’s it, Javier. Settle down. There’s too much shit to think about, but I can’t let it mess up my thoughts. Settle down, and organize your thoughts. Assign priorities, and tackle them one at a time.
“Is it harmful?”
“No more or less so than any other part of your body. It is part of you. It was made to be part of you. It can only harm you through misuse.”
“Can it be removed?”
Blink.
“Yes, but it would be extraordinarily difficult. Furthermore, I must insist in stating that it is a part of you, integrated with your body. I would advise against it, as the possibility of undesired consequences is considerable.”
“Can you remove it safely?”
“Yes. However, I would demand payment for that service.”
Why does that sound a little ominous?
In any case, I know it won’t just kill me by staying in me, and I also know I can get rid of it if necessary. Good. Moving on. After she blinks.
There you go.
“So, what does it do?”
“On its own, in its current state, very little. It must have certainly colored your Origin and Element, and consequently your magecraft.”
Again, my ignorance must show in my face—or what can be seen of my face—, because the Maid expands on her words after the next blink.
“It is the reason for your affinity with Fire magecraft, and to a lesser extent, Earth.”
See? I get that. Was it Maria who brought up elements before?
“The proper cultivation of a divine factor—any spirit factor, for that matter—would grant its owner physical and magical prowess far beyond the limits of the average magus.”
“I guess it comes with a cost.”
Blink.
“Naturally. The cost is proportional to the depth of its cultivation. In other words, it is your responsibility to make a cost-benefit analysis and decide how far you are willing to let the seed grow.”
“Worst case scenario?”
“Self-destruction.”
“Of course.”
A twinkle in her beautiful, inhumanly red eyes. Then, a blink.
We stand side by side, gazing at the frozen sea. Would I have ever figured this out without meeting the Maid? Of course, if I never became aware of this…’factor’, then I would have just lived and died in ignorance.
It does not need to be said that I have not doubted the Maid’s words for a single instant. This…outrageous truth would fail as either a prank or a means to mess with my head.
And the Maid does not lie. I just know.
Does she withhold information? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But she does not lie.
“I guess you also could help me…what’s the word you use? Cultivate. This…factor.”
“If you so wish. You must understand, however, that cultivation of the divine factor and development of your magecraft are mutually exclusive. As a magus, you embrace your humanity and subjugate the World. As a manifestation of divinity, you turn your back to the ways of humanity and learn to perceive the world through a different filter.”
Yet again she turns to look at me. This time I only turn my head to look down at her intense bloodstone eyes. She blinks again.
“If you take the path of magecraft, you will hold on to everything you hold dear, but you will live the rest of your days with the awareness that you could have been so much more.”
Her head tilts almost imperceptibly to her left. It looks awkward, artificial, utterly lacking in spontaneity.
“If you take the path of divinity, you will gain power greater than any magecraft you could learn, but what will you lose? I would not like tothat.”divinecalculate
I should be frightened by this fathomless woman. I don’t think I’m at a point that tiredness overrides fear. But I can ascertain, in all my ignorance, that she is not a human being. Yet, she is not a monster. There is a word in my mind, but my mind refuses to accept it. It would be too ridiculous; the epitome of ridiculousness. After two days trapped in this frozen madness, I think that would break me. I would need a straightjacket after that.
There. Another blink.
I do not have the means to verify this, but I would bet the interval between her blinks is always the same.
“What…do you think I should do, Miss Maid?”
“I will not sway your opinion in one direction or the other. That is against the nature of my guidance.”
Expected and completely fair. She is frightening, but also kind of admirable. Kind of my kind of woman, were she not so uncanny.
That thought brings a smile to my face, but I’m not sure it comes out right. I hope staying too long with this woman is not eroding my humanity.
“Will you give me a different answer if I ask what would you do, Miss Maid?” I say, mostly as a joke.
As if jokes did anything to this woman.
“I did both.”
She does not need my cue to explain herself. I kinda like that about her.
Blink.
“That, however, demands a lifetime of effort and personal cultivation. Before you can even think of such an ordeal, you must survive this Fimbulwinter. However, if you survive this frozen world, then I will no longer be around to instruct you. It is regrettable, but my path is not an option to you.”
There is not the slightest tinge of regret in her words.
The Maid says no more. She has nothing else to say until I’ve made my choice.
No time to hesitate. The answer takes shape in my head before her next blink.
Critical Choice
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Bird's 4
Javier's gonna do it his way
Last edited by SleepMode; November 20th, 2018 at 03:19 PM. Reason: 4's a better alternative
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
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4: She won't be around to instruct Javier any longer after the Fimbulwinter ends, but until then, why not pursue both paths? Afterwards, he can walk the road on his own (something which I'm guessing she also did).
I'm having so much fun right now. You guys have no idea.
Catalog of Somewhat Original Servants
In Progress: Fimbulwinter Quest Project.
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Hmmm... my gut says REJECT MY HUMANITY, MARIA as the safer powergaming option, but Javier's dramatic life goals moment was all about how he's not giving anything of his up anymore, so 4.
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Also it looks like there's a reason the Maid and Assassin are both blond with red eyes, my confusion early on was warranted after all. But which divine priestess is she? Come to think of it, could the Maid be Caster?
Last edited by Rafflesiac; November 20th, 2018 at 11:30 AM.
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