Ash 59th
Every step Alphonse took beneath the mid-day sun left pain shooting up her side, the wound she'd since bandaged with scraps from her cloak barely holding together by the stitches of the seamstress who mended it. Letting her mind fall by the wayside, she hiked for miles and miles, joined only by the silent companion she'd contracted to the night before: a floating skull, surrounded by a stable liquid. It didn't seem to demand her attention much, and for that she was grateful. Speaking during a long trek across the countryside seemed like a bad idea.
"You made it," crooned a voice above, from the trees. Alphonse looked up, wincing. A jet black raven poked its out out from behind some branches. "I was beginning to think of you as a lost cause."
Alphonse leered. "Why don't you come down here, and I'll give you a piece of my mind!" shouted the Rathari with a growl as she clutched her side. She shook her fist at the batty old woman who was presently masquerading about as another creature. "I don't have wings, you bitch!"
"Is that a Nahl? Curious," said Vesta, who spread her wings and swooped down to join the Rathor. The moment she went thud against the fallen leaves, she started to slowly shift and change, her body making sickening crunching noises as feathers parted to reveal balding flesh. From its place, a naked hairless cat emerged, half-hunched over. Alphonse wrinkled her nose at the woman--it didn't bother her too much, but she wouldn't miss the moment to insult her.
"I don't know how a thing like you can even live with yourself, looking like that," she mocked, harking back to their sudden departure as the naked old lady poked curiously at her Nahl.
"This one isn't one of Irothar's," mused the woman. "No, Veravend is it? Did you make a new friend, Alphonse? Summoners are proof of the gods, I always say!"
"Yeah, I think so--it's complicated. Veravend sounds right, but it's a feeling."
Vesta held up a finger. "Say no more. Much of magic is feeling and intention. The ether listens to those who feel, not to those who demand. Perhaps that is why you can now summon one of the great mystery's lot."
Squatting down, Alphonse dropped her heavy backpack upon the forest floor with a thud. Hands over knees, she felt the pain but ignored it. "You're awfully talkative to me about my magic this time? You never talk about this stuff. What gives, crone?" she said.
Looking up to her after poking the Nahl a few times until it floated off, Vesta gave her a sheepish grin. The kind of grin that a devious plotter could give, and nobody else. "I never told you, but I did have an apprentice, once upon a time."
Alphonse rose to her feet. Oh, THAT. "Not interested," she blurted out. Bending down, she swiped up her waterskin and started drinking, holding up a finger to Vesta as she began to speak. Finishing with an exhale, she touched her breast. "Already got two, and they give me enough headache, I tell ya. And that shit's dangerous. I know better, and I thought you did too."
Vesta just smiled through the rant, letting Alphonse finish. "Did you know that it gets easier?" she purred, a hand sliding down her wrinkly body to show off the various tattoos and markings adorning it. "This one's a rune, and this one too. Then each of these three."
Alphonse guffawed. "What!? You've got five!? How are you still feckin' alive!?"
"Many witches I've met stopped after the first two," said Vesta with a shrug. "The reality is, as I've learned in my travels within Daravin, each one is safer than the last. There's still some risk, however." She pointed to Alphonse. "And you, well, you could do with being a bit more humble. Having this much to consider forces one to stay grounded, at least in mind," she said with a flutter of her arms. She shot Alphonse a glare that sent shivers down her spine, and the Rathar straightened up.
"I've always wondered why you make my fur stand on end," said Alphonse. "I should'a known better, whatever you are!"
"P'shaw, oh relax Alphonse." Her eyes rested, returning to a sense of ease. "I'm a little disappointed in you though: was it a Hollow that stabbed you there? And while I can see from your fur that you tried washing it off, you still reek."
Alphonse's arms came up above her head. "Well, duh, I ain't got wings and Nivenhain was crawling with the feckers!"
"You would make a good ...rat," joked Vesta, but Alphonse was on the edge of losing it.
"I didn't spend the night bleeding out in a pile of GARBAGE and Malek knows what, escaping beneath a pile of CORPSES in a wagon, just so you can FECK with me!" she yelled, swiping her arm to cut the air. "I don't want to ever even THINK about that bullshit, ever again!"
"Yup, a rat!" laughed the old codger. Alphonse took a light swipe at her, but she stepped back with a laugh. "You've done nothing about that temper, either. Hah. A child like you thinks they can be an Ebon Knight? Do you think they sent you to Lorien on some god-given mission to save those people? Please, they sent you there to get rid of you. You're a loose cannon, and they fired you straight at a city where magic is illegal, crawling with Knights and Artificed monsters, knowing you're going to get yourself killed. Pah."
"Stop it, come on!" growled Alphonse. She was losing her damn mind, her voice flecked with hints of rage and adolescence.
"There's that weak little girl I first met. So prickly, so tough, but on the inside, you're all alone and rotting." Her words cut deep, and Alphonse clutched her sword, hanging her neck out and breathing like a race horse. She couldn't. She couldn't draw her blade, but this monster damn well deserved it.
Instead, the tears started to roll. "Feck you, what did you ever want with me anyway!?" She stumbled back, then plopped down into the leafy brush to have a seat, her mitts over her eyes. Her voice cracked, muffled from behind her hands. "You never gave a shit about me." She'd be damned if she'd let Vesta see her cry, but she felt like the woman could see through anything at times. And if she raised a claw to her? Well, Vesta had made short work of her the last time. "And do you know how hard I worked? All the friends I made?"
Vesta sneered. "That innkeeper resented you. It was all over his mind."
Alphonse let out a low, blood-curdling growl. "But I didn't, and I didn't need to know that-"
"-You did." Vesta set a hand atop her head between her horns. Her voice was soothing, sinking deep. Every word carried the sweet sensation of calming joy. "The only one who cares about you in this whole world is standing right here, and you're too scared to open up to her." Her hand fell away as a silence hung in the air. "As I was saying, I had an apprentice before. I paved the entire road for his every whim, and mothered him like he was my own child. He fell. To his own hubris. I rushed to his side to aid him every time he found himself in trouble he could not handle on his own, and he grew so slowly, yet you... you impress everyone you come across, and you are growing fast under the difficulty of your life. You are experiencing more at your age than I could have ever dreamed."
Alphonse sniffed, pulling her hands down to show her face. The prospect of being vulnerable was difficult, but she bared her soul to the woman. Vesta made her feel like a huge child, and her feelings were right. Her mind was completely broken in that regard, and Vesta just knew how to weaponize it against her. "So, you didn't leave me alone just because . . . I'm dumb, it was a test?"
"Yes," Vesta said.
Alphonse thought about it. "But... I only survived with people helping me," Alphonse said.
"And you're stronger for it. You got yourself out of that situation. You knocked down the walls stopping you from succeeding, and you have what it takes to keep doing it." Vesta's tail lashed, and she took a seat next to the big Rathar. "Your only weakness now is that soft spot in your heart, your need to have family."
Alphonse shook her head slowly, inhaling a deep, deep breath and letting it all out. "Why does it matter? I gave up on that a long time ago."
"You may not think about it, but you're a mess when it comes to wanting to be loved. You got on a train into Silfanore of all places, just to be a part of something bigger than yourself; not even I have gone there. Yet, you wore yourself thin each and every day, surviving off scraps while you did the work of ten men, just to earn stares in the street that weren't fearful. I think you have misread your Purpose: it isn't to experience new things, Alphonse, it is to be experienced by others. You care so deeply about it." Vesta plucked a blade of grass perking up from the leaf litter, holding it up to her. "We are each like this blade of grass. Some of us wilt and die, and some of us grow to be the big trees you see all around you now. Only, this blade of grass must be truly impressive to stand out, for it was not born the kind of plant that becomes a tree. You, however, you were born a tree, and I was born this blade of grass."
"Are you saying...?" Alphonse questioned.
"Yes, you have the potential to be something. Anything you would like, really. However, I want to make one thing clear about Gods to you. They are cold. They do not care about you in the same way people care about each other. They have agendas, and to them you are a pawn. Malek, Veravend, Irothar, and all the rest. Do not let them control your life; the revolution is a good thing, but the zealot at the head of the snake is not." Vesta rubbed her shoulder, hoping Alphonse would understand.
Alphonse's lips quivered. "I was never religious. You're right. It may be a cult, but... I want to replace the bloodsuckers. I want to be known as someone who helped. It's part of my Purpose, as you said. Ow!"
Vesta had jabbed Alphonse with a claw. "Exactly!" she said. "Alphonse, you should absolutely murder as many Dranoch as it takes to fulfill your Purpose, but never forget that these people may not be your friend, nor are they your family."
Flashes of her time training at Aldrin's fortress sent humbling shivers down her spine. "We were trained to be efficient," she said. "Like the Hollows."
"Yes, yes, you're getting it now. That's what I was trying to warn you about when I hunted you-"
"I feckin' knew it!" interrupted Alphonse, giving Vesta a light shove. "You were stalking me!"
Vesta just laughed as she tilted back, her old voice cackling its own form of bitter retort. "Paaah, yes!" She sat back up straight and scritched Alphonse behind the horns. "My very observant ...daughter."
The word cut deep. Alphonse swallowed, feeling a cold sweat coming on. Her eyes were like big moons as they glanced at Vesta, the memories of her childhood crashing back to her. "I thought I was just..."
"You were," said Vesta. "At first. Then you proved me wrong. You were just one of the other orphan girls I'd taught to read and write, because it was the right thing. Now, I think I could consider your Kin, but only if you're brave enough to continue living up to your potential."
"And you really mean that?" Alphonse looked down in disbelief. Was this a dream? Did Vesta really want to be ...her Kin? "You're just trying to use me," she said, shaking her head.
"...Sort of," Vesta admitted. "Not in the way you're thinking right now, so please understand. I want to use you to simply leave my mark upon the world through you. That is my Purpose, after all. That is why I sought this power inside, and why I now offer it to you."
Alphonse nodded. "I can respect Purpose." She wiped the last bit of moisture from her eyes. "Alright, I'll do it. I'll take another Rune, but I swear if I die, old crone, I'm gonna haunt you."
Vesta laughed. "Oh, there's a story about something just like that! You wouldn't believe how stubborn a ghost can be!"
"Of course there is," Alphonse mumbled. "I mean, just get it over with."
"Give me a few minutes, dear," said Vesta, her body shifting into that of a powerful-looking hawk. "I need to fetch the, ah, materials," said the bird of prey at Alphonse's side.
"Okay," huffed Alphonse, reaching into her pack and yanking out a knife she used for eating. "I'm gonna regret this, I know I am."
"Oh, hush child," Vesta told her, and she took flight.
"Are you ever gonna stop calling me that!?" Alphonse called after her, but she was gone. Now Alphonse was alone, at last, and she didn't have anywhere to go. Her life wasn't in danger, and, as she sighed, it was relaxing. Her mind drifted to think of Vesta and her expectations. Could the woman really be trusted? Could she see her the same way? All this and more roiled through her mind like a foggy chaos. Her eyes were dark as the bird returned, dropping what looked like a fresh rabbit by her feet.
Moments later, Vesta was at her side again in all her naked, feline glory. She picked up the rabbit, and dug into it with her claws until the blood started to seep from its still, lifeless body. "This will only take a moment, and then you will see things differently for the rest of your life. Are you ready for that, Alphonse?"
"What are you giving me, you crazy old bat?" murmured Alphonse, but she was too tired to even argue the point. At this point, she'd roll over and bark like a dog for the woman if she wanted.
"A surprise, Alphonse," said Vesta. "I think you will find it liberating." She started to tug Alphonse's cloak, so the big Rakura Rathor removed it, flexing the muscles in her back. It hurt pulling up the bandages in the same go, but that was of least concern to her now. Immediate, delicate touches followed around her shoulderblades as Vesta painted her handiwork all over her backside.
"Isn't it a little dangerous, not knowing?" Alphonse asked with concern.
"Not for this rune. Being is more important than knowing, as with all magic. Knowledge is a construct within the mind, and being is who and what you are, your Purpose and your soul," said Vesta.
"Um, thank you for the lecture, I guess." I am going to die.
Alphonse felt something twisting on her back, and something inside started to twist and turn. "Ugh!" Pop! "Agh!" Alphonse screamed, her voice shifting into a howl of bestial spite. She turned her head to see Vesta flying off as a bird, and she panicked. "What the feck, Vesta? Come back 'ere!" she cried, scrambling after her. She stumbled in the grass as her body shifted and churned beneath the skin. As scales sprouted up along her body, she felt faint, horrified at the changes in her own body. That all started to recede, however, as her conscious streams of thought began to dissipate. Her body thudded against a tree, the muscles in her back rippling, and her claws sunk into the bark. "Ha-ha-ahhhohowwwwwwwowww!" she howled at the top of her lungs.
By the time she rolled against the roots, her mind was completely gone. She was calm. All she could feel then and there was pain, hunger, and ...nothing. It was pure bliss, and indescribable by a mind that could no longer describe. Flashes of things and animals, and nature rippled across her view, time becoming a fluid concept she no longer cared for. Baser instincts took the wheel, and she climbed right up a tree to stare down at the forest floor in a lazy haze, the day melting away.
Closing her eyes, Alphonse drifted off into a deep slumber, feeling as if home was all around her. She had not a care in the world.
Alphonse awoke the next day and hunted. A bird danced in her path, but she could not catch it though she tried. She was not angry, but she was disappointed. She wanted to eat it. Her Contracted Nahl however was not so lucky, and the lurk skull was pounced and popped into a cloud of ether vapor.
That day, she finally caught a rabbit for the first time, and as she sank her teeth into the warm, dripping flesh, the world came rushing back to her from one heartbeat to the next. It was as if a great weight returned, and she fell to lay naked upon the forest floor, reflecting upon what she had experienced as the blood of raw rabbit dripped from her lips. Her eyes stared up at the trees, spying the many birds flitting between them, and she felt a connection unlike any before. Like the Elven Gods, she could now feel even more, and tears brimmed in her eyes as the bestial traits that had manifested over the duration of her trance receded away, feathers shrinking, bones shifting back to their usual places. Even the scales drifted away, replaced by the identity of her own fur.
"Vesta!" she cried. "I want to go back to ...that! That was... how life should be!" Alphonse turned and beat the forest floor with her fist. "It's not fair. What ... why am I like this!? Why are we like this!?"
A bird like the rest dropped down to meet her. "Alphonse," it said in a constrained voice. Alphonse looked at Vesta with spite in her eyes. "I have enlightened you, so that you may one day reach that place within your mind again, but it won't be easy. Are you ready, child?" said the Songbird.
"Yes. Anything. Anything you want," said Alphonse with haste. She shut her eyes, just trying to feel more of that fading feeling before it finally left her. "Ugh, I want to feel that way for the rest of my miserable life!"
"Then you will do everything I say from now on, without question," replied Vesta. "I have gifted you the Rune of Animus, and with it, you owe nature your respect. The natural order of things now lives and breathes in a way that you and I can feel pulsating in every living thing, and the manifestation of that is what you see before you."
"But... I don't want to be a bird!" shouted Alphonse.
The bird that was Vesta brought a wing over its beak, inhaling deeply only to sigh. "And here I'd thought you'd learned something."
