Ash 63rd
One foot forward. Always, one foot forward. The mountainous trails of southern Lorien were winding and varied, and though Alphonse' legs groaned with a sore throb, she pressed on through to the afternoon as Vesta gave her much of the day to herself. What had transpired over the last few days had broken Alphonse down, and she was still ordering the monoliths emerging from the floodwaters of these tides of change.
To begin with, as her eyes peered at birds flying overhead, she felt things. Spiritual, soulful moments of wist derived from the Rune of Animus that gave her a connection to these creatures. What's more, she was somewhat more keen on everything she perceived, as the Rune of Masquerade necessitated it. Her Summoning, too, had seen her feeling a connection to not just one Patron, but two. Even her Pyromancy felt more natural. She was truly budding as a mage, and she had Vesta to thank for it; could she thank the woman, though?
The manipulator. The liar. The witch. Alphonse had been warned about her by just about everyone who knew her secrets. People who'd scorned her for what she is. At first, Alphonse felt a kinship, a kinship that has since been acknowledged by Vesta after all these years. The cat, Alphonse felt, had plans for her beyond something as constrained as a Purpose, and escape became something of a necessity in her mind.
The bald feline had since taken upon herself to grow a thicker coat of fur much like a leopard's as they walked, her form a monstrous hodgepodge of wrinkled feline and luxurious, spotted fur in grays and darker hues of the same such color. That thick tail bobbed behind her as she led the way in the trail, Alphonse watching it with a feline curiosity much of the time.
After hours of silence, Alphonse broke the din as they crested a hill and emerged at the top, giving them a view over the valley that impressed even Alphonse. Like a spec in the distance, they could see the edges of civilization bordering Nivenhain. "Pah, we haven't made much progress," said Alphonse. "It's been a lotta days, an' I can still see the damn city."
Vesta slowly turned to her. "We've been busy with your training, Alphonse," she said coolly. "What did you expect, that we'd be running there this whole time? I'm in no rush. Cities are where talented people go to die at the whims of petty gods and nobles." The witch shrugged, crossing her arms behind her as she looked Alphonse up and down. "This is as good a place as any to rest. Let us have a seat, and I shall offer you one more Rune. After this, I shall not tempt fate with you for perhaps years to come. How does that sound?"
"I'm curious if you'll survive," added Vesta with a haunting rasp.
Lifting her nose at the woman, Alphonse sneered. "I don't like your tone, 'ya bag of bones." How far could she push her luck? "Why do you have such a death wish for me, anyway?"
"It's rather simple, Alphonse," said Vesta, taking a seat on a flat boulder of smooth shale to nurse over her own paws, running fingers between the digits and massaging them. "The grandest wizards in all the world have died to their initiations, and some such as myself had learned many in a short time, given room to grow." She put her foot down, and her jaw moved side to side in contemplation, as if she was weary she should admit it. "I would rather you succeed now than later. I'm not long in this world, and I wish to live vicariously through your achievements as my ambitions are no longer possible. Were I to initiate you, and you went, say, splat into that mountainside there, and you were already a great warrior? I would feel shame for wasting my time with you."
"You're a cold, vicious bitch," said Alphonse. It all put a bad taste in her mouth, but the woman had a point. Better rip off the glaring danger now than risk it later. "Training really won't feckin' help, huh?" Alphonse took a seat too, wrapping her cloak tighter about herself. The Beacon in her body gave her a warmth that meant she did not feel the cold so profoundly, but it felt nice to shelter the heat and keep it close at times.
"Only a slight amount," said Vesta, "requiring years of dedication I do not think you have the patience for." The woman held out her palms in a cup, spreading them out laterally. You've gotten this far on your potential alone, and I think you have the potential to grow this much." Her hands folded in her lap once more. "But only if you have the balls to risk it." Pointing to the ground by her feet, Vesta motioned for Alphonse to kneel before her. "Come."
Alphonse didn't like being put on the spot. "I'm gonna feckin' regret this, aren't I?" She realized she'd said, or at least thought the same about the last two, and she'd come to appreciate those gifts. Still, the risk left a bitter taste in her mouth. Dropping to her knees, she dropped her pack by her side, drawing the knife she'd already polluted with her own blood and washed clean some time ago.
Vesta appealed to her nature. "The rune I'm giving you, Transposition, deals with spacial concepts. It is a magic firstly for exploration, and secondly for war and spycraft. You have seen me blip away from a room when I'm in a hurry; it is perhaps the magic I use the most irresponsibly. Even I am not perfect, Alphonse, but I expect you not to abuse or push yourself too far with this one. The dangers are high."
"Yeah, you've got it. I'm kinda... terrified to explore the other two you gave me so soon after... seems kinda dumb of me," said Alphonse. She'd been cowed about the dangers of magic by the Black Remedy mage who gave her what she had. The man had some gruesome scars to bare for pushing himself too hard in the revolution. "This one the same as the others?"
"For this one, you'd best stay calm." She left out the bit about it being the most dangerous one yet, best saved for last. "Breathe in, and out. Relax." Alphonse held out the knife, not making eye contact. Vesta took it, going around behind her--opposite the shoulder of the freshly carved, still healing rune in her right shoulder. There, she set the knife, and made the first incision without warning.
Alphonse tensed. "Hrk!" She hissed, collapsing forward on her palms while the woman followed her like a biting gnat to keep carving away at her hide. "I'm gonna feckin' keep ink with me everywhere I go 'cause uh this shit!" barked Alphonse.
"Breathe," hushed Vesta.
"I'm feckin' tryin'!" howled Alphonse, but she was weakened by the journey, her spirits low. "I need a drink. I want to get wasted so bad." She drew in a ragged, steady breath and gripped the dirt with her claws as Vesta took her sweet time, carving every little delicate facet into her until she completed the rune, and the usual unusual feeling such a thing heralded spread through her.
Vesta did not push. She let her behemoth daughter fall to her side and writhe, watching carefully to let the woman be at peace with herself in her own mind. Alphonse held her hands over her face, but her consciousness and sight drifted forward, and she shivered. The world spun, seeming to shift between hazy images of this world and the next. Haunting sights crossed the corners of her eyes, flashes hitting her eyes more directly. Soon, her limbs felt distant, and her hands felt numb, falling away as she opened her eyes and stared up at the sky, floating up into the aetherial heavens.
A knot in her stomach disappeared. Alphonse felt as if she were floating in the nothingness, stars twinkling around her, the air nonexistent and thin. Then reality shifted in hues, showing her a volcanic landscape caked in ash. She recoiled--water pressed in from all around her in the next moment, and then she was falling through the skies. Everything started to calm as time went on. Everything seemed to blur together, her mind melding with the background.
The woman sighed. "Do my eyes deceive me?" she asked to the void.
A very faint voice answered back. "Yes, and no."
"Helpful. So very helpful," Alphonse mocked. She tried to stand, but she couldn't tell where the ground began, stumbling in a kaleidoscopic haze of colors. "This trip is... feck! Hchk!" She heaved, nearly emptying her guts into the dirt--or would it have been all over herself. "I can't even remember... where..." She collapsed in a tangled heap of limbs, and Vesta helped to right her into a more comfortable position.
"Shh, Alphonse. This lasts for awhile. Just let yourself... float. Don't fight it. Don't panic. Don't worry about going anywhere; let it take you away," said Vesta. "Wander where it takes you, do not enforce your will upon it, for it, the world and the worlds beyond, are bigger than you, and it wants to show you everything there is."
"Thanks, I hate it," said Alphonse with a grunt.
. . .
The next day, Alphonse was still floating ... somewhere. She'd fallen asleep, and woke somewhere else. Vesta's voice guided her, and she began to hunger. She could feel food being forced into what she thought was her mouth; Vesta helped her chew. "Swallow," she was told, and she did. The woman kept her healthy up in those mountains while she came down slowly from these euphoric visions.
By the time her mind became more rooted, three days had passed entirely, and she felt somber and cold as an unfamiliar sky shined down overhead. She had no idea that this sky was unlike the others, that this sky was the one over her current body. It was not until she saw Vesta checking on her that she turned her head, a shifting blur of lights twinkling across her gaze. "Oh, it's you..." rumbled Alphonse in a haze.
"Indeed it is," said Vesta. "Where are we?" she asked.
"I don't know," Alphonse answered back. "I don't ...remember where anything is. Will I?"
"Yes," said Vesta. "The amnesia will last a few more days yet, possibly, but you should be good to stand so we can make our way to Daravin."
"Okay," said Alphonse simply. Bringing her arms up, she groaned as her senses tingled with new hidden, spacial facets she could not begin to process. "That was a real binger," said Alphonse. She couldn't manifest a single shred of anger. She was just weak, tired, and short with the world. "I don't think I can handle even thinking about what you just gave me, Vesta, so just... hold it."
"Don't worry, I don't plan on it," answered the woman, who was looking at her kinda funny.
Alphonse stared back, making a fuss. "What? What're you lookin' at me like that 'fer!?"
Vesta sniffled. "Oh, nothing, youngster. It... brings a tear to my eye seeing you succeed here. You have everything you need to make a difference, and I can't wait to help you nurture these gifts, Alphonse." Vesta smiled. Genuinely happy.
"Don't get sappy with me, you old crone, I know you're not doin' this for me!" barked Alphonse as she sat up with a groan, her head still spinning. "Ugh." She stumbled, the light hitting her eyes something harsh as the blood rushed from her head. "Been awhile since I've laid in one place for that long."
"You'd do well to have at least a little pride, Alphonse. Few, save mage lords and astute devouts, can harness the power of five Runes," said Vesta.
Alphonse looked at her and shrugged. "I don't feel special. I'm just doin' what I can, and I'm tryin' to do the right things. That's all." Her head was swimming as she started walking down the trail towards their destination.
"Alphonse, where are you going? It's the other way!" called Vesta.
