Arc 2, Elegy
6. In the End, All Things Must Break
You look happy. You're grinning, laughing. Your soft face is framed by straw blonde hair. Your skin is ruddy, after so much work and play out in the sun, like everyone else's. It's so familiar. It could be you on any happy day. So why do you feel uneasy? It's not showing on your face. You still look joyful. You look unworried. You look alive.
Your stomach starts to sink. Your face doesn't show it. Because that's not your face. You're only looking at it.
You glance down at your hands, and they're so pale. The sun kissed her, but it scours you, and so you hid from it. Even the natural color all but bled out of you. And the fingers... Your nails grew into your fingertips, coming out pointed and thick. They really are claws. Hers are barely grown out at all, so thin and flimsy, torn short after little chips from one thing or another. You grab a handful of your hair, and it's as light as hers, but the color seems less rich. It looks almost dirty, and it's rife with frizz and little snarls. You run your tongue over the points of your teeth. She barely has four that are anything like yours. She looks healthy and strong, not lean and wasted away.
You aren't her. The difference is night and day.
Have you ever looked so happy? Have you ever looked so carefree? She has such plenty, and all you have is want.
All you are is want.
You want to take what she has. Don't you deserve it? Isn't that only fair? You need to take it. You can't help yourself. The urge isn't your fault. You should take it. Someone should have it. It shouldn't go to waste. She's only a corpse.
Her grin is just rigor mortis. Hunger squirms in your stomach. You ache to tear her apart and restore yourself with the spoils. But you don't. You won't.
Why? Why deny yourself? Why do you hate what you are? Why do you revere the corpse? You're defiling it all the same.
You look down at your hands, and you see crude mockeries carved from bark, cupped together and holding blood, precious drops seeping past them. You taste iron on your tongue. You open your hands and let it fall away, but it lands on roots that greedily drink it up. It seeps up your twisted and gnarled trunk, and you can feel the bloom of life burning inside you. It feels like it might boil and break you and burst free, as if that hateful sunlight slipped into your veins. You can't keep it. You can't have it.
You are only want. All you can do is take and take until there's nothing left. Whatever you try, it's all that will happen. You can change nothing. So why make it harder on yourself? It doesn't matter. Only the end matters.
And you already know what's going to happen in the end. It's—
You jolt awake to the sound of tearing fabric. Blinking bleariness out of your eyes, you shift onto your side to look towards the sound. Fleshrender is standing in the entrance to your room. He is running his claws through your curtain.
You're aghast, and angry, but baffled. You stare in mute incomprehension for a second, and then he notices you're awake. He grins.
"Morning." He's saying it casually, as he tears another gash in your one vestige of privacy. A flash of anger seizes you, and you scrape your claws on the floor. But it won't help anything to give in.
"What do you want?" Your voice is icy. Some part of you wants to wince because you didn't say what you're supposed to say, but you will. Just, once he's gone.
He grins mirthlessly at you. "Nothing." Another tear.
You grimace. It would have been easier if this was some special business he was waking you up to have you do. If he is just after entertainment... Why does it have to be you? What do you even say? "Then why are you doing this?"
He frowns, and then finally tears your curtain in half. You can't help but wince. "Come on. Where's that backbone from earlier?" He looks actually disappointed in you. "What, some food in your belly and you're back to rolling over? Realize how stupid sticking up to strength was?"
What is he—You turn your thoughts back to yesterday. You were blunt in asking for food. Seriously? You get to your feet. At least you slept in your clothes. "Are you actually angry over that?"
He gives a fake sigh. "I'm not angry. But you are. Come on, let it out! Just what else do I gotta do?" He's staring at you, and you can almost feel the pinpricks of power from his gaze.
Power... You weren't picking up on his. It's there now that you think to pay attention, but usually you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by it whenever he was near. He's holding it back? Is he trying to make you more likely to pick a fight? You're not sure if you're surprised he was clever enough to even think of that, or surprised he was so stupid as to think it might possibly work after making the gap in power obvious on every other opportunity. "Being angry at you isn't going to get me a new curtain." You just have to stay calm and avoid egging him on. He can't hurt you, or he wouldn't be bothering with this. He'll get bored.
Fleshrender shakes his head. "Nuh uh. No more pretending. Wait, are you actually so stupid you didn't notice I took some of your food?" You don't dignify that with a response. Fleshrender snarls. "I bet the sorcerer won't care if I rip that tree out of your head. How much do you think it would hurt?" He loses whatever hold he had on his power, and it washes over you, sheer might and pure malice. He's staring at you, and you can feel the ghosts of claws barely pressing into your skin.
You know you're safe, but your heart is beating a little too fast. "I'm not stupid." You ball up your left hand in a fist, but keep your voice cold.
"Well, you should be!" Fleshrender grins wide, as if he just told a joke. "Thinking too much doesn't suit us ghouls."
That makes you tilt your head. "Fleshrender. We aren't ghouls." You're quiet for a moment, but you can't stay that way. "I refuse to believe you don't know that. Even you must have paid enough attention to know we're wights."
He snorts. "Wight, ghoul, it don't matter. That's just words. What matters is what we are. I'm strong. I take what I want because weaklings can't stop me. Sure, you're weak and can't stop me, but you're s'posed to try all you can to. Fight tooth and claw to hold onto what's yours. You didn't let dying stop you once. But now you're going to give in to avoid a fight? Sickening."
You narrow your eyes. "Okay. So we're all pathetic for deferring to you. Why are you bothering me about it?"
"Because now I think you have a little spark in you and it's going to flash eventually. And then we can have a little tussle, and that'll be fun." He takes a step closer to you, and it's all you can do not to flinch. "But mostly it's because you're boring. The others are worth something, sometimes. Couldn't you at least be an exciting freak? You're not gonna be any fun 'til you break, so I'd rather not wait."
You stare up at him. He's still trying to get a rise out of you. He probably isn't going to keep this up for the long-term. You hope not, at least. But you need to get him to go away right now. His power is overwhelming and he's cornered you, and... It's not just that. He's wrecking your things because he wants an excuse to kill you, and you can't pretend that isn't terrifying. But you manage to keep your voice flat and level. "Get out of my room. Get me a new curtain."
He raises his bald brows and sneers. "You gonna make me?"
"No." You swallow, and put more steel into your voice. "Your master is."
He stares at you with confusion and then rage in his eyes, and your heart skips a beat. His power flares and he shows all his teeth and a wave of terror takes you. You said the wrong thing. Now he's going to snap and snap you, damn the consequences, and it's your own foolishness that brought it on—
But then he turns and stalks off without another word.
He apparently doesn't want to face the fact that he's pathetic by his own worldview. For all his faults, you wouldn't have guessed Fleshrender was a hypocrite. If only because you didn't imagine he had principles to betray in the first place.
Principles.
"My name is Ythona, and I am a person."
You heave a shaky sigh of relief. Saying the words help. Asserting yourself over your own room again. You glance over at the half-exposed entrance.
You go to gather up the half of your curtain from the ground. After a moment of thought, you take down the top half, too. It has less rips in it. It's not going to make a perfect blanket, certainly not in two parts, but it will be better than nothing. You stare down at your hands holding the fabric, and feel a small wave of revulsion. The thought of bloodstained wood comes to mind. But it's not a memory. Even then... you had only lost the one arm. Was that your dream?
You try to think back to whatever you can recall of the dream as you fold up the fabric. You can recall hazy, half-formed imagery of blood and wood, snippets of hollow words, a strange feeling of heat bubbling under your skin. You aren't surprised your dreams are so ill-formed and unpleasant, but it is disappointing. But it wasn't all disappointment. You can also recall an image of your living self, sharper than you can usually think of. You smile a little. Despite everything, you think you're a little closer to that already.
You pick up your brush and try extra hard to undo the stubborn tangles.
Fleshrender is absolutely not going to bring you a replacement curtain. You're going to have to find where to get a replacement yourself. At least you can honestly claim to need a new one, now. Maybe you can even take two... Your old plan was to ask Fleshrender for one when it seemed like as good a time it would ever be. Hopefully one of the others will know the answer, instead. Now that you think about it, you're not sure Fleshrender would know himself anyways.
You head off for the usual communal area, although you're not sure if they'll be there. From your best guess at when it is, it's probably not around the time Fleshrender doles out the rations for everyone not out on an errand yet, so there isn't much reason to gather. But what else is there to do, really? ...Actually, you should probably ask about that, too. A few ghouls come to crowd you in the hallway, but you push them away with your thoughts. Wait, are the halls narrow and twisting as a defense measure? Does that really suit an army of ghouls?
You make it to your destination without getting lost, this time. It's a large room by the standards of this place, although it's debatably a room. The tunnel just widens out into the space, without a clearly defined entrance or exit like most of the rooms do. In the center is a slab of stone that's essentially a table, if without chairs. Sybil is standing at it, but doesn't seem to be doing anything. Bonecruncher is sitting against one wall, toying with something in his hands. Pepin is there too, though he's lingering at the far end, where it's still more tunnel than space. So then, Bell is probably out on patrol. It leaves you unsure of what Fleshrender is doing, but you're glad he isn't taking earlier out on anyone else. Unless it's on someone you don't know. You shake that thought out of your head, and step into the room.
"Hello everyone." They all look over to you, and you smile. Bonecruncher is smiling the same as ever, but Sybil and Pepin look suspicious. Surely it's not that strange to hear you talk?
Sybil is the first to respond, turning to face you and leaning her arm on the table. Unlike most wights you've seen, she doesn't look scrawny or viciously lean, but instead healthy. In her build, at least, she's the same deathly pale as the rest of you. A part of you is wondering if that reflects a life of plenty or better luck out in the bog. "What do you want?" Her voice is flat, but suspicion is still written on her face.
This isn't the response you were expecting. You shake your head for a second. "It's not that I want anything. Well, not like that. I just want to talk to you all." You smile again.
Pepin pipes up from where he's skulking. "You only ever talk to Fleshrender." He says it like an accusation. You aren't exactly sure of what, but it still stings. You don't want him to think you're out to get him somehow. He looks about as old as you were, although you aren't sure how long he's been a wight.
You open your mouth to say something in reply when Bonecruncher speaks up from the wall. "Now, now. If Ythona wants to talk, that's something to welcome. Yes?" His voice is deep and sonorous, a reminder of his size, yet warm in its way. He smiles a little wider at you, wrinkles creasing in his face. He looks elderly, but certainly isn't built like an old man.
Sybil shrugs, and Pepin nods as if he thinks he has to.
This isn't exactly the welcome you were hoping for. You look over to Bonecruncher. "Thank you." He nods. You turn back towards the other two. "I know I haven't been friendly, but I would like to start. I'd like to get to know you all. We're comrades, right?" That word feels hollow on your tongue, and the response it gets is just as hollow. Being subject to the same monster's whims doesn't really make you comrades in any real sense. "Yeah, I guess not. But we're all people, and that's enough reason to get on friendly terms."
Pepin tilts his head at you, red hair falling in his face a bit. You can't read his expression, but don't want to stare to try and figure it out. He probably wouldn't appreciate that.
Bonecruncher snorts. "I don't know about that." He gets up to his feet. He stands tall enough he probably has to duck through some of the tunnels, and he's quite broad. His power doesn't seem any different from Sybil's or Bell's, but he looks like he could easily defeat any of you. Him suddenly disagreeing with you like that is worrying. Then he grins wider. "But I see no reason not to be friendly and make merry regardless."
You breathe out a sigh of relief. In your peripheral vision, you see Pepin edging away. Then Bonecruncher brings a hand up to his mouth, and bites what he was holding in half. He finishes it in another two bites, and then makes for the table.
You had not realized his name was so literal.
You follow him to the table, standing at the spot nearest to the entrance. Bonecruncher takes the side opposite you. Sybil stays where she is, but doesn't really look interested in you anymore. Pepin is still inching away, but he's glancing from Bonecruncher to you. Maybe you can get him to talk, if not come over.
You're finally talking to them. It's stiffer than you would have liked, but it's a start. Still, now the initiative is on you to have something to talk about. You probably should have had that in mind from the start.
[] Ask some questions. You have more than a few. It won't make the most scintillating conversation, but it was what was on your mind when you walked in here. And any lingering suspicion would probably be wiped away, because if you were Fleshrender's lapdog or whatever else, you probably wouldn't need to ask where the curtains were. And maybe that will lead you to something more interesting to talk about.
[] Tell a story. Making merry wasn't a bad suggestion. You don't think you would be sane now if you hadn't, just by yourself. Though, your games wouldn't really suit multiple people, and your singing... But a tale, that could work. And it might spur one of the others to share one in turn.
[] Bring up cooking. From what Bell mentioned, that might grab Sybil's attention. And hopefully the others' too. With more people willing to cook rations with you, you would be able to do more than you can reasonably do on your own. And you want to give the chance for them to pivot away from raw meat as well. Why wait?
