Title's temporary; I ain't got no idea what to call it.
And here's another thing I wrote. It's... a thing. And the bit where Amaia tells her story is awkward as fuck
; my excuse is 'it's old.'
'Tis a character I never used winding up in a game I've never played. Seems almost a habit of mine...
-----
Something pokes me in the stomach. I groan in confused annoyance.
"...I am busy trying to outwait the world," I tell the annoying belly-poker
perfectly politely. "Come back when the world loses."
I hear a confused, worried, wordless sound from the general direction of somewhere. Unfortunately, the poking continues.
I huff quietly, opening one eye and glaring at the offending being, loosening the leash on my aura of Fear-- is that..."...A child?" I mutter in confusion, pushing myself up to get a better look. I blink. "This is not my stronghold."
The child in front of me pushes... himself? herself? up off of the ground, the baggy red-striped blue sweater obscuring almost all features aside from a head of dark brown hair, a pair of worried hazel eyes set in a tan face, and a pair of hands moving in... I blink, looking closer. It looks very much like the gestures are practiced and regimented, and the look that the child is giving me is one that expects a response...
"...Is that a language of handsign?" I ask, sitting up fully and reaching a hand into one of the pockets of my Handy Haversack.
The child nods, frowning. A surprised and disappointed look finds its way onto the child's face.
I give a calming smile on old reflex. "Do not worry, I carry a Ring of Tongues," I say, pulling the simple mithral band from storage and slipping it onto the ring finger of my left hand. It feels... odd to wear a second ring on my hand again after so long, but not unpleasantly; it is almost... nostalgic.
Please say again, I sign to the child in the same language I failed to understand earlier.
Now the child looks even more surprised.
You use magic? How did you get magic? Have you met Monsters before?
I tilt my head in a show of confusion. That does not seem the same length as what was said before...
The child, seeming to realize the same thing, blushes.
Sorry. Earlier, I was asking if you were okay. You're not breathing.
I smile, raising my hands. "I'm okay," I answer in Common, which, given the way the child responded earlier, I expect the child understands. "And what do you mean by 'how did I get magic?' This particular ring--" I gesture to the band on my left ringfinger "--was a commission from one of my friends, but most of my magic I cast myself."
The child looks down for a moment, considering, and then starts signing again.
Are you human?
That earns a confused look, and I bring a hand to the enchanted choker at my throat. "What makes you think I'm not?" I ask. "Do I look like something other than human?"
The child (I need to ask for the child's name and gender, unless I want my mental reference to keep being so unspecific) seems a bit flustered.
No, you look human. But you use magic. Monsters use magic, not humans...
And the situation only becomes more confusing. I look down and take a deep breath. "...What is the year?" I decide to ask. "Is it still the Fourth Age?"
The child looks at me in confusion.
It's 2107 C-E. What do you mean by Age?
"A delineation mechanism based upon events important to the realms at large." I stare at the child, bewildered. "...You do not recognize Age as a part of the date, or that it has ever been such."
It was not exactly a question, but the child answers anyway, signing,
No. I don't. There is a moment of thought.
Do you remember Monsters living on the surface?
I stare blankly. "...I expect that, given your use of the word so far, you and I mean different things by the word 'monster'. However, that is likely not the most important part of this situation." A single smooth motion brings me to my feet and I look around. This is a very large cavern, seemingly very far below ground given the apparent size of the spot of sunlight above. Attached to a far wall and barely revealed by the meager lighting of this room is a very obviously artificial doorway, and below my feet is a bed of some sort of yellow flowers that have been partially crushed. Probably because of my laying on them. Though likely the most important thing about this is that I have
no idea where it is. "Is this place as unfamiliar to you as it is to me?" I ask, turning back to the child.
I don't know this place at all, the child lies extremely smoothly.
I sigh, crouching down to the young human's height. "Please tell me the truth," I ask gently. "Information is often the difference between life and death –how much information one has and how accurate it is-- and I would very much like for neither of us to die. So even if what you know is not much, please share it with me."
The child looks surprised.
You can tell I'm lying? How?
"Far too much experience doing the same." I shift my weight slightly and give the small human a firm look. "Will you tell me what you know, child? Or is the assumption that you do not come from this place incorrect, and you hide this from me for the protection of yourself and its inhabitants? If it is the latter, I swear upon my magic that I will not attack anyone here unless I am attacked first."
Now the young one looks somewhat distressed.
You will not attack anyone here ever! Don't hurt anyone!
That is... an odd response, though I suppose that it is only to be expected of a naïve child. I stand again with a sigh. "I cannot promise that; I will not make a promise that I know I cannot keep. If my existence is endangered, I will defend myself. The best that I can do there is to swear that I will not kill others unless it cannot be avoided."
By the expression the child's face holds, that is not a satisfactory response. I close my eyes.
"I am sorry. My belief in all creatures being innately good died with my family." And it was not revived with the destruction of the cult that did the deed, nor was it revived when I had one of my Archivists resurrect them. It had been, and
has been, far too long for that. I turn towards the door and lift my eyelids, starting forwards. "Come along, please. Whoever is your guardian is likely worried over your wellbeing."
The child responds only with a distressed sound, but I hear soft footsteps following along behind me.
I check my component pouch as I go, feeling for the more perishable herbs and the more fragile flasks. The herbs have dried and rotted away, and even just by feel I can tell that there is far less alcohol than there was when I last used it, however many years ago. Thankfully for my ability to use spells, I have learned to twist my magic around the requirements in many cases, and I still retain most of my more expensive components.
Hopefully the world has not become so backwards in my absence that there are no places to get replacements and backups later.
As I close on the doorway, I feel a light tug at my cloak. When I turn to look, the child begins signing again.
There's a mean flower in the room. Don't kill him. Please. The look in their eyes is a determined one, though the demand is strange.
He's not able to kill us. ...That might make a bit more sense.
"You mean that he will try."
The look in the young human's eyes is all the answer that I need.
"...One moment, then." I crouch down, calling out to my magic and pulling a small chunk of it to my mind, willing it into the proper shape and then reaching out to the child. "This will shield you," I say as I rapidly trace a series of arcane symbols upon the red and blue sweater, twisting the magic past the requirement for a medium of spirits with a deftness born of long practice. Negative energy flows from the river of it that travels through my soul into the magic, melding precisely with the child's life-force and forming a barrier of false life between flesh and injury. "There we go."
The small being looks surprised.
Was that magic?
I sigh, standing and starting off again. "Yes, but I doubt I have enough time to explain in detail how it works, as we have a flower that wishes to murder us to find a way past." I step into the doorway. "Stay behind me, child. Please. False Life is not remotely infallible; it is merely the best that I can do on this notice."
The room through the doorway is even darker than the last, with only a patch of grass with a rather large smiling yellow flower visible in the middle. "Howdy!" it says as soon as I enter the room. "I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower!"
I take a long step closer to it (and away from the child, more importantly) and loose my aura of fear. "You intend to kill us," I say blandly, raising a hand. "You will not do this," I continue. Black and violet fire lights on my hands and along my arms, blazing in its strange unilluminating light. "If you attempt to, I will render you incapable of such an act ever again."
The flower seems surprised and... amused? "Oh... how rich! The little human decides to find a bodyguard, and tells her about little ol' me?" it laughs. It is definitely amused. But since it is monologing, I can afford to let it continue for a while longer. I can cast
geas quickly enough that no attacks that he makes will have even a respectable chance at killing me or the child. "Well, it
won't help." The flower's mouth tears further open, forming a demonic parody of a grin. Huh. "I'm going to kill you, and then kill
them, over and over until they stop trying to cheat the ga--" The flower freezes, its face reverting to a much less awful form and shifts into a look of shock. I feel... something tugging in my chest, but nothing happens. "What? I can't start a FIGHT with you? Do you not have a SOUL? You
have to have one! All humans do!" He leans forwards, a look of effort on his face as he reaches out with the pair of leaves on his stock. Is he... "Come on..."
"...Are you trying to pull my soul out of my body?" I ask curiously.
He gives a rather childish huff. "
YES! But it won't work! It's never not worked before!"
I smile down at Flowey's obviously annoyed form as one would to a particularly stubborn two-year-old. "If you are not aware, it is possible to fight without removing one's opponent's soul," I inform him with as much saccharine condescension as I can manage, which is quite a lot of saccharine condescension. Then I let the magic I've kept prepared for the last minute loose in a shining streamer of negative energy and watch it wrap around the annoying flower's form. The child gasps behind me, I hear a single step, and then the room is filled with an earsplitting
scream. My eyes snap wide, all amusement leaving my face. "You will obey my orders! The first order is to remain there unmoving!" I tell Flowey, letting my spell resolve as I spin around and pull my fear back in an instant.
The young human is laying on the ground, eyes wide with terror, limbs twitching. He or she has hands raised and appears to be trying to sign something, but it's only coming up as a garbled mess of pleas not to be hurt and something about 'keeping them safe'. This is probably the worst result possible.
I crouch down beside the child, worry and all of my suppressed self-loathing plain on my face. "Please do not be afraid! I did not harm him, I only stopped him!" I say in a rush. The child flinches away from my hand when it approaches his or her shoulder and I draw back, taking a few steps away from the small human. I swallow, blinking back the ghosts of tears. "I will not hurt you, but I know that I probably look like I will. I will stay away from you, as I am almost sure you would prefer."
The child's arms fall back to the ground and I see their entire form shaking as they gasp for breath. They shut their eyes tight, shimmering, silent tears dripping from their corners. They raise a single hand again and shakily sign
Yes.
"What did you
DO TO M--"
"SHUT UP!" I scream at Flowey, eyes shining with death. He, of course, complies.
I hear a choked yelp from my left and I clench my fist, claws digging into the cool flesh of my palms.
"I am only making things worse," I almost sob, feeling despair crawl down my back and into my gut. "I-- I should just leave, find your guardian, and leave you in hands that do not run the risk of hurting you at every turn." I turn to leave, blood lethargically dripping down my fingers.
"W-w-wait!" a voice yelps from behind me. I turn around to see the child, half-sitting in front of the doorway, staring at me with wide, frightened, determined eyes. They raise their hands and sign.
You didn't mean it, they start, their hands slow and unsteady.
I know you won't hurt me. You're sad... They get surer and quicker as they keep signing, face set in tearful determination.
Running from your problems doesn't help, I know. I'll be fine later, don't worry...
I stare. They look sincere. "You... you cannot be serious. I just--"
"Someone will tell me why a terrified child is trying to convince an adult not to run away, and why there is a yellow flower silently making terrible faces at both adult and child," a voice from behind me says, feminine voice hard and commanding. "Right. Now."
I turn to face the voice immediately, raising my hands and calling negative energy to swirl around them. "You will not harm the child behind me," I tell her, eyes blazing with a hopeless resolve. I have already made the child terrified of me. If I have to fight off an army to protect them, I will do it... and with
my luck, I will have to.
"I mean them no harm," the white-furred woman says immediately, and after a moment, she raises her hands above her head. "Now, let me by so that I can comfort the child and you can explain this situation to me." She is sincere. I have enough experience with lies to know.
I step aside, but the fire at my hands remains. "You will not enjoy the outcome of harming them," I tell her. She doesn't answer me, preoccupied as she is with picking the child up in her arms and whispering comforts into their ear. The child's shaking calms, and I see a wobbly smile on their face. I lower my hands.
"Do you feel up to standing?" she asks the child quietly.
They nod silently, signing
Thank you. The woman sets them down and they immediately start walking towards Flowey.
...Oh. Right. "Flowey," I begin, turning to address the flower, "you will not preform any actions with the intention to cause harm to any being capable of thought and emotion. You may now move and speak."
He immediately jerks forward, eyes locked on me, making a motion with his leaves-- then he stops, and his expression shifts to confusion again. "...Why can't I make bullets?" the flower asks the air. He waves his leaves again, and a ring of white, glowing seeds forms in the air above him. He grins. "That's bett-- ...why won't they move towards you?" He growls again, eyes turning a bright crimson and a new demonic grin on his face. "I don't know what you did to me, but you will
pay!" And then he drops into the ground, leaving a hole in the ground.
The child turns to look at me, eyes wide in... is that fear? Disappointment? Shock?
What did you do to him? they sign in a rush.
"I cast
geas on him," I tell them, hanging my head. "It restricts his actions to that which I command upon casting. In this case, he is bound to follow my commands, which consist currently of the imperative not to do intentional harm. I intend not to use my power over him again, unless it is to release him from the command if he loses his tendency to attempt to extract souls and bombard them with magic."
Twin gasps bring my gaze up again. Both the child and the woman look horrified, the woman with her hands covering her mouth, and the child's eyes are wide. They step back, hands shaking.
"...you beast," the furred woman whispers, hands coming away from her mouth. Flames burn into existence around her and she steps forward, hands raised in a fighting stance. "I cannot allow one who would do that to a living, thinking being to be near a child. You will leave--"
The child's eyes grow yet wider and they raise their hands, the air in front of them shimmering--
.....
I feel a small pair of arms wrap around me and I groan. "...You are interrupting my rest. Please come back after the end of the world."
The being that is holding me starts shaking. A moment later, I feel something warm and wet drip onto the cold skin of my throat. My eyes peel open.
A child is laying beside me, arms wrapped around my neck, and... "...Why are you crying?" I ask, moving to sit up. The child makes a choked noise. "Did I make you cry? What is-- Please stop crying... whatever is wrong, I will fix it! Please..."
They push themself up and look down at me, eyes red from crying. They bring up a hand to... sign?
"...A moment, please. I cannot understand you for the moment." I reach into my Handy Haversack and draw forth a simple silvery band, slipping it onto my left ring finger. Magic reaches into my mind and--
--don't hurt anyone, please, no geases, no deaths--
"...What in the Abyss?" I feel the words leave my lips before I can think about them. "Why would I-- I will not hurt you! And why would I ever cast
geas on a child? I am not a monster!"
The child is staring at me, fear, disappointment, and sadness in their eyes.
You cast it on Flowey, last time!
I blink. "...I have only cast the spell three times, and never on someone who has done less than destroy a town. None of those three have any relation to flowers... Has my legend been corrupted in my absence?" It is not unusual for that to happen to those that are discovered to be undead, but I thought that the entire meat of my legend was that I was the one lich a person did not need to worry about being killed by if they came too close.
Legend? the child signs after a pause.
What legend? At least they are not crying now, though they
certainly do not look happy.
I sigh, grabbing the child and moving them off of me so that I can sit up. They oblige without more protest than an annoyed look. "Once, a death cult roved over the lands. They sacked towns, burned temples, and murdered all in their path but those they intended to keep for slaves. They did this for years, destroying and stealing and killing, until they came across one particular village. In that village lived a little green-eyed girl and her family. The family was quite magical, both of the parents having been sorcerer adventurers in the past and the girl expected to have innate magic in her blood as well.
"Three days before the green-eyed-girl's seventh birthday, when she was to start her training, the death cult found the village and launched an assault against it. The gaurds fought back valiantly and the girl's mother joined them, taking many of the evil men to their graves before they sent her to hers, and buying the villagers some meagre time to run or hide. For most, this was not enough, but the green-eyed child's father cast a spell and hid her in a space outside of the planes, telling her to stay there until he came for her. The father was cut down mere minutes later, and the death cult moved on to other places.
"An hour later, the green-eyed girl climbed down from her hiding place to find the dismembered corpse of her..." I close my eyes, gritting my teeth. This part I remember too well; the image is burnt forever into the backs of my eyes. "of her f-father lying below her, disfigured almost beyond recognition, and... she cried for a day and wept as she slept the night through, mind full of guilt and nightmares. She considered... joining her family in death..." I take a deep breath. "...but before she could follow through, her magic woke within her, and granted a fleeting semblance of life to her father's corpse. He spoke to her, he told her that... she should live on; that giving up is never the right choice, and that she will grow up to be amazing. He told her that he.. he was..." My voice cracks, but I press on. "that he was proud of her. And in that moment, she swore on her life and on her magic that she would bring her parents back, and that the ones who destroyed her village would die."
My claws dig into my palms, and blood lethargically drips down the cool flesh of my fingers. "It took her years, but... she succeeded. She learned all there was to know about her art and hunted down those that killed her family. The green-eyed girl even found a way to bring her parents back to life, but it... came at a cost. As she grew in power, her life waned, and the energy of undeath flowed through her soul, until her heart stopped and her flesh grew cold. She became the same as the creatures that she created to fight her enemies, and in doing so, she grew distant from the world. When her family finally died, the last people that knew her, and she honored their wishes not to be brought back in undeath, she despaired, and the last the world has heard is that she has locked herself away in her tower, to await the end of the world." I take a deep breath. "Almost all of is is my own or my family's account," I tell the child. "The last I heard through a
scrying mirror after I made my last announcement to my kingdom, the day before I fell into the state in which you found me. I memorized it, along with everything else I could find relating to my family... I..." I cannot keep speaking. My throat closes up, and I feel my shoulders shaking in dry, silent sobs.
A small pair of arms wraps around me again. Heh. In a strange reversal of earlier, it is
me that is crying and
them trying to comfort me. I readily return the gesture, crying dry tears on the child's shoulder.
"I-I am s-sorry," I stutter between sobs. Not being able to cry tears without a spell, they feel almost empty... "I could n-not handle my g-grief before, I..."
The child pulls back, a determined look on their face.
Your family is proud of you, they sign to me.
They lived a good life. You're not a bad person.
I shut my eyes and curl in on myself, bringing my hands to my head. "That is wrong. I was too weak when the cult invaded, and-- and I even asked my parents if they would accept a
reincarnation, and they said no, and I never learned
clone, and-- and--"
A hand touches my shoulder. I raise my head, looking out from behind my hands at the child.
They were happy, they sign rapidly. I bite my tongue.
It was their choice. You did the right thing. But now they are gone, and I could have made them stay, but I could not say no...
They wouldn't want you to despair.
That stops me cold. "They... they do not," I whisper. "...My father is proud of me. My mother loves me. They want me to be happy..." I smile. I hope that they see me, in whatever heaven they have gone to; it took me... a long time, but I can find a way to exist with the world again. "...Thank you, ch--" I stop. "...I haven't asked your name... I am Amaia Sherezem, former Soverign of Rusul." I push myself to my feet and sweep into a bow, wondering at how horrible I must look; blood smeared on my hands and face, caked in dust from lying still for years... It almost makes me laugh. "What is your name?"
The child smiles back, imitating my bow in a rather adorable way that shows that they have never once been in a formal court.
F-R-I-S-K, Soverign of Nowhere they sign to me.
I chuckle. "Then thank you, Fris--"
k. I frown, trying to breathe in and finish my sentence, but I feel an odd rushing sensation in my chest--
oh... I blink, magic burning to life inside of my eyes and at the top of my throat, and then turn around. "...That was rude," I tell the side of the room that presumably contains the being that shot me through my
damage ward. Actually, given the detection runestructure of the spell to detect actually dangerous attacks, it probably didn't register...
"It was rude of you to
steal my mind," a masculine voice that sounds like it is simultaneously pouting and trying to sound scary says from...
somewhere in front of me. Is it invisible? "Oh,
but I suppose you don't
remember that."
I look again and-- "Ah! You, the
flower, are the one that shot me!" I chuckle mockingly, stepping towards it, hands clasped behind my back. "And here I was thinking that whatever fired the projectiles my
ward did not register as a threat would be less susceptible to a pair of scissors." My hidden hands sign
Run, Frisk!
The flower (presumably 'Flowey') stares blankly at me for a moment, its mouth losing most of its teeth (are they an illusion? A magical construct?) in the process. "...Not a threat? How? I designed them specifically to be phased enough to punch through the protective flesh of a human and damage the SOUL without having to enter a FIGHT first. That looked more like what happens when they impact inanimate objects... though..." It blinks. Its expression falls to one of flat surprise.
I smile in a parody of cheer, making sure to show my elongated canines; I have convinced my enemies that I was a vampire with them before, when I was more alive than I am now, but those enemies were idiots. This one seems not to recognize what an undead is, though it seems to have some experience with constructs or similar... "Ah, do you not have experience with beings of cold, undying flesh? How unfortunate." I take another step forward, pulling my hands from behind my back and call out to the river of negative energy flowing through my remote soul, flames of black and deep violet darting from the skin of my arms and hands, curling threateningly. "You will not know how sure your destruction is until it has already occurred~" Why have I not heard Frisk's footsteps? Are they not running?
The flower is leaning away from me now, and a ring of small white pellets materialize in the air around it. "STAY BACK!" it yells, pushing the pellets a bit closer to me. "Your protections don't work against these!"
I smile, grabbing a carved metacarple and a small beeswax candle that sit side-by-side in a pocket of my cloak and tapping them together. "
Ithcant ghaless xum," I hiss, snapping the fingers of my right hand at the same time. A writhing cloud of dark darts forth from the air in front of me, wrapping around the nothing only a few feet from the flower to form a pair of spectral figures that quickly resolve into beings of rotting, diseased flesh. Before the cloud finishes immaterializing back into the magic from which it was born, both ghasts dart forward and grasp the flower by the stem. I hear a gasp behind me. By all the Planes, is this child mad?! I continue steadily forward, letting my hands rest casually behind my back again. "Though, I suppose"
The flower is dangerous! Run, PLEASE! "a lesson may be more appropriate. You have not met my kind before, correct?" I order one of the ghasts to moan, and it does so, beautifully.
"...You have now..." the other rasps, its putrid breath washing over the flower. I watch it shudder; its struggles to escape intensify.
"So, please, little flower," I continue, still gliding the last dozen feet to the creature as predatorily as I can manage (which is very), "take this lesson and
leave--" I emphasize the command with a light squeeze from the ghasts' hands on its stalk "--before I decide that you should join my horde of corpses." I finally hear footsteps. Good.
The flower nods, as much as it can manage while held in the way that it is, and I smile again, allowing it to struggle free. Its projectiles fizzled a while ago; it seems inexperienced with concentrating while under attack. All the better for Frisk's protection. It almost instantly absorbs itself into the ground with a light
pop! as I close to less than two yards. Only a moment later, I
dispell the pair of them with a click of my claws, a harsh sweep of my right hand, and a muttered "
pnohgt." The smell of death immediately dissipates and I let out a deep sigh.
The footsteps stop... behind me? Did I not tell Frisk to run? "Did I not tell you to run?" I ask as I turn around, feeling drained.
Last time, Frisk signs shakily, taking deep breaths and looking a bit unwell,
you controlled him. I didn't want that to happen again. They gulp, eyes darting over me. I will need to ask about the 'last time' statement. ...
Your chest's bleeding.
"Huh?" I respond eloquently, looking down-- "...Oh. Right. My punctured lungs. I'll fix those," I tell Frisk as I raise a hand to the pair of puncture wounds around my sternum, channeling my negative energy in a far more efficient manner than I was doing before into the cool flesh behind my vest. I'll need to repair the holes later... I take a deep breath, letting the magic in my throat fade away. I feel my eyes lose their backing of crimson. "...I should probably get the blood off of my clothes, hands and face as well, shouldn't I?"
Frisk nods, looking... worried?
Are you alright? they ask.
I smile; this one is genuine, unlike all of the ones I showed the flower. "Your concern is welcome, but unnecessary," I tell them, reaching into a pocket of my cloak and pulling out one of my
portable holes, setting it down and starting to unfold it. "Even if something killed me, I would come back less than two weeks later, and that is supremely hard to do. There is a reason that my
ward did not register the flower's attacks as a threat." I finish unfolding the cloth, its magic detecting open air and shimmering as a six-foot wide hole full of various cloth items falls into existence. I start rummaging through it.
How does that work? Frisk asks, looking curious.
"I created a magical container for my soul, which was already coming unlinked from my body due to the amount of negative energy I had channeled through it, and it kept me from being pulled into the afterlife," I explain, trying my best to avoid using more technical terms. "My body was already mostly supported by the energy of undeath, and since I prevented my death, the shift from positive to negative completed, and I became undead. Ah!" I pull a fresh vest from the
hole and look it over. It is a deep blue with rich brown highlights. "Ugh. Not my color, but I suppose it will have to do, until I can figure out where I put the rest of my minor rings." I start unbuttoning the burgundy leather
vest of resistance +5 (it is not remotely the best I could do in terms of magic items, but I already wear less rings than I can, these days, and I like how it looks), only remembering half way through that my cloak is going to obstruct my efforts to take it off. I reach up and start undoing my brooch.
What's that hole? How does it work? Frisk asks curiously.
"This is a
portable hole," I answer as I set my cloak aside and finish taking off my vest. "It is made of phase spider web, ether strands, and beams of starlight." I slide the new, less pretty vest on over my slightly bloodied shirt and reach down to pick my cloak off of the ground. "It forms a space separate from the normally traversible dimensions of the Planes and links it to the rune structure on the cloth whenever it is opened." I flip my cloak over my shoulders and clasp the brooch at my throat, feeling another layer of protection against magic wrap around me (I wonder why the flower's spell was able to bypass it? Is it actually a psionic or extraordinary effect? I know it was physical damage, even though he said it was designed to damage souls...). "It can store more than a
bag of holding or a
handy haversack can, but it is less convenient to access than either." Finally, I reach into another pocket in my cloak and grab my
ring of prestidigitation, slipping it onto my right ring finger and feeling the spell locked inside, drawing from the world's magic potential. I focus on it and twist the commands it placed in my mind, sweeping its cleaning effect across my form.
What's that?
"The cleaning effect?"
Yes, Frisk signs. Such an inquisitive being...
"It is a
ring of prestidigitation." I slip it off of my finger and hold it out. "Here, try it. Its use is instinctive."
The child reaches out to grab it, then pulls their hand back, hesitation shows on their face.
You sure?
"Go ahead," I tell them, smiling. "It is not dangerous."
Frisk hesitantly reaches out and grabs the ring, carefully slipping it onto a finger. Then their face lights up with a smile, a rainbow of sparks lighting up the air in front of their face. A smallish rock starts to levitate slowly from the floor.
This amazing! the child signs as the rock shifts to a bright blue hue.
I chuckle, smiling back. "I suppose you have not met many arcane casters, then... The spell is great fun, though." Then my smile fades slightly, and I cough to pull Frisk's attention away from the image that they were painting on the ground. "...What did you mean, when you said 'last time' earlier? Does it have anything to do with the flower's statement about my 'not remembering' controlling it?"
The child looks down uncomfortably, the bright colors fading from the objects around them.
...You won't believe me, they sign without looking at me.
It sounds crazy. Hmm...
"It 'sounds crazy', you say? I have avoided death under my own power, and I went from a child in a village no one knew about to the ruler of a nation capable of creating an army in a day and effectively halting time through the power of my magic." My smile grows a bit larger, and a bit more like a smirk. "I can believe a lot." I also know when not to believe what I am told; I know too much of falsehood.
Frisk stays still for a few moments and then raises a hand. The air in front of them shimmers. I call on my
detect magic on reflex, staring at the anomaly (have I seen this before? It looks... familiar...) through the familiar weave of magic. As soon as my spell focuses-- Frisk, and the world around them, is an overwhelming,
crushing,
RED Other. It is not a school of magic. It is too
powerful for one to hold it. It cannot be a spell of ninth level or lower. There is not enough power in my
entire set of ninth
and tenth level spell slots to replicate even
half of that... I hesitate to call it a spell, though it is too regimented and controlled to be anything else. A
RED Other hand reaches out, pressing itself to the shimmering wall before it, and--
--I--
--how--
--I am lying face-first on the ground. My teeth feel... odd. I lift my arms, bracing them against the dirt, and push myself up. "...Why was I on--" I stop when my tongue touches my teeth. They are cracked. I huff what would have been a curse if I were to move my mouth as I bring a hand up to my head, negative energy flowing from my soul to my hand, and from my hand to my damaged teeth. I feel a few abbreviated
clicks and run my tongue along the backs of my teeth again. "...Better. Why was I on the ground?" I ask. I pause. "...Why am I blinking my eyes?" I move my hand from my jaw to my eye, putting a finger to one and experimentally channeling negative energy into it. "...how did I
damage my eyes?"
Frisk, who I can now see, is a few feet or so in front of me, looking the worst combination of confused, concerned, and guilty.
I SAVEd, they sign carefully. I
t locks a point in spacetime. I can return to it if die or want. You collapsed, and you were covering your eyes-- are you... okay? How did I hurt you?
I smile at that last part. "Once again," I tell them, "I am fine. I would merely reform if I were to be destroyed, and I cannot be permanently damaged by anything less than a
wish." I stand carefully, testing to see if I managed to break myself anywhere other than my face. Everything works. "And my injury was my fault alone. I tried to
detect magic, and... you..." I pinch my eyes closed, avoiding the urge to grit my teeth. "...You are beyond my ability to comprehend, even when you do nothing. When you finished casting whatever spell that was... If I were not a powerful undead, my attempt to gaze at it would likely have broken at least one aspect of my mind."
The child's eyes go wide, and I notice a bit of dampness gathering in them.
I... I almost...
All hells, I am doing the opposite of what I intend! "Frisk!" I say. They pay me no mind, so I grab their shoulder. They look at me; they look horribly crushed. "Frisk..." I start again, staring into their eyes, "it was
my fault that I did what I did, and it it
not your fault that your spell has that effect on those who attempt to
detect it. And were it to do damage as I described, which it
cannot, since I am an undead, the soul would heal within a day. I will not attempt that again, and the magic will have no risk of harming me--"
Frisk wraps me in a hug for the third time today. They are shaking...
I return the gesture, rubbing comforting circles on their back. "It is alright, Frisk," I tell them. "I am fine. You have done nothing wrong, though if you feel as if you have, I forgive whatever you believe you have done. Everything is alright..."
I continue like this for a few minutes as Frisk's crying gradually slows and then stops. They lean back.
Thank you, they sign simply, looking much better despite the tear tracks on their face.
"Of course, Frisk." I stand up to my full, slightly-unimpressive height of a bit more than five feet and go to brush off my cloak-- "Ah, would you mind using the
ring to clean us up?" I ask them. "I would assume that there are more people here than us, and we do not make the most presentable pair as we are."
Frisk makes a quiet sound, smiling. I feel magic sweep across me and the dirt and dears fade from my clothing, the tear tracks on the child's face doing the same. Then they make an exaggeratedly fancy sweeping gesture, and little multicolored sparkles fall from the air above us, finishing with arms wide and hands shaking in a silent
tada!
I chuckle quietly. "Yes,
magic! It is quite fun," I say. "...Ah! That reminds me. On the topic of magic..." I twist a chunk of magic into a familiar spell, clicking my fingers and speaking a syllable of power, yellow light shimmering over me. I suddenly feel a familiar, profound out-of-breath sensation, taking a few practiced, rapid breaths. I shiver slightly; the spell brings my body temperature up to something survivable, but my core temperature is still low enough that I will be quite cold for a few minutes.
What was that? the child asks, looking intently at...
"Ah, you have no doubt noticed that I am breathing far more often now," I infer. "The spell I cast is called
spark of life. It was designed as a spell to combat the advantages of undead, such as having no need for breath or organs, but I use it to feel as if I am alive," I explain. "Many of my bodily functions, such as the entirety of my metabolic system and most of my muscles besides those of my limbs, face, and diaphragm do not move. Technically,
none of them do, but I can move my limbs, and take voluntary breaths and such through my innate energy. It also makes me vulnerable to such things as having my spine severed, but I can dispel it at any time, and if my body is destroyed, I will still come back." I hold up a hand, stilling my shivers. "I think it is worth it to have warm flesh."
Frisk reaches up and grabs my hand. I can feel that their hand is warmer than mine, and not in the simple, academic way I can sense with my energy. They smile.
"Shall we go, then?" I ask them. "I believe that we are as presentable as we can be, unless you wish to use some of my other magic items?"
Frisk's face lights up and then quickly dims, just like before.
...I don't need them, they sign.
"You may need them," I begin seriously. "Even if--
damnation," I curse. "How can I be so
forgetful! Frisk."
They look... startled.
"Your
save spell returns you to a previous time if you die?"
Frisk nods in a manner that makes me think that they do not quite know what is going on.
"Or if you will it to?" I continue.
They nod again.
Yeah, I explained that a minute ago.
"You did," I confirm. I take a deep breath; I need to know. "My question is... what triggered your spell last time? Did I... not protect you?"
"No!" Frisk says, very emphatically. They can speak?
No, the child continues in sign.
Last time, you got into a fight with a friend. It was stupid. I wanted to stop it, and stop Flowey being... they pause, searching for a word
...broken. Controlled. Geased. It was horrible...
"...Oh, that makes sense." I take another breath and sigh. "It... is horrible," I tell them. "
Geas. Any spell that compels a person to do something.
Dominate monster,
command undead, when they are used on thinking beings... I..." I pause. How do I express this? It is... "...I do not know why I would use that spell. It is far longer term that I would use, and those I only use under duress to move enemies that I cannot or will not kill away from myself and those I value. The last time I used
geas that I can remember was on the leader of the death cult. It was..." I look down. "...I am not proud of myself for it. But I am getting off track. I need to cast a spell on you."
A spell? they ask, politely following my topic.
What spell? Why?
"I call it
contingent resurrection." I call out to the highest of my spell slots, bringing it to the front of my mind but not casting. "I created it so that, if either of my parents were... killed again, they would be automatically revived, and I have also taken to using it as a last resort measure for preserving my own existence, if someone were to find and destroy my soul's container... It is based upon the
life spell seed. It detects the breaking of the bonds of a soul to its vessel, such as a being's body being destroyed or its soul being damaged enough to be unable to hold on to it, and reconstructs the soul/body conglomerate, as long as some part of the body still exists. I... used to have all of the instances of it I was capable of holding always active, but I have two empty slots..." I blink back tears; my parents still love me, and they are happy somewhere in the heavens. "...I wish to cast it on you, if you are willing."
Frisk looks surprised.
That's possible?
"Yes, though it was not easy to create. May I cast it on you, Frisk?"
They seem to consider it for a moment, and then their face sets into a look of determination.
Yes, they say.
I don't want you to forget, next time I die. It already happens enough.
I sigh in relief. "Alright. This will only take a few seconds..." I reach out and place a hand on Frisk's chest, over their heart. "
Kthel unte leevf," I whisper, focusing my spell's power into the matrix that I have only ever used thrice but still remember as well as the day I created it. Light like the sun leaks from behind my fingers as the magic reaches the child's soul, forming a jacket of
life around it held back by a strand of
unless. The magic tries to expend itself immediately, as it always does, but the
unless will not be broken. It holds just above the soul as it settles, the light dimming and going out, lying dormant until the strand of
unless is satisfied. I sigh, removing my hand. "There. How--"
I feel a pulse of unimaginably powerful magic again. Frisk smiles.
Thank you. An image draws itself on the air before me; it is a white-outlined black box that says:
LV 1
HP 20/20
G 0
LE 2
Two lives, they add.
Thank you.
"...Is that what you see when you use your magic?" I ask them. It looks... odd. Artificial. Though I suppose that all spells are, even when they imitate something that is not.
Yes, signs Frisk, even as they sweep the box away, pushing it into nonexistence in a silent ripple.
...I'm not sure why.
I stare for a moment, frowning for a moment and barely restraining myself from trying to
detect magic-- my curiosity is as strong as ever, it seems. If only I was capable of studying that effect... I clear my throat, somewhat awkwardly. "Perhaps we should find our way out of here, and to whoever lives here."
Yes, signs the child, eyes twinkling with amusement.
This way! They twirl on one foot, more shimmering sparks following their movements, and march in such a silly 'important' manner that I barely keep it from pulling full laughter out of me-- I manage to keep it to a chuckle.
