“He's acting up again”

Those words are the only things that will leave her in a state of great worry. The blue-haired dragon stood up from her desk, stepping out from her room full of maps.

“Catraoine, don't” the woman stopped the dragon by grabbing her arm. The dragon, Catraoine, sighs at her. “Isca, please. This has been a string of stressful days for me”,

The woman, Isca, shook her head disapprovingly. “He's your family, you know”, she remarked. Catraoine tilted her head down, looking up at Isca in further disapproval.

Not this situation again. I've had enough, Catraoine murmurs to herself.

“Just because he has the same last name as I meant that I must be the one telling him to behave!”

“How can you learn to behave if you died once.” Isca said to Catraoine. Indeed, the man in question died years ago. Catraoine sighed, “I'll get Lórcan, then I'll be down there. I'll ask aunt Pádraigìn to seal his magia”

“Lórcan's resting. That was a genius move to let him mess around with the Albion Forces. Now he needs days of sleep!” Isca responded, as a reminder that Catraoine needs to calm down and handle it herself, “And as for Dr. Pádraigìn, she's downing on bottles of Dooley's vodkas because of it. She hates Dooley's, you know”

”....” Catraoine wasn't able to answer Isca's words. “Fine”, she walked out of her room.

Arriving at the living room, she sees the sight of a tidy room, but it was clear that there were signs of it being ramshacked moments ago. In fact, she knows this as she sees Pádraigìn, sitting with her legs spread, her lab coat on the floor, and her eyes full of downed anger. On the table in front of her are bottles of Dooley's vodka, all empty.

“DON'T YOU STAND THERE, GET YOUR FUCKING GRAND-UNCLE IN HERE!!!” she suddenly shouts as soon as she saw Catraoine. Then she shifted into blank stare. Her wavy twintails looks like it's going to fall down.

Great, she's drunk Catraoine remarked to herself. As she murmured to herself, her phone rang. It was a notification from the phone's AI System, notifying dangerous levels of a burst of magia. It's in the training grounds, just besides the greenhouse. Oh no, the greenhouse! she panicked. The greenhouse would break if he gets loose!

In the training grounds, two people —– dragons, stood facing eachother from a distance. The man menacingly grins at the woman in front of him, with his hands preparing for an incantation.

“I do not think this is allowed, Stanislaw”, the woman warns him, “Your niece looks pissed from what you did”

“PISSED??? Back in the day it was so normal! Ma and Da always gets pissed if I do not train like this everyday!” the man, Stanislaw, gleefully shouted at an excited tone.

“Stan, if you keep doing this I will have to do that”, the woman responded. The man's smile shifted to a teethy frowning grin.

“Gráinne! I thought you're an Ó hEigeartaigh! Whatever happened to “Let all your strength out”?? Don't act like my granda and grandma!!!” Stanislaw responded in an angry tone, but it was clear that he had a panic in his voice “Don't do that!! Your last name isn't 'Mac Duilighe'!!! Please don't stun me!!!!” he continued with traces of tears in his voice. It seems that he felt that the woman, Gráinne, is going to act like a parent forbidding their kid to have fun.

But this isn't 'fun' that they are having.

“Look, there's always another time for this. We are at your home, Goddess Erin knows what'd happen if you——” Gráinne gets interrupted by Stanislaw's sudden move. He fired out shots of Dark Flames, that is fire imbued with Darkness that binds its' targets momentarily, disabling their abilities when hit.

Normally this type of attack would left her unscathed. Even Stanislaw would've needed to try harder to even bring a scratch on her, despite being an heir to the Dullea clan, known for their high-level mastery in elemental-based Magia, with a clan-specific Magistry blessed by Goddess Erin herself.

Ó hEigeartaigh is pretty similar, also blessed by Goddess Erin herself. Instead of Elemental magia, they can modify their bodily strength to surpass the limits imbued by nature. Essentially turning themselves into homunculi supermen. Meaning that Stanislaw's abilities shouldn't even bring a scratch to Gráinne.

But this time, it felt like she's a small target to Stanislaw.

”....the resurrection....” she mumbled. She looked at Stanislaw's fiery eyes, his face full of the excitement of a hunter finding their prey. He has become a wild animal. Nothing can stop him

They are reliving the nightmarish days of their previous lives.

Stanislaw Dullea and Gráinne Ní hEigeartaigh are dead. Or so they were.

They were long dead. Feared by the Normanians, and known as staunch separatists by Tarans. But somehow they joined the Taran Garda, itself not a friend to their beliefs. Taran Garda's only reason to exist is to drive away the Empire of Normania.

Immediately, they rose up among the most powerful in their ranks, and among those with distinct personalities that stood apart.

Stanislaw was laid-back, optimistic, but hot-blooded. Gráinne was a quietly-spoken tactician, only showing her stern and serious side in battles and always shifts into total authoritarian mode under threat.

Naturally, they died from targets killing them. That was supposed to be the final words on them.

Until a few weeks ago where some occultists from the Empire of Normania brought him back to life. But both of them were fighters from the Land of Tara who aimed to liberate the Land of Tara from the Empire, and belief in royalty and nobility in general.

Why would they be brought to life by their enemies? It was a question that all the belligerents in this current situation asks.

The resurrection was indeed, a botched job. Stanislaw has lost his composure and optimism. Gráinne has lost her almighty-sturdiness. And to top it off, both are in unstable conditions to perform magia, being undeads forced to walk the mortal lives once again.

They're not themselves.

The duel abruptly stopped. All sound were gone for a few seconds.

And then everything returns. Sound returns, and senses can be felt again. Immediately, a song can be heard from a close distance. Both Stanislaw and Gráinne immediately knelt into the ground, with their heads in pain. Their hands hastily press their heads, trying to calm the headache, while screaming in pain.

”...Bard....” Gráinne murmurs as she looks at the source of the singing.

A young dragon boy, clad in a robe is singing a song. It is sung in a serene way that the situation is neutralized to an acceptable level. As the premises is located far from the main city of the Gorias region where it stood, the dragon boy need not to worry for the burst of magia affecting the premises' surroundings. This is undoubtedly, the power of the Bard

Both Stanislaw and Gráinne lied down in their backs, looking at the night sky. Gráinne sighed in relief, as the worries are over for now. It is a sight they missed.

Catraoine ran into the training grounds, finding Lórcan sitting down near the greenhouse. He looked tired from using his Bard abilities on the two of them.

“Lórcan, you don't have to do this” she said to him

“Catraoine....I want you to worry less” he responded

“It's fine, just go back to sleep. Aunt Pádraigìn is going to—–” Catraoine responded while being cut by Lórcan, “What'd she do to you? She's a—–”

“GLKARHH!!!” Catraoine felt the tremors of her cheeks from a slap. Shoe sole marks branded itself on her right cheek. She looked down to see Pádraigìn holding her left shoe. She didn't look pissed, but it is clear that Catraoine did it wrong.

“Do not EVER involve that KID in our family business!” Pádraigìn angrily yelled at Catraoine, pointing her shoe against her face. Pádraigìn's face is all red from all the anger. “Stupid Pádraig never LEARN! WE DO NOT LET OTHERS INVOLVE THEMSELVES IN OUR BUSINESS! NOW I HAVE TO SEE A GODDAMNED CHILD MEDDLING WITH US” she continued, cursing on Catraoine's father.

The tone in her yelling isn't all anger, though. As a medical doctor, she definitely felt worried about the safety of Lórcan. As she mentioned, Lórcan is a child, inserting himself in the dangerous business of adults. This should have been solved easily by fellow adults. But alas, all the pain and emotions, as well as confusions led to a child solving this issue.

“I-it's okay Aunt Pádraigìn! Lórcan's fine with this!” Catraoine hastily responded as Pádraigìn once again made angry faces at her, ready to give her an earful.

“D...Dr. Dullea!! It's fine!!! I'm used to this!” Lórcan ran up to Pádraigìn, stopping her and getting her to step back. Her face becomes an idle stern face, befitting of a medical doctor calming themself. She took a long breath and sat down in a bench outside of the greenhouse.

“Lórcan....first off, just call me 'Pádraigìn', will you? 'Patricia' is fine too...you know”, Pádraigìn shifts into a slightly worried face, but Catraoine can hear a tone of relief.

“I don't feel tired anymore....” Lórcan continues, while giving his best smile to a worried Pádraigìn, which made her feel less worried.

“For now.” Pádraigìn said. “You are young. Don't harm your own body and soul with this”

“I'm used to this. Me and Catraoine had been doing this for years...”

“That's even worse”, Pádraigìn continued, “You've involved yourself in many situations unfit for you”

Pádraigìn stood up, and looks at Catraoine. Her face shifted into a face of not only worry, but sadness and fear. As a medical doctor, these faces meant a serious problem that something terrible might happen. She held back her tear, and puts her hand on Catraoine's shoulder.

“Pádraig....your father....he used to be like this” Pádraigìn says to Catraoine, in a sad tone. “He's nowhere to be found now after years of....wandering....I just want you to know that”, Pádraigìn continues as she walks back into the house.

She looks at Stanislaw and Gráinne, still on their backs. Then she remembers something. It is something she always think of before she acts.

“The difference between 'Mac Duilighe' and 'Dullea' is that....the former, our elders....our ancestors....helps others.”

Catraoine looks in a tone of sadness at Pádraigìn.

“The latter, us....we help ourselves” Pádraigìn finishes while she walks away sullenly. The night suddenly becomes quiet.

Catraoine and Lórcan finds themselves in Catraoine's room. The clock is ticking towards midnight. She looks at Lórcan, sleeping in her bed soundly, peacefully, not bothered by anything. Catraoine then walked out of her room, heading to the first floor where she finds no one but a note from Pádraigìn, telling her that she has an emergency that needed to be done on her hospital in Killinatopher, which is far from where they are.

Still content with being awake, Catraoine walked into the kitchen, where she finds Stanislaw. However, he is seen without bottles of alcohol, an oddity considering that he was known as a fervent drinker, especially of Murphy's and Dooley's vodka.

“What? Surprised?” Stanislaw looked at Catraoine. She makes a surprised face.

“Nothing, really” Catraoine looks down in a sullen face.

“What's with that face” Stanislaw humorously responded, “Relax, nothing's gonna happen”

Catraoine remembers Pádraigìn's words about how their family must help themselves. She knew full well that Pádraigìn's words are wrong. If the family helps themselves, how come they haven't resolved these issues that could be fixed easily if it's family issues?

“Geh, I heard her” Stanislaw said to Catraoine, “It's all bullshit, okay”

“I...didn't say anything....”

“Your face did”

“I....”

“Look, that kid will be fine. Don't worry, and don't take her words in a literal sense” Stanislaw said in a tone of reassurance.

“Literal...? What do you mean by that?” Catraoine responded with a question

“You see, it used to be literal after the Carman Radiation broke out. We got hit by it the hardest.....that was when we had the risk to kill others by contact.”

”....Of course...”

“Now that we coexist with it, and with what the Empire is doing and yadda yadda....there is no distinction between 'others' and 'ourselves. That Lórcan kid.....he did a good job'”

”...!” Catraoine responded with a surprised face. She did not think of it that way. But she wasn't able to, as she had just returned to her homeland after a long time of exile, not knowing anything that happened. She had thought that Pádraigìn told her to put herself and the family above others, which does not align with Catraoine's desire to bring help.

“Pádraigìn still think of it in the literal way.....well, she wanted to eradicate the Radiation after all. But this wasn't what Eadaoin....her mother, I mean, want her to think”

Catraoine is at loss for words, she can only listen to Stanislaw, in a calm way, definitely unlike him a few hours ago in the Training Grounds. She can feel an affirmation coming into her way, guiding her back to where she was before she came to Land of Tara to see all the strife.

“Look, our business is others' business. You see Gráinne? Her family's business is our business. And the other way around. Then our business is the Land of Tara's business. There's no distinction between 'others' and 'ourselves'”

Catraoine felt her heart with a lighter weight. She looks out at the window, onto the skies. It is bright, full of stars.

“To be clear, there's basically no distinction between Mac Duilighe and Dullea. That's just a name, what's in a name, anyway? Dunno why our elders changed it”

Catraoine did not listen to what Stanislaw has said. She knows that names don't matter much in this situation full of strife.

“These stars... they are souls. I want to bear their weaknesses...and turn them into strength. That was what Lórcan and I believed in. By helping others, we turn their weaknesses into something they can use as strength to live. And strength to power through”

Catraoine looks at Stanislaw. She has felt affirmation of her beliefs. Nothing can change her goals, her wishes, and her strength. She will continue power on.

“I am helping all of us. All of us, ourselves”

The words powers her on for the next day onwards in her long journey in her tumultous homeland.

Some notes: – The location in this story is located in a fictional version of Aghadoe, Killarney. – Killinatopher is a fictional district located in a fictional version of county Kildare.

#writetober #writing #OCs #valiance #edentrius #SoulMaster #SoulMasterVALIANCE #Catraoine

“Say, that Wilhelm lad is very off....” “What is with his neck??” “I'm not going to talk to him. I don't like his energy” “His hair is red like the colour of my blood boiling from me seeing him” “Why was he chosen to play the princess? He looks like he should be playing the evil stepmother!

The words echoed through the boy's ears. The red-haired boy, Wilhelm, had no choice but to continue walking. He was carrying a dress, and his mind is focusing on one thing: auditions.

Just another day at school. And yet, better here than home, whatever it is.

Wilhelm never understood why the von Strauss clan took him in. For years, all he endured are plain brutalities. There was little love. And when exceptions happened, such as his brother Sigmund and cousin Hilda, they too received plain brutalities.

And yet, despite the brutalities, Wilhelm was allowed to attend the prestigious, upper-class Bifrost Academy —— allegedly blessed by Ymir himself, keyword allegedly.

”.....” Wilhelm stood in silence at the gates of Ymir Academy. His shark-shaped eyes and mournful eyebrows judged the exterior. It looked like the von Strauss home.

“Wim? What is it?” A blue-haired, fresh-faced, bespectacled young man stood besides him. Sigmund was excited to be educated in such an excellent school, but as soon as he saw Wilhelm in a face that disagrees with him, it became clear that Sigmund should be considerate with Wilhelm's feelings.

”...What? Nothing” Wilhelm looked at Sigmund's worrying face. He knew that Sigmund was excited to be in this school. “Stop worrying” Wilhelm continued, then changed his face into a stern look.

Wilhelm then stepped into the school. Sigmund sighs and smiled as he followed Wilhelm. Maybe this will make things better, Sigmund thought.

It was four years ago.

“Ah! Wilhelm! Come, come, it's your turn” A messy-haired middle aged man called. Wilhelm walked onto the stage of the school theatre.

“This is for Princess Christianne, Director Hartmann” the man's assistant said to him. “Interesting!” the man —– Director Hartmann —– continued. “Susanne recommended you for this role, let's see what you can do as the mournful Princess Christianne”

Wilhelm stepped into the most lit part of the stage. Both director Hartmann and his assistant Susanne can see Wilhelm clearly in his outfit and make-up. With a beautiful short red hair, white dress that held his body and clad in soft make-up, the young red-haired mournful-looking boy now looked like a snow white beauty.

“Is this too much, Director?” Susanne asked to Hartmann, after seeing how Wilhelm's make-up looked like on stage lights. “No. It looked just right” he responded, “This boy's features and paleness works well with Princess Christianne's fragility”

Fragile, that was the word that they described for the role of 'Princess Christianne'. But it is also the word that everyone used to describe Wilhelm.

“He looked exactly how I pictured Princess Christianne breaking down in her dungeon” Susanne continued,

“Alright, enough of this looks discussion. Let's see what you can do.” Hartmann said to Wilhelm, “As I've ordered, have you learned your lines for Scene 15?”

“Yes” Wilhelm responded.

“Great, let's start from the beginning” Hartmann continued.

Wilhelm then did his best approximation of a fragile princess mourning the death of her prince. As he was doing his audition, he thought of the word 'Fragile'.

The time was one year ago. As a yearly tradition, Ymir Academy holds “Merchant Day”, where each class forms groups of students to sell unique things. The grouping system was done to include those who couldn't create things, they can help the merchant

“Oi! Oi! This is all oranges, I need apples, lots of them!” A burly boy yelled at Wilhelm, who had just carried two boxes of oranges.

“You...told me to bring oranges” Wilhelm responded, with his face staying in wide-eyed blank stern-ness. The boy's face quickly shifted from annoyance into fear.

”....Oh, yeah, s-sorry...that was a sudden change” The boy apologized, possibly fearing for his safety upon seeing Wilhelm's blank stare. It looked like there's an air of disappointment, sadness, weep, and malevolence in one expression, “W-why don't you go to the cafeteria and ask Ms. Kirschenbaum? No one's at the cafeteria anyway....” the boy continued.

“Alright”, Wilhelm responded, while he walked calmly into the cafeteria. Then on his way to the main hallway, he was stopped.

“HAHAHA!”, a sporty-bodied boy laughed as he shoved Wilhelm into the wall. “Damn, this red boy's sturdy!” the boy shouted in annoyance, “You lied to me, asshole”, the boy said to his friend, also a sporty-bodied boy. The other boy seemed annoyed, until he noticed Wilhelm's bandaged neck.

“Look at his neck”, the other boy pointed. The boy smiled, and shoved Wilhelm to the ground while grabbing his hair.

For Wilhelm, this is one of the less painful things that one can do to him. And as such, he did not utter a single shout of pain. Father gives me worse beatings, this is nothing, Wilhelm thought. But this time, this act of small violence against him had Wilhelm felt threatened.

My neck, I can't let them grab it Wilhelm shouted to himself, then attempted to grab the boys' arms. But it was no use.

“Let's see what this edgy little pussy is hiding!!” the other boy exclaimed while opening the bandages.

Immediately, everything went silent. Wilhelm couldn't hear anything, not even his scream. For a few minutes, everything was nothing in Wilhelm's senses, until he bandaged his neck back. As he regained his senses, he stood up, and was horrified

The two boys was frozen in shock, and their bodies started to crack like statues. The sight of two human beings, cracking, was enough to send Wilhelm into a loud shout.

It was lucky that the school's principal was a Government-licensed magist that he could reverse the change. Miraculously, Wilhelm was not given any form of punishment.

But at home, it is a different story full of scars and pain. Such is life for Wilhelm von Strauss.

Wilhelm's performance for the audition was something that directors always refer to as “spellbinding”, even though it was painful for him to act while horrible memories of pain permeated his brain. I wasn't acting, I was angry, he mused to himself.

“Brilliant!” Hartmann exclaimed while clapping. Susanne's face turned into a smile full of gratitude, with her hands signaling the expression of “Yes! This worked!”

Wilhelm's face shifted into his normal cold face, but with tears running through his cheeks. But his fake tears weren't real tears. Pain had taught him to not cry, as tears won't uplift anything.

“You nailed her.” Hartmann praised to Wilhelm, “You perfectly portrayed her distress and mourning at the same time, as well as her wailing.....you are perfect. I didn't imagine Princess Christianne with a red hair, but now I see her with a beautiful red hair like yours”, he continued.

Wilhelm nodded in agreement, and he was permitted to leave. He could faintly hear Hartmann and Susanne coming into an agreement.

“We found Princess Christianne”

Now Wilhelm can play as a victim while living his life as one.

#writetober #OCs #WinstonSmith #WilhelmVonStrauss #LotusOperetta #edentrius #writing

“Artie.....” A woman's voice called the Knight. In this dream, the Knight's eyes had opened. She is dreaming of a memory.

Her dreamscape began to form a sight. It formed a beautiful forest, with greener grasses, decorated with white bells. The blank, black surroundings turned into the golden hour. What surprised the Knight was how the beautiful white bells would only appear when she walked in the dreamscape. She walked forward.

Immediately, a motorbike appeared on her left, along with a road. The road appeared to be ruined, with rubbles and wounds from grenades filling it.

”...!” The Knight stood in surprise. This was my bike. It was given to me by Gen. Uther.

She remembered from where the details of her dreamscape came from. As she remembered more, the dreamscape began to form more details from her memories. This is....the forest.

“Wait, Andrea!” A voice blared from behind.

”...!” The knight has taken aback from the voice. That's....my voice, she murmured to herself. This is...

“A memory forgotten.....” A whisper entered her ears. *Kuh! What is this?!* The Knight thought in confusion. *“You shall remember”* the whisper continued.

What memory?! I know what this is?! The knight muttered to herself, but the whisper persisted, “You are beginning to forget. Please, remember this memory.”

The Knight fell into her fronts. The voices continue to blare in the dreamscape. As the Knight listened to the voices, she remembered this part of her memory

“Kuh...haah....why are you running? You'll break your lungs!” the voice, 'Artie', said to the other, 'Andrea'

“You said the Golden Hour is the best for my lungs”, 'Andrea' responded. Immediately, a jolt of energy rushes through the Knight that she stood right back up.

This is that time. The forest, me and Andrea., the Knight tells to herself. Right in front of her, two statues begin to form. It formed two women. One woman had the appearance of a striking, fresh-faced boyish woman with a brown bob cut. The other woman was taller, with slightly curvier appearance, with a beautiful face, wrapped in a shorter, messier hair.

The Knight saw in shock. That was me, she looked at the shorter woman, and that was Andrea, she looked at the taller woman. This was years ago. Me, Andrea, and the forest. The statues began to move, and turned into two people: Artie —– the Knight herself —— and Andrea, a woman from her past as a soldier.

“Don't run! You know how hard I tried to get the medics to cure you quickly.....” Artie said to Andrea,

“Artie, the time is short” Andrea responded. She then sat down in an open area, where a view of the hill is visible. “I didn't think it was possible to have views like this.....”

“W-well....here we are regardless.” Artie said to Andrea, while trying to regain her energy lost from all the running and motorcycle-riding.

“This is....the Golden Country, isn't it?” Andrea looked into the view, and said in awe. The air was exceptionally windy, and the sun was uncharacteristically bright in an era of suffering that is the Britannian Empire. The beautiful sight, far away from the colourless, gravelly, bombed-out Area 1 —– what was known as London in the past —– that the two women knew, was enough to heal Artie's exhausted body and heart. She sat down besides Andrea. The white bells has filled the grasses around them.

“It is....real. It's not like what I've seen in my visions....” Artie muses to Andrea. For the Knight, looking at the two women in the background, the irony of dreaming of a woman seeing what she dreamed of was not lost on her.

“This sight was what I have shown to you....” the whisper continued, “I made you come here”

The Knight looked away in confusion, what do you mean, you made me come here?, she asked to the whisper. The whisper only calmly responded with, “Witness”

“Good God, I feel like staying here forever” Andrea muses, then looks at Artie. Artie looked at Andrea.

“There's something I need to do.” Artie said, “This, might be a little strange....”, she continued.

“Nothing is ever stranger, Artie. Go ahead, there are no telescreens” Andrea responded with a smile. Then, she looked around, making sure that there weren't any surveillance devices watching them.

“There were microphones....”, the whisper said to the Knight, “But I destroyed them”. The Knight's expression shifted to an annoyed one, as she realized that there was someone who knew that they were there. What did you do? That was not good, the Knight said in annoyance.

“I....was helping you....”, the whisper responded. The Knight's face returned to a mournful face. She must continue seeing the memory.

“Your injury....I am the only one who could cure it” Artie said to Andrea, with her face blushing red. Andrea gets confused at the sight, then smiled.

Her smile made Artie jump slightly. She looked away from Andrea.

“Hey....come on, we came this far. Do what you gotta do”, Andrea reassures Artie that things will be fine, and not awkward. Artie slowly looked back into Andrea's face.

Andrea...., the Knight gazed into her, by walking towards past Artie. The Knight kneeled down, and gazed into Andrea's eyes. Of course, this being a projection of memory, Andrea won't be able to notice her.

Artie then looked down, “P-please unbutton your shirt....” she said to Andrea. Surprisingly, Andrea happily obliged. “O-only the first two buttons!” Artie bashfully shouted. Andrea could only gave her a happy sigh.

On her chest, Artie could see a marking, branded seamlessly. Her face turned into a fearful look. “Not good.....”

“Hm?” Andrea looked at her chest in confusion. “Is this a bad thing? I didn't feel any pain...”

Artie's face becomes mortified, “No...no....”. But Andrea's face stayed confused, “What is it?”. Artie then sighed, then explained to Andrea that the marking was a dangerous, life-threatening marking. The Knight then stepped back as she remembered this memory in detail.

That was a stigmata. she said to herself, But it was a stolen technique from Lilith that it could kill anyone marked with it at random. Andrea could've suddenly died that day

“But you were besotted with the soul of the King of Knights” the whisper continued, “You were the only one who could cure her”, it continued, “Your magia was made for this”

I was the only one.....so that was why you led us to the country, the Knight finally understood everything. I....wanted to say thank you, she thanked to the whisper, I don't know who you might be, but, please, I want you to have my gratitude, she continued with a single tear, shed down into a white bell.

“She was your trusted partner....you were her ki——”, the whisper continued, but it was cut off in the middle. The Knight becomes shocked, then she looked around to find the whisper. Hey, where are you, she shouted.

Nothing comes up. The whisper was gone completely from the dreamscape. All what's left is her memory playing out in front of her.

“This might hurt, I apologise”, Artie said as she begun her technique. As she chanted in an old language, she closes her eyes, and put her palm into Andrea's chest.

“HAAARGH.....” Andrea exclaimed as the palm touches her chest. Her face is telling Artie to stop. The Knight's face becomes even more terrified and tearful as she witnessed the pain that Andrea had gone through.

I'm sorry...I'm sorry.... the Knight tearfully apologized, knowing that Andrea couldn't hear her.

A long time had gone by. How was she able to deal with this pain?!, the Knight said to herself. But then, it was made apparent that past Artie knew how painful the process was, because the first thing the Knight saw was Artie blacking out as the stigmata in Andrea's chest had disappeared.

“This....is....my gratitude”, Artie said to Andrea as she fell into Andrea's lap. Andrea began to hold Artie in her arms, “T-thank you....for....standing up....for me....that...day” Artie continued as she begun to black out, while she attempts to hold Andrea's cheek.

Andrea grabbed her hand, “Yes, Artie. I know. Thank you”, she said with a smile, “Hey, close your eyes”, Andrea continued.

Artie smiled, then closes her eyes as she shifted into a sleep. Andrea smiled, then lied down on the grass, positioning herself so Artie's face is comfortably lapped onto her shoulder. Andrea then gazed at Artie's face in a sight that signified a pitying, protective feeling.

But there was another feeling in Andrea's eyes. As Artie dozed off in her sleep, Andrea strokes her hair gently. “Hey, the sight is beautiful....I hope you're seeing it in your sleep.”

The Knight was taken aback as she realized that this moment was the beginning of their unity.

But then, the Knight remembered something. This moment was the start of darkness.

All the darkness that tried to break their unity, it all started here. As the two of them formed real love, in a world where love is twisted for eternal victory.

The Knight shed a single tear. Then, everything shattered into ashes.

The entire dreamscape fell apart. It turned into ashes, and the sky turned black.

Everything went black. It was time to wake up.

In a dark throne room full of blood, skeletons, and telescreens, the boy in the throne felt sadness. The boy was sleeping. He shouldn't have dreamed of anything.

But he did. And the dream brought tears into his eyes

The sight of a woman, witnessing a loving moment she had, broke the boy into sadness. He remembered appearing in the reality of the woman's dream, leading her into that loving moment. But the boy did not know how much it meant for her.

“The King of Knights.....thank you.....”

The boy's tears cracked open the skeletons on his nearest position. It all shattered into ashes, eaten by pools of blood in the throne room.

The dream made the boy feel again. And his thoughts on rebellion was fueled even more.

#writetober #writing #OCs #utopianism #edentrius

“What time...is it.”

“Where am I”

“What am I….”

The myriad of questions echoed through the empty hallways of Purgatorio. It is a normal sight. Time, Space, Life, Death….Purgatorio does not register such concepts.

Purgatorio does have an ‘end’, that is, the Den of the Judge. The den of the Judge is where such concepts come back to existence. Of course, the Judge returns such concepts to judge the inhabitants of Purgatorio. For the Judge, he treats Purgatorio as a waiting room for souls to be judged.

One such soul, a man formerly known as Andreyev, who inhabited Purgatorio for ten years, but he did not feel it. Time does not exist in Purgatorio. Until this moment.

“■■■■■”

He heard a call being made in a language he does not recognize, nay, the language does not sound like any human language. But his soul prompted him to walk into the call. As he understood later on, the language is the language of the Gods, that the human soul understood, but not the brain.

As Andreyev walks towards the end of the hallway, his sense of time, space, life, and death returns. He had realized that ten years have gone by since his death. He reached the double door at the end of the hallway, where he looked at the angels guarding it. The angels' form looked off for Andreyev, as they looked more like skeletal remains of human beings, plastered with angel wings, halos, human eyes inscribed on skulls, and floating rings circling around their arms. To him, they looked like mannequins in a costume parlour.

“■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■■■■” The angel on his left announced, while opening the door. Andreyev finds it strange that afterwards, the angel made an old-school chivalric gesture of letting him in. He guessed that the angel had seen Andreyev’s mind and felt that he was frightened, and needed a warm welcome.

Andreyev entered the Den where he finds a throne made up of skeletal remains, though they were meticulously crafted that it forms a rather regal throne, akin to the old Russian czars. Red-colored velvet graced the entire room, with black being the primary color of the Den. Purple and brown also graced the room, with fancy British-styled interiors wearing the colors, while draping it with skulls and roses. The den looks like the settlement of a British royalty.

The feeling of it all culminated in the figure on the throne himself. It is a God, in the form of a human being. This man is presumably The Judge. One thing that Andreyev has caught from his glimpse of the Judge was pure sadness. His sickly-looking face, crumpled with wrinkles, with double eyebags brings him an image of a perpetually melancholic old man, with his shark-shaped eyes and slanted eyebrows giving him the look of perpetual anger.

The face is packaged with wavy red hair. Beautiful, yet pitiful, Andreyev thought, but his clothing washed away Andreyev’s melancholic thoughts of the Judge. A long leather coat, filled with tight belts hugged the Judge’s body, but the coat itself looked skimpy, as it allowed the Judge to walk with his thighs and back exposed. Am I meant to find him pitiful or….attractive? Andreyev thought to himself. Certainly not the romantic and erotic kind of attractive, but the kind that makes you drawn to him. I feel that I should either pity him or be drawn to him. But he is beautiful. Like a melancholic bride.

‘Beauty’ was the word that Andreyev’s mind had conjured. The Judge’s form did not frighten him, nor did he inspire any forms of rebellious thoughts. He does not look authoritative somehow. To Andreyev, he looked like a groom-less bride in grief, being left alone in the altar. As the thought conjures up, a vision flashes to his brain.

Andreyev sees the man clad in a beautiful Bridal dress. White dress that covered his torso, and yet, exposed his startlingly-thick thighs, only veiled with a thin petticoat. His hair now becomes startlingly-long wavy hair, clad in veil.

Of course, it might be an illusion, but it looked real. Somehow, Andreyev sees the Judge wearing his coat and the bridal outfit at the same time. He registered both of them as truth.

“■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■” A skeletal angel announced to the Judge, however this time, Andreyev was able to comprehend what it was saying, “A nothing person, your honor”

The Judge walked into Andreyev, and the only thing that permeated Andreyev’s mind was that the Judge was surprisingly shorter than him. The Judge must’ve been a tight five foot nine. Another thing he had noticed is that the Judge seemed to be wearing nothing underneath his coat. Andreyev’s vision still sees the Judge as both the pitiful old man and the beautiful bride.

“Ten years….” the Judge began to speak. Andreyev felt a rush of emotions in his soul. The Judge’s voice sends Andreyev into a divine jolt. “Nothing is a long wait in Purgatorio….”

The Judge’s posh, gravelly voice felt like honey, mixed with acid and red wine, that produces an authoritative, yet heavenly sonorous quality. the Judge puts the palm of his right hand onto his left shoulder, and closes his eyes. The Judge’s face, for Andreyev, now turns into a look of mourning. As the Judge inspects Andreyev, he felt a stream of thorns locking into the Judge’s legs. Roses began to bloom. The Judge’s outfit shifted into the bridal dress. My thoughts weren’t playing with me. It was real.

Long time had gone by, and the Judge’s face produced a single tear. The Judge’s tears dropped onto the fancy carpet, and immediately, the roses and thorns returned to its previous position. A strong gust of wind followed, and the windows of the Den opened to let the wind in. Andreyev felt two conflicting emotions —– fear and tranquility, at the same time. And then, everything stopped. the Judge returned to his stern look, and his black coat, with his hands now crossing on his shoulders.

“No grave deeds committed. You were indeed a nothing person” the Judge’s gravelly voice exclaimed to Andreyev. Immediately, Andreyev felt confusion. Is this the end of me?

“I do not understand….” Andreyev said to the Judge, “Am I going to permanently vanish?” he continued.

“You are to return to the mortal plane” the Judge continued, “Sandalphon, bring this soul to Shekhinah”

“Why must I return?” Andreyev questioned,

“You simply must” the Judge answered, “You were nothing. Fill that nothing, you shall”

“Nothing...?” Andreyev answered with a question. The Judge sighed, and turned his back on Andreyev.

“An answer will serve no point” the Judge answered. He stopped looking at Andreyev, “Begone” he continued, in a stern tone, but sprinkled with melancholy.

The Judge ordered an angel — presumably Sandalphon — to escort Andreyev. The angel looks like a human being, with a very long red hair, and an androgynous face, wrapped in exposed torso, with only his bottom parts covered.

As Andreyev leaves the den, he could not stop thinking of the Judge. As Andreyev looks back into the Judge, his vision turns into the Judge, clad in bridal outfit, standing upright. Questions filled Andreyev’s mind, such as why did the Judge shed a tear? And why did he decide to bring Andreyev back to Earth?

But most importantly….why did he see the Judge as a bride?

At the end of the Den, Andreyev glimpsed a possible hint to the answer. A faded name “Wilhelm von Strauss” was written on a sculpture. The sculpture depicts a middle-aged man, tied in rose thorns, kneeling, with his face full of sadness and grief. The sculpture remarkably resembled the Judge —– or was it truly him?

The sculpture strangely produces tears every minute. As he glimpses at the sculpture, he sees what the sculpture is crying over —– a fading image.* Essentially, it is crying over nothing.* *A person who faded into nothingness. A nothing person.

Was it his groom? Was the groom a nothing person? Andreyev thought to himself, as he remembered the Judge referring to him as a nothing person. Many implications rushed into Andreyev’s brain, but as he began to form his concrete thoughts on the ordeal of the Judge being a bride, he reached the end of the den. There was a door.

“Give up your inquiries on this ordeal, as it is useless” Sandalphon said as he opened the door. Immediately after stepping out from the den, Andreyev was cleansed. All memories, thoughts, emotions, even his own name…..was lost. Subsequently, his physical form began to disappear as his soul descended back into Earth.

He is reborn. No longer as a nothing person that he was.

#writetober #OCs #Sephirot #ThroneOfMalkuth #WinstonSmith #WilhelmVonStrauss #Purgatorio #edentrius #writing

As she looked around her, she remembered the celebrities she had met. Though in her definition, “celebrity” meant any human being, or mortals, who contributed a lot to mortal history. Anyone has the potential to become a “celebrity” by marking themselves in human history, and being seen as important.

Looking to her left, she remembered the day she saw Montgomery Clift in person, in 1949. Looking at the Union Square, she remembered seeing Zelda Fitzgerald jumping on the fountain. Of course, there was no way of stopping Zelda. That was out of the question, Shana! she mutters to herself.

Now 1948, Shana had found herself back in New York, New York. Of course she isn’t alone this time.

“♪ New York, New York! ♪ It's like in Martin Scorsese movies!” A young man shouted in excitement.

“Eddie, be careful when mentioning names from the future”

“Sure, it is a fine day. Though dear lord, New York is too much even in the past!” Eddie muttered as he approached Shana.

Of course, this young man isn’t an ordinary man. Firstly, he is from 2010, secondly, his young, healthy face comes with an athletic body, ready to outrun marathon runners by the standards of his time period, that is, 2010. It was pure luck that Shana had found him for this task.

“Eddie, you better be glad. Enjoy this New York while it lasts” Shana responded with a forecasting tone.

“I’m just saying! Good to be out from that heavenly hole” Eddie says happily.

“Watch your mouth, Eddie. Dainichi Nyorai can still hear us”

“Right, right, we’re from the future and all. Now what are we gonna do today?”

Shana handed Eddie his mission, the reason why he was sent back to the late 1940s. Sending divines from Edentrius is too risky for it, hence the reason why Shana picked up Eddie. It helps that Eddie needed money, and so begins a strange transaction. She recalled the brief with Dainichi Nyorai in Paradiso.

Pay him, take him to 1948, get him to do your bidding, then come back. That was the directive from Dainichi Nyorai. “Okay, don’t forget to tell him to be careful. New York is full of celebrities. All the time”, Dainichi Nyorai added. It could be potentially damaging to human history to interfere with one. “Eisenhower wasn't the only celebrity in that university”

“Understood, I apologize for the difficulties in correcting the Isaac Newton incident”, Shana responded. She still remembered how tiring it was, trying to get that apple to fall as it should after some prankster tied it up so that it couldn't fall.

Well, for now it should be different. Just don’t let the nephilim interfere with anything that will be part of history.

“This nephilim is potentially interfering with time. There will be an important summit with Eisenhower at Columbia University later today. This nephilim looks like it's going to interrupt it.”

“Right, butterfly. Dangerous”, Eddie said, knowing that one wrong move can alter history forever, given that Dwight D. Eisenhower is attending. In this time, he has yet to be known in American history, but if the nephilim disturbed his agenda at Columbia University today, human history will distort forever.

“We must remove it, unfortunately, this one had spiritual disturbance when it was born, resulting in—-”

Eddie noticed that the nephilim in the photo is missing a pair of wings, “Born without it?” he pointed at it, interrupting Shana.

“No, it was it’s soul. Its’ magia is incomplete. It's wings had disappeared and suddenly it has a dislike of divinities such as myself.”

“Y’all and this thing is like fire and ice, got it”

“Exactly. Let’s get onto it. I will bring you to Andy Warhol’s parties if you do it well. 1960s should be easy to go to”

“Ahaha, no thanks. Didn’t like his stuff. Was so confused in art class!”

“Alright, let’s——”

“WAIT!!” Eddie shouted as he glimpsed a strange figure, startling Shana.

Eddie grabbed the photo of the nephilim and ran off at incredible speed as he noticed a strange bipedal being with eyes scattered on its head. Wow, it looked like what Angels looked like in the Bible! He said to himself whilst running. As he noticed the bipedal being’s form on further inspection, he came to understand it as the nephilim.

The nephilim looked back at Eddie in a 360-degree head tilt and increased it’s speed. It had no wings, so it was pure running. Off to Manhattan it goes.

“Oh shit” Eddie worried as he passed through Columbia University. That's where it's going. Shit. he thought.

But strangely enough, it kept running beyond Columbia University. The nephilim kept running as if it's life was threatened. Now both of them approached a crowded Waldorf-Astoria hotel full of people in formal outfits.

“Come the fuck on! Not this!” Eddie screamed as the nephilim ran into a crowded area. Now it's going to hit on a potential celebri—-

“Argh!” Eddie shouted as he suddenly fell as he bumped into someone. He felt a heavy object in his back. It was a camera. Eddie grabbed the camera and turned his body. Fortunately, it was fine. Not even a scratch was seen.

Eddie gets up to help the photographer, who was trying to get up, “Are you all right?” asked Eddie to the photographer.

“I'm f-fine. Camera….”

“Here, don't worry, there's no damage” Eddie handed the camera to the photographer, “I'm deeply sorry for this!”

“Thank you...it's alright” The photographer calmly responded. He then stood back up, one thing that Eddie had noticed is that the photographer was noticeably shorter than him.

“OH SHIT—–” Eddie falls again in shock from the sight of the photographer's face. His face was familiar to Eddie. The photographer's brooding, strongly-gazed eyes….Eddie instantly knew who he was. He was a figure from recent history.

“C-celebrity….!!!” Eddie shouted as got up and ran away, not looking back

“Wait, you left this!” The photographer calls while Eddie disappears from his distance. Eddie seemed to have dropped the photo of the nephilim. It's in the photographer's hands now.

But to his surprise, the nephilim was immobile. It was watching Eddie with that photographer this whole time. With no hesitation, Eddie grabbed the nephilim. To his surprise, Shana was waiting for him.

“That was quite an act” Shana commended

“Shit's fucking mental! Don't tell me you saw that!” Eddie exclaimed seriously to Shana in a rush.

“I did. Don't worry, you can ask questions later” Shana responded, “Great job, Eddie.”

“You….better answer!”

They later find themselves back in Paradiso, with Shana handing the Nephilim to Dainichi Nyorai. He looked as if something heavy had been lifted from his chest, and is now free to relax from work.

“Seems that it ran out of Magia after all that running. And as Eddie is human, its incomplete soul reacted more strongly to mortals than us divinities” Shana explained, “The ordeal was just magia interference”

“Well, I can tell. It doesn't hate us anymore. But I think it's content with not having wings anymore”

“That's a good thing then” Shana responded

“Very well. Finally I don't have any more time-corrections to do. Fuck yeah. Thanks y'all” Dainichi Nyorai thanked Shana and Eddie very informally. “Gotta go real fast, Suryani needs me ASAP”

“Thanks, Eddie. Now get that bread, boy” Dainichi Nyorai greeted as he warped away, while throwing money at Eddie.

“Phew, that was something” Eddie sighed in relief with his hands holding his payment. “But I have a question” he followed. Before Eddie could ask any question, an angel approached them. It was an archangel.

“Raziel, fancy seeing you here” Shana greeted Raziel as she walked into them.

“Salutations, Shana” Raziel greeted, “Good job on the nephilim, we will take good care of it”

“No worries, everything's under control” Shana responded, “Eddie did a pretty good job here”

“T-thanks” Eddie flusters as his face jumps between gratitude and confusion. Raziel can see his confused face.

“What is it, Eddie? Any questions?” Raziel asked, “You look confused”

“Y-yes. Celebrity” Eddie asks, “I….might have interfered with one”

“Interfered? What did you do?” Raziel asked.

“You see...I might have bumped into a celebrity…” Eddie responded, “When I tried to catch that nephilim, I bumped into someone and I fell….that s-someone….he was a photographer”

”....Is it who I think it is?” Raziel interrupted, feeling that she knew who Eddie meant. A late-1940s New York photographer who is recognizable by someone from the 21st century? Then the possibility is certain: it can only be that one specific “celebrity”.

“Precisely” Shana responded, “It was Stanley” she continued, as she nodded to Raziel. Immediately, Raziel’s expression shifted into an amusing face.

To Eddie's surprise, Raziel begins to cackle at him. It was a strange sight for Eddie, seeing an archangel —– a highly respected archangel, certainly one of the highest of her ranks —– laughing to his human face.

“W-wait! It was him! I've seen his face before!! I can see it from his eyes!!” Eddie frantically continues, “Are we...in danger? Because….butterfly, you know. I left an item there. He took it!”

“It was more of Eddie forgetting to take it back from him” Shana continued.

“My point is, I interfered with a celebrity. That's it” Eddie finishes his question.

Raziel then stopped laughing and smiled instead, trying to reassure Eddie that nothing's wrong. Besides, it was a minor inconvenience, nothing cosmically damaging. “I met Stanley. I went to a party in the Bronx once” Raziel explained as she handed a photo to Eddie. The photo was candid, but quite well-done. It was marked with ‘S.K’ in the back, to dispel Raziel's experience being a myth, “He took this picture of me. Great skills he had, that Stanley boy”

Eddie looked in a mixture of confusion and awe, “And yet, nothing happened. Mortal history still went as it should've” Raziel continued. And she tells Eddie that Norman Rockwell had also painted her at one point.

“Got Norman to paint a still life of myself, years after that photo with Stanley. Still, nothing happened. They might’ve forgotten me”, Raziel continued. Guess that humanity's ability to forget the strange is stronger than he thought, though Eddie found it hard to believe that incredible people like those two can forget. Guess they were truly humans after all.

Eddie now understood. Shana then explained lengthily that there are two rules in time travel: Do not change things, Do not spoil things. For an added rule: do not alter the fates of 'celebrities'. As both Eddie and Shana recalled, he did none of those two to the photographer.

“You did nothing wrong, you did not disrupt Stanley's future.” Raziel explained, “He still photographed stuff and made movies after your encounter with him”

Eddie stunned in silence. There's nothing he can say.

“That….sure is something” Eddie responded, “God this was the weirdest day I ever had. Can't believe I bumped into Stanley Kubrick! And almost broke his camera!“

“Trust us, there are stranger things” Shana responded, “And far more stranger things” Raziel followed, “After all, the world isn't as small and narrow as you knew” Shana tells Eddie with a sense of wonder.

Eddie's expression now turns into a laugh that follows with a smile. All that confusion in his mind turns into excitement. He looks at Shana with a curious smile.

“Can we do this again?”

Lore Compendium

Celebrity: Term for humans who contributed so much to human history. E.g inventors, politicians, rulers.

Historical Note: The events portrayed in the 1948 New York part of this story is Dwight D. Eisenhower's visit to Columbia University to be appointed as an important figure of the university. He would later become The President of the United States. In that event, he was photographed by a young New York photographer Stanley Kubrick, who will later become a director who would contribute to history of filmmaking in the western world. In short, both Eisenhower and Kubrick are “celebrities” —– if they are 'interrupted', human history will be different.

#writetober #writing #OCs #edentrius #Shana

The boy in the throne stared in silence on the sight of suffering as the black void on the screen engulfs the right side of the screen.

Projected on the small telescreen in front of him are images of unlife. The man, begging for his life, torn to shreds by the nondescript, beastly black void. The woman, begging for the man’s life, on her knees. Her tears have stopped flowing.

“....” The boy stares in silence. No expression was made, with his eyes gazing into the floor. And then the boy gazed onto the screen once again as he notices that the woman had stopped begging and crying.

“I pray to Great Father to absolve the sins of mine, and the sins of my husband….In Heaven we trust, In Him we serve our lives to. For Great Father. Hail Britannia”

Crunch. The sound of flesh, dismembered, blared from the telescreen. And yet, the boy felt nothing. The boy glared down to his bare feet, standing on the bloodied throne. The throne room is full of blood, dead bodies, cables, and telescreens. It is a throne room for him and only* him*.

For “The Eye” is what the boy is. Always watching, always reporting. He is the omniscient watching eyes of the Empire of Britannia. *Do not let dissidents go. *That is the only purpose for his life. The Boy closed his eyes.

“ARGH!” —– he exclaimed in pain.

The electric jolt was stronger than usual. The Boy sighed, then shouted one more time. The electric jolt gets worse. This is what his life consists of. Eyes wide open, for the rest of his life, while keeping it wide shut at the sight of monstrosity. Showing emotion is a form of punishable disagreement, or worse, dissent. All the boy could do is to stare down.

“...!” The Boy returned to an upright position in his throne. Someone is coming.

The door at the end of the hallway opened. A priestly man, clad in black, with his long, overflowing blond hair walked towards his throne. All that the boy focuses on is the Priest’s flowing long hair sweeping all the blood in the floor.

“My hair? No need to worry.” The priest reassured the boy, which was followed by the priest flipping his hair around, now clean from blood, “Magia. What a wonderful miracle”

“....” The Boy remained quiet.

“Your Little Brothers were on duty, I figured”

“....!” The Boy looked at the priest in shock. Is this a mistake? Am I going to receive worse punishments? The Boy thought in fear. And at the same time, the dead bodies begins to move.

*“I am a priest. I do not have an interest in one’s emotions. Only sins” *The Priest says as he immobilizes the dead bodies, “O Young Krishna, how painful this sight looks to me”

“...” The Boy switched his expression to a disproving one.

“You have gained a sin. It is one you can cleanse yourself from” The Priest elaborated as he looked onto the telescreen showing the woman’s death. “Say, I do not remember seeing a woman on that screen. Did you will her into existence?”

The boy’s expression turned into a confused one.

“Curious, this one little sheep is. You erased an existence”

The boy’s expression now becomes one that demands an explanation.

“Curious, these Little Brothers of yours. You made them. It devoured the woman to void”

The boy now understood what the Priest meant. He manifested an abnormality. An abnormality to end existences. I destroyed the woman’s existence, he thought.

Wait, wasn’t there a man besides that woman? No, there was never a man. The boy had realized that the man never existed. And his memories of the woman are fading. Both of these people were never here.

“It seems that you have understood what you have brought into this world” The Priest followed. “I am here to warn you —— Great Father does not like this”

The boy shivered. A disagreement from Great Father meant that a worse punishment was incoming. His mind is now in shambles, with pools of blood in the throne room boiling. I must erase everything.

Everything is wrong. Everything must not exist.

“You must repent. You have the means to repent.” The Priest ordered the boy. But the boy knew what The Priest meant. Not bending to Great Father.

My Sin was not for erasing her existence. My Sin was to let my Little Brothers kill indiscriminately.

“Great Father has sinned. He must be cleansed”

It was the last word from The Priest to the boy. It had an air of dissent. The Boy now fears The Priest’s life, and it fuels his soul now. The pools of blood had stopped boiling, and the boy could feel black voids forming in the corners of Britannia. Repent.

And the void starts to devour.

#writetober #writing #OCs #utopianism #edentrius