Bad Things, Verse I

[Euripides]

14 FROST 120

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“It is the soul that carries the love, not the body.
And the love we feel for another is eternal.”

What’s that?

The woman glanced over at Jieun brows furrowed. Not a woman; a girl. The two of them nestled in their cozy spot. They were still small enough that they could wriggle up on the sill without fear of falling off. When being as thin as she was now wasn’t so much a problem. The two of them were wrapped up in blankets, hiding from the Frost outside the window but taking in the rare bit of sun they’d been blessed with that day. The girl wonders what the other means until she remembers that it’s the poetry in the book in her hands.

A notebook, with her own scratchy handwriting. Leather that had been worn down from countless repetitions of hands opening it. Closing it. Running hands over the spine and cover in consideration. Pages torn from it in dissatisfaction as words were blotted out. The girl had been given it as a gift when she made it known that she wanted to turn her words into songs. How blissful a moment, but nothing that quite compared to this. Her cheeks heated for a moment, a dusting of pink on her cheeks as she thumbed the page. “Just an old poet.”

But that’s your handwriting.

That sly smile. The simpering curve of her lips as a twinkle caught her eyes in the sunlight. Chased by fingers brushing hair out of her face, cupping her cheek before pinching it between two smooth fingers with a giggle. The girl could never get away from it.

Not even in death.

She awoke much the same way she always did: with a stuttering breath that turned into a watery cough. If she were back in the barracks, there would be a rumble of complaint from her roommates. Instead, she was met with silence. Relatively, at least. Her head rattled with whispery groans, but she couldn’t find the tinkling giggle of Jieun. It scared her worse than the momentary realization that her limbs didn’t move when she commanded them to. And maybe as much as the insistent whispers that told her she ought to just stay down.

But when had the woman ever listened?

[Euripides]

She did not know how much time had passed. How could she? Her consciousness had been floating in the bliss of the past, and if she were being honest — she wanted to go back. Maybe the pain that had shot up her ankle as she attempted to stand would do just that. Like she’d landed on the ankle itself. She glanced up and saw nothing but darkness, because of course. That was the Warrens: darkness and danger. She sucked in a wheezing breath, tried standing.

The result was a scream that ripped through her frame before she fell back down on her backside. That, too, would have sent a notable wave of pain through her if it weren’t overruled by the pain in her ankle. The last time she had thrown herself to the ground in pain like this was...too recent. Tears sprung up at the corner of her eyes as she lifted the fabric of her pants. The movement itself was stifled by the snag of something underneath. It hadn’t broken skin, but the bone that must surely be her ankle was not where it should be.

The hyperventilation was quick. Easy like breathing, which was surprisingly difficult in the moment. And yet — all that couldn’t take away from the moment the voices had begun to trickle into her mind again.

Of course, this would happen. A distorted version of Jieun’s voice had her looking up, breath still stuttering. You’re never careful.

“That’s right.”

She never had been careful. There was more than just the Warrens itself to fear. The endless maw of a skeletal, shifting grave for any who walked into it. There were the people among the monsters that lurked in the shadows. And she’d played right into the hands of one’s means of escape. Part of the woman hoped that it had been worth it.

No, you don’t. Milky white eyes peered over at her, Jieun’s head cocking to the side. A ruined, dead version of herself. Lips blue and skin so pale. You want her as dead as you.

“Am I dead?” No; she could still feel pain. Her ankle was evidence of that much.

She took in another shuddering breath. Felt herself calm. Her spit was thick in her throat as she swallowed, formed a lump right in the middle as she caught sight of the shrouded, whispering figures of the wraiths. The fear that had hit her before turned into something else.

This is hopeless. Jieun seemed to echo her thoughts, as she always did.

The choral whispers of the creatures made it all the louder, clearer. The image of the young boy in their group ripped apart as if it had been nothing. What had been the point of Toben’s sacrifice, then? Her own? This wasn’t a sacrifice; she’d been thrown to the creatures. Her chest felt warm, heavy with a thought that made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. The childish dance of If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it in her ears. She shoved it down.

“Fuck.” A ragged word uttered as the woman forced herself to stand. The paint threatened to force her back down, but she kept her ground.

Perhaps not for the best. The swirling mass of wraiths engulfed her in their cloud of being, whispers reminding her of where she was. The Warrens was not a kind place. It would not roll over if you stared back into its fathomless depths and presented yourself as intimidating. Not that she ever could. Not like this. A single breath brought the creatures tumbling down her lungs, choking her. Her hands flew to her throat, nails clawing into skin as if she could free them from her by tearing through flesh.

But she was too weak even to do that.

[Euripides]

Losing time was not something she was unused to. That first day — the day that landed her here — had been a blur. A blink, and then time had moved forward. The sun had shifted positions in the sky. Another blink, and it was the moon she stared up at. But this — this was not the same.

Time had been stolen from her.

The woman could try, in vain, to reach for the memories of how she had begun to move from one spot to the next, but she would see only the faint edges of images. They provided more questions than they did answers, but the word she could hear ringing in all of it was, “Yes.” Her own voice, croaking it out to something she didn’t hear.

The cold grasp of despair made her knees buckle, and she fell again. But she was not where she started.

This makes no difference. Jieun’s voice wavered.

“It makes every difference.”

Like what? That you’ll just die slowly rather than all at once?”

Her tone was vicious, barbed. “That I die anywhere but here.”

Laughter. Not light and airy like Jieun usually let out. You’re so— Cruel.

Stupid.

The woman huffed, pushed herself up to her feet once more. Her hands reached out for something to steady her and landed on something solid. As she looked up, her brows furrowed. She didn’t remember this. In the plethora of missions she had seen within the Warrens, never once had she encountered the large pipe for which she stood before.

It stank, though not worse than a rotting corpse. Like several. She’d learned what those smelled like some time ago. But it was filth all the same. She sucked in a breath through her mouth, and regretted even that. A step forward took the little light that had been around her with it. Another had her footsteps accompanied by a wet sound that she’d rather not focus on. The smell grew worse as each step turned into another.

Her head swam. Beside her, Jieun’s figure blurred in and out of the corner of her eye. It was almost like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to stay or if she wanted to go. Whatever it was, it was easier to focus on her for the woman than the path they were taking. Or the voices that whispered in her ear as they guided her forward. At some points, they gave her advice. She snorted at the thought. She didn’t think she could call it advice.

Just accept it, they said. Before they remembered that her acceptance of them was what allowed them to move beyond the Warrens. But, maybe even this was far enough before they could float off to some other poor soul.

The woman had never been the best navigator within the Warrens, but she was beginning to suspect that this might be something worthwhile. The smell was steadily growing...she couldn't tell if it was better or worse, but it was changing. Notes of it like she was headed in the direction of something that held less corpses. Not quite so much life, but at least the vestiges of death didn't hang around so strong.

She kept on, the throb of her ankle forgotten under the weight of the wraiths within her. Every step brought forth a new ache, the wheeze to her breathing getting worse the further she went. They clawed at her insides, threatened to bubble over like a pot left over the fire for too long. If she stopped, it would only bear down on her worse - so she kept moving.

The walls beneath her hands were slick. Slimy. Covered in something she'd rather not look at, so she kept her gaze forward. The light had grown stronger; how long had she been walking for? Time may have been stolen from her, but not while she was in this tunnel. Sewer. Thing.

She knew, then, where she was going before she heard the people, saw the light. It blinded her as she stepped through. There was more than one way into the Warrens, but she'd never thought much about the ways out. Especially not to the underbelly of the Kalsazi, where she had come to live for her conscription. But she'd placed relatively close to the entries into the Warrens. It made sense that she would overlook something like this.

Her gasp was nothing more than a rattle of breath as she stepped out into a sea of less than pleased people. They hadn't noticed the bracers yet, but they would. She glanced down at them. In the moment, she forgot what it was like to be around people. Better yet, she forgot what it was like to be around people who didn't know her story and cared far less for it. She jostled further from the exit she'd used, head ducked.

The crowd spit her out. She stumbled, nearly fell if not for someone catching her. Warm hands on cold skin. And perhaps, distantly, a murmur of her name that she had not heard anyone call her in a long time.

"Mo? That you?"

She wondered, if maybe, it might have been better to go back into the Warrens.

[Mirage]

Euripides

Lores
Endurance: Walking on an injured ankleEndurance: Multiple wraiths within one body

Loot: N/A
Injuries: describe it as you like, but walking on the injury increases the length of recovery.

Points 5