roseleaf320
Creative!
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Vale’s face flushes under her mask as she charges her opponent. Bare feet scrape against the roughness of the sands, reflected heat flaring into her soles. Adrenaline races through her limbs-- her own and her opponent’s-- as the vulpe’s narrow pupils lock with the tattered duelist’s. Their Life, their Songs, resonate together as the gap closes, their blades barely a breath away--
A resounding crash-- the vulpe loses her footing as sand and glass explode into shards that buffet her skin. Feet lose their footing, and Vale plummets, her screams drowned in the raining sands.
Vale is lost.
She had a destination, once. She knows that-- can feel it in the ache of her limbs, in the itch of her impatient mind. But this path has so many dead ends; so many turns Vale does not notice until she has already taken them. She is in a town, she thinks-- though right now she sees little more than gravel under her feet and spots of trees far in the distance. There is no way to know how long she has traveled-- only that her legs are weak and her throat is dry. If she just keeps walking-- just a little bit longer-- she will find whatever she was looking for. She is certain.
A person walks in the opposite direction, brushing her shoulder as they pass by. It was a soft touch, but it smarts-- like pushing on an open wound. Vale turns her head towards them, unable to distinguish any of their features. “Hey!” she yells, teeth bared, but they do not seem to hear. They keep walking. Vale squints her eyes, lips open, but shakes her head. She has somewhere she is going; it’s pointless to start a fight. So she continues onward.
She finds another two, standing a step off the path. Their feet are practically buried by the sand around them. They turn towards each other, chatting, smiling. Vale smiles, too. “Hello!” she calls, her steps quickening towards them. Each step brings pinpricks of rough heat; she ignores it. They keep chatting. “I’m Vale!” she comes to a stop before them, huffing. “I think I’m in need of directions!”
They do not turn. Vale’s brows knit. “I’ve always wanted to explore the forest,” one says. “I went many times when I was younger, against my mother’s wishes!” the other replies. They both laugh. She could understand them perfectly-- why were they not listening?
“I come from the forest,” Vale says, hope brightening her voice. “If you can show me the way, I can take you!”
They do not turn.
Vale’s dark ears lower dejectedly. Perhaps she was not wanted. Perhaps they were too enveloped in their conversation to pay her any mind. She backs away from them, watching as one shakes her arms excitedly. Vale drops her own arms to her sides and forces her body to turn, her steps to carry her forwards. She was never one for chatting anyways.
The next encounter is a group of six.
They sit in a circle, hands out as if warming themselves near a fire. One leans close, glancing back and forth towards the others as he speaks in a hushed and dramatic voice. “Where atop the silent, unticking grandfather clock sits an owl with a human face.” Some around him squeal; others sit, eyes wide, enraptured by the tale. Vale smiles-- they must be having so much fun. She steps off the path once more, to find a spot within the circle. Her feet find space between two women, but there is not enough room for the vulpe to sit; and they do not move when she tries.
That was… fine. Vale steps back awkwardly, lowering herself to the sandy ground a few paces behind them. Vale would just… listen from here. “The horror tilts its head to the other side. Tick.” Everyone in the circle leans closer, waiting with anticipation. Vale leans, too, though she finds herself watching the listeners more than the storyteller. “The bird rocks its head again; and with a crunch--” the women shriek, and Vale echoes them half-heartedly, unsure why they are afraid. Shrieks dissolve into giggles. Two of the crowd hit each others’ shoulders, laughing at their previous terror. Vale smiles, sadly, and lets out a pointless chuckle. No one turns to laugh with her. So she rises from the circle, her steps slow and halfhearted, and continues alone.
By the time she notices it, the crowd is so large Vale cannot count. They come all at once, rushing her from all directions, hurrying towards this thing or that. They cut off her path, jostle her from side to side. She steps in front of one, trying to stop his stride. “Hey, can I bother you for directions?” But he continues walking, his body roughly pushing Vale until she is forced to step aside. She growls, fangs bared in frustration. She follows the next, racing beside him, her face inches from his ear. “Please! Sir! I’m lost, I just need someone to tell me where to go!” But he keeps walking, faster and faster until Vale cannot keep up and stops, stomps her foot. The next, she yells at-- “Ma’am!” -- and when the woman does not answer, the vulpe roughly grabs her arm and yanks her so their faces are almost touching. “WHY WON’T ANYBODY LISTEN TO ME?”
Agony rips through their right shoulder, a clean cut down their front side. Their grip spasms, loosens; the woman leaves, her eyes never meeting Vale’s. Vale shrieks and bends over as blood spills from the wound. They bring their other hand over, desperately clutching at the wound, fingers staining scarlet. Another figure jostles by them. Vale’s heart skips a beat as they notice the short tail flicking behind the figure, its features recognizably similar to Vale’s. Another of their clan— it would surely see them! “Please! Kin!” Vale reaches out, desperately. For just a moment, their fingers brush through its fur, but the figure slips from their grasp and continues without turning back. “Don’t leave me…” Vale sobs, their legs weak and shaking. They reach out to another with their left arm, desperately, but a stabbing pain erupts from their left shoulder blade. They gasp, choking on air, as their legs give out from under them and they collapse to the ground. Tears cake their mask as blood streams from both shoulders, each sob wracking their body and ripping their wounds anew. Soon their whole face is covered, itchy and sticky, as the mask pushes tighter and tighter against their face. They bring their hands up and claws at the wood they had forged so long ago, so lovingly. So I can hide better, they had thought. So I can drift and explore, mysterious, never settling. The mask is a cage, now, it is their skin, and they cannot breathe as it traps their tears against their lips, cannot see as darkness covers their eyes. The Watcher is never seen; the Whisper is never heard, and they have always taken pleasure in being both. Vale is not a Protector of Life, Vale is not even alive, Vale is dissolving, Vale takes one last agonizing tug, one last scream;
I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO HEAR ME
Needles of pain arch across their face as the False mask rips free. Light streams through Vale’s vision, pure white, and they take a deep, strangled breath. They blink once, twice, adjusting to the brightness that they realize reflects up from the ground beneath them. Their hands rest within their lap, and the mask rests within their hands, caked with tears and blood. Their whole face feels raw. Yet when they bring a gentle finger to their face, they find no wounds. Just the sting of air’s cool breath on her skin. It hurts. But Vale’s lips curl upwards anyways. It… feels.
“Knight of Whispers. Tasting other lives, diving through songs. Rise, Vale, and sing your own.”
She turns her chin upwards to the voice, and scrambles to her feet when she realizes she is not alone. Her pure white floor is just one square on a vast chessboard-- and there are other figures along them. Vale shakes the last grains of sand from her feet and glances at the mask in her hand. She trained for a year under a woodworker just because she felt like it, and this mask had been her last creation. She remembers every hour she’d spent smoothing it out, making it perfect, nondescript, elegantly unnoticeable. But the eyes of the figures on her path flicker through her vision. Uncaring; unseeing; as if she was not there. Staring blankly as she begged for help; for connection.
With a deep breath, Vale drops it onto the stone below her.
Vale does not want to be unseen.
The vulpe glances around her, following the trail of the voice as it names its Knights. Kon’s voice. Yes-- she is here to fight for Kon. For Life’s Chaos. For the Chaos she spent her own life simply watching. Her first ally is unfamiliar to her. He is a tall, handsome man, with bronze skin and a beautiful mane of hair tied in an elaborate mix of bun and braid. She watches his eyes as they flare, bright red and orange. Almost like her own. Her tail flicks, eager to find another ally, another being to know. Someone somehow like herself.
Her second ally is the tortured maiden from atop the pyramid. Ephemera, Chaos calls her; Knight of Sacrifice. In this breath of a moment, Vale took in her tattered robes, like a priestess; her crumpled mass of dark hair, silhouetting her like a ghost. Her memories had all bombarded Vale at once; but they suspected each memory sang a different tune. Within the maiden, there must be a melody.
Ephemera’s cold eyes meet Vale’s, and the maiden scowls instantly. Her voice curdles with malice as she addresses the vulpe. “So we are allies of circumstance, kith...” Vale opens their ears for just a breath for Ephemera’s Song; they bare their teeth as anger surges through their chest. Of course she doesn’t recognize Vale, doesn’t realize it was Vale who reached out to her on the pyramid. “Do not take my mercy for granted, trickster, or else I will withdraw it.”
Vale smiles, an ache all their own building in their chest. Trickster. The wraith clearly means it as an insult. But they do use their tools, their whisper, to trick those around them, even though they hadn’t tried to do so to Ephemera. Or-- Chaos had used Ephemera, but the girl’s Song had echoed… Ayane. “Insult your allies and you’ll find them absent when you need them, Ayane.” Vale spoke. I see you, Ayane. For a breath, Vale almost sees the wraith’s features soften.
Kon calls out to the three of them, endless voices echoing through its melody. Endless voices echo within Vale’s own memories, the despair, the heartache, and the exuberance of the Lives she’s known. As Chaos fades, so do their extremes, their randomness, their humanity. Vale will not let them fade before she has a chance to experience them for herself.
Order’s regimented, demanding voice booms across the field as Chaos quiets. It introduces its Knights in turn. Vale’s duelist is first. He shines in the same white grandeur he began with on the pyramid. Instead of focusing on his Song, Vale watches her own, watches the flutter of familiarity that dances across her as she thinks of their tumble down the steps. Her shoulder flares in an echo of pain as she glances at his rapier. He is dangerous. And… someone who will recognize her. Vale… likes that idea. Hello, Ladd.
Order’s second is the dark, armored soldier that had listened to Vale’s whispers atop the pyramid. Ryuk. Crimson shines like blood across the edges of his armor. Vale listens as her chest curls, conflicted, remembering the satisfaction she had felt when the solder melted into her whisper.
The third is unfamiliar-- a human woman Order names “Elysia.” Knight of the Storms. Her hair is a dusty pale color, reminding Vale of a mouse’s fur. Vale feels her ears perk up in curiosity. She takes a breath, feeling the calm relief of a working body as both shoulders, now unharmed, rise and fall with her lungs. Order calls to its Knights, and Vale’s right hand drops to her sword’s threaded hilt, running her fingers along its strange texture. Between the Knights hangs a shimmering scale, waterfalls cascading from either side of it. Vale’s tail flicks as a sharp laughter cuts through the silence, and from the scales’ waterfalls two tall pillars solidify; masts of a ship.
A cold breeze rushes across Vale’s face, twirling her twilight hair behind her, her cape left behind on the pyramid steps. Vale raises her chin, feeling the air’s caress like a newfound lover.
See me, friends, as I see you.
I am Vale. I am alive.
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