Dark River [Liltotto/SOLO]

…


How long had she been falling for, now?

Not but an inky black abyss surrounded her, no sound or movement to hold her company. It was eerily silent and dead - was this really what the depths of her soul were like? Just a cold expanse of nothing? She had a thought or two that she had doomed herself to just fall forever without a way out… But she’d never heard of a situation like that occurring within one’s own inner world or adjacent spaces.

But she wasn’t exactly just anyone, was she?

…

She couldn’t help but wonder if following her gut was a fuck up. The fall was so long and monotonous she almost felt like just falling asleep… But also had the sense that doing that would be a bad idea. No, she had to have been right to take the fall - she had to have some belief in herself; she had to be able to wake up and tell Santa about Mazda, to help destroy the hole hollows, to see her friends and only family again…

This was no time to go fading into the darkness like she was dying or something!

“Hey jackass!” Her voice traveled endlessly into the deep, without any walls or obstructions to yield it’s echo, “I KNOW you called me! You’ve BEEN calling me for months! I know there’s something or someone down here, so quit playing coy and come out already! You’ve kept me waiting long enough, don’t you think?!”

A voice carried into the futile void, would receive a response. Roughly landing on some sort of surface with a sizable thud, a discomfort unnatural to her running up and through her body.

“Ow.. Ouch..” What the hell, that actually hurt… A hand rubbed her back as she slowly pulled to her feet on the sandy floor, her body now perfectly visible with a dull glow. There wasn’t much time to dwell on that thought as her eyes rose.

Thousands of paired lights of varying heights and sizes were staring back at her from the darkness, misty figures in vague human shapes standing before her, their shadowy particle forms gently swaying as if in a sea’s tide.

It was only when their tendril-like extremities lit and solidified with brilliant patternings of golden fragments that Liltotto sensed a feeling so potent she could have choked on it like a dense fog: Malice.

By pure instinct, she drew her own weapon and descended into the war-like battle.

It was like there was no end to these things. The more she dissipated with her blade, the more seemed to come for her, swinging or stabbing their long appendages as if they were made of putty. Nothing was graceful or beautiful about this exchange of blows; it was a gruelling fight for survival. The more she fought these things, the more they appeared strange to her - none of them seemed to have the voice that called her here, and sometimes when she was struck some feverish vision came across her mind that she deduced were.. Hallucinations? Memories? She wasn’t sure, apart from the dizzying illness that followed. The strikes came onto her easier as they wore at her, those headache-inducing visions hitting her thoughts with far more strength than the nicks or jabs she was receiving prior:

The expansive view from a mountaintop, the forests and nature below vibrantly lit by a clear day.

Travelers muddied and starving as they were forced from their home by bloody invaders, rain pouring on their tired, sorry bodies as they wept for the aid of a higher being.

The grubby hands of a child picking through soft sands for shells and rocks for their collection.

A view of a burning village from a firestarter’s eyes, content in the destruction of the unclean souls that dwelled there.

Peaceful rest under warm sunlight amongst tall grasses dotted with yellow flowers, a loved one having fallen asleep adjacent.

Despite these visions clouding her thoughts, she forced herself to remain focused on the conflict at hand, but even she felt mixed feelings about what, or rather who, she was fighting. What were these things?

Hardly a moment’s thought was allowed before she was struck by the apparitions once again:

The joy of a child’s first steps, their bright face beaming with accomplishment as their chubby digits reached out to the one they approached.

Pain radiating from a broken arm, the sensation of bladed grass jabbing skin apparent as two friends dressed for sports called for help.

A collapse in grief within a loved one’s arms; the loss of life still hadn’t left years later.

The frustrated strikes upon offspring, yelling and screaming - but a cycle perpetuated with only a spell of regret to be felt after the harm had been dealt.

Like snapshots through the entirety of one’s life, they flashed in her senses one by one, with only the slow realization coming upon her: These were people. People with lives and memories… Down here.

Her strikes stopped, lowering her weapon as the last strike raked her clean flesh. But when she came to her senses, the crowd had ceased their attacks, dark forms separating and vanishing into the deep with her realization, her rejection ceasing...

They were... Ribbons? An ever-stretching field of them pierced the darkness, their white forms flowing aimlessly in the darkness.

Hello captor.

She almost jumped from the sudden voice, another presence was with her. That otherworldly, masculine voice rattled with a nauseating reverberation between her ears. It felt like her skeleton was going to tremble out of her skin from the sound pounding through them. This was who called her - a dark face amidst white streamers that hung barely within sight.

But the intent behind that call didn’t appear to be obvious, until one of those many ribbon-like appendages slashed her back with incredible yet unexpected speed, an audible cry of pain raking her throat, a heat burning as her weapon was tightly clutched.

Have you come to give me freedom?

Teeth gritted, head raising to look at her assaulter with a menacing grin, “Let me guess, you gotta kill me?”

The only response was three more shapes lunging for her in the darkness. Regardless of the stinging pain on her back she reacted appropriately, quickly turning around to swing into the incoming forms seeking to tear into her. Their constitution deceivingly smooth and fluid, but even with a moment’s inspection she could tell they moved like a violent torrent of circulating energy that sought to tear into her body, a shriek of a grinding hitting her weapon as she would then deflect them, panting.

That dark face hanging over her in the deep hardly moved nor changed, it just stared down on her as if mocking of her size.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Called down, just to be pulled into a trap? Nothing about this felt right. She swore… No, just focus on the fight. Focus on surviving. Her foe wasn’t going to let her just sit there and ponder it’s motives. Movements in the dark swung for her again with little relent, clashing blades and maneuvering around the deadly weapons that came at her with hardly a blur to designate where it was coming or going. Her eyes were constantly searching for danger, constantly on the move…

But this was not a fight that could be won with sight. A strike penetrated her thigh, a scream of agony scraping through the endless space, only will steeling herself to continue.

Even with the speed of exchanges, it felt like she’d been fighting forever.

Arms screamed for rest with every swing, her legs were hot from pain and movements, her bones and joints felt like they were grinding, even her eyelids grew heavy. But she couldn’t give up, she had so much to return to. She couldn’t let this thing in her win. Each strike rung throughout her flesh and bones, it was getting harder and harder to push back, while it seemed like hardly a thought or effort on this being’s part, as if it were swatting at a stubborn ant.

That sense of resentment billowed in her, before her lips would part, “Have you been fucking with me this whole time or something?! What even are- FUCK!”

A mere graze to her shoulder resulted in a gush of blood, a red cloud floating in view of her as if dispersed in water. So that first strike did cut her… Disbelief and terror rose in her at the mere sight, but the next strike tore her thoughts away from her emotions.

Keep going, keep going, keep fighting. She couldn’t fall here, god damn it..!

Wounds decorated her body after what felt like ages of battle. She trembled, unsure if it was from the blood loss or her growing terror. Surprisingly, the attacks lightened, her heaving and panting before the looming presence looking down upon her with an unreadable expression.

Blood.

The tired woman rose her head with the quick startle hearing it speak again after seemingly so long, sweat and blood-stained hair hanging off her head rigidly as she did so, “..What?”

Blood. Shed blood. You fear it.

Irritation twitched her fingers into squeezing her weapon, teeth gritting as bile rose in her throat, “What? No I fucking don’t!”

That expressionless figure finally moved after an eternity of it’s introduction, head lifting to look off into the blank shadows, as if it were pondering an idea.

Perhaps you fear what ‘blood’ means to you.

Her bloodied lip set, arm trembling from how tight her grip was, taken aback by those words, “..What are you talking about-”

It was hardly even a blink of an eye that the scene before her changed. The sky dark and dully lit with stars, the scenery lit with monstrous flames from a beast, the ground blanketed with a haunting sight.

Bodies. Bodies of two sides, black and white, strewn across the ground, collected in piles at points. The scent of burnt iron and cooked putrid meat were strong to her, a smell she wishes she could have forgotten. Among the white-clothed were the faces of many, many she recognized - it was hard to truly forget the faces of those you grew up with, no matter how good or poor the relations were.

All of them, of all those memories being alive and well, reduced to nothing but motionless corpses, the only light in their eyes being the dull orange glow of flames than the might and vigor of a proud people readying to serve their empire.

And she? Small, once again - but a childish figure cast into the den of monsters alongside hundreds of others, and expected to return victorious from a stupid, hopeless war.

You were not one of them.

“I WAS!” Her screaming reply was so quick and aggressive that the disembodied voice hadn’t even the chance to complete it’s thought, “I was born from them, I lived with them, I trained alongside them, and I marched with them to their stupid pointless deaths for that great big dumbass’ ideas of how things should be!”

They did not treat you as if you were so.

That ghostly calm voice was getting on her nerves, “I KNOW! IT SUCKED! BUT I DON’T CARE!”

Then why do you weep for them?

“BECAUSE THEY WERE ALL I HAD, OKAY?!” Tears beaded in her eyes as that young voice she previously held spouted her words - it’d been so long that it felt like another person spouting her true feelings, “Even if most of them were assholes to me, they were all I had. My parents fucking dumped me or something, what am I supposed to do, just be some lone sorrysack on the outskirts of society because people don’t get it?!”

Is that not what you had done after you had escaped the war?

That struck her silent. It wasn’t that she didn’t have an answer, but rather that she didn’t want to answer.

After you woke from your attempt at death?

Her gaze was low, biting her lip.

After the creatures from a world unknown seized your city?

The words didn’t come up.

You speak of your emotions and care in afterthoughts and hindsight, yet when the moments for you to express it come, you run away.

Another slash came to her unbeknownst. This one took her arm, her weapon clattering helplessly on the floor in front of her. Blood gushed from her wound as she fell to her knees.

The Quincy survived that and this genocide, yet you ran away.

You had prosperous opportunities to form new connections in this world, yet you ran away.

You were aware of the Quincy having reorganized into a new foundation in the time you were gone, yet you ran away.

You had the power to fend off those creatures and protect what little miserable purpose you had built, yet you ran away.

And now you have grown up, you are taking these opportunities laid bare, but once again a means to rob you of it has presented itself. Will you truly allow that fear of loss to guide your feet?


Darkness hit the scenery once again, that expressionless face suddenly right in front of her own; one eye-like formation staring deeply into her, as the other half of it’s face was obscured by an ugly four-pointed scar. A weary, almost pleading tone betrayed it’s ethereal voice,

When will you stop running?

As if a mirror of it’s own face, a slash came for her’s, gashing her eye useless.

Her body crashed to the dark floor from the sheer force of the attack.

It hurt to move, splayed out on the ground like that. Even her unwounded flesh ached and cried for rest from how long she had fought. The force of her last attack left her staring upward, her face throbbing with pain, vision partially obscured with pure black as the burn of salted tears just made the pain more unbearable. She could sense the other presence with her still, hanging above her.

If this is where you are ceasing, I will swallow you, like I have so many.

A horrid crack rung out above her, she didn’t know what it was, but by the new sensation of a warm breeze falling upon her and that particular scent… It was incredibly obvious. Was this it? Was she going to let this thing just eat her, just like that? Die a crummy death where nobody will even know what happened to her, this life just a pointless breeze?

...

No.

No!

Her remaining hand tightened into a fist. With a heaving breath as doom closed in on her, she’d scream, forcing her body upright and toward her sword, grasping the handle and swinging before her, the dull figure formed by spiritual senses being her only guide of where to strike.

Contact was felt, a low roar emanating, the scent of something fresh entering her senses; was it blood? It wasn’t a smell she had a name for, but it did tell her she had hurt it.

“I’m not running. Why should I even run anymore?” She’d spit back, forcing herself to her feet. The battle was turning back up again, wielding her weapon with her left arm - it wasn’t as sure as her dominant arm, but it would suffice, “I got a whole wide world out there to wake back up to. I got people to say good morning to. I got a nice breakfast to eat. I got work to do for the day.”

And if all of those cease once again, will you fall to me?

Though there was a lingering uncertainty, her pained lips turned into a smile, "Nope. That stuff never stops existing, anyway. Like you said, tons of opportunity. But I like what I have right now, though… So i’ll do all I can to keep it going for as long as I can… But if you’re the one in the way of me having the power to do that, i’ll kick your ass. If I keep getting in my own way of being happy again… I’ll kick my own ass, too.”

She pushed forth.

That blade clashed with unseen forces for what felt to be an eternity’s eternity, this dance for life seemingly never ending. The pain of her wounds, the creak of her bones, the ever-present chilling darkness… It was as miserable and ugly a situation she could be in. If she fell, she dies. If she continues, the fight keeps going with little idea of an end in sight. There wasn’t so much as a mote of light or idea she could go back up, that decision to plummet was a final one.

It has been quite some time now.

Her opponent was as mistifying as her surroundings were dark, silent apart from an interval or two, that acid yellow glare being the only other source of color and light in this darkness. It was like an unwelcome thought for it to speak again, swinging to lunge for it’s threaded body, only to clash against what felt like a block of iron.

Hours.. Days… Months.. Perhaps even years may have occurred outside.

“Shut up.” A venomous hiss left her throat.

Are you certain all you are fighting for will be there once you crawl out of this hell of yours?

“They will!”

How are you to know?

“I don’t!”

Then why fight?

“Cuz i’m getting back there no matter how long it takes me! Even if it’s a million years, i’m waking up again! Even if the world isn’t the same anymore, I want to be a part of it, you asshole!”

With a charge with but her one armed swing, she went for the creature’s dark mask, a yell raising in her hoarse throat,

“Now die, so I can go back to living my fucking life already!”

A blank hit her senses when that blade made contact, a ring in her ears as a consciousness possessed her once more.

Within this sight, a dark haze took the surroundings, but by smell and a sense beyond sense it could be discerned where this was - a forest. A place that was overly familiar to the memory, but that was not the focus; the dying cold scent of a loved one lied at the being’s side, ravenous growls breaking the serenity of an otherwise calm autumn’s night. White faces towered over this tiny form, their dark bodies near blotting the star-speckled sky.

Hollows.

The scent of blood and the loom of danger had awakened something in the tiny young thing, a sense to protect overwhelming until a modicum of will and power was able to manifest external, pure white ribbons flowing from the thin slices of red that patterned portions of the body it overtook. The regrettable sensation of hunger and fear led it’s actions, jaws lashing to render the nearest beast naught but a headless body torn apart by teeth.

They ate, and ate, and ate… Until the threats were no more. They succeeded.

A young voice’s cries and wails overwhelmed the senses of this will, the connection to the waking world severed. It was no longer desired, it wished to be cast out in the little being’s terror.

All that was left was falling, falling, long and hard into pure black, only the utterance of a simple question saying farewell to the vision:

…Why?

—

A coughing gasp was the only thing that brought her back to her self, eye forced open wide as she hardly woke in time to slice into the incoming attack, shuddering with a cold sweat and stumbling onto her knee. What was that? It felt so familiar but… Was that her? No it wasn’t… But it was?

Do you see?

Her head snapped up, her shocked expression meeting the being who ceased it’s onslaught for just a moment to address her, “See what? I hardly… Got anything from that.”

You bear a mind capable of thought. Think. Was it not familiar to you?

“Quit playing cryptic you bastard, yes it was familiar but it didn’t feel like me remembering that!” She knew those woods.. It was a place she hadn’t been in for a long time… How young was she?

The first and last moment you summoned up true strength. The night of your shifted fate.

Her wounded features rounded into a touch of realization, “...You don’t mean, that night..?”

The only thing she clearly remembered about that night was the taste of Giselle’s blood and crying to sleep. She was too little, or at least she assumed she was too little.

Banished away to the darkest corner of the soul… That night I was called upon, that night you had thrown power aside.