Chapter Text
The cabin is silent as they wait for the girl to wake.
Tetia, losing herself to worry over the state of the poor girl, decides she’ll reheat the cauldron filled with their leftover stew from dinner. "Maybe the delicious smell will rouse her from slumber quicker!" She'd said on her way to the kitchen. Agott had been kind enough to light a fire before going to bed. Richeh watched the girl alongside Qifrey, who cleaned and dressed the wounds on her cheek, a tension in his face and shoulders all the while. He can't even fathom where she could've come from, or where Emily got off to. He hadn't received a missive from the Knights, so she couldn't live in Kalhn. Wasn't there a village to the southwest…? Were they not under the protected radius?
Movement, then, from the sofa. The girl's head moves, craning towards the warmth of the fireplace. Bleary eyes blink open, ever so slightly, trying to make sense of what's around them.
"Where…did I…?" She mutters quietly. Her brow slowly starts to furrow, and then anxiety rises onto her features. The girl sits up so quickly, she nearly bashes her forehead into Richeh's, had she not smoothly ducked out of the way. She looks around frantically for a moment, then her gaze locks onto Qifrey. "Mister-! Did I…did I get to tell you about my village before I..?"
Qifrey's lips press into a line as he shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. You'd mentioned your mother before you fainted, and that was all."
The girl deflates at once, tears quickly coming to her eyes. "Then…then I'm too late…" she drops her head into her hands, her shoulders starting to quake. "I-I'd made it so far and…I couldn't even do anything useful…"
"Hold on, hold on. Just try to breathe for a moment." Qifrey places a hand on the girl's shoulder. She's chilled down to her bones, the poor thing. "I feel certain we'll be able to help you and your home, but I need to know a few things first. Where exactly did you come from to make it into these woods, girl?"
"And what's your name? So Mr. Qifrey can stop calling you 'girl,'" Richeh says.
"My…my name is Coco," the girl answers through her tears, scrubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. "My home is…it's not far. I-I'm sorry, I'm no good with directions. I hoped if I just kept running, maybe I'd stumble into Kalhn. Find a guild, and…" A sob wracks her trembling body. "I just wanted to help everyone…help..my mom…"
"And…what exactly is going on in your village, Coco?" Qifrey asks carefully.
"Was it a Monster?" Richeh adds.
The questions only make Coco cry harder, but brave as ever, Qifrey can tell she's so brave, she pushes on. "Several. I-I don't know what they were. They almost l-looked like…people. Like- like ghosts, but they could touch you, they could-" Her fingers graze along the bandage on her cheek, newly dampened. "They could hurt you." A shuddering inhale, followed by a whimper of an exhale. "They got into my home, and my mother tried to..to protect me. A man was there too."
"A…man?" Qifrey repeats. "A human?"
Coco nods, once. "A-at least he looked like one. The…ghosts seemed to answer to him. He wore a mask, so I couldn't tell if he was one too. But he looked…real and he walked towards my mother and…"
Coco's fortitude seems to give out there, collapsing into her sobs on one of the pillows behind her. Qifrey feels a pit of guilt from prodding so hard, but knowing he'd contact the Knights soon, he needed anything that could point him in the direction of a hypothesis. A human with hostile spirits at his beck and call. Mythologies he'd read with Olruggio back in the Hall told tale of liches, though science and history textbooks spoke of their extermination from their land thousands of years ago, when the necromancers were still in practice. Nothing is impossible in this life, but he fears what it might mean for the creation of a lich to have taken place, let alone for it to be floating around Zozah.
"I think that's quite enough for now," Qifrey softly assures. "Thank you for being so brave and telling me what you could, Coco." He pulls a blanket from an arm of the sofa, unfurling it to wrap around Coco's shoulders. She still shivers, even in the presence of the fire. Qifrey fears a fever may be upon her. "I'm going to take what you've given me to a few acquaintances of mine and they'll head out tonight to investigate. We'll look after you here in the meanwhile."
Tetia comes back then, both her arms trying to balance a tray that is visibly full of more than just stew. "Sorry I took so long, I clearly got carried away with what we had in the fruit bowl and- oh! She's awake! Oh, sorry, that was loud," she whispers her apology, waddling over with her spread.
Qifrey smiles a bit, taking the load off her hands and placing it on an endtable. "Quite alright. Though, let's do keep our calm for Coco's sake. She's been through something quite difficult tonight. If you girls are going to be up for a while later, would you mind looking out for her whilst I call Mr. Easthies?"
Richeh and Tetia both nod.
"Of course, master," Tetia says, reaching for the wooden bowl still steaming on the tray. "She's in good hands with us." Turning to Coco, she flashes a bright smile. "Hi, Coco. I'm Tetia! I made you some soup and other things if you're hungry. But you should still eat, even if you're not. It'll help you get warm super fast!"
Their guest concedes, blanket covered hands placing the bowl in her lap and a full spoon to her lips. As Qifrey walks off in the direction of the observatory tower, he's glad the girl is at least eating.
𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆
Communication device tucked snugly against his ear, Qifrey says, "I believe it's the little village to the southwest of Kalhn. I have it outlined on the map I sent."
"And you've confirmation this village is unprotected?" Easthies asks. "If you can point it out on a map, I can't understand why they're not under a radius."
"My assumption is their guild was either snuffed out or they were simply never granted one. I can't even find record of what the place is named." Qifrey tried taking a cursory glance through his maps, new and old, but they yielded nothing. "Does Assessment have any notion of the attack based on the girl's account?"
"Not yet, no," Easthies says, "though I'm sure answers to this are better suited for the eyes than sole speculation. I'll be heading out with them myself to investigate. Will you join-"
Qifrey answers the question before it can even fully form. "It'd be unwise to leave the girls in the cabin unattended. But do report back once you've confirmed what manner of beast we're dealing with. I'll be awake."
There's a long beat of silence from Easthies' end. Qifrey knows this game. Next will come the admonition.
"…You should consider rejoining field efforts in the coming months if you aim to maintain surveillance of your perimeter. As well as set a good example for your students. They will find themselves lacking in necessary experience by their graduation if this keeps up."
Qifrey bites down on his lower teeth, grinding his molars. There's an argument on his tongue, but he wills himself to hold it back. "…Understood," he grits out.
Easthies only continues, as if he knows he's trying Qifrey's patience. "I acknowledge that you still face hardships in the absence of your co-mentor. But the Knights exist to train competent Hunters. So long as you still bear the crest, you'll do well to remember that."
Qifrey bristles, sneering at Easthies though he is blind to it. Mention of Olruggio as if he were nothing to Easthies' history but a passing thought, like they didn't all grow up and train together. Mention of his girls, insulting their intelligence like they aren't eons more clever and tactile than Easthies himself was at his age, probably more so than he is now as a vice-captain Hunter. It disgusts him. It insults him. He attempts to maintain his composure at the best of times, but he never took well to being insulted.
"You'll do well to remember the topic at hand, vice-captain, sir," he says lowly, vocal tone like that of a warning alley cat. In truth, he doesn’t fear Easthies' rank in comparison to his own, not like many other Knights. At least, not enough to hold his tongue when he says something irksome. Some small part of him worries for his position, should Easthies really be fed up with him one day, he has the authority to remove Qifrey from the guild as he pleases. But somehow, Qifrey's never seemed to pushed him that far. Their existence around each other has always been quite complicated, so he always figured that had something to do with it. "I called you for the purpose of relaying information to aid a crisis, one which you need urgently attend to. And in any case, I am sheltering a survivor of said crisis. So, I fail to see how engaging with your other points of conversation would serve either of us at the moment."
Easthies lets out a soft, bothered huff of breath. "You're a pillar of chivalry, certainly. I shall have Luluci relay our findings to you on the morrow."
The connection ends swiftly thereafter, and Qifrey takes a long, slow, deep breath. What sort of bastard did he have to be to get saddled with such a damned brat as a senior officer, honestly?
Times like these, he wishes he had anyone besides his own mind to complain to. He doesn't much talk to anyone from the Hall these days, and anyone else he'd consider himself on friendly terms with doesn’t tend to tie themselves to one particular spot on the peninsula. In truth, when he and Olruggio had been assigned a home and a perimeter, he'd impatiently moved them in and never looked back, frankly wanting to stay far, far away from the temperaments and ideals of those who devote their entire existences to upholding the Knights' lifestyle. Olruggio, on the other hand, could charm a rat into friendship if it let him. He has- he had a lot of other friends and contacts outside of Qifrey. He really embodied both sympathy and empathy, had so much patience for different perspectives, so it was never any wonder why so many folks were drawn to him. Hell, even when Olruggio wasn't being friendly to someone, he had enough patience within his spirit to not start tossing his hands and fists around when provoked like Qifrey.
Qifrey's chest hurts a little, now. It often does when he thinks of Olruggio and he reckons it always will. That hole in his heart may as well manifest real.
Quite selfishly, he believes, Qifrey hopes Olruggio thought of him, at the…the end. He hopes he thought of him, too. Prayed to the stars about it, in weaker moments. And that Qifrey's worrying of him from far away had reached him somehow, in the worlds between life and nothing.
The stars never did answer him.
𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆
But that's only because the stars know something Qifrey does not. For in truth, they can't tell him of an end when there is no end of which to speak. And Olruggio thinks of him. He thinks of Qifrey every second of every minute of every hour of everyday, with every step, every crawl, every breath. Every…breath. A tricky word, that one. He doesn't quite…breathe anymore. Strange thing to need to remind oneself of, but the real point is, one does a lot of thinking when they're alone in the dark. Especially when they haven't much other choice.
Yes, Olruggio has been alone in the dark for…well, it's definitely been more than a few days. He can't tell front from back down here. But it's fine. He'll be getting out soon! Olruggio is bloody fucking tired of being stuck down here, so he's been crawling. In fact, he's crawling right now, pinched between two solid layers of stone and mineral that have no intention to shift themselves out of their tens of thousands of years old positions to accommodate him. Every push forwards is a little bit of torture. Every scrape against his skin is a souvenir from the worst carnival he's ever been to. But he has a home, and it isn't here. He has to get home.
Occasionally, he gets to walk— crouch, really. Walk in the same way a duck walks. It's unpleasant, as most things are down here. It would be more pleasant, maybe, with a friend. He has never been sure if anyone else has been subjected to torture like this or if he got uniquely cursed. Never seen another person nor heard another voice in all these…in all this time. But at some point, he'd seen a light. It was distant, so small, but when it had appeared one day, carrying with it the faint noise of falling rain, Olruggio thought it had felt like God. He'd left behind the tight, round cave walls he'd been encased inside, among a few other things — his cloak, his frayed old Hunter's pack (he'd been using it for a pillow), his sanity, more than likely, to trade it for what he hoped was salvation. He worried that at the end of the tunnel, he might find some kind of afterlife or hell, and a cruel spirit that sought to punish him for having hope of being with what matters to him again.
But at the end of the harrowing path when the cave walls opened up anew and he could hear things again, not just the noise of his own bodily functions, he realizes he's finally found it. His freedom, after what was probably weeks or months of squeezing his way out. He almost cries out of sheer relief, but he doesn’t think his body can spare the water, even the way it is now.
So with the renewed freedom to, Olruggio walks, along a winding and twisted path where gravity is never the same twice. So, he'd been stuck at the bottom of Serpentback. He supposes that makes sense. Serpentback is popular with Monsters; filled with nooks in which to hide, tricky enough that even the most experienced Hunters wouldn't run in here and risk losing a trail or their lives.
Olruggio…knows he's different. He knew it from the moment he first woke up in this dark place, feeling like he'd just gotten run over by an army of horses. Feeling like death. Feeling like he'd died.
Stars above, he had died.
He couldn't describe the experience to you, if asked. It was like one long, dark, quiet dream, and then he'd returned to consciousness feeling like he'd been wanged across the peninsula. Internally, though, things just felt different. His temperature had lowered, his vision was sharper, his heart had stopped beating. He checked over and over against himself for a pulse, worked himself into a panic over it more than once. The teeth. Newly sharpened canines that felt jagged and ugly, that pricked his tongue if he licked them too hard. Feeling it all was his only way of grasping what he'd turned into — the concept of it anyway. He hasn't totally grasped that he isn't really him anymore. He doesn't even know what he'll do when he has to face Qifrey like this. How will his dearest friend even look upon him in this cursed state, how could he? Anxiety fills him, newly brewed and pouring hot inside him, close to overflow. What would he do if Qifrey were to look at him different? Even worse, what if he'd been reassigned in all the time Olruggio has been down here? What if there were strangers in their home? What if there wasn't any home for him left?
On a curve that has him standing upside down, he ends up stuck for a good few minutes, trying to forge his nerves back into something solid. He thinks if Qifrey were by his side, he'd have a comment about how on the nose it was of him to be doing such a thing. It'd probably make Olruggio laugh. What he wouldn't give right now for the simple comfort of laughing with his friend. And because he craves it, he carries on walking.
𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆
Olruggio didn't know he'd ever be capable of forgetting the sea.
By the time he makes it to the mouth of the Serpentback, the moon is full and the sky is dotted with endless stars. The salty sea air wafts into his nose and it's so strong he can taste it on his tongue. He sits by the mouth of the snake, watching the wind blow the surface of the water around just so. He thinks if he remembered a little less, he might want to stay here. That's a strange thing too, to remember so much. He's witnessed it before, what happens to humans who turn. They lose themselves to monstrosity, their minds and personalities become warped so far beyond what they once were as people. He further struggles to accept his own turning because, from what he can tell based on the act of touch alone, he doesn't even look much different from the person formerly known as Olruggio. His hair's much longer, he's sure he's a little more gaunt, but outside of looking directly into his mouth, he doesn't feel he looks inhuman. He doesn't look like the other…the other vampires. Certainly not like the ones he's read about, the ones who took him. They looked almost alien, maybe almost celestial? Forms of stretched skin, fangs so huge they may as well have been tusks, fleshy wings long and outstretched, tufts of torn hair, matted with dried blood, patched along their scalps. Their eyes nearly bulged from their heads — hungry, crazed eyes — and they hardly even spoke outside of tongues, of hissing and growls. But Olruggio doesn't feel anything like that. Certainly, the ones he'd fought that night had been judged as feral, so perhaps that's just how it happens. Perhaps that's the inevitability.
But the Knights…they can fix this. They can make him right again. Perhaps they'd even give him a new cloak, since he'd left the other one behind in the cave.
Right. That's that, then. If he's blessed enough to remember his own humanity, he won't squander it. Groaning through the creak in his knees, he stands again, gives the sea one last longing look, if only because it reminds him of what he's searching for. And it's onward that he walks. Towards home.
𒅒
The mask shields their face as they observe, but they no longer only need their eyes to see. It is that much more beautiful to see the soul, restless within Olruggio as it tries to resist the change. Alas, little soul, there won't be any going back. Certainly not now. Not now that it's working.
Olruggio is the first emergence. And Olruggio doesn't know this yet, but he's going to be something ethereal.
Just like all the others.