<< Even if we are safe, why are we still binded to the past? >>
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Before We Start: Please tone down the simping. [Name] is canonically still 12 years old, and no, I am not going to be writing an [Name] x Reader. That's selfcest. Calm down and drink some water. Thank you.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Unlike the past few nights, [Name] didn't see Johanna in her dreams.
That she could understand. Her ancestor probably had other things to do, or perhaps her ability wasn't strong enough so that they could constantly stay connected. She would have been fine going back on her dreams and searching through the past for something of use. Maybe not going as far as facing Leuvis again, but she had better control over her dreams.
She should've begun at her safe spot, Grace Field's forest. Particularly the small field where she met Marin, or the large tree that she loved to climb. [Name] had trained her mind to start there, ever since Sidra had taken her music box from her.
So why am I here of all places?
Steel walls gaped around her, reflecting everything without a single blemish in sight. Steel floors grinned up at her, splattered with blood - whose, she didn't know. Steel doors kept her locked in. Steel eyes, no emotion, no nothing within them, stared at her lifelessly. A steel shackle weighed down her hand.
Lambda 7214.
Is this another memory? No, I don't see anyone around me.
A strangled groan came from under her.
She felt skin under her hands, and that shackle seized her fingers and dragged them down. [Name] collapsed onto another person, pushing herself up - only to freeze once she saw her face.
No.
It felt as if she plunged into a bucket of ice water. Frozen, [Name] watched the girl underneath her with horrified eyes.
No. No. No.
Tears welled in her eyes as her breath became uneven.
This can't be happening.
The grey hospital coat reminiscent of Lambda was rumpled and stained with dry blood, phlegm, and other fluids that she didn't recognize. Bulging eyes moved separately from each other, looking in opposite directions at everything in the room, all until they focused on [Name].
This isn't real.
Susie smiled from underneath her strangling hands.
Bile rose in [Name]'s throat, nausea building in her stomach. She tried to wretch her hands from Susie's throat, but they were stuck there as if they were a part of her altogether. [Name] pulled and pulled away, desperately trying to run away - only she was trapped, stuck there forever.
"Mom?" Susie called, tilting her head - but it was nowhere endearing as it used to be. "What's wrong?"
"...up."
"Mom?"
"Shut up." [Name] muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite her cold and distant voice, she cried. Running silently down her face, dripping down into the ground. Her shoulders lost their tension, but her hands still twisted.
"C'mon, don't go all crying on me now."
A voice she hadn't heard in years spoke with mocking playfulness. Susie's malnourished skeleton twisted into a young boy, aquamarine eyes gleaming with contempt.
"You brought all of this on yourself," Marin muttered, his strained voice raspy. "If you hadn't followed me... You'd have died a happy death."
He chuckled darkly, an angry smile on his young face. "...You made me die for nothing."
[Name]'s hands trembled, grasping at his throat yet terrified of what she might do. Her breathing turned heavy, fear and grief rushing through her system as she stared her best friend in the face. She knew he wasn't real, he couldn't be, yet the face she could never forget had been the last straw.
And her mask broke, twisting into the face of a frightened child.
"No..." she mustered out, almost a whimper. "That's not... I didn't..."
Suddnely, a familiar but certainly unwelcome pain shocked itself through her. [Name] chocked, nearly screaming when she spotted the same shock bracelet clasped onto her wrist like a prison cuff once again. Marin had disappeared, fading away as if he had never been there in the first place.
Heels clicked loudly on the floor. She squinted through the pain, already dreading what was to come. She knew those sounds, and she wasn't happy hearing them again.
Jumping up, [Name] scrambled to grab her fallen pistol, only for it to be snatched from her fingers. Sidra knelt in front of her struggling self, twirling the gun in her black-painted fingers. She smiled pleasantly down at the twitching girl, who watched her with wide eyes.
"I-" [Name] coughed, wincing as she spat out blood that dragged against her throat. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, hamster," Sidra cooed, pinching her cheek. "Nice to see you again. Especially after you killed me."
[Name] didn't move to bat away the hand, instead retching out even more blood. Lightning still coursed through her veins, rendering her unable to move. Sidra hummed in mocking pity.
"Poor thing," she crooned. "Still so helpless, even in a dream. Do you really think you're free?"
The muzzle of Sidra's pistol rested on her forehead. Now on the other side of the gun, [Name]'s veins turned to ice. Her eyes trained on the barrel... only to drop to the ground, defeated and ready for her fate.
Sidra smile sympathetically.
BANG!
[Name] shot up in her bed, sweat beading on the back of her neck. The second gunshot still resonated in her head, repeating again and again like a broken record. She clutched at her chest, panting as if she had just run a marathon.
What was that?
She squinted at the clock in her room. It was an antique model, with only analog numbers rather than electrical. Still, it didn't hinder her from being able to read the time. [Name] exhaled, leaning back against the headboard of her bed.
It wasn't part of her ability. She knew that, at least. Susie was a person that only [Name] knew, and Henry didn't know about Sidra's tendencies. She leaned forward into her palm, her hair falling.
What's happening to me?
[Name] pushed off the covers and stumbled over to her desk. She reached into her drawers, searching for her music box. Collapsing onto the bed, her eyes focused and unfocused on the device as its chain tickled her cheek.
She let her hand fall to her chest, twisting the key. Earlier before, she had changed out the key, having missed her friend's song. Now, that melody tinkled out into the empty room.
"Flaheta vola stilai, sharobela gruam ma tisihré..."
Clasping the music box as if it were her lifeline, [Name] curled into herself, hugging it close. Unlike in her dream, no tears escaped her this time. Instead, she merely whispered his empty tune, alone in the sheets of her bed.
The moon seemed brighter that night.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
"[Name]? What are you doing up this early?"
[Name] looked up at Norman from her spot in one of the lower rooms. He was carrying a lantern, just as [Name] had back in the Grace Field days, standing on the winding stairs that led to the upper levels. She stood up, walking up to meet him as he stepped down to her.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted sheepishly. Norman nodded in understanding.
"So you found the armory?" he inquired, nodding at the bow in her hands. [Name] rolled her shoulder back, shifting the arrows in her quiver.
"It's above the basement if you want to try some," she suggested helpfully, nocking another arrow and firing it at a stump of wood she was using as her target. "The weapons are a bit outdated, but they aren't ancient enough so that they'll break. The arrows are doing fine, but we may need new ones."
"I'll look into it," Norman said, sitting down on one of the stumps. He raised a brow at the black horse they had found yesterday. It was laying down, watching [Name] as she shot arrow after arrow. "It's still here?"
"I can't get rid of it," [Name] replied, jumping up on one of the stumps and firing mid-air. The rooms were spacious in both width and height, most likely because they had housed demons before she had found them. "It doesn't seem to want to leave, but I just let it follow me around. It appears it likes to be pet."
"Is that so," Norman murmured. He clapped appreciatively as she shot another stump straight in the middle. "How long have you been at this?"
[Name] paused in her nocking of another arrow, raising her eyes at the ceiling as she counted in her head. "About... two hours or so?"
"It's 5 AM, [Name]," Norman sighed in disappointment. Another thunk caught his attention as she once again hit a stump dead-center. "Still, you are good at this."
"It isn't that hard," [Name] said nonchalantly. She nodded at a small chunk of wood that lay in the ground, probably from the room's old age. "Could you throw that across the room?"
Norman did as she asked. "Do you think you could hunt with that?" he asked, eyeing the wood that was now embedded into the wall by [Name]'s arrow. "We can't live off of plants forever."
"Hunt?" [Name] repeated. "Norman, I've been holding a bow for two hours."
"You figured out how to ride a horse in 5 minutes," Norman countered. [Name] rolled her eyes.
"Yes, and my tailbone still hasn't forgiven me," she retorted, snatching her arrows out of the wooden stumps. "So forgive me if I'm a little skeptical of your ideas."
"I'll ride with you if you want," Norman suggested, leaning onto his palm. "That way, you could focus on hunting while I handle the steering."
"Do we even have any bags to carry the prey in?" [Name] asked, exasperated. "I'm not riding a horse unless I have a saddle. Do you even know how to ride a horse?"
"I watched you do it," Norman stood up, handing [Name] the last arrow. "I can figure it out."
"If you say so," [Name] huffed, still not entirely convinced. She picked up a nearby rock and started to resharpen the arrows, sparks flying as she did. "Well, if you want me to hunt, go and get the bags and saddle. Don't blame me if Vincent and the others have a heart attack because we're missing."
"We'll be fine," Norman assured. "I'll leave a note, and we'll be back before they wake up."
[Name] leaned back against the black horse as Norman left the room. It raised its head at her in confusion, as if it didn't expect her to sit near it. She refused to meet its inquiring gaze, only granting it a small pat on the nose before continuing to sharpen her arrows.
"You're going outside in a few," she said absentmindedly. "Prepare yourself, alright?"
The horse snorted happily, its tail whisking back and forth as it lay its head on the ground once more.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
[Name] peered from around the edges of her hood, marveling at the forest around them. She'd recently found an old black trenchcoat with a hood and immediately took to it. It was warm and comfortable, and she liked the buttons and pockets it provided.
Norman sat in front of her, a pure white cloak with silver details on his shoulders. The patterns were intricate and elegant in design, with the first upper section being laced with diamond patterns on the back. The rest flowed down around him, giving him a regal aura fitting of that of a king.
Norman, a king... [Name] furrowed her brows at the thought, scanning for any sign of life. That doesn't sound right. Not my Norman. He's too innocent for that.
"Are you alright?" Norman asked, glancing behind him at the apprehensive (h/c). "You've been stiff for a while now."
"Sorry," [Name] apologized, adjusting their spot. Her horse nickered under her, perhaps a sign of worry? She wasn't sure. Norman hummed in acknowledgement, turning back to the front as he steered the horse by the reins.
"Norman, you didn't choose that farm for nothing, did you?" she asked. "There were multiple mass-production farms around that area, but you chose that one specifically. Why?"
Norman kept his eyes in front of him. "There's a pheasant trying to fly up there," he gestured to a nearby field.
"I know." [Name] promptly shot it down. "Answer the question."
"Perhaps we could start breeding these?" Norman murmured to himself, depositing the pheasant into a bag. "I wonder if there are any vida around here..."
"The bloodsucking plants?" [Name] questioned. "I'll take care of that. Stop avoiding the subject."
Norman still didn't reply. [Name] exhaled, nocking another arrow as she spied another bird flying in the distance. As she too nailed it with the arrow, she hopped off of the horse. Norman glanced at her in silent inquiry while she ran off to the base of a tree. When she came back, a white, budded flower was in her hands, stem sharpened to a deadly point.
"Is that it?" Norman asked, wary of the lethal plant. Flashes of memories that he didn't want came and went in his head, all of them centering around two points - when he saw Conny's dead body, and when he thought that [Name] was dead herself.
"Yes," [Name] confirmed. Reaching into the pouch, she gently cradled the pheasant as if it were a baby. "It's still alive," she noticed. "Still trying to live."
Swiftly but sharply, she stabbed the bird with the vida, ending its suffering. She threw it back into the bag. Noticing Norman's gaze, she sighed, hauling herself back onto the horse behind him.
"We should collect the other one," she said, swinging the bow onto her shoulder. "So it doesn't rot away."
"Mm," Norman hummed, kicking the horse lightly to get it to start walking again. "As for your question, I chose that farm because it's around a certain area."
"Oh, I see," [Name] said knowingly. "So if the demons catch wind of the attacks of farms of around that area, they'd assume that the hideout was there?"
"Precisely," Norman smiled from under his hood. "You always know what I'm thinking, hm?"
"Not always," [Name] admitted. "Why you woke up at 5 AM, I'm not too sure about. Your room is at least 20 stories above where I was shooting."
"I was working," Norman explained. "Examining the data comes first, so that we are prepared. The plan still is in development, after all."
"You're still 12," [Name] reminded gently, leaning her chin onto his shoulder. "You don't have to be an adult."
Norman glanced her, ruffling her hair with one hand. "Don't worry about me," he assured. "I'm supposed to be the one worrying about you."
"Sure, sure," [Name] huffed. "Speaking of which, did you see the demon in the basement?"
"Yeah," Norman confirmed, sliding off of the horse to pick up the second bird that [Name] had struck down. [Name] handed him another vida and he made quick work of it. "It's devolving. It was pretty bad to begin with, but now that it's starving, it's becoming more and more like the wild type we see out here."
"Do you think it's simply because of starvation?" [Name] asked as he hoisted himself up once more, smacking her face with his cloak in the process. After a quick apology, Norman kicked off again.
"We'll find out," he replied. "But I don't think so. The wild demons aren't starving, but they aren't intelligent. There's something about the intelligent demons that makes them special."
"Their diet, perhaps?" [Name] suggested. "They are the only ones to eat humans regularly."
"Maybe," Norman admitted. "But we'll have to try to be sure. If feeding them only bird meat does something to them, we'll consider it."
"Alright," [Name] sighed. "Still," she squinted up at the sky, which was still dyed rosey colors due to the sunrise. "We should collect a few more birds. We have a lot of people to feed."
Norman nodded. "I heard some bird calls further north. We'll head there."
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
"Boss! Chief! You're back!"
"Oh dear," [Name] sighed, sliding off of her steed next to Norman. The albino uncovered his hood, shaking his head lightly. She stroked the black horse's mane gently, watching the chaos unfold as she unpacked their prey.
"Where were you two?!" Cislo ran a hand over his hair, eyes wide with worry. "We thought you had been abducted, or worse!"
"We simply went out hunting," Norman held out a hand to stop the older boy as he took off his cloak. "You don't need to worry about either of us."
"We didn't know where you were," Vincent explained, walking up to the fussing teenager. "Naturally, everyone became panicked."
"Did you not receive my note?" Norman asked, narrowing his eyes. Vincent sighed, fishing out a small piece of paper.
"I did," he admitted, "but these two," he glared at Barbara and Cislo, "wouldn't stop panicking. They had been ripping their hair out with worry."
Norman exhaled, nodding in acknowledgement. "Nevertheless, we managed to catch some birds. We'll prepare the food-"
"We can do that!" A group of children and teenagers piped up, running to meet their leaders. "We found a kitchen, and we've been experimenting with the food we have!"
"There's also some berries and nuts from the garden," another group added on. "They were left from the overgrowing plants. We could use those to make a soup, like the Chief taught us."
"You taught them how to cook?" Norman inquired, raising a brow at [Name]. The (h/c) shrugged, giving the children the birds.
"It wouldn't have been good if they relied on us all of the time," she reasoned. "Also, cooking for 50+ children every day would be exhausting."
"It's okay, Boss," the children assured. "This way, you all can focus on your work. We can handle the basic stuff."
Norman blinked. He wasn't expecting them to have learned this quickly, or that they had been thinking of him and the others. Watching them now, all working together to cook and do their part, gave him a nostalgic feeling. For a moment, he was back at Grace Field, helping his family cook and prepare the meal.
He exhaled in defeat. "Very well."
The meal surprisingly wasn't horrible, but neither [Name] nor Norman was concerned about that. Actually, it was a relief that [Name] had managed to teach the children how to take care of themselves so quickly. Norman had planned to take a few days to ensure that they could handle themselves without the leaders being there, but this sped up the execution more than he expected.
Now, they were standing in the basement once more, scanning over the available weaponry in the armory. [Name] examined the melee-type weapons, such as clubs, swords, and others. She eventually found a light longsword and its sheath, taking it off of the wall and turning it over in her hands.
"Considering our strength as Lambda subjects, melee would be far more efficient at killing the demons," she explained to the skeptical Vincent. "Guns wouldn't be needed if you can hack into the system."
"I see," Vincent nodded.
Barbara's eyes lit up as she snatched a spiked club from the wall, immediately swinging it around in excitement. Cislo opted for a pair of blades, connected to each other by a metal chain. [Name] had already put away the bow and arrow, and instead, the sword sheath hung from her belt. Zazie had been fitted with a harness over his torso, two humongous swords strapped to his back. Based on what [Name] had seen, he would be fine with the weapons - he would simply copy her, and go off from there.
"You two aren't taking any weapons?" she asked Vincent and Norman. Vincent shook his head.
"My fists should be enough," he assured, pushing up his glasses. "Along with that, I'll simply be using my laptop to disable the farm's security."
"You four will be the main attack force," Norman continued. "Vincent will hack into the system, and I'll give you directions and new information. Then, we'll retrieve the children."
Right, Norman's physically weak. He wouldn't want to be in combat.
"Isaac stays here, correct?" Norman confirmed.
"Yes," [Name] agreed. "He isn't suited for combat. Rather, it'd be better if he stayed here for lookout."
"Very well," Norman accepted. "Then, let's begin training. We'd be walking into a death trap if we're unprepared."
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»