^^ Cinder Ella's Spirit ^^
--- Dorian ---
My mind... was very different, now.
Cluttered.
Filled with things that I didn't really care about, or thoughts I'd not been able to finish. The dying faces of all the monsters I'd been slaying.
The people I had crippled, even in the first two weeks of existing in this place, their pain.
I realized why it was here, of course, after all, I wasn't a psychopath, I didn't enjoy hurting people, I was just able to choke down my emotions, and do what needed to be done to make myself stronger, or destroy my enemies.
"I do not regret my actions, and therefore they have no hold on me." I said simply.
"Every action you take in this life is an added feather or stone on your back... whether an action is a feather or stone is, indeed, up to you... but all weight adds up eventually." A deep, rumbling voice hissed.
Weights started piling up on my shoulders, and I hit my knees, surprised. I stood up slowly, my legs quivering under the strain, and grinned in defiance. "That all you got? I've had worse. And unlike you, if I drop my burdens, the world doesn't end." I shrugged off the weights, and they shattered on the ground.
"I see... you believe your actions have no consequences?"
"Oh they have consequences. I never said they didn't. I said that letting them weigh me down was stupid. I make decisions the best I possibly can to further myself and stay alive. I don't regret those decisions, ever. Regretting doing something is stupid. Why think about things you can't change? Why bother saying 'oh what if I'd done this, or said that?!?' Because you can't change your actions! It's done and over! That way of thinking is a waste of brain power, energy, and most of all? It's a Waste of my God Damned Time." I snarled at him, striding away from the weights, leaving them behind.
"I see. A Nihilist. How quaint. Then, Elf Dorian... what do you think burdens are? What do you think Weight is?"
"Weight is the measure of one objects Gravitational effect on another object. Burdens are twofold: either metaphorical weights carried by the Fettered in their Minds, or Physical weights, such as a backpack or some other such thing, that has actual, physical weight." I answered concisely.
"Hmph. And people say I'm too full of myself." He grumbled, and I was ejected from my mind.
---
I blinked slowly, and shivered at how cold I was. The area about three feet in any direction was frosted, though the rest of the room was toasty warm.
I moved to the other couch, now that Loki was gone, and opened the 'Cinder Ella' Grimoire.
---
I was suddenly walking down a hallway, escorting a woman. She noticed my sudden change in attitude, and looked at me curiously. "Is something the matter, Sir Dorian?"
I smiled and shook my head. "Of course not. I felt as if I sensed something, but it is gone, now." I lied smoothly.
She nodded and looked forward. "I hope you are capable of playing a part, Sir Dorian. My father knows nothing of your presence in the castle..."
I stopped walking. "Okay. I was amused at first, but now I'm rather annoyed. I'm not role-playing just to get an audience with a book!"
She turned and glared at me, the scenery dissolving, and being replaced with the ruins of what looked like New York City. "Is this better, then? A ruin, the way you've ruined my fun!" She snapped, and I leapt back as she lashed out with giant, razor-sharp claws that had suddenly replaced her fingers.
I grinned. "Wo~w, look at you! Pretty and deadly!" I smiled and blew her a kiss.
She glared, and literally threw her fist at me, extending her arm and taking a handful of concrete from where I'd been standing, nearly thirty feet away.
"Oh! I hadn't thought of that! Very... handy, shall I say!?" I snickered, and leapt over a nearby wall, running and avoiding the littered rubble.
She simply appeared in front of me, and swung a giant blade, attached to her arms, (just like the one I'd drawn,) as I stood up.
I leapt over her, and hugged her from behind, then leaned back, slamming her over my shoulder into the concrete.
I leapt away as she stood up, sighing angrily. "You shouldn't manhandle a lady!"
"Would you like me to woman-handle you while you try to kill me? You really shouldn't be a Hypocrite." I tsk'ed, dodging her whipped blades.
"That's not the point! I'm a LADY, and you should-" my foot slammed into her teeth, sending her flying.
"I hate that faux-feminist bullshit, LADY, so cut it out! Either the Genders are equal, or they aren't! I'm of the mind that they are, so I'll beat you just the same as anyone else!" I snapped, dropping my foot.
She stood up, and spat blood to one side. "Okay. Seems you're not a Gentleman-"
"DID YOU NOT HEAR A SINGLE DAMN THING I SAID, WOMAN?!?!?" I growled, and charged her.
Whipping blades filled my attention, so I ignored her monologue, which continued for several minutes, before I got close enough to ram my knee into her throat, shutting her up.
She skidded away, and then healed visibly, standing up. "Well, then. You're very rude, sir. Methinks-"
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much, blah blah blah, shut up and either fight or surrender, you annoying Brat." I waved her down dismissively.
She hissed at me, and suddenly threw out giant vines, grabbing giant chunks of debris, and chucking them at me repeatedly.
I leapt into them, easily traveling between chunks, and landed behind her. I wound up for a roundhouse, and when she turned, my foot crashed into her temple, then the rest of her face, sending her slamming through debris and dust into a nearby skyscraper's metal and concrete foundation.
Her neck folded at an odd angle, and I hummed, warily staying way back.
The entire scene dissolved, and I floated in my mind again, surrounded by tiny ripples of thought and emotion.
"Fine... I'll ask, then, you rude Elf. What does the story of Cinder Ella mean to you?"
"The original or Disney versions? Because the original is better."
"Ugh, Fine, the original." She sighed.
"Okay. Well, the Grim tale was just that, Grim. Dark and terrible. Everything about that story was fucked up. First: the main character's mother was killed, and a tree was planted over her grave which made fruit from her bones, blech. Second: the main character was a slave in her own home, after her father was murdered by her stepmother, and then she was repeatedly harassed and molested by both her two evil step sisters and step mother, who were one and all evil, sadistic witches, and then-"
"Okay okay STOP!" The spirit groaned. "Listen. I meant the moral of the story, give me the moral of the story!"
"There is no moral! The entire story was a fucked up tale about a woman who got revenge on the women who hurt her by random means, such as by having their eyes and tongues pecked out by crows, or letting them cut off pieces of their own feet to fit her tiny-ass slippers!"
"Whoa Nellie, no need for-"
"And, by the way, the story was a MASSIVE step back for feminism and the Women's Sexual Liberation Movement, as the main male lead liked Cinderella not for her personality, but because she had tiny feet, which was considered sexually attractive back then. The modern equivalent would have been Cinderella having giant breasts, and jiggling them in his face to get his attention like a $10 hooker, and seduce him into marrying her as a Trophy Wife to make lots of babies with!!!" I heaved for breath after my tirade, trying to calm myself down.
She blinked slowly. "Wow. You really hate this story, huh?"
"It's one of the worst Grim Tales." I shrugged, crossing my arms.
"Ahem... well... I don't know what to make of that one... Uhm... how about a simple question, and a ten word answer?"
"I can do that." I shrugged.
"Okay... Who is the only character in Cinderella who isn't horrible in any way, and why?"
I hummed. "The Cook's Apprentice, Because He Loves Cinderella, Before the Magic."
She smiled. "Ahhh, the right answer, finally..."
"Though he is a bit of a coward, but that doesn't make him horrible." I couldn't resist adding.
She chuckled. "True. Alright, I've got what I need. Bye bye, now!"
---
I groaned, cracking my neck. "Annoying Faux-Feminists..."
I opened my eyes, and found six women glaring at me.
"What? I said Faux-Feminists, fake ones! Geez..." I grumbled.
I stood, shaking Frost off of me, and looked at the smaller amazon, who was staring at my face, and smirking.
"What?" I asked. She laughed loudly, losing it, and I hummed. "I've got something drawn on me, don't I?" I sighed.
She nodded, still guffawing loudly.
"JOOOHNYYY YOU BASTAAAARD!!!" I roared, and heard him laugh, outside the door, sprinting away.
I grumbled, and rubbed my face with my sleeve, before someone handed me a wet handkerchief. "Here." I looked at the owner, and blinked when I saw the Blondie.
I accepted it, washing my face. "Thanks... I can't call you Blondie forever, huh? What's your real name? Loki keeps changing it."
"It is Ais Wallenstein... and you missed some." She pointed at my left eye, no doubt circled.
I scrubbed it, and then looked at the white handkerchief, now stained black with marker, and grimaced. "I'll wash it, and get it back to you, miss Wallenstein."
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
Lefiya huffed gently, and snapped her fingers. "Any Self-Respecting Elf Housewife would know the spell to clean that!" She smirked as the handkerchief cleaned and pressed itself in my hand.
"I'm no ones housewife, though... you offering?" I smirked, handing the handkerchief back to Ais.
The small elf blushed like a tomato, and Riviera sighed. "And I wonder why I never had children..." she muttered.
I sat down next to her. "Most likely you were too busy being wise and powerful." I nodded sarcastically.
She smiled a little. "Wit is the lowest form of intelligence."
"I'm sure you know that saying is the other way around, so I'll take the compliments where I can get them." I shrugged.
I picked up the last of my Grimoire's, Dreamer, and hummed. "And this one? You really won't tell me what it is? Because if this is a Dream-Walker Tome-" She glanced at me, and I grinned. "So it is?" I asked, and she tsk'ed quietly, standing and walking over to the other couch.
I grinned and set it on my lap. "I'm not sure I want to be able to walk into anyone's nightmares. Do you know this spell, Riviera?"
She shook her head. "No. nor do I wish to, either. As you say, Other people's Dreams and Nightmares are not a place I wish to visit."
I hummed. "Yeah... I wonder how much I could sell it for..."
"I'm sure you'd get a good price... grimoire's are very expensive." Tiona, the smaller Amazon, nodded, spreading her hands to encompass a lot of money.
"I wonder if I could trade it for dragon scales..." I hummed again, setting it in my satchel, next to the two spent Grimoire's.
"Dragon scales? Why do you want those?" Loki asked.
"I want to build my own Mage Armor. And I want it to be made from Dungeon Rowan, Magic Stones, and Dragon Scales." I shrugged.
She nodded. "Ahh. I remember when you used to use armor, Riviera... so sexy."
"Loki, stop being so Lewd. And Dorian, I'm sure that your current armor is more than adequate for the floors you travel to. The day will come when you need armor of that magnitude, and we will assist you in finding or creating it." Riviera looked at me seriously.
"True, and I appreciate your helpfulness, but my armor won't last forever. And it would be better to start building it now, and be ready when that day comes." I shrugged.
She hummed. "I suppose there is wisdom in what you say... but I'm not convinced you should move so quickly. You have been an adventurer for only half a month... and most Adventurers don't even pass the Fifth floor in that month. You have been to the 13th. I believe you are attempting to advance too quickly, and that is what gets Adventurers killed."
I grinned. "I'm too cute to die. Anyway, if you won't help, I'll just do it myself, I'm that kind of guy, so I'm off to a Grimoire dealer to sell my empty Grimoire's and this one!" I darted out of the room, nearly skipping with exuberance.