Authors Pre-Note: *Throws story fragment into fish pond* Eat up.
Does anyone know where one can find a beta?
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Siracusa: Fang Warehouse Depot Autumn 1088
The view outside could be described as a mixture between a shantytown and a correctional facility. Rows of sheds, carbon copies of each other were pressed together to form neat files of houses. Given the sheer amount of "homes" she saw, the area surrounding each "home" was void of any clutter one would typically see accumulate in areas with large concentrations of people.
" *Tsk*, for the equivalent of a soft-core slave camp, it sure is kept clean."
A singular glance at the place and knowledge unwillingly sprung to the forefront of her mind. Each shed belong to a low-tier family member, and to become a part of that caste one either needed to be born far enough away from the main bloodline or be newly inaugurated into the family. For an Italian-based country, the Fang family seemed to enjoy using ideology seen in Yen. Their target demographic for "fresh family" members included any of those living in the slums, on the run from the authorities, or illegal immigrants who jumped border patrol. Basically, the type of demographic which held little choice, as dictated by society, a fact both of her worlds showcased. It was merely more blatantly prevalent, in Terra.
She would question why they bothered housing so many people if she didn't already know the answer. The motto of the family was basically, " Trust in us to deliver your goods, we'll put our life on the line". It was a standard motto one would see in any delivery business, except as mafioso's they expected the lower caste to take it literally. If the delivery was ransacked, you were expected to be the delivery driver's body shield, lambs to the slaughter for the goods to get away safely.
What if the delivery was still stolen by a rival family? Well, the Fang enforcers would still execute you, albeit without doing publicly. There were quite a few memories in her mind, where a distant neighbor would suddenly be alright one day and mysteriously disappear the next. It wasn't hard to understand they were killed, and Siracusa had a special river running through the country, its mere existence causing her more headaches at the sheer stupidity of the thing.
Apparently, some small-time family no one knew the name of decided to introduce Terra's version of invasive piranha to the river. Their idea was to let the piranhas breed in the river, and this would allow them easy access to a place to dispose of evidence. On paper, it was the stupidest thing she heard of, but her memories attested that the stupid idea worked. Somehow non-native piranhas proliferated within the river, thus becoming every Mafioso family's go-to site for disposable. One didn't sleep with the fishes in Siracusa, they dined on you.
It was unjust, horrible, disgraceful, but it was her life. She was used to it and merely needed to keep her head down to avoid being in more pain. Let her continue along her life comprised of packaging goods, eventually, it would get better. At least she had a roof to sleep under, food to eat, others around her who understood. Her world wasn't so bad, at least she wasn't in the slums with the infected right? She just needed to work harder to avoid the foreman tomorrow, and soon the debt will be paid, then she could eat, then-
Lily forcefully squashed the thoughts filling her wandering mind, ripping them apart like unneeded tissue paper. Those weren't her real thoughts, they were remnants of her freshly acquired vessel.
The necessity to leave the area became a larger priority, as the longer she dallied in the area the vessel once lived in, the further vivid memories of the vessel's previous life would spring forth. She may have passed through seventeen worth of memories in the shed, but that was done in a fashion similar to a slideshow. Each slide was merely a glimpse, entailing information but holding back the true feelings of the memories' creator. If Lily were to view each memory in full, they would be writhing with; emotions, fragmented thoughts, ideas, and ideologies of the previous inhabitant.....things that would affect and dye her "real" personality.
This was merely another disgusting nuance of her dollar store-bought immortality. It wasn't enough she needed to live with the guilt of murdering the innocent, No. Apparently, she needed to constantly be reminded of who their vessel once was, what was their dreams, their hopes, their ideologies. Foreign feelings would cloud her mind, as her thoughts would begin morphing to reflect the dead's ideologies. She was well aware these tainted thoughts weren't her's but filtering through them was a monumental task as the thoughts would be said in her own inner voice, not the voice of the previous wielder. Sometimes she would catch the tainted thought well beyond the point of rectification. What would happen if she no longer saw a difference between the tainted thoughts and her own?
An age-old fear of losing herself completely began to beat against the mental confines of its coffin, located deep within the crevices of her heart. She felt's its need to bloodily rend itself from her chest, to burst outward and make itself known. Lily forced it down into the dark hole it was buried in, well aware that should the fear be sentient it would be hurling profanities at her. She didn't have the time to deal with it so chaining it away was all she could do. Yet, the constant repression was starting to take a toll on her mind as the previous headache she suffered in the shed, came back with a horrid vengeance.
Quickly nearing the monotone public washroom, she rushed inside and immediatly zoned in on the first available sink. Crashing onto the crude metal she fumbled with the flimsy faucet until brown-tinted water escaped into the metal bowl. The quality of water was less than desired, but that needed to be ignored, as there was an ever-increasing necessity to quell the earthquake threatening to rip Lily's head in twain. Desperately splashing soothing cold water on her face, she began to massage her beating temples.
" Dammit...I need to leave the area fast. Just get a weapon and kill the foreman later. I can't handle being here, the transition was too recent."
Seconds became minutes as Lily stayed hunched over the sink, splashing water in an attempt to calm herself. Once the pain deescalated from a faultline earthquake to a distant tremor, she figured it was appropriate to utilize her current location and see how her vessel really looked like.
Dragging a hand across her face, she whipped away any excess amounts of flowing water and moved her gaze toward the dirty mirror at her front. The moment her eyes took in the image reflected along the mirror's surface, it caused her to involuntarily voice her thoughts out loud.
" Wow, I look like shit."
Frankly, her comment could be considered nice given the status of her vessel. Due to the previous inhabitant's diet...or lack of any real meaningful nutrition, both her cheeks and eyes looked sunken. Her skin tone looked deathly pale and was tinged in a slight sickly yellow. Shoulder-length brown hair, which under the right care could look like glowing wheat, looked like dying brown grass. Arms and legs were more commonly seen on dried stick dolls poor children would entertain themselves with.
The remnants of her left ear couldn't be called an ear any longer.... although the length of her intact ear was a surprise, considering it was larger than the measurement between the tip of her middle finger and her wrist. The ear held a rounded tip and was actually pointing upwards....did that mean she was considered a Perro or Lupo?... Did it even matter?
Ignoring the question of her race, a quick glance at her tail showed more dirty brown fur. Eyes were as dull as her fur, hazel with only small speckles of silver doting around the iris. Finally, her nose looked..crooked?
A sudden memory flashed through Lily's mind after staring at her nose.
*Flash Back*
"PLEASE! don't take her, don't take her aw-"
The leg she desperately clung onto, shook from her grasp, scratchy material leaving her fingertips. With a sudden movement, the leg jerked back and she barely registered the bottom of a military boot coming toward her face.
*Crack*
*Flash back end*
" Tch"
Lily clicked her tongue at the unwanted memory, temples flaring again. Apparently, the crookedness of her nose could be attributed to the lack of medical care she received. The cartilage in her nose was broken from the blow, and never properly reset, thus it healed wrong. Overall, Lily viewed herself as aesthetically plain and liable to toppling over from a stiff wind.
Initial analysis done, she figured she should check on the severity of bruises her back held. Delaying the pain was dandy for the moment but if she held an open wound, it could lead to complications. Disregarding her sweater and pulling down her dress to her waist, she took note of the lack of a proper bra, her small assets bound by a makeshift band. Gazing lower merely revealed further complications from her malnutrition, as each one of her ribs could be easily seen peeking through her skin.
Disgruntled at the quality of her vessel, she turned around to gaze at her back....only to find both; the onset of severe bruising and....massively scarred words carved into her flesh.
She blinked owlishly over her shoulder, as she read the reflected words the mirror. All the words were written in Siracusa's native tongue, and whilst only half her back was visible, she could already make out the words; "Mutt" and "Bitch".....
Suddenly another memory erupted painfully through her head, akin to a trout jumping through a river's surface.
Flashback
He pinned my arms to the floor as he laughed at my struggling form.
"Stay still you're making my handwriting sloppy"
The pain was horrible, the blade sharp yet unsuited for carving. Each time the man plunged the blade into my body, it would burn like molten metal. I could feel him dragging the blade through my skin, using my flesh as a makeshift page.
"Pl-ease Stop *hic*" I pleaded but he didn't stop. The cold blade once again turned into a spike of pure agony as it traveled down my shoulder blades.
Please just make it stop.
*Flashback end*
Lily crouched down on the dirt floor, the agony the memory held washing over her and reigniting phantom pain along her entire back. The pain wasn't physical, but more akin to a mental projection. Despite wanting the memory to end, it forcefully played out within her mind. Each time the blade was plunged into her back within the memory, Lily would feel the physical equivalent happen to her in real-time. As words were carved, the scars in her back erupted in burning agony, feeling as if someone was reopening the wounds and pouring acid onto them. Her head didn't feel inferior, as the stubborn re-living of the previous owner's torture happened. It felt like her head would burst like an overripened watermelon.
Forcefully turning around, she returned to the sink and plunged her head under the running faucet in some attempt to make the pain stop. Yet, despite the cold water running down her head, the pain didn't lessen...nay it continuously grew worse.
Clutching her head Lily began screaming for the pain to stop.
"STOP MAKE IT STOP!!"
Through the gaps in her fingers, she gazed at the mirror, only to find the reflected image morphing before her very eyes, and turning into the view of the foreman swinging the blade, whilst laughing at her;
" Ha, stay still I'm just making sure whoever sees you in bed knows their bedding an ugly mutt."
Lily couldn't think coherently through the haze of pain any longer and just wanted it to cease. The image in the mirror merely gave her an obvious outlet. Yelling incoherent words she slammed her fist into the mirror, yet it proved sturdier than a mere glance would dictate. The mirror held and the pain in her mind grew to new heights. Without thinking, Lily grabbed onto the edges of the sink and used the only sturdy object she carried on her person. She rammed her head into the mirror.
*BAM*
The mirror was still as intact
*BAM*
The mirror grew a singular crack
*Bam*
The mirror splintered and a jagged-edged ripped open the skin of her forehead. Blood dripped out of the wound but the image in the mirror still stayed.
*BAM*
The mirror shattered into pieces around Lily's head, more edges mutilating her forehead and causing blood to begin cascading down her face. Yet, even with the mirror broken her head felt as if it were a lobster boiling. A voice to her right made her snap her eyes to the origin...a lone shard of recently broken mirror. Reflected in the piece was the aged countenance of a Sarkaz male, eyes staring into her eyes from its position on the floor.
A gravelly voice that was oh so familiar spoke out.
" You should have escaped through the window. Shouldn't have gone downstairs, now look at you suffering for your decision."
A soft voice to her left showed the face of a young Ursus male, eyes sunken into his skull.
" Just let go. You've fought enough, no one will fault you for laying down and resting."
A high-pitched voice coming from a shard in the sink showed a young Cautus. Eyes blazing in fury and speaking words in contrast to her voice's pitch.
"Pathetic. This is what you amount to after so much? Didn't you promise to fight in the place for those you took before their time? It's only a little pain, don't be a hypocrite"
As more shards started revealing the vestiges of her previous vessels, more voices were heard throughout the room. Memories pertaining to bygone vessels began to invade Lily's mind like an unmonitored tap, gushing through what defenses she had left. She couldn't take it anymore, she needed to LEAVE NOW.
Through the haze in her mind, she knew the longer she stayed in the area that triggered her memories, the sooner she would drown.
Stumbling away from the sink, sandals crushed jagged pieces of mirror scattered across the floor, she staggered through the bathroom and exited into the cold Siracusian Autumn night.
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Despite the horrid mental anguish the small coyote girl suffered, it was a shame she never noticed the attainment of a boon many others sought throughout their lives. Art's in Terra was a fickle thing, meditation allowed for the discovery and honing of magical prowess, yet some held the capability to innately call upon their Arts with little trouble. These people were instinctually capable of activating their Unique Art's effortlessly as if they were breathing air.
Now aren't emotions instinctual as well? We all feel anger, sadness, grief, and happiness well before we are taught what these feelings are. For some people, emotions can become the spiritual fuel necessary for their Art's to activate beyond the physical necessity of an Originium catalyst. If one's emotions were capable of reaching a certain level an accidental activation of Art's wasn't strange. Yet, accidental activation under duress could impart great momentary displays of power...but at the cost of control. If one was not in constant control of their Art's, self-inflicted injuries were not far off.
It was under these conditions Lily never noticed the Originium in her nerves flare to life, imparting energy toward some unseen mechanism. Oblivious as the scars across her back truly started becoming undone, blood gushing free from the previously healed wounds. The pain clouding her mind averted her attention away from the feeling of warm blood lazily rolling down her back, traveling down her legs, and impacting the floor.
Nor did she notice the phenomenon that began formulating around her. Wherever she walked, blade markings would spontaneously appear, as if a swordsman was swinging an imaginary blade. As she stumbled away from the sink, the flimsy faucet was cut in half causing water to gush out uncontrollably.
As she walked across the bathroom's dirt floor, invisible blades would gouge the earth around her.
As she neared the walls, blade marks would appear on hardened cement.
As the coyote girl walked into the dead of night she never noticed the trail of damage and warmed blood she was leaving behind.
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Authors Post note:
Alright wanna know what happened when I usually make 10k long chapters? Well I wrote a chapter like that but after reading it, the chapter felt really...bland. It read like a Wuxia novel where the main character gets a power-up immediately, finds op sword, and begins lashing out on her oppressors...yeah that was scrapped.
Then I made this chapter, which may look a bit like me needlessly torturing the character, but I felt it was needed just to show the effect body hopping has had on the MC's pysche. They are functional but enough stress and it becomes a rolling hill of pain. Although I still add eda vague "power up" at the end, the implications won't be understood anytime soon.
Besides I felt stuff as sensitive as mental illness deserved it's own stand alone chapter.
Next time I'll try to post a chapter with like 5+ words, but it gets hard with proofreading the thing.
Whoever can figure out the MC's Unique Art's gets a cookie.
Post Note Joke: Lily whips out her shining silver blade, willing her Art's to transfuse it while she called out her chant
"Bankai"
