Lavinia wakes to the rush of water sloshing through her loosening braids and ears, and a throbbing pain radiating throughout her spine and lower back. Lifting her head like a boulder she blinks away the tint of red, flexing her jaw in loud cracks for some relief to spread through her skull as she groans. Searching around her she finds that unlike the last time she woke up with her head in the water, her ankles aren’t chained to a staff, instead her saviour lies prone some paces ahead of her in the dark with an incomplete campfire in the works.
Lavinia whips her neck side to side for more cracks and yawns as she stretches out her back, eliciting a bolt of pain as her bent spine snaps into place, righting the imbalance in her hip with a swirl on its axis.
A waterfall drowns into a wide lake, dropping in a natural manner from the top of a rocky hill nestled with green and red leafed trees. Following it, Lavinia watches the water flow from the lake into a steep descent off the cliff and there an unnerving sensation over comes her at the sight. The same green and red leafed trees litter the cliff top as the lake narrows into yet another waterfall or as she discovers on closer inspection, the same waterfall.
The water slides through the rocky protrusions of the hill, tumbling into an eerily familiar lake and past a woman prone on her back and then finally, to a cliff where a loosely braided demon peeks over its edge. Herself.
Lavinia frowns, unable to look away as every object above is identical to those below. Even scratching up rock from the ground at her feet and chucking it over the roaring waterfall. She watches it clatter down and roll near the woman’s side but hears its impact behind her rather than ahead. At the disturbance the woman, her saviour begins to stir.
Leaving the conundrum for later, Lavinia turns her attention to the woman. She moans and groans in the fog of her slumber as Lavinia approaches. Clothed in dirtied robes with intricate, complex patterns at the seams leading up to her hood, the woman clutches onto a staff. A long, slim thing unlike the GroveStaff in nearly every way. At its top the staff, made of some kind of dark wood, curls into a crown for a hovering and soft humming pink Crystal.
The Crystal is no demon Soul Crystal but the thrum of Essence within it is unmistakable and far more than any true Pink Crystal would naturally hold. Lavinia narrows at the woman, squatting by her side as she prods her over to have a look at the face under the hood.
She groans and mumbles in that language Lavinia doesn’t understand but doesn’t wake up. She bore wrinkles at the sides of her lips, forehead and eyes. She has long pointed ears, similar to Lucy’s which make Lavinia relax somewhat and her hair fades from brown to white.
I know her. Lavinia concludes, piecing the familiar image of her staff with her features there’s also the fact that she called out her name in that maze. How many humans has she met that would know her name?
Before she can recall them all the woman snatches her wrist, squeezing and drawing her close as her bloodshot eyes scream up at her. Lavinia restrains herself from summoning Essence to smite her face into the gravel, instead bears the pressure as the woman’s glazed eyes focus on her, waking properly to see Lavinia sneering down at her.
“Lavinia…I…”
Her grip loosens and Lavinia slips away from her, backing away and providing her space to orient herself. Amongst the confines of the trees and waterfall there isn’t much else to discover, or rather there isn’t anywhere to run. Wherever they are warps into itself in an unending madness. Trees forming a forest at the edge of the waterfall and the lake acting as both the source and destination of the rushing waters. Lavinia tries not to think too much about the it, certain it’s one of the Casters magic— There! That’s the word, Caster.
The Caster she can’t place in her memories groans to an upright position, crawling forward to the lake to stare and wash her face in its waters. The lake glitters in the luminous lights of the Crystals hanging overhead; a rainbow of colours truly as the ceiling is splayed with stalactites of red, green, blue, and even white pulsing crystals.
Drinking from the water the Caster sighs relief, gasping as she has a look about. Lavinia narrows her eyes at the woman as she rises with her staff, quick to ask the most important question to her right now, “How do I leave this place?”
Glancing at Lavinia as though noticing her for the first time, the Caster blinks and gapes before she says, “We’re safe here.”
That alone brings Lavinia’s doubts to a boiling point. Safety is pleasant to have but it is far from her concerns at the moment, moreover, she still can’t place where she’s seen this Caster. How many have I met? Her time in these Dungeons was brief and brutal, a time in her life she doesn’t find herself reminiscing about much though every relevant moment held its weight; Lucy, Ken, Henry. The most prominent memories from these Dungeons surrounded them more than anything and she couldn’t place which of the figures this Caster was associated with.
“How do you know my name?” Better to ask than to keep wondering.
The Caster looks surprised and then amused as her smile wrinkles her faces and forces her eyes to a squint, “You look different as well, Lavinia, but your vigour is memorable anywhere I suppose.”
Again the Caster avoids the question. Lavinia, surges with Essence, allowing the primal power of her Crystal to circulate through her being, fixing up the broken and misplaced parts of her faster as it goes about strengthening her body.
“Oh there’s no need for that. I’m not sure how to identify myself to you is all. When we met I didn’t like you enough to spare my name but…yes, perhaps you’ll recall the name Jeriko?”
Jeriko? Sure enough the name rang some bells and conjured a memory, one she was never truly fond of even though it marked the start of a new kind of freedom. Shoulder’s drooping, Lavinia gapes at the smirking old Caster. In her memories she was as young as Lucy, perhaps younger given how snarky and petulant she behaved but here, behind those eyes, her knowing smirk and posture is the same human that helped dig out a grave for Lucy.
“You…”
She nods, deigning to approach now that things seem clear, “My name is Hera, it’s nice to meet you again, Lavinia. You aren’t as…ignorant as before...I think.” She says the last part whilst taking account of Lavinia’s numerous changes.
Her braided mane of hair now loosening, her tattered shawl, water-logged talking boots and finally the ring sitting on her finger. Reminded of her appearance Lavinia takes stock of the most important part— the boots. Swishing around her feet she feels only two of the three Crimson Crystals she stored within them and scowls, eying the Caster as well though she doubts she’s at all responsible for the Crystals loss. The boots had long begun to tear open, forming a sort of mouth at their tip with Lavinia’s toes peeking out. She’d meant to replace them with one of those off the corpses but the unstoppable Minotaur had taken her attention.
At the thought of the stubborn, thick skinned creature Lavinia lets out a growl, reminded of her Daggers tragic loss. The Caster raises a brow at this but doesn’t stop her approach, “What are you doing back in here? Wait…did you never leave?” she shakes her head and answers her own question, “No, you wouldn’t have grown if you did. You came back, what for?”
Setting aside the loss of much of her inventory, Lavinia considers the woman, “You are old.” She didn’t understand humans very much but she understood growth and age. Having hunted monsters and animals of all ages it’s clear to see that the Caster has spent a significant portion of her lifespan within these Dungeons and her weariness shone through in the weight of her gaze.
She shrugs and folds her legs to sit in front of Lavinia, “It’s complicated. You don’t seem powerful enough to rule swaths of the void so not a lot of time has passed for you, has it?”
Lavinia sits with Hera, keeping her guard up and Essence close as she does, “I am Crimson now.” She says, it’s the only measure that matters, “Jeriko is gone.”
The Caster nods, straddling her staff between her legs and leaning on it, “Frank too…he handled the Sniffer, if you recall. This place took him, Frank I mean and Jeriko…well, I’m sure you remember a man called-”
“Henry Vanavil.” Lavinia completes, sure that his torment would continue.
“Yes, he’s still out here and I…well, it’s better I start from the beginning, if you’re interested.”
Lavinia’s ears perk, “I am listening.”
