Somewhere Someplace

The Raven, hearing this, immediately became intrigued. Her head turned with a curious staring tilt; “W-wait…similar? So, you’re implying that…you’re also a loner with an animal friend?” she inquired swiftly; “I mean, I never…noticed any animal friend…so… maybe long ago or…?”

« … » The foreigner stared, slightly evasive. Oh great…look at what she had done… give one opening and suddenly came flying down the airspace…the fury of lancing questions demanding more.

“…an ‘animal’ not really…but a…partner, I suppose, who is like your…bird but…not really, but…they have always…been with me…since…before I could…remember, so never…alone…truly” yet…the foreigner, nevertheless, still answered; “I…should not be…saying this…” she said, as if she were losing control of her own voice.

Seriously, what was this? What…what was this…this force suddenly intruding upon her functionality? This force that…created this…desire deep down within to say…to indicate that she could…identify and relate and find commonality with another.

To even…imply of Bee’s existence to the Raven and thus her Bureau was so…incredibly stupid, yet…she had just done so…anyway.

Indeed, a door had been opened for both, one which only became harder to close the more it opened; the more it was crossed, the stronger the urge to cross deeper became.

The Raven only became more intrigued and curious—and not merely because her job demanded it; no, no…this had nothing to do with her job, in fact.

“So…hmm…” she began to ponder, “something more akin to…a familiar, then? Like spirit magic? Hmm…I mean, from what I saw of your…odd alien magic, if you can…eat magical stuff and absorb mana, I can see you being able to conjure familiars and magical ‘nd spiritual buddies…which… that must be…nice” she remarked…though she quickly became a bit mellow in affect.

« … » The foreigner went utterly mute. « Çertissimë… tot routae falsae trajiçitae ad pervenjendù éllam conclușionem de la veritas dimédja » her breaths muttered in silence; truly…the Raven had crossed all the wrong roads just to reach a conclusion that was actually…half-true.

“…in a way, basically” yet she still replied, faintly sighing…unable to simply remain silent.

“Huh… That is…interesting” the Raven responded…rather awkwardly…before abruptly going silent, becoming…more nervous on the inside, a…strange burning feeling accumulating within. Shared ground, indeed, it seemed they had; she was surprised.

The silence persisted. The foreigner remained perplexed…as to why she had said those things… revealed those things. Yet whatever urge to reveal quickly became usurped by…a desire to ask. Or rather…that lingering question which had already existed since that abrupt flash…simply made itself known.

Indeed, she was going to be…cooperating with this Raven…who was, right, her so-called ‘supervising other’. Thus, it was perhaps…appropriate to ask; though, she simply wanted to know…and remember.

“So, spy, what is your…name?” thus the foreigner finally asked.

Hearing this abrupt question, the Raven paused, the foreigner doing the same; she turned around and…awkwardly looked.

“Wow that sure…came from…nowhere…” she frankly said, her mask-obscured eyes…looking down and away. “Well…kindly asked, but…Ravens don’t really have…a name in a proper sense, I guess—I mean, we do have a…unique name but—ahem—I specifically…don’t have a…name, at all” she stated… rather awkwardly, though in a different way; “of course, as with all Ravens, I’ve had…many false-names… ‘Hazel’, ‘Amber’, ‘Maple’, but…none were ever a real name…given to me…”

The foreigner ever-slightly tilted her head, becoming…oddly…weirdly…curious.

The Raven only became more…evasively nervous, hesitant…uncomfortable, yet she still looked at the foreigner; “I guess…to answer, I mean…there is a name that most of my own…call me by, and that I…go by…”—her obscured eyes withdrew slightly—“Nine, never really cared for it, but…that is… that is my ‘name’, I guess…” she finally answered.

“ ‘Nine’?...” the foreigner repeated.

“Yeah, Nine…because...”—her voice…began to shift in affect and tone—“because…I guess to say since my mouth can’t close…I was part of the ninth cohort of my flock quarter, which is… Ravens, we…uhm…that’s to say—ahem—the group of little Ravens…I was thrown with when I was taken in…and whom I was supposed to grow up and be…together with…and… be…named by…” she stated further…despite not needing to, her voice becoming…so very…different.

“…so, you are named by this ‘cohort’? All of you are named ‘Nine’, then?” the foreigner inquired, head tilting, perhaps…misunderstanding what was meant by ‘named by’.

“No, that’s not… I was the only one left of the ninth cohort of my flock, so they call me Nine” the Raven clarified…her voice rather mellow yet also rather blunt.

The foreigner’s tilt persisted; “The…only one left?” she repeated.

Instantly, the Raven’s gaze averted away, her breathing becoming audibly more…affected, as if old bandages were sliced open…bleeding painful memories to mind.

Yet, nevertheless, she relooked at the foreigner with stiffened stance; “Yeah. The only one left.” thus she so bluntly began to reply. “As you probably could see by now, Ravens… we have a reputation…and not for being just a ‘bird’—we are the original bird. Don’t misunderstand our…relationship…with the Bureau, Ravens are a people predating even the Guild… hailing all the way back to that Legendary Age of Smiles”

“Because of that, there are a lot of people with a lot of problems with us, and equally so with the Guild, and these like-minded bunch sometimes…just band together…and stroll into one of our flock dens…and…butcher every last soul inside, if not worse—but I played dead, so got to live and hear it happen.” thus she explained…with such a cold and blunt voice…one of agitated anguish, burning emotions turned numbing frozen. Yet, nevertheless, she still had explained such, indicating comfort to a point.

“And it wasn’t as though I was placed with a new cohort… I was left as the last soul of the ninth cohort of my flock quarter… I basically was the ninth cohort, so was called Ninth…which became Nine” the Raven added, voice still cold despite emotions flaring within.

“…I see” the foreigner replied…rather unaffected in voice. Yet her ignited eyes…still withdrew their stare as that strange…force…suddenly clawed its way back again. For indeed, she could…vaguely relate…deep down within. She herself more times than not…was left the only one still alive and standing out of the rest. Though, such was not the only…relatable thing.

“…I suppose that…there is a…similarity” she more blurted than said.

Hearing this, the Raven’s mood…sprung up somewhat, her head tilting lightly; “…w-what do you mean? Are you saying—”

“It is nothing; let us just keep moving” the foreigner interrupted. To specify any further could potentially confirm that there were more than just her and Gunslinger; that they were part of something greater. She preferred to keep such ambiguous even if implied.

The Raven…looked away; “Not fair…but, yeah…let’s” she replied…a bit coldly, before she began to walk again.

The foreigner followed along in kind. The silent mood was significantly colder. Yet as she walked, that…urge still clawed at her deep within. Her mind…her mind’s shadow… everything inside of her... felt so… Truly, this was so stupid. Truly, the human mind and its infinite paradoxes, to be in such control yet…have…so little at all.

“…neither do I…” thus her voice abruptly blurted against her will…yet…not truly.

The Raven glanced behind with a slight tilt, “…huh?”

The foreigner hesitated, yet…“Name…” she nevertheless began to say, “…I do not have…a ‘real’ or a ‘proper’ name…either”.

This had to be some form of…advanced primitive interrogation, right? One that made her feel all…disgustingly vulnerable and weird…on the inside…just to get her to speak? Or maybe…shadow magic, right? Or some other form cognito-manipulative arcane wickedness? She knew such was obviously not the case.

The Raven abruptly halted yet again, the foreigner following in kind.

“W-wait, I know that ‘Nilia de Relevancia’ is a…false-name, but…surely even you have some name? It’s not…normal to not have a true name… Ravens at least have a unique name—me not being named is a me-quirk and even then—I mean, even the servants of Gods have a name… but…but you’re saying that…” the Raven blurtingly attempted to inquire, becoming flustered and disorganized in mind and voice, rather surprised even though she ought not to be.

Yet the foreigner shook her head; “No” she said, “we……I, I do not have a ‘name’…in the same way the persons of this place have them; there are…other things, other ways, but no ‘names’ in a…fixed sense…”

The Raven looked at her rather…strangely from behind her corvid mask, eyes somewhat widening. To think…that they shared this in common, even if…contextually different. No longer cold, a burning feeling…erupted within, one more intense… Such a pleasantly unpleasant feeling, indeed.

“Oh…I see…” she replied…looking away evasively, nervous greatly, her mind now being even more stupid than before. The Raven…timidly, but still ultimately, relooked at the foreigner; “…uhm…I guess to…ask…not in detail, but…uhm…even so, do you have…at least…something? Such a…stupid question, but…you know…not really a name but…practically a…name…if that makes sense, kind of like ‘Nine’ for me…something I was called by…until it just stuck, even with me…” she…awkwardly inquired.

The foreigner’s cold ignited eyes looked away slightly; “…I suppose so…” she replied.

The Raven tensed up, becoming even more…nervous, hesitant to ask any further yet she so wanted to know…yet she did not want her question…rejected if asked.

“I see…so you do have a…ahem—uhm…may I…know…it? J-just between you and me, I won’t tell anyone, I swear to Raven Mother herself” thus she asked, solemn in voice, albeit…flaring in anxiety.

The foreigner’s ignited eyes averted even more; her mind…struggled to suppress, to contain, yet…this apparent…cosmic…emotional force beyond comprehension within the deepest facets of her being… This…feeling…what even was it?

Amicableness? Interest? Surely it was not…trust? She did not trust this Raven, yet…she could…relate and…understand in a way…these…commonalities they so shared. Truly…this was all so incomprehensible to her…but much had already been crossed that… There really was no helping it, was there?

The foreigner sighed, taking a moment’s pause, silent hesitancy persisting as if conflict lingered within, before she took a swift breath: « Antica » and so, she finally said it, her Remnant ‘name’ or ‘nickname’.

The Raven…tilted her head slightly, “ ‘Anteeka’?”

“Or ‘Antica’ in this…tongue’s way” the foreigner clarified.

The Raven gently nodded…“Antica…” she repeated.

“It is a word in my tongue that means…uhm…a thing that is very…old and aged but…still also important and worthy to keep… It is hard to…explain, to be honest” the foreigner said.

“I see… so ‘Antica’ not ‘Nilia’, huh… So that is your…huh…” the Raven murmured out. Her attention quickly retracted as she began to debate in mind which one seemed…better.

She relooked at the foreigner; “Which of the two do you…prefer? Nilia or Antica?” she asked frankly.

“It does not matter to me.” the foreigner candidly replied.

“Hmm? That so…?” the Raven mumbled, quite skeptical. Her mask-obscured eyes peered closer, analytically, focusing on the foreigner’s ignited eyes and her body language.

“Nilia” she suddenly said, evaluating.

“Antica” she quickly followed up, evaluating.

Rather automatically, the foreigner’s eyes reacted slightly more attentively and…affectively when hearing the latter, her figure tensing more responsively; her implicit body language implied the answer.

“Thought as much…so you do have a preference” the Raven remarked…before stepping back somewhat. She continued to peer at the foreigner who simply stared rather silently and…confused to a point.

“Hmm…” the Raven mumbled, picturing and imagining; “I can see it” she remarked aloud, stepping much closer…rather cordially too; “Right now…I see more of…Antica, but when I think of that deceptively charming gal who wears a butterfly-like drama-mask and cute dress, I think more…Nilia” she remarked. “So instead of one, how about both? I call you…Antica whenever you are in your…odd…scary…purple…hexagonal bird-form, and Nilia whenever…you are in your cute, charming, and…normal girl-form? You need more names, anyway—as I said, separating the two” she said with…a more playful charm.

The foreigner stared rather blankly, cogitating. Hmm…certainly, that…proposition made sense. Presently, she was largely in her Remnant…stuff, thus…it would be more befitting for her to use her Remnant nickname…and when she were to be in her more primitive and local-looking form, her local…pseudonym would work better, perhaps.

Granted, she should not have told this Raven her Remnant ‘name’, but…now that such had been told…it did, perhaps, feel more…appropriate to hear it. Besides, ‘Nilia’ was a name more connected to that half-mask she was not wearing, she supposed.

“As I said, though, this is…more something between…the…two of us… but I do think…two names for two yous…works best, overall…” the Raven said further.

The foreigner sighed; “Fine, then, call me what you will; I do not care” she replied, indicating apathy; “though, it is strategic to give different names when…wearing different roles and purposes, so I suppose that I accept this” she…double replied, indicating acceptance.

The Raven simply…smiled a warm smile unseen, blushing; “Alrightly then” she replied…rather awkwardly, but more in a good way.

Though, the foreigner began to cogitate. Now that this…sudden arrangement had been declared and settled, however, it was necessary—according to her—to make this a more…mutual affair. She had two, therefore logically, so too must the other.

“Hm…” the foreigner murmured, thinking…conceptualizing. “ ‘Nine’…that is what was said…rightly? Hmm…” she inquired, yet not…necessarily, for her thoughts simple bled out into local tongue.

The Raven looked at the cogitating foreigner; “…yep, that is…what I am, Nine… Why?” she replied, confused.

Yet, the foreigner…did not answer, she simply…cogitated.

“Nine…” the foreigner repeated; « Novê…Novem…Noven…-ja…çeù nîl et -ja façhet Nilja, síc noven et -ja…ergo Novenja » she murmured to herself…audibly; « Novenja… » she repeated.

The Raven tilted her head, now more confused; “…‘No-when-nya’? That sounds like a Far Western realm or ‘country’—I am sorry… What are you…? I am confused…”

« … » So perhaps not that one then, thus… « Novía…aut meljor…Novea? Síc síc…Novea » her thoughts bled out; « Hmm…‹ novê ›…sed quoc ‹ novù ›…ita amphö kâ significare potsíet? »

She suddenly pointed to the Raven; « Novea » thus she said declaratively, “or rather…Novea”.

The Raven’s tilted head persisted; “ ‘No-way-ah’?…‘Novea’? W-what? W-w-wait…wait, wait…are you… You’re giving me a name??” she repeated before rapidly inquiring, becoming even more flustered in mind.

“I suppose so” the foreigner replied, “I have two, and now so do you”.

The Raven…looked at her…albeit rather evasively; “Oh…rightly…I guess that makes sense…” she replied…rather awkwardly.

“ ‘Novea’…hmm…sounds a bit…weird compared to ‘Nine’, to be…honest…” she began to say to herself, uncertain as to…how she should feel about this…name she had been so suddenly given.

“I made it from…one of the words for ‘nine’ in my tongue, which is ‹ novê › or ‹ novê ›. But it is also similar to the word for ‘new’…which is ‹ novos vel nova…vel novù…vel…novè ›…there are different forms—ahem—so ‘Novea’ can have the meanings of both ‘nine’ and ‘new’, which is…accurate, no? It is a new name for you, Nine” the foreigner explained; “I do not know…I just thought that it was…clever” she added…somewhat more…awkwardly within her flatness.

The Raven stared, nodding away lightly. Indeed, this name…was perhaps not necessarily her preferred ‘flavor’, so to speak, but…hearing the foreigner’s though process, the effort put into it, the…meaning behind it, made her…appreciate it more… a lot more, in fact. She tensed up on the inside…burning up in a way even greater than before, flustered in absolute, though she kept it within.

“So, thus, I suppose that…in the same way, when you are this ‘bird’ or ‘Raven’, you are ‘Nine’; but when you are more like…ehm…the person whom I had seen in that Collegium-wherever, you are…‘Novea’ ” the foreigner said.

The Raven nodded away yet again; “Yeah, that…that…sounds…acceptable…perfectly so…” she replied…with a warm smile from behind her corvid mask; “and it is…clever actually—ahem—the name, the name…is clever…” she added…flustered in voice.

The Raven…stepped back, taking a deep breath…as deep as permitted, nerves calming…as the burning feeling dissipated…kind of, normalcy returning…kind of. “Well, then, Antica…I look forward to working alongside you on behalf of the Bureau… technically, I mean, you’re also…on behalf of… but—ahem—you know what I mean” she said warmly…then perhaps flustered a bit; “Let’s start moving again, wasting too much time” she quickly stated, before turning around and making way once again.

“As do I, Novea” the foreigner replied as she began to follow and trail behind.

“…wait, isn’t that supposed to be…my…non-openly-Raven name?” so replied Novea.

“Mah…well, I am the one who made it, so I might as well use it; to me, there is not much of a difference between the two ‘yous’, anyway; besides, this is…simply between the two of us, as you said; though, maybe it is better to simply call you spy” so replied Antica, as the two continued to make their way down the once grand streets of Coastfield, onwards to begin their journey to the Huckleberry Dutchy.

Well, I suppose this a cute point to finally terminate this recordation

And what a long and drawn out one it turned out to be

It would have ended much earlier were it not for that bombardment…

Such a small build for a simple trajectory to get things started

Only for such to be burned asunder

Quite literally

Though, such is the nature of these endeavors

Only so much I can attend to at once

Only so much I can control in this play

But…

Compared to what I was attempting to salvage

This trajectory is a suitable alternative

Journeying to Huckleberry, finding this Blossom character

I can already see it, most indeed

And such may not necessarily mean the prior buildup

Would have to be abandoned

Indeed, somethings have been demonstrated

Convictions proven

Useful actors more committed than expected

New potential ideas, indeed

So many…ideas…

Warning: Desynchronization

Story…

What even is this story?

What is its point?

What is its purpose?

What is its meaning?

What are you supposed to be, within it?

What are my intentions, to begin with?

Warning: Desynchronization

Stories…

One billion, one hundred and seventy-five million, three hundred and twenty-seven thousand, and one hundred and ninety-one

Now ninety-two, ninety-five, and now…two hundred

So many stories unfolding right now

In this place

Yet, so many are ending

So many have ended

So many numbers added

So many numbers subtracted

Without meaning

Without purpose

Memories…

So many memories left behind

To be lost by time

But I carry them all

I am their keeper

As much as I am the keeper of us and our own

Yet out all of the stories taking place right now

Out of all those who had ever lived and perished

Warning: Desynchronization

I was surprised that the Remnant sent more

Considering what happened to those preceding you

But then I realized,

Ah…of course

I was the suspect; we were the suspect

After all, who else could it have been, if not us?

For this is our graveyard

Our dominion

For indeed, violets

Not blues nor reds nor greys

Violet, a new color, a new designation

Birthed after our time, after our era

Then, of course, I saw…

You

Not just a violet, but a you

Your essence, your aura, your arcanity

So rare, so fascinating

I could tell, instantly

I fell in love, metaphorically

I could imagine…

A story…

One different from hers

Warning: Desynchronization

A story of a survivor left stranded somewhere someplace

Forced to blend in, struggling to find place?

A Remnant trooper turned eventual adventurer discovering this world

Exploring her identity and meaning of purpose?

Rediscovering her humanity, falling love, having a family?

Realizing what it means to be human in all its best and worst facets?

Coming to terms with a near-ageless existence

As those she loved aged and moved with time?

Coming to terms with the contradictions deep down within

Between who she pretended to be and who she always would be?

No.

Well…yes, inevitable thematic overlaps

But, no.

That story has already been told

That story has already ended

That story cannot be repeated, even if there was a desire

Your story…

Is already bigger

You…

Have the potential for something…

Greater

More consequential

More relevant

More…necessary

More…

Interesting

Warning: Desynchronization

You are a character in my play, the player of my game, the protagonist on stage

And what is a character, what is a protagonist

Without antagonists to stand against?

What is a hero, without villains to defeat?

I believe now is the time

Ancient enemy, ancient ally, ancient lover

That I formally accept your hand

So that we may finally begin our dance

Though, you wouldn’t happen to mind

If I brought a few friends, by chance?

He and she prefer to watch, indifferently.

I prefer to make things… interesting

Lù Seģilù del Magnos Spectator

Lù Seģilù de la Calamité Maxima

Semolim én quæda tempora antica, la Théa de Créaţione par omgna deş l’aştra çerçhata pro un mundos de sua’pşa proprea voçeantéos. Çerçhande etçe çerçhande, la Théa trans æthera tota peragrata donique præ los oculós d’ea suvitô apparande: ecche queda mundos propreantéos…

[Once upon a time long ago, the Goddess of Creation searched through all the stars for a world to call her own. Searching and searching, the Goddess traversed the entire heavens until at last, behold appearing before her very eyes: a world to own…]