Somewhere Someplace

Cyanic ignited eyes sprang open. Yet everything seemed blurry and hazy. Awake yet very dazed and…unable to think, process, or calculate. It felt as if a bell was ringing in her ears. Her head throbbed with such a distinct…and sharp…burning pain; her mind felt weighted and heavy.

Hard and stiff… There was something hard and stiff…kind of, underneath her head. She was laying down, she could tell… Yet she did not know where she was. She had not forgotten; everything had merely lost any sensibility.

There was…something standing… No, crouched or slouched or…hunkered in place… staring at her…overhead, she began to see as she started to perceive. A bird? Was an avian…of sorts…staring at her…? What? Where was she? What…? A humanoid-looking…cloaked…avian…corvid…

Oh, a mask… obviously.

She came to; her mind returned as all the world could finally be made sense of.

She was laying down; her head was…on a wooden surface of sorts…and not exactly a comfortable one. Novea… right, she was the one staring down. Hunkered and entrenched on the wagon’s back, guarding… and had her revolving-rifle equipt in hand.

It was dark; it was deep into the night. Thus, the stars too were staring down in kind.

“…welcome back…” Novea’s fatigued breaths greeted, her voice…rather lowly.

« … » Antica stared. Her hood was down, she noticed. Her Remnant face-covering had been lowered, she realized. Her head, her skull, her brain, all of it…throbbed with such sharp…pain.

Realizations instantly took hold. Antica swiftly lanced herself straight up and out of the wagon, back onto her boots.

“Woah! Careful! Careful…” Novea cautioned, having been caught by surprise.

Antica’s brightening cyanic eyes scanned around, her breathing elevating; alarmed, attentive, guarded in absolute. Her mind flared, despite the sheer pain shearing each and every thought.

No longer on or near that road… that scene… that forest. Wagon. They were back at the wagon. Damaged. The wagon was damaged. The equine… dead. The horse was dead. Bodies… Scattered around were remains…corpses…goblins… An engagement had happened here, it was clear.

Ambushed. She had been ambushed. Again… It happened again…

Antica’s hand caressed the back right-side of her head, or her parietal bone to be precise—that spot which throbbed and burned the most. There was a cloth…or linen-padding of sorts…centered on that spot, having been strapped by a wrapping of sorts around her head. Bruised, quite so… bleedingly so. Touching it caused radiating pain. Dizzy… She was still dizzy and dazed, as if she were barely conscious despite being so very attentive.

“You…were shot in the head…” Novea broke her silence, voice…still rather somberly mellow, as she hopped off the wagon in kind, standing behind.

“I noticed… It is obvious” Antica replied rather frankly, her breaths as disoriented as her mind. Indeed, such was so obviously evident to her by now that she had been struck in the head.

Her Remnant smart-cloak was effectively impenetrable to such, and her hood had absorbed much of the impact, the energy being redistributed across the entire smart-cloak. However, nevertheless, the sheer kinetic force was still enough to inflict…considerable concussive damage, knocking her out cold. In fact, it even felt as if her skull had been cracked by the impact. She did not know if…such was the actual case, but…those primitive lead bullets were certainly nasty projectiles, nonetheless.

Thankfully—albeit by no means a substitute for genuine medical treatment—her body’s augmented healing processes and her essence’s own encoded automated repair commands should…eventually…heal such, including any neurological trauma to her brain. Certainly, she would not have survived for as long as she has, were she not able to self-repair from such…comparatively minor injuries.

Indeed, ever faint and hard-to-see…glittery wisp-dusty radiance flaked off from the wound’s spot as she caressed it, a sign of such processes in action.

Yet Antica abruptly froze static in absolute…as even more realizations finally entered comprehension.

Right… she had been ambushed; she had been shot in the head…

Oh… « Merda… » Her attention immediately lanced straight to her terminal device. With neither second thought nor delay, she tapped and swiped away with fixation on the flashing screen…almost frantically so. Quickly, she accessed her recorded logs—Bee’s recorded logs.

Novea simply watched with silence, pretending as if she was not noticing a single…weird thing… Quite frankly, her mind was far too…preoccupied…to even bother pondering at all.

Antica’s finger swiped away at the screen, tensions flaring within…as she read and reviewed…

As soon as she was headshotted and knocked out… Bee instantly target-highlighted every single contact in the immediate area, primed to counter-fire and defend her. Ultimately, Bee… opted to not engage, though remained attentively monitoring and was prepared to intervene immediately.

She sighed in such…relief…

Certainly indeed, her personal sentinel had shown considerable restraint. Time, it seemed, had not eroded Bee’s adherence to Remnant escalation protocols and regulations when it came to engagements with local belligerents and denizen contacts. Ultimately, Bee knew her expectations and what…she would have wanted, even in…sudden situations like this.

However, Antica also knew Bee, which was exactly why she had such sudden flaring…concern. Though, such was…also why…she had no reason to be so…concerned… Indeed, she trusted her sentinel; though, her sentinel…did not always trust her.

Antica’s cyanic eyes calmed, the ignited sigil engraved…dimming, as she retracted her attention from her terminal device, the screen turning black. She turned back to Novea behind, still…standing where she was…

No doubt, Bee’s lack of intervention had to do with Novea’s presence and…observed response; her sentinel had deferred the situation’s handling to her, seemingly.

Novea sighed, seeing that Antica was finally done with her esoteric Nilian doings. “…well…guess I’m glad to see you’re still…”—she abruptly grasped her abdomen, tsking—“…oh yeah, and I thought the cramps earlier were so… But this is just…” she muttered aloud.

Indeed, Novea did appear to be considerably more miserable than prior.

“And before you…ask, we were ambushed…” thus Novea continued to speak, “or…I mean, you… you were…ambushed, since you were…the closest—or not really…ambushed since…I am pretty sure…we caught them…by surprise as much as they did us… ahem—but yeah, goblins… gunners, I mean… They had…handgunners in the trees… They were in the trees…” Her voice was…certainly off compared to her usual.

“I see…” Antica stared at the revolving-rifle in Novea’s hand. She already had noticed that…missing from her figure was both her primitive revolver and…her ammunition satchel.

Judging from the immediate contexts around and…what she had glimpsed of Bee’s logs, she could already infer what happened…after she had been…knocked out.

Though, be that as it may, it was still better to ask… “So… what happened here, then?”

Novea paused, before sighing; “…well, I mean, as you can…see…a… uhm… a scuffle happened here…” thus she began to explain, “after you were…”—she paused momentarily—“shot, the goblins, they… well… they kind of…chaotically pounced… I thought you just…ahem—so, I kind of…froze and…panicked, but then a bullet grazed me so…I used my shadow magic, daggered a few, and…carried you out—you were…lighter than I thought you’d be with…all of your… you know, but…still kind of…heavy but I… I… carried you out… But the goblins, they…”

“Allow me to guess: they followed you?” Antica interposed.

Novea nodded her head lightly; “Yeah, yeah… A few followed and gave chase, guess…my spell didn’t work on them the same way… Though, judging from their…aim or lack of…aim, it still worked enough… They probably just…followed the…trail left in the grass and flowers, now that I think…”

“You say a few, but it is clear that it was many” Antica frankly stated.

Novea…yet again…nodded away such…strange nods; “Yeah… yeah… I like… I like to… I like to think it was…a few—ahem—anyway, uhm… so, after I somehow…managed to carry you all the way back here…the spell withered… and I tossed us into the wagon and…used it as cover and…we had a… I, I mean… I had to…fend them off…”

“I see. And I take it, then, that you used my…guns during this fight?” Antica replied.

“Huh? Ye-yeah… Yeah,” Novea began to reply…stumbling in voice a bit, “I did… I mean, it’s obvious since I’m…still with your—Surprisingly, your fancy rifle…didn’t dangle off while I was…carrying you… But yeah, I… I had to use it, didn’t know what else to do… Used it until it was empty and then…used your pistol”—she pointed her thumb to the wagon behind—“I left it…in there…next to your…backpack…”

“How many…shots did you use?” Antica simply asked.

“…huh?” Novea’s…focus was…starting to falter, her voice and breaths becoming more…heavy and…cramped; “Oh, yeah… sorry… I, I…used…probably seventeen or so…? I wasn’t counting… Hope you’re…not mad…with me…”

Antica shook her head; “No. I am not. It was good to use my guns while I was… unable to…”

“Well…that’s good to hear at least…” Novea sighed; “But yeah… it didn’t last that long… They… I think I must’ve shot…an important one…because they routed and…haven’t really returned since, besides…a few…trying to retrieve their bodies, but… I didn’t let them… But they’ll try coming back…again… they will, to collect their dead…”

“I see” Antica acknowledged.

“Ahem—anyway… so after all of that… I then… actually inspected you and…saw that… that… that…”—her voice began to cramp, her breaths becoming heavier—“…I mean, you were… you were shot in the head, I thought… I was convinced… but-but, no… no… the… I saw the ball had…smudged right into your…hood but…didn’t…”—she paused—“Guess…that cloak…really isn’t weird just for display… ahem—but yeah, I saw…you were bleeding your…weird magical blood and…that you were still breathing so…”

“You bandaged me” Antica interposed.

Novea nodded away her dampenedly faint nods; “Yeah… I… I did… I did what I could—and I wouldn’t say…bandaged since… I… I didn’t… have any…actual… you know, so I had to…use… you know, so… But did have…wrapping at least, so…ahem—but yeah, I did… what I could, but I am no… I am no life mage, I don’t even know…any life magic… let alone medicine…”—she paused again—“But yeah… after that… I kept watch over you and…now…here we are…”

Antica glanced at the…clearly deceased horse; “I take it that the…horse was killed in the fighting?” she asked.

“Huh? Him? Yeah… I mean, no… no… he… he wasn’t… He was… he was… dead…by the time we… By the time I…carried you back here, he was…already dead… I don’t even know what happened to him… I don’t even know, I… don’t even…know…” She backed away, her breathing amplifying.

Antica could infer that…something was befalling Novea deep within her; a dam was on the burst of shattering.

“…are you well?” she simply asked, tilting her head; “Tell me, what is… What is this?”

Novea’s posture was only becoming more fidgety, her breaths more contorted and heavy; “…I… I… I am fine, I… You don’t need to…” Her gaze turned evasive, her voice implying the opposite.

“Clearly, you are not.” Antica bluntly observed.

“…I… I…”—she looked at Antica—“Nilia… Antica… I…I thought you were…dead. I thought… I thought I…I failed… I thought I failed, I thought I failed… I thought I was saving…a corpse, I thought…”—her breathing unraveled from the seams—“I thought… I so thought they were going to…overwhelm me, I thought the goblins… They were so close to—I, I, I… The things I thought—I knew—they were going to do to me… The things!” She was no longer breathing as much as hyperventilating.

“I can’t breathe” She forcefully removed her corvid mask, dropping the revolving-rifle as she tumbled down to her knees, suffocating despite hyperventilating; “I thought you were a fucking corpse, I… I… I was considering leaving you, I was going to run… to run, I couldn’t… I mean, we… I am not an adventurer; we aren’t supposed to take these risks even for our own when we know they’re dead! But, but… then they routed, and you were alive! Alive… You were actually alive and I… I… I was going to leave you…with them, alive… Raven Mother, Gods, Trinity…”

She squeezingly clenched her forehead; she was not crying even though she practically was.

Antica remained silent… She had not the word to describe what she was…observing, but it was clear, even to her, that…Novea was experiencing some form of extreme affect overload and…breakdown.

“I didn’t know what to, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what to do! I was useless, so useless, so useless! They were going to swarm me… Swarm me, swarm us… but… I mean—I could fight, I know how to fight… but… I hate goblins, I hate fighting them and their…stupid fucking laughs—and they weren’t even laughing—but Raven mother, I was scared! I was terrified… I thought you were dead, I thought I failed… Already, not even reaching not even doing and I already failed! Failed, failed, FAILED! SO USELESS! No wonder, no wonder, NO WONDER!”

Her legs tensed, her lungs clenched, her voice slurred with such messy thoughts devoid of…any cohesive logic. She clawed at her own forehead, overloaded with emotions.

Antica sighed… Truly, this was an ugly sight to behold. She approached closer, standing before Novea, leaning down. She had not the faintest idea if this was going to work, but she had, at least, observed this affect-intervention tactic many times prior.

And thus, with a single hand, she simply began to…pat.

“I think that you managed this situation finely” thus Antica simply stated as she gently patted Novea’s head, “You carried me back here despite you believing that I was dead, you fended them away, you helped my…injury and defended me, and…you survived—as did I”.

Indeed, the fact her sentinel had stayed out of this…incident…was likely indicative of Novea’s handling and observed capabilities.

“It is admirable to me that you would do such for a corpse” she added. Her voice was not necessarily warm nor comforting, but it was…sincere enough.

Novea went mute, having been zapped in stun by this sudden comforting pat and following words. Her breathing calmed as her breaths cooled even if remaining weighted and tense; her hazel-amber watery eyes looked up at Antica.

“Even before this,” Antica continued, “I could tell that you feared these…goblins, yet you overcame your fear and did what you believed was necessary, which only means that you managed this even better; I have seen many fail with this…too many times”.

Novea, simmering down, sniffled; “You say that, but… I…I was…genuinely considering leaving you…behind before I realized you were alive… I would’ve left you with—”

“Which would have been fine.” Antica frankly interrupted, “Retreat is a valid strategy, always—you must never doubt that. It is as you said, you believed that I was dead… Abandoning the dead to preserve yourselves is necessary many times, even if it is…undesirable”.

Novea’s breathing calmed even more, stabilizing.

“Besides, I would have been in no danger—only they” Antica sharply added.

Novea sighed; “…you really…have a weird way of words… Definitely not the best…lady-support a girl could have…” she frankly remarked, sniffling; “But…thanks, I feel…a little bit back…” She was rebounding.

With a deep calming breath, Novea stood herself up…struggling to do so, but Antica quickly helped. She sniffled; “Thanks… Uhm…”—she eyed Antica’s head—“how are…you doing, anyway? I… Like I said, I am…no life mage, so…”

“Miserable, greatly; but I still stand” Antica replied bluntly; “Perhaps this may motivate you to learn this life magic, prodigy… Perhaps not to heal me, but to heal that bleeding disease of yours”.

Novea huffed; “Hugh! You know, that’s exactly it… This…mood-spell is because I am having my bleed… isn’t it? Fortune is…such a bitch—Fertility too… Demon-King fuck them both…” she scorned aloud, “Actually…Fertility would… ahem—but you’re right! I have affinity for literally every… Yeah, I really should start learning new magic, huh? Especially combat spells…” She wiped her eyes. The moment had passed.

Novea looked at Antica…realizing her…fully exposed and uncovered face… “Huh…” She tensed again, though for…rather divergent reasons. She quickly ahemed, retracting; “Sorry…you had to witness…me like that… That was…absolutely unbecoming of me… I don’t know what…happened there…ahem” she apologized, embarrassed quite.

“Well, you should rest. Now it is my time to watch” Antica suggested.

“Huh? Here?” Novea blurted, “N-no… no, we need to start moving, like, now—those goblins will be back, and they aren’t going to keep waiting forever… Don’t know why they haven’t already, but…we should grab our stuff and go before Fortune comes collecting” she rapidly replied, before…letting out an exhausted sigh; “We’ll have to… walk, Sparklewater is nearby and there is a Guild branch there… so, that’s where we’ll go… We need to both get a new ride and…report these goblins…”

“It is understood, then” Antica acknowledged. She motioned towards the revolving-rifle, attempting to pick it up… Yet…

“Heyy…” Novea, seeing, began to…interject with a voice more…nervous, “about…uhm… that—you’re rifle, I mean…”

Antica paused and…stared… She could already tell from Novea’s nervous posture and especially from her voice…what she was about to suggest. “You want to keep my…guns?” she said Novea’s words for her.

Novea’s drained eyes…retracted away, guilty indeed. “…I mean, just the…rifle—I already am…carrying the…ammo… and I mean, I saw what…is underneath that…cloak of yours—I mean I saw how organized but still packed…you were… You have a lot of stuff…and if I carry the rifle and…ammo, it could lessen your load…” she…explained, somewhat awkwardly.

Antica’s eyes retracted, drifting away in cogitation. Novea…had a point. Her primitive firearms, their ammunition, and their maintenance essentials have been a contributing reason for her…discomfort; she felt clumsier, frankly. Not having that ammunition satchel could free space on her hip, likewise, even if it meant she could not easily reload her pistol revolver.

“Besides…” Novea began to add, “I can’t…pretend I didn’t…see anything that night…with the bronze golems—your bulky shooter, I mean… I don’t know if it’s magical or not since it didn’t seem exactly like…magic even if…magical, but…it’s objectively—by all Guild metrics—beyond mythic-grade superior to these firearms; they’re completely redundant with you having that…”

Antica remained silent, seeing no point in contesting the obvious truth. And, frankly, she did not know if she was going to be using any of her primitive firearms anytime soon—her modular small-arm was simply…too convenient, indeed.

“And to clarify,” Novea continued, “I… I can shoot—Ravens… We all…go through handgunner training, so I can shoot… even if I’m not a sharpshooter Raven… and two shooters are always—”

“Better than one, I know…” Antica completed.

Indeed, tactically it was better to have another shooter, and Novea had…demonstrated that she could utilize a firearm with some proficiency.

She sighed; “Fine… I will allow it, you may carry the rifle” she acquiesced; “But you will be responsible for the cleaning and care, and I expect you to give me proper support. And remember that these are…not mine.” she sternly added.

Novea smiled, the life seemingly restored in her fatigued eyes; “…wow, that was eas—ahem—Thanks… Yeah, I will…do that and, I know, these are…Gunslinger’s—I mean, obviously, nobody has a rifle like this…”

“I have extra shots preprepared in my backpack; if you need more, ask. Also, if I need from you, I will ask.” Antica stated.

“Goodly…heard, yeah…of course… ahem—with that…settled, uhm… now we should…start moving, so grab your…” Novea was replying…

However… Antica’s attention found itself shifting…to the scene around. Hmm… “Wait, I want to inspect before” she stated before simply walking off, not even waiting for a response.

“Uhm… alrightly then… I’ll…gather our stuff then…” Novea said…a bit awkwardly, before…collecting the revolving-rifle and hopping back atop the damaged wagon.

Antica headed straight for the deceased equine. She wanted to know how it had died if not from the skirmish. Approaching the equine’s body…still near the pond, she began to inspect.

Hmm… its tongue was sticking out, but seemed normal… Besides its eyes being bloodshot, the cause of death was not obvious. She shifted to the flora around… these flowers it had been so…gorging upon. It was avoidant to the prior grasses, yet not… Hmm…

Her first inference was…that it had stupidly eaten something…toxic, but… toxic flowers emanating around a pond…yet the water was unaffected… She went with that inference, yet…she was unconvinced.

Something about this smelled wrong—metaphorically.

So convenient, indeed…

Antica sighed… She might be overreading; none of this changed the blunt reality: their horse was dead, their wagon was useless.

She departed away from the equine’s body and…began to stroll around, now turning her attention…to the dead goblins scattered around.

There were not many, but…there were still enough. Twelve or so, she counted.

Strange pigmentation of a blue-green sort of color, slightly ape-like with their large arms relative to their smaller legs and had prominent long pointy ears. They were unmistakably ‘goblin’, even for her. Practically naked too, besides a…loincloth.

« Goblinoe, eh? » she mumbled. Truly…to think that she had been ambushed, once again, and by something so…mundane. Yet again, her Remnant arrogance had underestimated. Yet oddly, she felt calm and…numb… At least she was not ambushed by those…unknowns.

Her attention had gravitated to one specific goblin out of all… She paused, and evaluated.

Hmm… shot in the head, she saw… Such made her feel…so…repulsed on the inside. Indeed, she reflected… Had she decided to not don…her smart-cloak…and if time had flowed identically, then… at that moment…

Once again, she realized how close she had come to falling off death’s ever-taunting edge—a headshot, no less… She felt disgusted, indeed, even if she could not comprehend it.

Regardless, this goblin was taller and had a potent…dark-teal color, with…pink—no, magenta… side-colorings. Its canines were…prominent, almost fang-like. This must have been the one whose death had caused…the rest to route.

Hmm, yet these specific phenotypical characteristics…

The eyes, she could tell, they had been ignited prior to death… The arcane… Interesting…

Goblins with essence… yet of what alignment?

Indeed, something about this specific goblin smelled wrong—metaphysically.

“Hey! Uhm… We should really start moving now, so… you done?” Novea called out.

Antica shook her head, snapping out of this. “…yes, I give…apologies” she replied, before turning and making way to return.

Yet her mind…continued to linger. She was a Violet-Coat. She knew, her essence knew, mal-aligned or contaminated essence when in the presence thereof, even when in the form of decaying echo.

I know what you are thinking

But my involvement was minimal

I was not expecting that either

Though, perhaps, I should apologize for the horse

A trajectory was found within predicative range

And I had to take it…