[Prompt]The Longest Walk

[Paroxysm]

Ruined buildings and debris littered the ground, soft, audible crunching sounds came from underfoot, each step taken was like adding literal pounds to the young woman’s body, this was her fault, not all of it, but some of it; some of it was. This was where her life had went horribly wrong, where everyone she knew and cared about had been taken from her, she hadn’t even told them how she felt, they died protecting her, and they probably all thought she had hated them. They died and she lived, for what? To repeat the tragedy? To lose her father, without being able to lift a finger to help him, just like before, just like what happened here, in this city, this damnable, blasted city.

It was amazing, the condition the city was in, it was once a great place; she had come here, when it was thriving with life, to do research, and she had been silently overwhelmed. But now, now it was dead; there weren’t any bodies scattered about, there hadn’t been when it was in flames, either … But it didn’t take away from the creepiness, actually; it added to it. The entire population, gone. And she blamed herself. She had no reason to, it was just a job, she was to get paid, that was all it was, that was all it should have been, but it wasn’t--it was something more. This destruction had been planned, it was deliberate, someone was having the time of their life, when this went down, there was no way it was random, the girl had already convinced herself of this, she was just a puppet in someone else’s grand scheme, but if that were the case; why did she feel so damn guilty?

“<Kuso>,” she cursed to herself.

The young woman kicked a stone at her feet, launching it into the air, where it arched high, smacking into a wall, rolling down, and disappearing behind a crevice in the earth. Everything was broken, she thought to herself, as she continued onwards. Coming here was a great feat for her, she found herself drawn to this place, without any reason as to why, but she came despite that. Maybe there were some clues about Brenden or the man that he said he was working for, that man, the one who was behind this all, the one who had used her, who had caused the death of her friends: Sturm.

Slender arms slipped out of the sleeves of the duster the girl had thought to bring with her, it fell heavily to the ground, as she straightened the black shirt that hugged her body, it was tight, and she lacked any real development; chest-wise. She could’ve been mistaken for a boy, if one didn’t get a close enough look, but that didn’t bother her.

Sighing, the girl continued on, ignoring a tinge of pain that grew in her chest each and every time her thoughts lingered on Prompt and the tragedy that had taken place here.

[Vanité]

The ruins of the royal palace were no better than the rest of Drai City, or even the entire kingdom of Prompt. Everything was decimated, smoke still rising from the fires that had just gone out within the past day. He could not make sense of it, as he walked over what he wa sure used to be the throne room. Even though he had never actually been to the royal palace, or not at any time he could recall, he had seen several sketches and schematics of the ancestral home of the House of Drai. His mother had lived here, along with his elder brother, and he had been coming to meet them.

Tears etched down his face as he slid down, his back pressed upon the partially remains of a nearby wall. His dark hair fell down into his face as he raised his knees up to his chest. Laying his had down upon them he merely sobbed. He was all alone, his tutor had been killed when the darkness had fallen. Anariel could not even remember how he had survived. Only that there had been a light just before one of the red-eyed shadows had come to slash his throat. His tutor, Master Ovid, had been killed right before his eyes. Now he realized that his family was dead.

Eleniel could be ailve, he thought to himself hopefully. It was true, his sister had also been abroad and on an entirely other continent. However his somber mood made him think that he was probably te only one left. He took a locket from his pouch and opened it, his vibrant emerald green eyes looking at the picture within, it was of a woman with golden hair, but matching eyes. His body was wracked with more sobs as he dropped the locket unable to look at it. The picture was of his mother, and even though he had seen her very rarely over his life, he still loved her dearly.

His thoughts were broken and his sobs ceased quite suddenly as he heard something not too far away. It was not the falling of debris, or the sound of stone cracking under pressure. Unless he was sorely mistaken he thought he heard someone walking. Wiping his tears from his eyes, he stood. He walked a few steps in front of him.

"Is anyone there?"

[Paroxysm]

The girl froze mid-step, her eyes hardened, emotion being placed deep inside her, blue locks of hair were pushed away, her body was balanced as she begin to move again, with an almost feline grace. The second she had heard the voice, she changed the direction she had been walking, lightly stepping atop the ground in such a way that she made no sounds, unlike before, and she hugged against a nearby wall, which would obscure her from view, from the direction the voice seemed to have came.

Had someone lived? No, that was impossible. She had seen the destruction… She was there. She felt the fire against her face; she saw the creatures, their eyes… Only the jewel had kept her safe, Brenden had said so himself. But… Someone was there, unless she was hearing voices, she had heard of what extreme isolation could do to someone, drive them insane, but she didn’t think she was quite to that point yet.

“I-is,” her voice cracked as she spoke, it wasn’t professional, but this could be forgiven. She wasn’t; that life was behind her, she wasn’t going to be that person anymore, not if she could help it.
“I am here, who is you? Speak creary, don’t move.”

Old habits die hard, she cursed to herself, annoyed that her words came out in such a way, it was instinctive, it was a personality flaw, it was a lot of things, but it could also be misunderstood as aggression.

“G … Gomen . You riv'd? A survivor?”

She still held her body close to the wall, making sure she was out of sight of where the voice had originated, she didn’t want to be unprepared for anything, she didn’t want to die, not yet, not after what had happened, the sacrifices that were made, and she needed her revenge, above all things.

“<Do you speak?>“

This time her words came out in the native language of Cizok, it was like liquid, rolling from the tip of her tongue, each word pronounced with the greatest of care, it was her first language, and it wasn’t heavily accented or badly pronounced as her common. If she were lucky, the other person spoke the language, too, she could speak common, of course, but it was strained and sometimes hard to understand. She didn’t know the language as well as she should have, it possessed syllables that were hard for her to grasp.

Immediately after she had asked her question, she readied herself to sneak through the shadows, hugging walls, crawling and climbing over what she could, until she could find the person who had spoke, without him being able to see her, it wasn’t an attack, she had nothing malicious planned, but she wanted to be ready; just in case. She’d wait until he answered her before she showed herself.

[Vanité]

The young boy looked around him when the girl spoke. He crinkled his brow upon hearing her accent, trying to pin-point where she might be from. It was plainly obvious she could not have been a citizen of the city, their primary languages being contemporary elven and the common "human" tongue. It annoyed him that he couldn't figure it out the moment after she spoke, he was very good with languages. His breathing slowed though, as the girl continued to call out to him, instructing him not to move. He was not normally one to listen to the commands of others but he did as she requested, even his breathing became slower and quieter. Given the events of the last several weeks, he was much more susceptible to fear.

Fear was not all he felt, the fact that someone was alive gave him a glimmering ray of hope. Even though she was obvioulsy a foreigner, she was alive. That counted for something to him, it meant some of his family might still be alive. He had been just over the borders of Prompt when the murderous darkness had fallen, and as he had rode his guardian's horse through the countryside to the city he hadn't seen a living soul.

Quite suddenly, as the foreign-girl reverted to her own language he realized what nationality she must be. Anariel could speak several foreign languages as his mother had ordered, she thought an understanding of foreign language and culture was very important for political figures. It was Cizokian that she spoke, and it was one of the first languages he had learned. It had been, before the political revolution of course, a very important trade language. He still didn't move though, even though her living was hopeful it was also suspicious. Of course he was too afraidto consider that he was probably just the same to her.

"<Yes, I speak Cizokian.>" His words were not nearly as hers had been when she was trying to speak common. "<Who are you? Come closer so I can see you!>"

He slightly regretted the request as soon as he said it, however, what else was he to do? This was the first person he had heard speak in the last several days. He was surprised he still had the presence of mind to even speak civilly to someone. Even though he hadnt' been alone long, the manner in which he had been left was quite traumatic. The thought of it brought tears to his eyes again, however he didn't allow them to fall.

As the girl moved in the shadows he couldn't quite hear her. While he was highly intelligent and successful academically, he hadn't been so much for the battle and awareness training like his sister and brother had been. His natural senses though, a bit more heightened than a normal humans made his hair stand on end. He wasn't sure she could see him yet, but he thought he could sense her moving about.

[Paroxysm]

Satisfied that the boy was not a threat to her, the girl, who had been stealthily stalking through the shadows, would come from just to the side of the boy, emerging from a collapsed building, or what seemed to have once been a building; she had been trained to conceal her presence, to stalk her prey, it was a fundamental ability of her former profession, despite her young age.

“<Sorry,>“ her words would seem genuine, pure. “<I, I had to be sure.>“

She didn’t push herself into walking closer; she remained a few feet away from him, just in case, it was for both their sakes, really. It looked as though he had been through a lot, he didn’t look his best, at least; and neither did she. She had left the city after everything had happened, replaced her torn clothing, checked in with the organization, and even got something to eat. However, she still looked like a wreck, her face was stained, and blood still caked her body, although hidden by her clothing.

“<Did… How did you survive? Those things were everywhere …”

Her words trailed off, this was probably not the best place to carry out the conversation, more than that it seemed as though she were accusing the boy, like it was his fault, which it wasn’t, but she just couldn’t help herself.

She looked about the apocalyptic scenery, the ruined buildings, the debris dotting the landscape, recalling how it had been before, and despite the subject matter … She lingered on relief, relief that the boy spoke Cizokian, which she hadn’t actually noticed until she thought about it, even though she had asked him to speak the language, in the first place.

"<I am Yo--Kaiya, my name is Kaiya. Yours?>"

[Vanité]

Anariel looked at the Cizokian girl as she approached him. He instictually took a few steps back as she stepped toward him, however when she stopped moving so did he. He too, looked quite disheveled, probably quite a bit more so than she did. He had lived quite the pampered life and hadn't even gotten to change out of his clothes in the days since the attack. It had been one of his favorite outfits before then, made out of black and silver velvet. He did keep a bit of his indoctrinated composure, however even some of that had diminished.

His journey from the border hadn't been pleasant, luckily he had been able to find food, as there wasn't very many people left alive, and those few he saw he didn't speak to. When he had finally stumbled upon Drai City he hadn't seen anyone, everyone was gone. He had been in the palace grounds since then, which had been about two days ago.

His brilliant green eyes stayed locked on her as she spoke, and narrowed slightly when he thought he detected an accusatory tone. The thought was discarded however, as he figured it was just his lack of social interaction over the last couple of weeks. When she asked for his name he hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to give her some fake name just in case.

Don't be foolish, he reprimanded himself.

"<My name is Anariel.>"

He thought on her other question a moment looking off into the distance trying to recall the memory for himself. He wasn't quite sure how he had survived. One moment he and his entourage had been on the road, the next his carriage had been overturned. He could hear the screams of Master Ovid and the slash he had recieved from some red-eyed creature. When that particular memory came to mind his right hand went to his cheek, where a scar was beginning to form on his otherwise quite handsome face. Other than that the only mark of the attack was a bruise on his forehead, where he had been struck by something blunt before passing out. He had thought he was going to die, however when he came to it was morning and everything around him was gone, all that was left were flaming ruins.

"<To be honest, I haven't the slightest idea. What about you? How did you survive?>"

[Paroxysm]

“<An-ari-er,” she repeated. “<I was protected…>“

Her voice grew small, full of grief, but she spoke without missing much of a beat. It wasn’t the whole truth, she didn’t tell him about the jewel, about how she came into possession of it, she didn’t mention Brenden, no; she kept her answer short and sweet--she was protected. Plus, it would’ve been too much to get into, especially with a survivor, or anyone else who had a particularly fond connection to Prompt and Drai City.

“<My team… My friends, they died; protecting me.>“

The girl took a step back, turning on the balls of her heels, looking towards the sky and sighing to herself. What was getting into her? She would never have even bothered before… Yet, here she was, entertaining the idea of conversation with this other person, it was as though she really had fallen quite low, maybe the city wasn’t the only thing that had been broken. Oddly enough, the girl seemed relaxed, maybe it was just being near another person, a living, breathing person.

Turning back to face Anariel, the girl frowned, as though she were thinking of something troubling, a thought that annoyed her, but she couldn’t quite banish it.

“<I used to be a mercenary,” she said, a little off the subject. “<I’m not going to stay here much longer, there’s nothing salvageable here, not really, I already looked. Not sure why I even came back here… What’re you going to do? I don‘t suggest staying too long, the vultures will be here soon, to pick the bones clean, well; whatever there is to pick.>“

She would sound a little harsh, after all; she was not talking about animals, but instead humans and other things that would come to prey on what had been left after the destruction. Nobody would want to be around when those types finally showed up.

[Vanité]

For some reason Anariel felt as if she, while being honest, was still keeping things from him. He didn't expect her life story though, since he certainly was excluding important details of his history, and more importantly family. He too had been protected, he just didn't know how. Several times since the death of Ovid and his discover of the ravaged cities of Prompt he had wished he had died with them. Those type of thoughts came back up when Kaiya asked what he was going to do. He looked at her in thought, so much so he hadn't really caught any of her body language that he might have otherwise noticed.

Everyone he knew and held dear was dead. Even though he had only seen his mother on very rare occasions she had always kept in contact with him through letters. His mother had seperated him from his siblings so she could keep them safe. Anariel had resented her for that until he learned that she was dead, which he had been in denial of until he had come to the palace. Before, even with that resentment, she had been deified for her children. In those days after the attack, before he had actually reached the city he had the lingering hope that his mother was still alive. Ovid and her letters had always made her seem indestructible.

But obviously she wasn't, he thought grimly, forcing himself not to allow tears to come to his eyes.

"<I don't know what I'm going to do,>" he began, his voice crackling a little with the emotions he was trying to hold in, "<I came here to look for my family, but it's become plainly obvious that those things left nothing behind. I don't know what I'm to do, or where I'm to go. All my life I've been waiting to come here and join my mother at Court. Now I just don't know what I'm to do. What about you? Where will you go? I heard you whisper something about coming back, are you the daughter of a Cizokian emissary? Do you have any family left or where they killed here too?>"

[Paroxysm]

The girl would be taken aback for a moment, after hearing Anariel speak, her face didn’t give away any signs of pain, guilt, or sadness; but they were there. She smiled for a moment, thinking on what to say and how to say it; it was a sly smile, hidden from view as she turned her head to look away, to hide the expression.

“<He didn’t die here,>“ she spat out. “<He was too strong to die to those things…>“

She didn’t give anymore details on the matter, she didn’t say who he was, not that it would’ve mattered if Anariel knew who her father was, it was, however; not a name that one should give out to just anyone, regardless. Her father was a very influential and very powerful man, politically and physically. He had many enemies, just knowing the name could get a knife in a person’s back, poison in their food.

“<I don’t have any family, not anymore, no; I’m alone.>”

She thought again for a moment, puzzling for just a second, a noticeable, but brief instant.

“<No place to go,” she shrugged and turned away. “Freya’s still recovering from the loss and I’ll have to find some work, heading somewhere crowded is probably the best bet, best way to survive, now, too, the world’s gone, ended.”

The girl’s way of speaking was odd and not very structured; it flowed, though, and was easily understood. Likewise, it wasn’t as though she was still speaking to Anariel, she had dismissed him for a moment, answering his question for herself, not for him.

“<Hey,” she turned to face Anariel once again. “<Where do you think the most people are, right now?>”

[Vanité]

Hooded Woman

"What an odd coupling."

The voice would come from just a few feet from where they stood, and when they inevitably looked for its origin there she would be. The woman stood there, clothed in a black hooded robe that covered the majority of her face in shadow. There had been no footsteps, or sounds of approach, the figure had quite simply appeared. Her hands lay to her sides, and she stood quite still.

"Sure, the two of you have a lot in common at the present. Both alive and both quite alone with no where to go, with no one to direct you. In history though, I couldn't think of two more opposite."

The woman spoke in a detached sort of voice, as if she didn't much care for what she was rambling on about, but still interested enough to voice such things. Only her head moved as she spoke, and as the wind kicked up dirt, if they were percepive, they might notice how it did not seem to stir her robe. For a brief second she looked upon Anariel, whom had stumbled over in fright. Her eyes remained on him as she continued.

"Odd coupling, though the two of you may be, you need one another. Just as you needed the people who saved you from the all-consuming darkness." After that last bit of her staement the woman looked in the direction of Yone, surveying her for a moment. "I believe I heard you ask where you might find the most people in the world? Odd question, don't you think? Not what you're really looking for either. Those people will be just as ignorant as you are."

[Paroxysm]

The girl’s right hand instinctively moved to the small of her back; where she slid a kunai from the belt of her pants, obscured from view by both the color and the material of her shirt. She didn’t bring the weapon into the open and she didn’t stand overly threatening, either. It was too soon to use the kunai, anyways. It was the last piece of her equipment; everything else had been lost.

Kaiya moved her attention to Anariel for a second, knowing now that the boy had no combat experience, at least; not any that she could see, from her point of view.

Focusing back on the cloaked woman, the girl inched forwards, just slightly, and this would perhaps be the second time that Anariel would be able to realize that the girl wasn’t just a girl. She did not seem put off by the situation in the least; instead, it seemed she was completely at ease.

“<And?>“ Kaiya questioned the mysterious woman as though she were unimpressed,”<and where do I want to go? No, how do I know that you know; that I don‘t want to go to where the most people are>?”

There was an air about the girl as she spoke, it wasn’t haughty, but it could have been misunderstood as so. Instead, it was a natural defense, she wasn’t nearly as bold as she boasted, it was a mind game, a way to psyche the other person out, even if they didn’t fall for it, which the woman very well might not have; it would still help Kaiya’s own confidence and by proxy, it would help Anariel. Things like that were contagious.