Injustice

[Aeon]

3rd of Ymiden, arc 717
The Haunted Harlot tavern, Aeon's room
Noon


”I’m just saying, maybe it’s a good thing, maybe you can use it to do good things, y’know?” The foxface man said as he sat down once more while Aeon paced around the room looking at the dimly lit ring around his left forearm, which was now half-covered in wood. He had managed to tone the light from it down to be nearly invisible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, but it was still there. A mark from the Immortals, the things he hated the most.

”And I’m just saying, nothing good ever comes from them. They’re monsters, and I saw what they’re capable of.” He said, inconsiderate to any arguments his companion might or might not have made, considering this wasn’t a matter he was willing to compromise in. He needed to get rid of the mark, and he needed to do it as soon as possible, it had already been long enough that he acted as a pawn in their games. No more.

”And what do you intend to do about it? You don’t have access to divine magic, neither do I, there’s nothing we can do.” Once more the foxface man tried to calm him, unsuccessfuly, only causing Aeon to be even more agitated at the injustice that was done to him. That was done to the world. To him, it became more and more apparent just how much the entire world was at the mercy of the Immortals. At the mercy of monsters.

”Are you certain there is nothing alchemy can do?” He asked, for the millionth time since they had first started talking about it. Aeon knew that alchemy couldn’t do anything to remove a mark from an Immortal, but he just felt like asking again. The foxface simply shook his head and decided to exit the room, leaving the young swordsman to his loneliness. The truth was, he was lonely even in the company of others, since not many people in the world shared his opinions and thoughts, and he could hardly find any like-minded fellows.

Taking the glove off his wooden hand, he stared at it for a couple of moments before throwing the glove at the wall. What good was a magical hand when it couldn’t fix his problems? What good was alchemy when it couldn’t fix his problems? What good was his masterful way of dancing with a sword in his hands when it couldn’t fix his problems? What good was anything, he wondered as he sat down on his bed and stared at the door with a confused look in his one brown eye.

[Whisper]

She wandered aimlessly, following her own shadow as the sun heated her back. The mortal realm of Idalos had many wonders, but few were as pleasant as the sand of warm, coarse sand scratching the skin under her feet. It felt between her toes, sticking as she lifted each foot, and falling back to the ground under the pressure of gravity, only for more to replace it as she massaged the ground, curling her toes under as she went.

A light smile played on her lips, hair blowing every which way, slave to the wind that blew inland. The salty sea mist coated her hair, the freshness welcome on this warm day as her skin glistened and shimmered as the sunlight reflected off the pre-breaking waves. Her skin was warmed by the light of the noon skies, but the unwitting call from afar warmed her very core. The sand fell from her feet for the last time as, like a mirage, Kata faded from the beaches of the mortal realm and into Emea.

She never stopped her leisurely walking, and emerged from the world of dreams within a few paces, to appear on the inside of a tavern room. The dimly lit room appeared to be shrouded in darkness to the Immortal, whose crimson eyes took a few minutes to adjust from the bright glaze of the sparkling reflection from the seas she had walked beside moments previously.

Her appearance was corporeal and visible, yet silent as a ghost. She stared, expression abstracted, eyes vacant, as she took in the room. Two men stood, discussing injustice. Tilting her head to the side, she frowned. That word meant something to her, she thought. She felt its power, which permeated the room, waves rolling off of one of the men in particular. Why did that word matter?

She moved forward, her steps light on the ground. She was not hesitant, but she was slow, an inhuman glide about her gait. The second man was ignored as she approached the man with the wooden hand. Her hand rose, and a feather-light touch glided against the man’s cheek, if he let her, expression still serene, “Why do you matter?” She whispered, more to herself, than to the man.

[Aeon]

Out of nowhere, soon after the foxface man left, a woman appeared. A strange woman, to say the least, considering she was beautiful, yet felt...broken, in some way. Ruined, if you will. Not too dissimilar to Aeon, in that aspect, she felt like she had the world on her shoulders and all of the darkness of Idalos covering her eyes. The boy could relate to that.

But as she first appeared from behind him, he was startled and nearly jumped from surprise. How in the Seven Hells?!, he thought, but he couldn't say anything, as she moved her hand along his scarred face. She appeared to be caressing him, or at least doing something resembling caressing, and as uncomfortable as the boy felt, his hand wouldn't move past the height of his chest to stop her. There was something about her touch that felt different than any other person. She wasn't normal, that much was obvious, her presence was strong, and her touch powerful.

"What?" He asked with a confused gaze in his only eye. She was shorter than him, so he needed to lower his head to look into her eyes. Lower his head, almost perfectly into the palm of her hand. What was happening to him? "How did you get here? Who are you?" Were just some of the questions racing through the boy's mind. What was she doing? Why was she doing it? Were others that he didn't get to ask, simply out of curiosity. He needed to hear the answer to the first ones before he asked more. It was just too important.

[Whisper]

Kata did not release her touch from the man’s cheek, and her thumb trailed his lips. Any casual observer would have assumed the pair were lovers, such was the delicacy of the Immortal’s sensual touch. Kata’s crimson orbs were anchored onto Aeon’s own. There was an alertness in her eyes that did not mirror her largely vacant expression. The probing visual caress was penetrating, as if she was attempting to see beyond the surface, and deep within the soul of the mortal.

“Me? I came from the beach.” The Immortal of Injustice and Ruin was, remarkably, very peaceful as she contemplated why she was here. She still did not know. Her brow furrowed as she tried to overcome the grey fog that rested in her brain and focus on finding what she needed to find. “I am a manikin. A marionette. An instrument for other people to play…” she replied, her tone melancholy as she answered his second question, though perhaps she only added to the confusion of the man.

Then she dug deeper, trying to identify and upsurge any memories that the man had to explain why she felt so drawn to him. His soul was uncommonly virtuous and estimable… perhaps even to the extent of being naïve and too trusting. Is that she he had not shuddered away from her touch, as most did when they encountered her?

His early existence seemed void of any authentic, significant affliction. Even his adulthood, though affected by a few tests of his character, had been without lastingly harmful trials. Why was she here, then? What made this insignificant mortal matter in the slightest? “Like you mortals, I suppose, who sing so beautifully whenever you are played upon…” she thought she might be getting close; a flicker in the eye was all she needed, “A life that is not your own? You have been wronged.”

[Aeon]

There was power in the woman's gaze, that much was obvious, and Aeon felt it, he was just too inexperienced to understand just what that power meant. He had never felt that way before, sort of, mesmerised, under someone's influence. By the time she answered his question, the boy had lowered his guard completely and had no idea what was actually happening. If he had, he would've put a sword through the woman's heart thrice already.

...from the beach, she said, and Aeon just couldn't put his hand on it, but there was something strange about that answer. Sure, it might not have been the clearest answer, but there was more to it than just that. Unfortunately, each time she spoke the boy's thoughts wandered off and away from where they were sooner, so by the time she mentioned the words manikin, marionette, he had forgotten all about the beach. Aeon could feel the slightest breeze passing through his lips as they moved apart. His tongue could just taste the woman's words, and they were gone just before he could remember them.

The words before tasted sweet, pleasant, almost fulfilling, but the new words tasted almost bitter. Why did they taste so wrong to the human's tongue? The mortal's tongue. He was a mortal, and what was she? Just as she spoke again, the words were gone from the boy's lips, but it was too late. The wheels were turning, and he had figured it out, at least some of it. She came from the beach? There was no beach. Uthaldria was two weeks of travel away from any sea. The only way someone could get there was via magic. And he knew just what kind of magic, for he had travelled halfway across the world with it.

Within trills, the boy pushed the woman's hand away from his ruined face and although it was an unpleasant surprise for his skin, it was for the best. He jumped over to the table and within moments had his sword drawn and pointing at her heart. He wasn't ready to move, however. The one hand made of flesh was shaking and he had already forgotten how to use his other one, he was repeatedly blinking to get rid of the little water in his only eye and he had no armor on. He was afraid, in one word. Who wouldn't be, with a potential Immortal in their room?

"What... are you?!" He asked, unsure of whether to just stab her through the chest without giving her a chance to talk.

[Whisper]

As the Immortal spoke, she watched understanding dawn over the man. His face shifted from shock, surprise and confusion to something more… negative. For her part, Kata’s expression did not change, and the smile remained serene as ever. “I am the plaything of Mastes, a shadow of the once-great favourite child of Anox.” Her voice was coated with regret, her words demonstrating an awareness that many did not think Kata had. “I am Injustice… Ruin… Insanity…”

Many who knew of the unbreakable bond between Master and Kata would describe the relationship as a power struggle, one where the balance was always tipped in the favour of Mastes. As Kata succumbed to the waves of insanity that tortured her own mind, Mastes had taken advantage, and his control over his lover had grown and grown. Until very recently when, from the deep recesses of her mind, the female had slowly begun the steep climb up. “I am Kata.”

The Immortal did not fight when the man pushed her hand away, merely letting it fall limp at her side. She barely moved when the pointy end of the metal stick - something she knew was designed to draw blood - was pointed directly between her breasts. The move was a threat, Kata thought. Perhaps she was supposed to back away? Perhaps it would kill her? Could it kill her? She didn’t know.

The fire that danced in the man’s eyes told the Immortal of Injustice all that she needed to know. He assumed that she was not mortal, and so his reaction shifted instantly to one of aggression. He hated her, without even knowing her. “Who are you?” she finally asked, as she rounded the table, barely paying attention to the sharp stick, which remained trained on her. She wanted to know why she had come here. Maybe his name carried the answer.

[Aeon]

The words following the boy's realisation still made their way to his lips, and through the tiniest gap between them, tasting bitter on his tongue. They echoed in his ears as he considered what was actually happening. She was an Immortal, that much was for sure, he wasn't certain as to this Anox, but he knew Mastes was an Immortal, and she was his...plaything?.

The boy had his doubts since he never expected an Immortal to be someone's, even another Immortal's plaything, but as the woman continued her speech, it was obvious she was also an Immortal. Kata...he had read her name in some book or other, probably when he was researching Aelig, but he couldn't remember where she was worshipped. It was either that, or there was no city that worshipped her publicly. Worship, a strange thought to the boy. Worshipping something made of flesh and blood and bone, it was almost unfathomable. Who would worship a normal-looking woman that could be killed as easily as any mortal, or so he thought.

Killing her, the thought passed through his mind several times in mere trills. Killing a monster wasn't murder, it was simply protecting the world from it. And one less Immortal meant less misery to so many people. Without the Immortals, there would be so little misery. So why didn't he kill her? He couldn't. Could he? The woman looked like any other woman he would meet on the street, she was shorter than him, with a body that was made just as much of flesh as he was, and blood that flew through her veins. He wasn't a murderer, how could he murder a woman so normal-looking? But how could he let an Immortal live?

"Does it matter?" Oh, but it did matter. "I am Aeon." He said, his hand slowly calming down, but not by much, considering he was still afraid. He knew what the Immortals were capable of. Both with their powers and their morals. He had seen them at their worst. The good ones, sacrificing hundreds of mortal lives for their fight, and the bad ones, inflicting pain like he hadn't seen before on another of their kind. Perhaps the bad ones were the good ones, to the mortals?

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" He said, moving the blade an inch farther away from her body for just long enough for her to answer, before pushing it closer to her than it was before. It was as if he wanted to know whether she could bleed. If she couldn't, it would make killing her so much easier, for there would be a divine aspect to her mortal body.

[Whisper]

Aeon… the name itself did little to help the unhinged Immortal to understand her purpose here. But the tone, the pain with which he spoke, the fear so palpable in his gaze and stance, was enough to know that he feared Immortals, and hated them. She wondered why. It was not a struggle ingrained from childhood that had summoned Kata here, though she could tell that Aeon had always hated her kin. No, this injustice was much more recent, much fresher in the mortal’s mind.

The Blessing. He had been marked, a blessing in disguise. But Aeon had seen through it, unlike the other fools who walked the earth. This mortal was special, he seemed to understand that to be Blessed by an Immortal was no reward. It was a commitment, chains to serve the whims of another. He was aware that he had become a puppet. Kata’s smile grew, proud of the self-awareness she could sense within the man stood opposite her.

she, of all people, understood him. She had lived it for centuries, barely aware. Within seasons, this man had come to a realisation that had taken her a millennia. She saw something that she had never seen in another before: an opportunity. Her smile twisted into something more grotesque, her eyes glinting with barely considered madness. It was a look that did not sit right on such an otherwise pure, angelic face. She would make him hate Immortals even more.

Without warning, a fire would surge through the sword, burning every nerve ending in his palm with excruciating heat. The energy would cause a phobia of the weapon, be it temporary or permanent, Kata was not sure… her control fluctuated, after all. It might not work at all, but the searing heat should do the job if the phobia did not. It was not real of course, merely a hallucination, but it had the intention of crippling him, for she would not be able to play her mind games with a sword pointed at her throat. “Stand down, Aeon,” she murmured as she watched, “You will not grow stronger if you fight my offer of help…” She would hold it until either the man feel to his knees or the sword fell from his hand… or both.

It was ironic, really, that after being controlled by another for so long, Kata would find herself capable of tapping into Mastes’ domains. Manipulation fell so closely to her own abilities, and she revelled in the knowledge that she could cause so much damage for the purposes of manipulating this man… all for the greater good. By the time she was through with him, Aeon would be on the brink of insanity.

[Aeon]

Aeon wondered just what was passing through the woman's mind at that very moment. Did she know who he was? How did she know? And why was she there?The boy's eye twitched at the thought. Perhaps he was seen as a threat, in which case he doubted he would live to see another trial. Perhaps not, and she was simply influenced by curiosity. But then again, what was there to be curious about? Aeon was an ordinary mortal, all things considered.

Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, the Immortal's smile grew and this agitated the boy. He had a sword pointing at her heart, and he was ready to kill her at the first sign of trouble. Why was she smiling? Surely she wasn't happy to die. No one, especially the Immortals, could be happy to die. His grip on the wooden handle of the blade became tighter by the trill, considering he was preparing to put it through her heart whenever she decided to make her next move.

But instead of a counter-attack, instead of some divine magical power coming out of her, it was a look of pure madness that caught Aeon's eye. It was borderline horrifying, but definitely strange. Seeing such a look, such a smile, on such an otherwise beautiful face. The boy's hand began shaking once more as he realised what this Immortal was. She said it herself; Injustice… Ruin… Insanity… The young swordsman considered just what her plans might be with him, and none of the options were good. Most of them ended with his death, in his mind, but for some odd reason, he didn't think she wanted him dead. She wanted to play him, like the instrument she said he was. But he wouldn't, couldn't even, allow it.

Out of nowhere, Aeon felt a strange tingling on his right palm, and within moments from then, the tingling transitioned to warmth, to unbearable heat. That was the sign he needed. It was her doing, he knew it, and before Aeon could let out a scream he would kill her, he was sure of it. Unfortunately, his hand wasn't listening to him, he told it to push, to end the Immortal, but all it wanted to do was pull away from the sword. His own body was fighting him, and even though he still felt nothing from his wooden hand, it wasn't listening to his commands either. The boy couldn't handle the heat much longer, and he knew it. He had mere trills to pull something off, some ace from his sleeve. To end the Immortal before she could end him.

As lucky as Aeon had gotten a thousand times over in his life, from having a loving father to not dying when that building collapsed over him, this wasn't his trial. The boy's knees buckled as he bit his tongue so hard there were drops of blood on his teeth. His arms fell limp next to his body as he fell to his knees, and mere moments later, the sound of the steel sword hitting the wooden floor echoed throughout the room, but barely exited it. There was no marking on his hands, no burns, and yet he could perfectly recall the pain that came from the sword. His gaze instinctively fell to the ground where the woman's bare feet still stood, but it wouldn't be like that for long. He looked up at her, this time not with filled with hatred or anger, but fear. If she could make his favoured weapon cause him such pain, and make his hands stop listening to his brain, just imagining what else she could do to him was terrifying.

"Why are you here?" He asked once more, seeing how she had mentioned an offer of help. She wasn't helping him thus far, that was for sure. His voice wasn't as confident as it had been when he had a sword pointed at her heart, and each word felt uncertain, as if he had tried his hardest to finish it.

[Whisper]

When the boy collapsed to the floor, kneeling before her, Kata’s face returned to its normal, placed expression. She regarded him quietly as his shoulders hitched a little, evidently confused. For a moment they remained, the Immortal stood, the mortal bowed over, Kata felt powerful. It reminded her of the days before the Great Shattering - a distant memory now, something she had not thought about in centuries. She remembered what she was, who she was, and she held onto that.

“I am here to help you, Alan,” she whispered as she gracefully crouched down before him, her hand coming forward and her fingers tracing his jawline. She firmly pushed at his chin so that their eyes met. With this eye contact, she had better access to his mind. She was sure he knew what she was now, and she was sure that he resented, even loathed, her for it. He despised all Immortals, that was clear. “You have grown weak. You allowed yourself to be bested by another. You allowed someone to defile your body.”

As she said the words, she saw the regret swim in his eyes, flashes and images of painful memories brought to the front. She saw white, grey and blue… and red. Snow and blood. It did not make sense to the Immortal. “That is why you summoned me; you need help. You want my help. I can make you strong again. So strong, Alexei, that no one, eternal or temporary, will ever stand against you. I will be strong too. We will be strong together, how does that sound?” She began to ramble, eyes glazed over as the excitement of her grand idea seemed to ripple through her body. With each passing trill, it was growing easier and easier to worm her way into a little crevice in his mind, and she began to build up a cosy little nook for herself. It was a warm and comfortable den, it looked inviting. If Aeon even noticed it, he was unlikely to be troubled by it.

She wasn’t really sure who had blessed him. Other than her lover, she was not even sure who was alive now, or who was friends with who. Slowly awakening, Kata felt lost in a world she no longer understood. Maybe she could use this boy to help her. “Come on, Azrael,” she grinned, turning and linking arms with the human as she pushed herself to stand, “We’re going to explore.” She remained bright and bubbly, her demeanour doing a complete one-eighty.

From her cushioned cubbyhole in Aeon’s mind, Kata secreted a ripple of amnesia into his mind. She regretted telling him who she was - it would not do for him to be conscious of her status as an enemy… especially when she planned to forever more secure his hatred of her kin. But for today, she wanted to be friends with him. The Immortal did not release the compulsion that weapons were something to be feared. With any luck, the mortal would forget his sword for their adventure.