Indeed, eyes so alien, yet nevertheless distinctly human.
Such eyes, however, were obscured behind a strange pseudo-‘masquerade’ full-mask, one which obscured their face in totality; silver-white and rather pointed at the chin, faint patterns of hexagons outlined in light-grey—barely visible but still present. A mask blank and empty, as if devoid of personality; devoid of any meaning. The only true ‘masquerade’ element being nothing more than two glowing lenses with two basic grey feathery-like protrusions extending from their sides—more of a ‘module’ affixed than integral.
Indeed, a mask so strange, yet nevertheless distinctly familiar.
It was slightly damaged on the outside, as if having been struck, yet not too severely. The eyes behind this mask could see clearly, even if hazy and noisy… They could see better than clearly, in fact. Through darkness and even heat, they could see in so many ways or ‘modes’; they could see things that no other eyes could see. ‘Coordinate map’, ‘motion tracker’, ‘compass’, and other such ‘widgets’ and ‘screens’ littered their visual field.
However, in this moment, all they themself could see was the myriad of notices and warnings flooding their HUD, relentlessly.
Their head and mind throbbed with an awfully weird pain. They were flat on the ground, on a ‘road’ of sorts, stunned, dazed, and confused. Their eyes stared up at the dark sky above, processing…evaluating…realizing.
Scattered throughout the night sky up high were dozens of erratically moving cyanic ‘lights’—though, hardly lights as much as objects that appeared as lights. Flaring away from these objects was a maelstrom of cyanic ‘bolts’—‘smooth’, ‘refined’, and ‘pure’.
Their bolts sprayed in all directions as if tracers raining in fury, firing at targets afar yet unseen, firing at the surrounding hills and distant mountains; their impacting explosive bursts radiated afar, thudding and echoing, detonations of which left behind nothing but residual cyanic ‘goop’ and exotic sparkly ‘dust’.
Larger stationary lights fired ‘lances’—also cyanic—which pierced through the sky and ripped through the air; their violent—equally cyanic—detonations unleashed exotic destruction on a greater scale than a mere ‘bolt’, the horizon ignited with their shattering booms.
Yet firing back from all directions, almost, were white-brownish bolts—‘thick’, ‘heavy’, and ‘volatile’—as well as ‘beams’ that lanced and flying ‘rods’ that followed with radiant trail.
These volatile bolts and apparent beams being fired all over and around yet from so far away pulverized both the earth and the sky, shredding all that which was so touched; their crude brownish-white detonations left behind nothing but residual exotic ‘ash’ and radiant ‘soot’—not ‘goop’ or ‘dust’.
Indeed, ‘cyan’ and ‘brownish-white’, both ‘exotic’ in properties yet different in principal; by no means insignificant colors, either. Anything cyanic was familiar and aligned; anything else was either hostile, or, in the case, alien and unknown.
Lights popped in glimmering cyanic puffs and booms, their equally colored debris raining down, gradually dissolving away in sparkly wisp-dusty radiance some of which returned to their source. Some were stationary as if having formed a parameter in the sky around that figure who remained on the ground, staggered and bemused. Others were in organized columns, moving with extreme speed to engage closer.
What…was even happening? They had not even the faintest idea; it was hard to parse. However, considering the minor damage to their mask… They had likely been struck in the face and knocked out, they quickly realized.
Unknown bolts began to concentrate fire to their position.
Mind finally returning in full, the dark-violet cloaked and hooded figure immediately sprung themself up and back onto their boots; they dashed away from the road, striding towards a forest close by, leaving behind a faint hard-to-see trail of snow-dusty cyanic radiance.
Their obscured ears ringed with sounds and chatter—synthetic and mechanical in nature, yet surprisingly affective and human-esque.
{Domine. You are active. Ambush, to repeat, ambush; all sections are reporting simultaneous combat engagements. Gray highlights, unknown contacts; unidentifiable and undocumented; non-denizen and unaffiliated with any designated hostiles or the Cala—}
{Domine, unknowns appear to have been tracking us by unidentified methods. There are indications they are utilizing some form of stealth or masking capabilities our detection systems had not corrected or—}
{Combat is already moving to engage; overwatch is suppressing. All surveyors have been recalled and will assist friendlies in proximity. However, we predict we will be overwhelmed shortly. Unknowns appear to have anti-sentinel—}
{We did not detect movements beyond initial detection tags. Retrospective assessment indicates a possibility of a primitive-feint tactic. It is also probable unknowns might have utilized alternative routes to circumnavigate our watch, perhaps subterrea—}
{Domine. We have lost connection with geospatial surveillance and satellite systems; no surface launches detected. Most likely—}
{Friendly pings are dropping. Communications has already dispatched an emergency long-bump to Special Command informing them of total operation failure and contact with unidentifiable hostiles. It is apparent that prior assump—}
{Domine. Parent sentinel is returning to you. We recommend an immediate exodus from this area. An entrance to a possible cavern system has been identified in the direction you are moving suitable for long-term entrenchment; position tagged on your local coordinate map; beacon has been set for friendly rendezvous; security will cover you until then.}
? éntelli?etùr! Ad aeterníam! ?
{Aut mortem}
Wisp striding into the forest, they pushed deeper and deeper, eyes fixated on their HUD’s coordinate map, ignoring loss after loss as more lights above popped and popped. Unknown bolts pulverized into the forest, trees being shattered in two, the cyanic lights counter-firing in reply.
Their mind was focused and attentive, yet remained staggered and at a loss; cogitating, yet unable to think. Their mind flared with activity, attempting to wonder what had just happened; what had gone wrong this time. What did they do wrong…again?
Losses and failures; defeats and futilities; endless mistakes and endless sacrifices; lost in the void of time.
Once again for the nth time in their long-long life, hubris had paved the road for failure. Once again for the nth time in their long-long life, everything was so seemingly falling apart.
They had no idea what they were going to do now; what they could do now; besides to survive or…
Or perish in service along with all the rest…
But we welcome you to our grave
Trooper.
Olim oblítissimó suspexit húmánitás stéllás illás in c?ló nocturnó lúcentés superné oculís libentibus cúriósitátis, et spérávit ut júnxerit sícut ?quális. At etiam illam húmánitátem ínfantem oculís frigidís déspexerunt stéll?, qu? semper indifferentés omnínó cuinam víderunt. Unó dié autem décréverunt ill? stéll? húmánitátem ad sé pertinendam essé. Itaque á stéllís ipsís húmánitás ínfáns illa ex incúnábulís suís antíquís síc erepta est, ut major facta sít, ut serví novellí deórum ?theriórum catenás suás tenentium factí sínt. In oculós ejus signum servitútis ?ternális ínsculptum, nova húmánitás renata illa novellam essentiam sine corde animáque data est ut…
The stars retreated behind the blue sky’s shadow as the sun began its rise. Once again, a new day dawned upon the Central Continent as it had the day before and the day before the day before. The sky brightened as morning’s twilight faded, fresh wintery fog enveloping the cold yet somewhat warming lands below.
The many denizens of these waking lands rose with the rising sun, to ready themselves for their many doings as they had the day before. Yet unlike those many days before, this day was different. It was the first day of a new year in this world ever-changing.
Indeed, once again, like the year before and the year before the year before, a new year dawned upon the sprawling and urbanizing city of ‘Coastfield’, the capital holding of the ‘vice barony’ of the same name—a title held by the ‘baron’ of the ‘Barony of Coastfield’, who was also the ‘vice count’ of the ‘Vice Country of Coastfield’ in addition to being the ‘count’ of the ‘County of Coastfield’.
The County of Coastfield was a small, yet affluent and prosperous, ‘sovereign realm’—as opposed to a ‘vassal realm’ of a greater ‘sovereign’—located in the tips of the north-western coastal region of this continent, being effectively a single city with a few minor outlying villages and communities affixed to its dominion.
Its connection to a coastal bay and rather convenient positioning had transformed what had once been an obscure insignificant realm into a large sprawling metropolis: a nexus point of ever-growing intercontinental commerce between these lands and many others across the grand ocean blue—the so-called ‘Far West’ most especially.
In a world falling astray as the winds of change blew and dragged, forsaking any left behind, Coastfield was one of the few realms evolving. The count’s authority was becoming ever-more absolute, his once simple court now more akin to a government and his realm a state. The fact that almost every single feudal title of this small county was held by…one single person…certainly made this so-called ‘modernizing’ process easier compared to most other realms.
Coastfield city proper was a reflection of this changing era; a city lost to unplanned urban sprawl and dotted with dozens upon dozens of construction projects of ever-greater complexity and scale, its architecture having become a synthesis of local ‘fantastical’ styles and ‘modern’ Far Western styles. Having long already outgrown past its older ‘inner-walls’, the city was barely containing itself within its ‘outer-walls’, as rural peasants from neighboring realms—freed from their bondages of serfdom—flocked in droves for new opportunities—with or without proper clearance.
The streets of this city were packed with people of all kinds and creeds alongside many wagons and carriages—dragged by a diverse array of different animals and even ‘chimeras’, although the horse nevertheless reigned supreme.
Indeed, the calm and tranquility of night was quickly overwhelmed by the turbulence of day. Noises and sounds of business and typicality, yet also celebration and rejoice, for all still alive had made it to another year, once again, as they had done the years before in their short and finite lives.
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Ignited eyes sprung open—finally, after quite the excessive time, truly. Eyes ignited in the signa of the ‘arcane’; the signa of ‘magic’. Yet unlike a ‘spellcaster’ or ‘mage’, these so-called ‘casting eyes’ were always in such a state, never deactivating. It was as if ‘spells’ were always active, ‘running’ in the ‘background’ of her existence, so to speak.
Her cyanic eyes stared up at that ceiling which stared back down as if taunting. She had that dream again; one of many dreams she…preferred not to have, yet still intruded. One year. It was one year since that ambush… Or, at least, she thought it was one year—time was something so easily lost for those like her.
Entrenched and holding out, left exhausted and depleted, for however long—she had not any the know. Even after the fighting had stopped, she remained in that forsaken cavern of rock and muck; she thought it was over for her… Yet, ultimately, she was ‘rescued’ by someone like her; someone who had been stranded in this very place for more than half a century… A survivor, like her, of a different…failed operation; a deserter, yet also a trooper, for desertion…did not really exist for those like her.
She still did not know where should be presently had that…now former associate of hers not arrived and had taken her along… Teaching her, instructing her, and drilling into her how she had to survive; how to blend in amongst perceived normalcy; how to hide and not stick out…
For indeed, she was still being hunted, apparently; a fact easily forgettable, yet one she had been so reminded by when her former associate never returned that one day.
Truly, even now, she had not any the idea if her present situation was any better than the one from which she had been so ‘rescued’. She still did not know what to do, besides to wait this out and play this game of pretend; an alien hiding amongst aliens.
? Beh… ? Her eyes felt like death—or rather, worse than death for death was the absence of sensory experience, and this was absolutely not absent. Her mind and head throbbed in pain.
She was not one to feel ‘well-rested’, suffice it to say.
Sleep was not much of a necessity for her; she could function for quite the time without it. However, her former associate had instilled this habit into her…since it was best to maintain proper synchrony with the time-schedule of this place. Assured, she had been, that sleeping every night would eventually yield benefits… Yet such had yet to manifest for her; she still struggled to see the point.
Although… This primitive ‘bed’ of sorts was rather…difficult to get out of. Even so, she had not the choice. After much deliberation, she finally stumbled herself out of her entrapping bed… Or rather not her bed, her former associate’s bed but…effectively now her bed—as was the case with this room and the rest of this urbanized housing unit or ‘apartment’: all her former associate’s… Or rather no, for even she had been merely a ‘tenant’ to the ‘property owner’ of this…apartment, so not technically her former associate’s either.
Ugh… Her throbbing mind was in no mood to contemplate the absurdities of this place she found herself presently stranded in.
Stepping her feet onto the cold floor, she wiped her eyes to clear out that morning guck, yawning as she peered around… This so-called ‘bedroom’ was not small, but also not large; it was spacious enough.
Without further delay, she stood up and made way to open those ‘curtains’ of sorts which obscured the window. However, she paused in motion, realizing… Right. She was mostly nude, and her former associate had instilled into her the necessity of…adequately dressing herself before opening those curtains. Ugh.
Turning around, she instead went for that not-so-large-but-still-spacious storage space or ‘closet’. Opening its wooden door, she swiftly rummaged through in an organized fashion, collecting everything she needed to wear for this day.
First she had to don this undergarment of sorts that covered the breast area. A rather strange and somewhat uncomfortable thing, but mandatory for all ‘women’—generic humiforms—in this continent, even when fully clothed. Once that was donned, she then had to put on another layer of garment: a so-locally-called ‘chemise’, colored bland and white, over which she then donned her usual white, green, and amber-brown colored ‘kirtle’ or ‘dress’ which befitted a ‘commoner’.
In all, it was a tedious set of attire to put on, but mandatory for her ‘employment’ as a ‘tavern’ ‘maid’ or ‘waitress’, from which she earned ‘coin’ which was necessary to pay the ever-rising ‘rent’ of this apartment—failure to pay in a timely manner resulting in the confiscation of this housing unit and all objects within by that ‘property owner’; an ‘eviction and confiscation seizure’, as it was called.
Now being sufficiently clothed, she promptly opened those curtains; the sun’s light was finally permitted entry, illuminating everything within. She then turned their sight to a large person-sized mirror, which she immediately approached.
She stared into it and began to evaluate her figure’s reflection—yet another drilled procedure. Her eyes were ignited as always, her essence activated, natural eye color completely overridden by that exotic cyan. Yet…her eyes were visibly baggy as if perpetually exhausted; they were always like this, seemingly. Although, such mattered little since they would be obscured completely.
Hmm… Her hair, she inspected. Intermediate brown in color, straight overall and categorically ‘feminine’, being almost ‘armpit length’; not too long for the standards of this place, although it was longer than it was the year before and…in general, really, having grown quite. Her hair, however, was tangled and messy and thus required an immediate ‘brushing’ or ‘combing’… Her dress too could also use some straightening.
She continued to evaluate and fix herself up as needed, preparing herself in effect and making herself ‘presentable’. Once this was done, she simply…stared at her figure, as if contemplating it even if not truly.
‘Athletic’ and ‘visibly active’ as if ‘built’ for being agile and flexible, yet also ‘petite’ and ‘girly’ in form… Such was amongst the many commentating remarks she had heard from the locals of this place. In general, both her face—whatever was visible of it, at least—and her figure were considered by the locals as quite ‘attractive’ and ‘appealing’. However, she had not the frameworks to comprehend the significance of such descriptors of ‘attraction’ and ‘desire’; such was utterly meaningless to her. All she cared to comprehend were the strategic advantages such characteristics allegedly provided, even if such also…came with…unsolicited annoyances.
Hmm… Her skin, she quickly felt it. Her skin was always rather soft and in optimal condition, often remarked as ‘smooth’ and ‘pristine’ or whatever. It was of a light ‘peach’-like pigmentation, and was still rather pale… Even after one year, it still appeared as though her skin had hardly seen direct sunlight.
Occasionally, from time to time, glittery cyanic radiance would wisp and dust off her exposed skin, though was usually—in normal circumstances—so very faint and hard to see, going unnoticed by most if not all.
Indeed, her skin required no maintenance or care; it happened automatically. Such was the case for her teeth and breaths as well, never ‘dirty’ nor ‘foul’; the same applied to the rest of her being as well. She hardly had to care for, with active intent, most aspects of her hygienic maintenance; although, she could still be easily contaminated by external enviromental hazards and guck—thus, she still had to exercise…caution.
Likewise, she did not need to eat…often nor drink water…often; such were needs…spread out over a considerably…longer period of time, and her functionalities could remain largely intact in their absence. And she never—assuming optimal function—had to seek a ‘latrine’ or ‘toilet’, unlike the majority of the locals.
Truly, despite the familiarities of this appearance being reflected upon this mirror, ultimately, she was so very strange and alien in so many ways.
Yet all of these oddities and other such peculiarities were completely obscured, hidden, to the denizens of this place. Indeed, as this mirror so conveyed, for all intentions: she was one of them. That was the impression she had to create and maintain; even if she did not comprehend any of the things she pretended to understand; even if she detested every picosecond of it deep down within.
She felt nothing for the dress she wore; she felt nothing for her ‘looks’ or ‘styles’; everything she did as she inspected herself were strictly utilitarian actions drilled and instilled into her; to survive and bide her time.
She felt nothing for any of it; nothing at all.
? It does not matter if you do not feel anything or attach to any of this; all that is necessary is to pretend and imitate, a parrot speaking—if you even know what a ‘parrot’ is… All that matters is…if the denizens around think that you are what you present yourself as… The reality inside will always remain hidden. ? Such words echoed in her mind; such was how her former associate had put it.
A ‘parrot’ who pretended to speak yet did not understand nor comprehend the nature of the speech; nothing but mimicking noises made in imitation. That was what she was: a parrot of a local; a parrot of a denizen.
Her face was expressionless and hollow; always so flat affect. Yet, relaxing her muscles, she practiced gestures and expressions, refining her smiles and donned charms. She had become rather proficient at feigning such affects while feeling nothing genuine at all—nothing she could comprehend, at least. Although, such sometimes seemed hard to maintain; the urge to default to her empty affect was always so strong. Thankfully, she only ever needed to manage just her lower face.
Nevertheless, finally she was done… Or, rather, almost. Departing from the mirror, she quickly donned these blackish colored ‘legging’ garments of sorts, which covered her feet and her legs up the knees. She then put on her shoes, or boots rather… A specific type of feminine-designated boot…with a ‘heel’ of sorts—rather annoying to walk in, but she had become used to it.
She then rapidly affixed to her belt her small personal satchel, her pouch for coin storage, alongside any other remaining few necessities. Finally, there was that last chore, the most important thing she needed to don: her mask, which was gently situated on a ‘side-table’ of sorts next to the bed.
She approached that side-table and took the mask into hand… She stared at it.
A masquerade-esque half-mask; it was given to her by her former associate. Hard and stiff, bland and largely a colorless white besides some basic patterns of grey here and there; it was seemingly in the general shape of a ‘butterfly’ and invoked such thematic appearances.
She was told to paint it one day; to truly make this mask her own… A new face to wear in this strange and alien place. Though, she had no intentions of doing such a thing; it was not her true mask, her true face.
Nevertheless, she donned this mask, of which the tinted lenses kept her ignited eyes sufficiently hidden—all without a complete visibility cost. They were still clear to see through, but certainly darkened her visual field to a degree; her sight could adapt and adjust around such easily, however.
Now, she was absolutely ready. She grabbed her personal handbag and exited the bedroom, entering this ‘living quarter’ of this apartment. Dusty and largely unused, with a ‘kitchen’ and ‘dining table’ of sorts; not large but still…spacious enough. There was a door to another, much larger, storage space in this area as well, though it was locked.
Walking rather speedily, she departed the apartment; shutting the door behind, she immediately locked it with her key and…then double checked to ensure it was locked…and then triple checked. Past mistakes had caused her former associate to…thoroughly drill into her the importance of ensuring that this door was always locked.
After she definitively, within absolute certainty, confirmed that the door was, in fact, locked, she departed off down the hallway of many other numbered doors.
Yet she abruptly paused as she yawned again… Ugh, truly, such an irritating impulse. ? ?h qua jo ?e nunqua habi?uatù devenifo… ? Oh, how she will never get used to this.
Nevertheless, with a deep breath, off this foreigner went to exit into the noisy waking world beyond; to step out into that city of aliens beyond; to begin her day and her many doings ahead; joining the many denizens who themselves were off and away to do their own many doings…upon this dawning new day of this fresh new year.
And thus begins your play on this world’s grand contrived stage…
An ever mundane and boring start, indeed
Yet what your story will become…
I can only wonder where it will lead
Perhaps it will be more interesting than the last
As the starlight turns away from that lost blue
And casts its shining light to now you
Little violet.