53rd of Vhalar, 716.
It'd been so long. Nearly half of the arc, in fact, since he'd first seen the woman who's name he still did not know. She still came to him in his dreams and, occasionally, he'd see things that brought her face to light once more. These things weren't what normal people associated faces with, though; nobody looked into a butcher's shop, at the tenderized meat lying cold on the window's table, and suddenly remembered a person they'd seen long ago. He couldn't help it, though. As much as he would have loved to discard all those thoughts and memories from his mind, he'd never felt any closure after what happened. Standing next to Vivian and all the other guards, still tipsy drunk and with the taste of vomit lingering on his tastebuds, he'd watched her body carried away under a thin white tablecloth by armoured guards to be prepared and buried somewhere. He'd never known if a funeral was held, he didn't know what gravestone her remains now rested under. He'd never even heard her name; Vivian knew her from nothing more than a passing glance and what friends she'd been seen with last were found dead in the same place and manner as she had been. Tortured to their last breaths.
For a long time - seasons, in fact - he'd pushed all thoughts on her to the back of his head, fighting it in his dreams, choking back the memories and burying the experience under the carpets in the hopes that, if he trod on it enough, it'd flatten and disappear. His analogies were off, though. Instead of burying it under the carpet and flattening it down into something more manageable, he'd tried to bandage a wound with a splinter in the hopes that it'd heal itself. All he'd done was let the wound spread, fester, grow infected and corrode itself into a hideous black mess. His thoughts were becoming more vivid. Even his nightmares were worse. It was time to rip open old wounds and clean them out, once and for all. The sooner he dealt with this and got over it, the sooner he could move on with his life. That, he'd learned from Faith - to keep moving forwards. He wasn't a slave, but that didn't mean he was any less human than she was. If she'd learned to deal with her demons of the past, why couldn't he?
Nir'wei couldn't visit her grave, because he didn't know her name... or even which grave she was buried in. But he knew there was one place that could tell him. The morgue. Since the place was in Midtown, they were thankfully unravaged by the attacks... and he could stop off early in the morning, leaving a few trials before he went off to work, where he could spend some time winding down and calming himself. In his mind, it seemed like the perfect plan... only...
It seemed wealthy enough to avoid going out of business - and besides, in what city would a morgue close down from lack of customers? - what with the velvet drapes closed over the windows, wide oak doors, meticulous detail in every nook. He knew he was a little early, but most shops were opening their doors right about now, and those that hadn't, had opened them a long time ago! He rapped on the big brass door-knocker, wondering if its current state was just the natural aesthetic... but there was no reply. He tried pushing the door, repeatedly, but the place was all locked down. "Hello?" He knocked harder than before and glanced to the nearby streets. Maybe the owners were sick? "Hello? Anyone in there?!" Pushing his ear to the thick oak door, he couldn't even hear footsteps from inside... and the closer he looked at the mortuary, the more signs of mistreatment appeared. The dust on the window-panes, the cobwebs formed on the outsides of the drapes; had they really not opened their windows in so long that spiders were taking up residence now? "What in Moseke's good name is going on here...?"
Archailist piqued up unannounced. "Looks like they're shut." Once again, he couldn't doubt that Arch's observational prowess was unmatched. "... But." Nir'wei felt his attention pulled by the spirit, to a sign he'd not noticed before. The letters were scribbled in an elaborate cursive, showing opening breaks. If their sign was to be believed, they should have opened no less than three breaks ago. "They could be sick, but why no sign? Why not have someone else come in and take over for them?" It was confusing indeed, but Arch was focusing on entirely the wrong thing to concentrate on.
"Yeah, that's great and all, but how am I going to get in there and find out who she was?" Nir'wei asked impatiently, stroking fingers through his hair and tugging on it as he clenched his teeth. All this time, all this painstaking time, and now he'd have to wait even longer to learn the truth behind what happened. He didn't care if he had to track down the owners of the morgue and meet them at their own house, he was going to find out who that woman was and what happened to her body. Even if he had to track down Vivian, or those other knights - they'd all appeared, they all might know! Vivian certainly did, but since that faithful night he'd completely lost contact with her. This wasn't the only lead he had... but it was the best, and he lacked both the resources and the power to go beyond it.
It'd been so long. Nearly half of the arc, in fact, since he'd first seen the woman who's name he still did not know. She still came to him in his dreams and, occasionally, he'd see things that brought her face to light once more. These things weren't what normal people associated faces with, though; nobody looked into a butcher's shop, at the tenderized meat lying cold on the window's table, and suddenly remembered a person they'd seen long ago. He couldn't help it, though. As much as he would have loved to discard all those thoughts and memories from his mind, he'd never felt any closure after what happened. Standing next to Vivian and all the other guards, still tipsy drunk and with the taste of vomit lingering on his tastebuds, he'd watched her body carried away under a thin white tablecloth by armoured guards to be prepared and buried somewhere. He'd never known if a funeral was held, he didn't know what gravestone her remains now rested under. He'd never even heard her name; Vivian knew her from nothing more than a passing glance and what friends she'd been seen with last were found dead in the same place and manner as she had been. Tortured to their last breaths.
For a long time - seasons, in fact - he'd pushed all thoughts on her to the back of his head, fighting it in his dreams, choking back the memories and burying the experience under the carpets in the hopes that, if he trod on it enough, it'd flatten and disappear. His analogies were off, though. Instead of burying it under the carpet and flattening it down into something more manageable, he'd tried to bandage a wound with a splinter in the hopes that it'd heal itself. All he'd done was let the wound spread, fester, grow infected and corrode itself into a hideous black mess. His thoughts were becoming more vivid. Even his nightmares were worse. It was time to rip open old wounds and clean them out, once and for all. The sooner he dealt with this and got over it, the sooner he could move on with his life. That, he'd learned from Faith - to keep moving forwards. He wasn't a slave, but that didn't mean he was any less human than she was. If she'd learned to deal with her demons of the past, why couldn't he?
Nir'wei couldn't visit her grave, because he didn't know her name... or even which grave she was buried in. But he knew there was one place that could tell him. The morgue. Since the place was in Midtown, they were thankfully unravaged by the attacks... and he could stop off early in the morning, leaving a few trials before he went off to work, where he could spend some time winding down and calming himself. In his mind, it seemed like the perfect plan... only...
It seemed wealthy enough to avoid going out of business - and besides, in what city would a morgue close down from lack of customers? - what with the velvet drapes closed over the windows, wide oak doors, meticulous detail in every nook. He knew he was a little early, but most shops were opening their doors right about now, and those that hadn't, had opened them a long time ago! He rapped on the big brass door-knocker, wondering if its current state was just the natural aesthetic... but there was no reply. He tried pushing the door, repeatedly, but the place was all locked down. "Hello?" He knocked harder than before and glanced to the nearby streets. Maybe the owners were sick? "Hello? Anyone in there?!" Pushing his ear to the thick oak door, he couldn't even hear footsteps from inside... and the closer he looked at the mortuary, the more signs of mistreatment appeared. The dust on the window-panes, the cobwebs formed on the outsides of the drapes; had they really not opened their windows in so long that spiders were taking up residence now? "What in Moseke's good name is going on here...?"
Archailist piqued up unannounced. "Looks like they're shut." Once again, he couldn't doubt that Arch's observational prowess was unmatched. "... But." Nir'wei felt his attention pulled by the spirit, to a sign he'd not noticed before. The letters were scribbled in an elaborate cursive, showing opening breaks. If their sign was to be believed, they should have opened no less than three breaks ago. "They could be sick, but why no sign? Why not have someone else come in and take over for them?" It was confusing indeed, but Arch was focusing on entirely the wrong thing to concentrate on.
"Yeah, that's great and all, but how am I going to get in there and find out who she was?" Nir'wei asked impatiently, stroking fingers through his hair and tugging on it as he clenched his teeth. All this time, all this painstaking time, and now he'd have to wait even longer to learn the truth behind what happened. He didn't care if he had to track down the owners of the morgue and meet them at their own house, he was going to find out who that woman was and what happened to her body. Even if he had to track down Vivian, or those other knights - they'd all appeared, they all might know! Vivian certainly did, but since that faithful night he'd completely lost contact with her. This wasn't the only lead he had... but it was the best, and he lacked both the resources and the power to go beyond it.
