330 Haunted [I]
Ah. I finally realize why you've felt so familiar to me, ever since you set foot into my story. It’s more than our innate connection—my creator, lover to your unwitting grandfather. It is our nature; experiments, projects meant to deny oblivion its due. There is a kinship between us, even if you are the rawest form of the desire at the hearts of our makers.
I remember your other creator. Georges arrived in my Fairwoods for reasons much like yours. But he carried more than a Curse inside him: his very soul had been made the slave of a vile, lecherous god. A god he despised so much that he was more than willing to accept the embrace of death, if only he could drag the tyrant holding his chain with him to the darkness that awaits thereafter.
But Avatars have so very few options when they are claimed. It's a terrible thing to see someone else steal your own story away from you, to take the place of your person, and contaminate your legend with their own—something the Ascendants have more experience with than perhaps any other.
I understand Longinus, his urge to roleplay and take part in someone else's story. But I despise him for not being able to let go. For not enjoying the narrative for what it is. Maybe there's some hypocrisy on my part, but I don't think so. I've always let the Fairwoods play out as they are. I don't intervene on behalf of the Courts. I let things become as they should be. I let the genre take shape naturally, organically.
Oh, and I most certainly do not force myself on another. Not in that way. I’m not that kind of reader. I don’t have such… strong tastes.
But I can be a sentimental creature. In fact, I am someone who enjoys tragedies, Deathless. On that note… are you aware that all who have their soul cleansed by the Watchtower’s Flame leave a figment of themselves, an offering to be made vain? In my realm, one remains in part for as long as their name is still spoken and the shaded ripples cast from their essence continue to dance in their absence…
—Evanescia, the Usurper-Narrator of the Fairwoods
330
Haunted [I]
That subsequent death was lost to Shiv. He didn't remember anything after impacting the back of the Princess's throat. He didn't remember if he shredded flesh or even just bruised the inside of her mouth. He didn't remember how he died—if it was because of the discharge, her descending teeth, or even the continent-boiling substances that made up her stomach's inner ecosystem. He didn't remember. He was so tired that even his Severed Shadow was lost in a haze.
His consciousness existed in fragments within his Revenant. He was a silhouette, lingering in the world, apart from it but close enough to remain. He didn't react as shadows approached and placed a specific something in front of him. He noticed, at least some part of him did, but he couldn't do anything, was too worn to offer a response. In that state he remained for an interminable amount of time, until the searing stream that dulled his mind faded and his Physicality stabilized once more.
Holy shit, that took a lot out of me, Shiv thought to himself. Hells of a godsdamn effort for “just mediocre.”
But he still remembered the Princess' declaration that his soup was just okay. It still brought a smile to his heart. It was a shameful display, but frankly, considering what he faced, considering the mistakes he'd made, being mediocre was promising. He'd do better in the future. He would be mediocre for as long as it took to become better. Because that was what being a chef was about: pulling yourself out of shit and then, someday, after years of toil, when you were on the verge of being ground to dust, finally managing to make something edible.
“And then you'll have to do it again and again and again, and each time you'll wonder if you can. Each time you'll doubt yourself. And each time when you do manage to pull it off, you'll think to yourself: ‘Fuck yes, why did I ever think otherwise? I am the fucking best!’ And meanwhile, each time you fail, you'll think you're the silliest cunt in Integration for ever imagining you could have been a chef at all.”
Georges’ musings continued to echo in Shiv’s mind—but they served a strange accompaniment to the sight that lay before him. As Shiv's awareness cleared, he found himself staring at a plate thrice the size of his own body. Sounding from the plate was the sound of buzzing flies and jumping gnats. Drowned by the shadow of the now-empty kelp bowl, it took a moment to see or decipher what he was looking at: a plate filled with shit.
Shit of all forms, of all varieties. Shit harvested from all kinds of creatures. Little pellets, sloppy piles, and more. He was more curious than disgusted, and suddenly his memories snapped back to the deal he'd made with the Anointed Knight before the actual cooking began. A delirious laugh escaped Shiv as his Revenant perked up, igniting in a flash of Vitae as tangibility returned to his form.
Around twenty meters above him was a group of Bread-Knights. They held a series of chains that kept a single member of their contingent leashed. Said single member thrashed about, begging the Princess to think twice, while the others continued to remind him that he'd agreed to this. They wouldn't let their honors be sullied by him if he proved to be an oath-breaker and failed to adhere to the laws of hospitality.
It was an instruction that the other Bread-Knights took great pleasure in facilitating. You didn't force someone you liked to eat a massive pile of shit, after all.
At the same time, Princess Plum Blossom leaned over her table. She had both hands steepled and rested her chin upon the top of her knuckles. There was an eagerness in her expression, like she yearned to see how things would turn out. There was, however, no sign of damage on her at all: no injuries, no fevers filling her throat, no active healing of wounds. If he'd done any harm at all, it had long vanished by way of regeneration. But something told Shiv he didn't even manage to leave a slight tear in her flesh.
Either this Fae Princess is on another level of Toughness, or she has a Narrative Skill protecting her from harm. Or maybe even both. Actually, come to think of it, shouldn't I be banned from hurting her? Weren't the laws of hospitality preventing me from tearing reality open using my Severed Shadow? Wait, was I allowed to do this because I asked her if I could blow myself up? Is that how the laws of hospitality work?
One question always led to another in the Fairwoods. But these questions could wait. Shiv might not have succeeded in creating a worthy meal of kelp soup, but he did have a bit of pleasure to exact. Resurrecting the new physical body, he eyed the Anointed Knight and laughed as he breathed in deep. He fanned a hand over his nose because the foulness of the shit was truly pungent.
“Phew, thank you, guys. I thought I was gonna have to spend all day and night looking up creatures across this table and harvesting their filth. But I guess you were nice enough to do that for me.”
The Princess giggled melodically. “A promise is a promise.”
Her eyes flashed a bright violet, and he felt a crushing weight wash over him, but it broke before it could truly become uncomfortable. Was she trying to analyze him? He caught a slight frown pass over her features, like she was regarding him with new eyes. She was probably trying to figure out why she couldn't see his past or observe any of his skills. Non-Sequitur usually barred people from fully seeing what his capabilities were. Seeing how his Unique Skills couldn't have their levels taken away by the Narrative Loop resetting over and over, he suspected that it worked against the Fae Princess as well.
Confirmation came as he gained another level. The vibrations of a weak vision pulsed, but failed to fully trigger after.
Guess I got another ugly surprise coming my way. Must be another day in the life. Welp. Time to take what joy I can out of all this.
Shiv grinned like a fox who'd just discovered a gap into the back of a henhouse, stretching his tight ligaments and popping stiff bones. “Alrighty, let's see if I can drop the finishing touch. It's been a while since I ate something, but it's also been a while since I’ve been to the toilet…”
“No, please, noble Undying One!” the Anointed Knight wailed from on high. “You don't have to do this. Don't do this. I am sorry. I was foolish. I didn't mean to slander you. I can make things right. I will offer a retraction. You may keep my Narrative Skill!”
“You're the lad,” Shiv replied with a shake of his head. “A deal is a deal.”
“No!”
Retribution was sweet. For Shiv. He suspected it tasted slightly nuttyfor the Anointed Knight.
Comedy 17 > 20
***
After everything was said and done, Shiv found himself feeling much lighter.
Sage of the Enkindled Heart:There is something to be said about decency and forgiveness. Both you and the Anointed Knight have been unkind to each other, but this does not need to be the way of things. I think it is time for us to turn the page and grant one another forgiveness.
And Shiv agreed with that assessment. “Hey, Toa—er, Ser Appetius, no hard feelings, you know. You might have been a piece of shit to me when we first met, killed all those people in Monster Mystery Meat, continued trying to slander me to your Princess and would have happily seen me killed once I got tossed here even though I kept my promise and brought you back home, but now that you ate all that fertilizer, I think I feel different about you. You're an honorable plant man, a real knight, and I’m ready to forgive you.”
The Anointed Knight, once proud of posture and imperious of expression, at least on a good day, now possessed a haunted quality to his gaze. His body was misshapen, his footman-like armor cracked in several places, and his plant-matter flesh below had expanded like a water balloon. His eyes twitched with every word Shiv spoke, and his arms hung limply by his sides.
“You are ready to forgive me. You!” Ser Appetius was over-emotional, clearly touched by Shiv's words. He sounded like he was on the verge of bursting into grateful tears.
“You hope? In fact, I'm that generous. I'm gonna forgive you right now. I'm ready to be friends.”
“Friends,” the Anointed Knight squeaked. His green face was reddening fast, like the yeast inside him was about to burst. Or maybe it was all the stuff he'd just eaten. Hard to guess when it came to the Fae, really. “F-f-friends!”
“Oh, how lovely.” Princess Plum Blossom sighed, clasping her hands together as she took the scene at face value. “Such a wonderful sight to behold: forgiveness at the dawn of spring. If all of us possessed such magnanimity inside of our souls, then perhaps there wouldn't be war at all.”
Her face turned forlorn for the briefest of seconds, and she briefly dabbed at her eyes with a colossal handkerchief. “Alas, war it must be! For Winter's Way is no way at all; to starve, to hunger, to be beneath shadows bleak and a moon so cold that our soil will remain barren and dead.” The Princess shuddered. “That is no world at all. That is a prison, a purgatory, a perilous, venomous hell.”
While Plum Blossom proved impervious to Shiv's combat-related skills, she was transparent to his social and psychological capabilities. The matter within her vast emotional core grew dense, like a building fog of anxiety, while a chain of fear coiled out from her and sought a target afar. Shiv wondered if that was bound for Evanescia, but then he reminded himself that the Usurper-Narrator wasn't usually the Mother of Moons, and might not be pretending to be the Sovereign of the Winter Court during this arc—or however the Fairwoods worked.
“Place is just godsdamned confusing,” he grumbled. Then, it struck Shiv that he could clear some of that up. “Hey, uh, Princess Plum Blossom. Your… Copu—Corpulent Lady.”
She was looking at him again. He didn’t even see her turn. He did feel the shockwave that came in the aftermath, however. The blastwave was great enough to send a landscape of plates, bowls, Bread-Knights, condiments, and more soaring toward the other side of the table—which was a hell of a thing with the other side being beyond Shiv’s line of sight a dozen times over. Only he managed to pin himself in place by pointing his tides against the incoming force. The crushing winds broke around his physical body and passed through his now intangible Severed Shadow. Everything else was wiped clean, and that left only him and the Princess facing each other, discounting all the worker Fae who clung to her body and managed her every need.
“Yes, my Deathless little enigma?”
“What happened to little delight?”
“Ah. You didn’t taste very good. And also, I nearly chipped a tooth trying to grind my way through you.” She clacked her teeth together, and the sound made the air roar like a landslide. “That has me curious whether your ghostly self will taste so disappointing. There was nothing particularly exciting about digesting your flesh. Where is your ghost, anyhow? I can’t quite sense it.”
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“Well, that explains how I died,” Shiv said under his breath. “But probably not, Princess. My Severed Shadow will likely just phase through you, and frankly, it tastes worse than my physical body. No meat, no bones, no anything. Mostly just life force. And if you do digest it, you won't be able to get anything else from me. I kinda need that if I wanna stay undying, you see.”
A part of Shiv wasn't sure if being so honest about his limitations was wise with the Summer Court Princess. However, with how powerful she was and considering how little he understood this realm, he didn't want her to just shove his Severed Shadow in her mouth on a whim if she ever got the chance. Maybe his Revenant's nature and Non-Sequitur would keep it from harm, but it was best to avoid things in advance.
“Oh, I see. Well, since you've been so pleasant and accommodating, I will regard your words as truth. I am good at judging character, and I think you have not led me astray so far.” The Princess still sounded too disappointed for Shiv's comfort.
Such was why he committed to distracting her with other questions immediately. “Well, I'm sorry I don't taste that good, and I couldn't satisfy your cravings, but if you give me another chance, I'm sure I'll eventually be able to make something special for you to eat. You might not believe it from my performance, but I'm actually a chef back where I’m from. Well. Sort of. I spent a long time trying to be a chef. And I would have been a chef if things had turned out differently. Long story.”
Princess Plum Blossom drew closer. Her head was like a moon about to impact the surface of a planet. “Is it a good one? I do like good and exciting stories.”
Shiv scoffed. “Well… It's violent, chaotic, pretty fun at points, a little bit tragic at others, but… shit. It sure as hells’ energetic.”
His life since he gained his Path had been nonstop escalation. It was one battle after another, and things never truly slowed down. He hadn't smashed up any cities or caused more mass casualty events recently, but the struggles continued. They were just different. The Fairwoods were testing him with another form of strife. Inner strife, social strife, and technical strife. Frankly, it was an enjoyable change of pace compared to the nigh-endless violence of the prior months.
“I can tell you all about it if you’re willing to keep me around and… explain a few things about this place to me. The Fairwoods, I mean. And the Summer Court too. A lot of stuff, really. I wouldn’t be against sticking around if you can do that.”
The Princess’s decision arrived in an instant.
Plum Blossom, Princess of the Summer Court, has decided to bestow a minor favor upon you.
“Oh, wonderful! Splendid! Delightful! Stupendous!” The Princess seemed like a girl whose parents had come home with a new puppy. “I would be overjoyed to see you made a more permanent fixture of my staff. You will be, if nothing else, entertaining. And Ser Appetius seems so lonely sometimes. I’m truly glad he found and brought back a friend from the Pattern Beyond.”
Shiv decided against raising his concerns regarding the terms "Permanent Fixture" and "New Friend." He cleared his throat and nodded enthusiastically. “Uh, yeah, sure. That… that sounds great.”
“It is marvelous. Already, I am envisioning the number of plates and meals you can carry upon your tiny but mighty back!”
No! Fuck! Shiv screamed internally. My meal was so mediocre that she made me a server instead. Godsdammit!
“But with your strength, and since you are such good friends with Ser Appetius, maybe it's best to include you as one of the Bread-Knights under his charge. I think you will look absolutely delightful in a set of gingerbread armor!”
His regrets doubled. I'll get gingerbread armor. Appetius is gonna make me wear armor made out of shit after what I did to him. Hells no! No way, no how I'll serve under him. Nothing would make me do that!
“Then again, with how fast you are as well, you might be able to clean all these plates in a practical instant. Why, you might be more effective than some of our Court Hydromancers.”
Shiv nearly blacked out from sheer horror. No, System. No! She's gonna make me a dishwasher! I didn't hunt those one hundred stupid fucking lesser vampires in Lost Angeles to become a felling dishwasher. Godsdamn it. A single, uncharacteristic tear rolled down his eye. Fuck. George's, I’m sorry. I failed you…
“Ah, what am I thinking?” The Princess threw her hand up. “I might as well have you do everything! Even your cooking might hold a little promise, considering you worked alone, and you are nowhere near as bad as I was led to believe.” She pouted and glared in the distance. “A topic I will be discussing at length with Ser Appetius. I think I will include you as kitchen staff as well, so you can service me anywhere I so choose: outside, inside, upon my person, under my lips, by the plates or in the heat of my Elysian Cookhold!”
You have been dubbed a minor Chef/Guard/Dishwasher/Platebearer/Winepourer/Jester/Conversation Partner/Teethcleaner/Mouthwiper/Backscratcher/… (Expand +376) of Princess Plum Blossom of the Summer Court.
The number of job titles he just gained simply went on and on. For three whole minutes, new roles loaded in the notification before his eyes.
“I think I might be a little over-employed,” Shiv muttered to himself when the last job finally loaded.
“How can it be labor if I'm so happy?” the Princess squealed with glee.
Sage of the Enkindled Heart:That is indeed a form of logic, just none that we can recognize. Play along for now, get what we want, then we can depart at any time using our Shadow. Or perhaps we can stay and see what we can learn from her kitchen. This Elysian Cookhold… I wonder why it's called that…
That question inspired a deep sense of foreboding in Shiv. He wasn't sure if he was that excited to find out.
“Now. Begin your service by telling me your life story. Do not miss out on anything. I wish to know everything about you, oh, curious little not-quite-mortal!”
Shiv stared up at her face. “Like, right now?”
“Of course! In fact, I DEMAND it.” Plum Blossom’s words reverberated with a promise of power, and it felt like something was supposed to happen. The world boomed. The wood beneath Shiv splintered.
He remained utterly unaffected.
Princess Plum Blossom blinked in surprise. “I… I DEMAND YOU TELL ME YOUR LIFE’S TALE NOW!”
The entire dining table nearly disintegrated from the sheer force of her will. Strangely, Shiv still felt nothing. There was a brief spike of nervousness inside him, but aside from that, he wasn’t affected at all. It was like her Skill couldn’t affect him—wasn’t reaching him—which thankfully made Plum Blossom more befuddled than aggravated.
“How strange,” she muttered, cocking her head. Her eyes flashed violet once more, and a pout began to form. “I have changed my mind. I wish to know two other things first. How are you resisting my Regal Bearing Skill, and why can I not observe your Path and Skills at all?”
“Uh, not sure about the first one. For the second… My Path has a… Shyness Skill.” Shiv didn’t feel like telling her about his Non-Sequitur if he didn’t have to.
“A Shyness Skill?” She squinted at Shiv, uncertain if he was lying. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“It's unique to my Path.”
Her mouth turned into an O. “Oh, a Unique Shyness Skill. That explains much!”
And he wasn't even entirely lying. Non-Sequitur was a sort of Shyness Skill; it allowed someone to shy their way out of reality.
“Do you think that is why my regal nature cannot affect you? Wait… do you fear or respect me at all, Shiv the Deathless?”
He almost replied honestly—and almost tumbled down the path of no return.
Sage of the Enkindled Heart:No! Wait! Stop! Consider what she’s asking! Consider what she has done to her own Bread-Knights without care. She is not a kind nor noble figure. We’re dealing with a privileged monster to her root.
So?
Sage of the Enkindled Heart:Sooo, if our answer displeases her in any way, she might try to get rid of us. Or attempt to kill us for good. We can try to escape from her and the Court, but where does that lead? We don’t know where Adam is, and he hasn’t contacted us in this loop yet. We don’t know where we are, and blocked from our other bodies, we can’t ask Cullywier for information either. We do not know where Evanescia is. We do not know what truly causes this dimension to revert, or if it can be meddled with. We don’t know too many things—we need a point of stability to build off of. A territory to master in case the loops trigger again and again. And we won’t be able to maximize our knowledge if we antagonize her. Look at her—she’s clearly bothered we’re not afraid of her. What does that tell us?
Shiv was forced to think again. That… her Regal Bearing…
Sage of the Enkindled Heart:…is an Intimidation Skill. We are unaffected because we are not afraid of her. And so she has no power over us. There is no narrative tension there either. She can kill us, but we don’t care about that. And what kind of overbearing noble with far too high an opinion of themselves would suffer a servant they can’t control? Our answer cannot be in the affirmative. Deflect. Reframe. Anything but the truth. Be a politician.
The Princess’s stare became unblinking. She waited for him to respond. Shiv closed his mouth, reworked his thoughts, and made an attempt to save himself from trouble.
“I think I just… like you too much, My Lady. I see you as a friend. Yeah. I… I think I like you more than anyone or anything else. That’s the emotion I feel.”
And at that load of bullshit, Plum Blossom, be it out of arrogance or genuine naivety, seemed overjoyed. “Ohhhhh! Aren’t you just the sweetest little creature!”
Her massive fingers somehow seized him with terrifying dexterity. He was surprised when she caught him, only reacted when he was meters away from her puckered lips, and felt no pain in her gentle grip. The massive kiss she planted greeted him like a falling meteor. A squirt of ruptured organ blood escaped from Shiv's orifices. His vision went dark.
When he came to once more, he found himself held at arm's length from Princess Plum Blossom. She was even bigger up close, and that was saying something. Is this what it feels like to be held by a living continent?
For a moment, she just marveled at him like a girl holding up said puppy in the prior metaphor. “I think it is the hand of fate that brought us together. Yes, indeed, fate. It is not often that I find such a genuine and delicious little soul. We are going to do great things together! You are going to feed me and spend such time with me that we will become almost inseparable. It's been too long since I had someone for a taste of this genuine affection. My brothers and sisters, bless them, are so occupied with their own businesses and holdings; they don't come down to spend time with me.” She almost sniffled. “And all my servants, though they are loyal and dedicated to their labors, are so consumed by keeping my stomach full that they scarcely have time to converse with me. But I can see things will be different with you. Oh, I'm looking forward to this!”
Shiv absolutely wasn't. Her apocalyptic enthusiasm was unnerving. Furthermore, his Psychology Skill identified another critical failure in her personality: she wasn't the type to let go. She wasn't the type to release someone from service. She wasn't the type to care about someone else's feelings. It was all about her: a glutton of heart and stomach.
She held up a finger, and her eyes went wide like saucers in delight. “Before you tell me your story, I wish for you to be properly dressed and properly distinguished from the others. Everyone must know that you are mine! All mine! And that must be made obvious through dress and attire alone!”
You have been dubbed Princess Plum Blossom’s Dearest Companion.
Shiv tried not to swallow. I have a bad felling feeling about this.
“Ahem. Servants! Take my Dearest Companion to the Cookhold! See that he is granted… the Vestments of Edibility.”
“What… what is that?” Shiv stammered.
The Princess laughed. “Oh, you will see, my sweetest dear. You will see.”
Slowly, Shiv realized it was wise to laugh along with her—as he sent his Severed Shadow rushing for an exit once more.
Fuckfuckfuck, I have to get away from this place. I have to get away. Godsdammit, Sage, why did you do this to me? What is she going to make me wear?
***
Adam Arrow wasn’t a big fan of being naked. He was even less a fan of a glass blade trying to lockpick its way up his prostate.
“Agh, ughhahh!” he said, which translated to: Oh, felling gods, my soul and mind feel like they’re in pieces.
Where his intelligibility failed, his sheer misery was carried by the tone of his voice alone. He tried to rise, but a massive hand—wider than his torso—kept him pressed down on the ground once more.
“Ah, ah, ah” the Culturist admonished him. “Not yet. I’m trying to fix a final thing. Patience, Young Arrow.”
“Uhhghh! Guhh! Ah-ah-ah! Awguuughh!”
What do you mean patience? I feel like my insides are about to spill out of me, oh, gods, the pain. Make it stop!
“Ah, it is not so bad,” the Legendary Orc chided. “Think of your friend. Shiv would barely notice this.”
“UH! UHUHUH! EYY-AHH!”
Shiv would barely notice if someone—wait, didn’t he tear his own bits off and throw them at you?
The Culturist hummed as he recalled that particular memory. “That was rather effective. And quite disturbing. Even for an orc. Conceptually, anyhow. We do not reproduce physically, but I can understand the horror of losing your means of propagation.”
A loud snap echoed inside Adam. This time, he didn’t make incoherent ape noises. This time, enough of him was pieced back together that he shrieked.
“Bloody felling hells! Bloody…” He gagged. He wanted to puke. He ended up dry heaving nothing but sour spit on the soil beneath him instead.
For a few minutes, he twisted and writhed on the ground, groaning as he struggled to regain his composure. When his breath finally came under control and his full sanity was restored after what must have been half an hour, Adam rolled over onto his back and wheezed weakly.
He could feel his bare ass rubbing against the dirt. “Culturist.”
“Yes, Adam?”
“Why am I naked?”
“I believe our enemy managed to break your Magical Resistance, reached into your mind through your dear friend Uva's Psychomancy, and forced you to unequip all your items.”
Adam began slamming the back of his head against the ground, pounding a deepening depression in the soil. “Gods… fucking… damn… it.”
“Yes. I would agree.”
“Gods-felling-dammit!”
“Quite so. It is very inconvenient for you to lose that armor. You have been made much more vulnerable than before. But at least we are still alive.” The Culturist paused. “For a while, I wasn’t. I was dead. I could feel the Challenger draw close to my soul. I felt his intentions. Worst of all, I felt the Itch return. But then, the end was undone. I was returned. Pulled away from his reach. And now we are here again.”
“Here?” Adam coughed. “Where is… Where is here? Where is…”
His question was interrupted when he opened his eyes. He saw the foliage of a forest looming over him. They were back inside the dragon—he recognized that.
But there was also something else. A single, unceremonious notification occupied the totality of his mind—before, a moment later, that totality was occupied by everything.
Seer of Horizons 200 > 204 (Skill Evolution Reached)
Skill Evolution: Seer of Horizons (Heroic) > This Haunting Omniscience (Legendary)