Rob
Pew Pew Pew
Nemastifi
1020 Words
1020 Words
It was early in the morning that she woke up, bags packed, ready to leave. Her eyes were lit up with a desire they hadn’t shown in quite some time, and for the first time in a few weeks, Rosa actually felt like she had something on her mind that she could work towards. Her mother was plotting her demise from the confines of her own home, and that was unsettling, but until she became stronger, much stronger, there was really no point in wasting her breath on it.
She’d let Kai know beforehand that she’d be leaving for a couple days. She needed some time for herself, to rethink her position with the mercenaries she banded together with, but more so than that to find a way to work on her more unsavory skills. She’d been training in the shadows, mostly on animals and other unlucky beings that ended up dead, trying to find a way that worked best for her.
Aranea had always taught her a specific set of ideals when it came to exploiting her necromancy. She wasn’t allowed to let her emotions fall away when dealing with the dead, she could only resurrect those that she had personally known, and if she couldn’t find anyone like that she had to practise on animals. The reason for this was never really made clear to the half-breed, but now that she had had the time to really contemplate on it she had come up with some sort of explanation.
Of course, she could be dead wrong, but at least it gave her some sense of purpose. Her mother had purposefully taught her not to shut off her emotions when dealing with deceased so that she was more vulnerable to outside influences. She was giving a part of her own soul away to resurrect those that had died back under her spell. Reaching into a barely visible pocket in her pleated skirt, she took out the bounty her mother had placed on her head and read the Vahlmoran text again:
A constant reminder that she was not safe from her mother, and that she would one day have to face her demons. Both of them, because it was not just her lunatic of a mother that was after her. One could even say it wasn’t actually her mother pulling the strings, but the one being pulled by the strings. The strings of her worst nightmare, the web of Arachne, Mother of Spiders, Queen of Aranea. Though she didn’t know how or why, Arachne’s voice had always been prevalent in her nightmares, and even most of her dreams.
She was her voice of madness, the cacophony of death and disease upon all those who had ever wronged her. She was part of her psyche, but she was not one with her. Foreign, yet ever lasting. This intrusion into the deepest parts of her mind was the only thing that made her useful to her mother, and was the only reason why Aranea was now trying to bring her back to Valmoor. She was to be a sacrifice, to become the host of Arachne.
Stepping out into the cold, harsh wind she felt a shiver run down her spine not from the icy air, but the thought of losing her soul to the Spider Queen. She treasured her soul, it was the most fascinating thing about life. She wasn’t exactly sure when her fascination with the concept of an incorporeal life inhabiting a physical plane of existence, but if she had to take a guess it was probably when she was introduced to the Vahlmoran word for soul: Nemastifi, literally meaning, “Hiding one within physical embodiment”.
It was such a novel concept to her back then, and it still was now. The idea that the soul is ‘hiding’ in the body brought so much more depth to the life she’d always taken for granted, and it was literally one of the driving forces behind her existence. Even if it would take her entire life, she would find away to bring her soul out of hiding, to shed herself from this physical embodiment, and finally become the one, true soul.
Of course, she wasn’t even sure if focusing all her efforts on necromancy was ever going to bring her closer to that goal, but at least she liked to think it did. Just to be safe, though, she also thought herself the ways of Castus, as something of a fail safe for both her own moral compass as well as to keep up the idea that she was kind of helpless - which wasn’t totally ungrounded. That said, from her fication with the soul, came the fixation with the dead and it kind of spiralled out of control from there.
Taking another look at the slightly crumpled bounty sheet in her hand, she sighed softly and let the wind carry her hair for a bit as she closed her eyes and took in the cold, afternoon air. It was refreshing, sure, but she was still more of a summer kind of gal. She didn’t particularly like the cold as much as she liked the warmth of day.
“Guess I’ll just have to add that to my list of things to steel myself for, eh?” she mumbled to herself as she closed her jacket, tossed her essentials bag over her shoulder and began to walk away from the mercenary headquarters she’d been calling home.
She half expected Caesar to pop up in front of, or behind her to tell her not to set off on this not-so-grand adventure, but as she wandered off into the distance, there was no sign of him anywhere. Of course, it wasn’t like she would be gone for much longer than a week or so, but still. The fact that he didn’t even come to say goodbye kind of put her off. She liked the guy, she really did.
Shaking her head softly, smiling faintly, she pressed onwards.
Last edited: