Closed Until It's Gone (Phobius)

[Aislyn Leavold]

Goddammit, she asked for one thing....

The scene had played in slow motion. The thing charged, Aislyn had lifted her bow, her finger had almost pulled the trigger.
Until, of course, Phobius turned around.
Normally, the woman wouldn’t have been all that perturbed by the screaming and shouting of an angry undead horse. After all, she’d fought- and won- against many an amalgamate during her time in the other-Alvadas, but this, this was different.
This was terrifying.

As soon as Phobius laid eyes on the creature, something ignited within the woman. Her pulse sped up, and all of a sudden she couldn’t breathe. It was like being plunged underwater. She must have been dreaming- or maybe she was already dead? A lump rose in her throat, and she felt the sudden urge to cough. She was choking. Choking to death, before she could even be murdered by whatever it was facing her. She couldn’t do anything. She was frozen. Dead.
It was only the screeching approach of the horse monster that brought her back to the land of the living. Out of reflex, she pulled the trigger, landing a solid shot in the chest of the beast. It screamed again, almost like a human in pain- except so, so much louder. It tripped over itself, steering right past Aislyn instead of hitting her. Dazed, she watched it as it angrily howled at its new wound. It was distracted, for the moment.

Muscle memory took over. Her hands pulled another bolt from her quiver, locking it into place with shaking hands. Then, another wave of panic came. She was going to die. Die, die, die, die, die. Phobius was going to die. What was the point? They were dead already. The trembling worsened as ticks passed like chimes. Even once the bolt was loaded, she didn’t move. She couldn't move. A hand reached up to her face, pushing into her forehead. Die, die, die, die.
The crossbow slipped from her grasp, tumbling to the floor beside her. Eventually, Aislyn followed suit, her legs apparently giving up on living as well. The horse regained its footing. It was so close. So close. Both hands went to her forehead, now, just trying to stop the pounding. Trying to stop the fear.

Ionu help her, why was she so afraid?

There was no denying it, now. For so long, so petching long, she had kept the panic away. Controlled herself, controlled everything, and just like that, all that control was gone. And not only had her attacks returned, but they were worse than ever. Making up for lost time, it seemed. She closed her eyes as hard as she could, waiting for it to pass. 'Maya' flickered wildly in and out of existence. She couldn't focus. She couldn’t move. This was it, she was going to die. Her heart was beating out of her chest; would that fail too? Would she die of her heart giving up before she could even be trampled below an angry set of hooves?

No. Dira forgive her, she would not let her mind confine her to a silent death.

It was a difficult thing to pull oneself out of an anxiety attack, but Aislyn had been alone all her life. She’d never had help before, and she didn’t intend on depending on anyone else now. She had to come back. She had to survive. She had to ground herself. Nothing felt real, but it had to be. It was.

Five. She had to find five things she could see.
Forcing herself to open her eyes, Aislyn looked around. Phobius. She could see Phobius. Crumpled up on the ground, like he had already been struck down. Another wave of panic hit her- he was dead. He was dead already, what was the point? She had failed. She was going to die.

No, no. She had to continue. One down, four more to go. Below Phobius, the ground- cold, and hard. Merciless, just like the monster had come up behind him. She could see the monster, too. Angrily recuperating, attempting to pull the bolt out with its teeth. That was three. She could see Leth’s light, hanging high above the ground without a care for what transpired below. She could see her crossbow, laying carelessly strewn to the side, still loaded. Five.

Four. Four things she could feel. She could feel the bite of loose rocks digging into her knees where the pant leg had torn. She could feel the heat on her face as the blood rushed to her head. She could feel her hands, just as hot, but not her fingers. Every single digit felt numb, like it had already been severed from her body. Every part of her felt like it was on fire, yet strangely, more than anything, Aislyn felt cold. Pulling her hands away from her face, she reached forwards. For the crossbow, for a knife, for Phobius, for anything.

Three. Three things to hear. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, that was easy. Her breathing, coming in ragged, uneven breaths. It didn’t even sound like her, anymore. Like she was an outside force, watching what was happening from a first-person point of view.
One more. She could hear the scraping of feet on the ground as the horse prepared to charge once again. It could kill her easily; it was so close. It was playing with them- waiting for a chance to strike that would provide the greatest entertainment. She needed to move faster, think faster, do faster. Pushing her palms into the ground, she began to move.

Two. Two things she could smell. She could smell the rotting flesh of the hai-spawn that was actively trying to tear her to pieces. She could smell the dirt. It had rained recently, in the normal Alvadas. It never rained in the other-Alvadas. She had never thought about it, but there hadn’t been much in the way of weather. Just fighting. So much fighting.
In a desperate reach, her hands closed around the wooden handle of her crossbow.

Five, four, three, two, one. One thing she could taste.
Pulling the crossbow around to face her adversary, she saw. Saw the peeling skin and gruesome wounds, where someone else had already tried- and failed- to take the beast down. She felt her hands shaking desperately as she grasped the wooden weapon. She smelt the same as she had seen, the mucus and blood; the smell of death. She heard the scream- the same one as before- as it charged once again. One thing she could taste.
Metal. No, iron. Blood. She could taste blood.

Aislyn pulled the trigger.

…

It was a few ticks later that Aislyn realized she had closed her eyes. The only thing that stopped her from keeping her eyes closed until something else came to kill her was a very heavy something falling atop her. The horse crumpled on top of her, evidence of how close it had come to ending her life. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus on what was in front of her, Aislyn saw her bolt first, then its victim next. Straight through the throat, and into what skull was left. From her lower point of attack, it had been inevitable to get such a shot. Straight up, instantly debilitating.
It was dead.

Her heart was still beating out of her chest, but it was still beating. She was still in a dream, but she was alive. That was all that mattered. She still couldn’t breathe, but that was no longer just a feeling. Despite the lack of flesh, the horse still weighed quite a bit, and was actively lying on her chest. With some difficulty, she freed herself, rolling over onto her stomach and coughing violently. Her lips were dry, and her throat felt like it was half closed over. Pushing herself up, she crawled over to the limp body of her companion, holding her breath until she eventually saw proof of Phobius' own breathing. He was alive. She dare not touch him.
”Pho... Phobius?” Coughing again, she tried to form a coherent sentence. Her heart hadn’t pounded this hard in seasons. ”Are you- Are you alright?”

OOCAislyn is being affected by Phobius’ wonderful illusion-affecting ‘Solace’ bracelet. “When wearing the bracelet, as long as the beads are touching his skin, illusions will be influenced by Phobius' mood: the better his mood the more lighthearted the illusions and vice versa. Influence over player controlled illusions is dictated by the respective player.” Phobius’ emotions would be projected onto ‘Maya’, since she is indeed an illusion, directly influencing Aislyn’s emotions as well.

~

The line between ILLUSION and REALITY
is one I am willing to cross

[Phobius]

"Aren't you cold?"

Surprised to hear a voice other than his own, the boy looks up from his little pile of snow and blinks at the stranger. It's a man, with a head full of short, scruffy hair that's more orange than red, and cheeks that are covered with stubble; the scritchy-scratchy kind that hurts your hand when you touch it. There's a big smile on his face, which tempts the boy to smile right back. Not a lot of people smile at him, anymore.

"No, not really," he says. "Well...maybe a li'l bit, but I'm used to it. I'm out here a lot."

"That so? You like being outside?"

"Yeah! There's birds and clouds to look at and lots of snow to play in. I like the snow best, though."

"Why is that?" the man asks, and now even his eyes are smiling. Bright green eyes. Friendly eyes.

"Cause it's soft and I can make stuff with it," the boy replies, pushing himself back on his knees so that the man can see his latest work of art. "See?"

The man squats to take a closer look at it. Then he narrows his eyes, puts a hand on his chin, and thinks, tap-tap-tapping on his temple with his forefinger while his thumb rests on the corner of his pursed lips.

"Hmm...I'd take a guess at what that is, but I think you ought to just tell me."

"C'mon, one guess! Just one!"

"Alright, fine. Is it a...mountain?"

"Nope," the boy says, and grins. "Another one!"

"But I'm out of guesses, now. You only gave me one."

It's the truth, so he decides to go ahead and tell him. "It's a house!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air, and the man smacks himself on his forehead.

"Darn! I should have known, shouldn't I?" he says, seeming almost embarrassed. The boy's rendition of a house is a simple one--little more than a mound of snow with a dent on one side, where a handful of the fluff was scooped out to make an entrance--but he's proud of his work, and to the man it looks quite good.

"So, if it's a house, where are the people?" he then asks, and the boy can't help but giggle when he presses his face into the snow and tries to peek inside. "Hellooooo? Is anyone in there?"

"No people," the boy says, still giggling. "I'm no good at snow-people. There's just snow."

"Well, that won't do. You can't have a snow-house without snow-people."

"You can't?"

The man eases back from the mound and shakes his head. "Nope. Which means that you and I will just have to make some," he says, smiling that infectious smile of his. "How's that sound, kiddo?"

"Great!" the boy almost squeaks in response, and in that moment he's happier than he's ever been, because it is great. No one has spoken to him in ages, and as he sits there in the snow and stares at the smiling man, he finds himself hoping that he'll stay a bit longer. Hoping that they'll build snow-people together, and that afterwards he'll talk with him some more. Hoping with all of his heart that he'll talk so much, he won't want to leave, because the boy misses talking to people and having people talk to him. He's lonely, but doesn't realize it, yet; the dull aching in his heart is just another part of his life that he's gotten used to.

Amidst all of his happiness, he realizes that he's forgotten something important. "Hey, mister?" he asks. "What's your name?"

"Korin," the man replies. "What's yours, kiddo?"

"I'm--"

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Pho...Phobius? Are you--Are you alright?"

Miss Maya's voice was muffled, making her sound like she'd wrapped something around her mouth--either that or someone had stuffed something in his ears--but he heard it, and his eyes fluttered open, giving him a full view of the starless night sky. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying on his back, and he was confused until he remembered what had happened. They'd been walking...then Miss Maya had pulled out her wooden thing, and that horse...

Phobius sat up, a wild, frightened look in his eyes as he searched for the monster, expecting it to stagger out of the shadows now that it saw that he was awake, but he couldn't find it. And then he saw it lying on the ground a little way away from them. As far as he could tell, it wasn't moving...and there was something sticking out of its throat.

"Is...is it dead?" he asked, staring at its rotten corpse, but he was quick to answer himself, not waiting for whatever the woman's words might have been. "It's dead. You killed it."

Then he was quiet for a moment. Truth be told, he did feel a bit bad for the horse, but it had tried to hurt them. There was nothing else that Miss Maya could have done to save them...right?

Not wanting to dwell on it, Phobius looked at her. "I'm okay. I got scared, and...I think I went to sleep. But it was a short sleep...?" he said, not really sure how to explain it. He'd just been standing one moment and on the ground the next. And had he dreamt? A little bit, but he couldn't remember what it'd been about. "And you? Did it hurt you?"

His immediate assumption was that yes, the beast had hurt her while he was out, but he listened to whatever she had to say and let himself relax a little, starting to rub his thumb over the blue beads of the bracelet that hung from his left wrist. It comforted him sometimes, like his scarf did.

"Maybe we should go back," he said, sounding nervous. "Maybe...maybe outside is bad and not safe, anymore. More monsters might come, and..."

And then he couldn't go on, not knowing what would happen to them if a few more of those horrible things showed up. Not wanting to know.

a Nari a Common a

[Aislyn Leavold]

For a long, long moment, Aislyn’s words were met with nothing. For that long, long moment, she had nothing to do but think. She’d met Phobius out of chance; a shared reply to an advertisement they both just happened to see in the Sanity Center on a day they both just happened to visit. An advertisement that led them to the same employer, where, thanks to chance again, they had met through a similarity in interests. The entire encounter had been thanks to nothing but what could be called the will of the gods themselves; Ionu depositing Aislyn at the entrance of the city, on the day she emerged from the pit of self-pity she’d clawed herself into.
Or… No, it hadn’t been the same day. It had been the third. The third of summer. Two years ago.
In just two years she’d gone from solemnly swearing to herself never to become attached to any living being again, to the present, in which she was panicking over the thought of the one person she’d dare call a friend never waking up again.
What a strange thing, time was.

When Phobius sat up, it felt like a weight was suddenly taken off her mind. Yes, she had seen his chest rise and fall; yes, he had been breathing. But now he was indoubtably living again. After all, breathing and speaking were very different situations; different definitions of ‘alive’.

Is it dead?

Aislyn looked over her shoulder, her eyes falling upon the corpse that had been strewn atop her moments before. The corpse that had nearly killed her. Looking back at herself, her gaze catching on her hands in particular. Almost every part of her exposed skin was covered in some sort of dirt or dust, whether from her battles before or fresh from what she’d just survived. When the beast had fallen on her, the crimson stickiness from its wounds had been smeared across her clothing. If it wasn’t herself she were looking at, Aislyn would have sworn she was bleeding as well. But she wasn’t. She was fine.

”You-” Her words caught in her throat. She hadn’t had this much trouble speaking for a very, very long time. ”You fainted, Phobius.” For half a tick, she found herself almost angry. No- no, not with Phobius. She couldn’t be angry with Phobius. She was angry at the circumstance, the fact that she’d tried to help the boy and only ended up with more blood on her hands. She’d been stupid. She could have avoided this, if only she were more aware, more in control. Better. If she hadn’t frozen up, if she hadn’t panicked. There would have been no close call, no near-death experience. It would have been quick, painless for all those involved.
Except, perhaps the horse, but that didn’t matter. It was dead. There had her no alternative.
”I’m… Fine. I’m fine.”

Her words were almost an assurance to herself, as well. An order. She was fine. And if she wasn’t, then she better petching become fine, or else. Aislyn was the one who had to be fine in the circumstance. Aislyn was the one who had to make sure nothing went awry; the one that had to be in control. It was on her head to not fail, to not make mistakes. But that was exactly what she’d done. Failed. There had been no reason to panic. At least, no reason she could conceivably see. She'd faced closer circumstances back in apocalypse-Alvadas, this should have been a non-issue. What was different?
Phobius was there, but the horse had never threatened him. When he'd gone down, the beast had charged straight for her, not Phobius. So what was it? What else could have possibly gone wrong?

Looking up at her companion, Aislyn found her eyes catching on the scarf around his neck. She had such faith in her abilities, in her intelligence, that she'd been blind to the questions lying right in front of her. She'd thought Phobius to be such a simple puzzle, something so cut-and-dry. The woman had somehow come to believe she knew him well enough that there was nothing left to know.

Obviously, she had been wrong.

Following his gaze, Aislyn found herself staring at the boy’s wrist. She’d never noticed that bracelet before, either. There were so many things she didn’t notice about Phobius. It seemed she’d failed there, too. She’d missed the collar, the way he always wore his scarf. She couldn’t afford to keep missing such obvious discrepancies. She had to know.

There were so many things you didn't see when you never looked.

”Going… Going back is- is a good idea.” He was right. The outside wasn’t safe. It never had been; she’d led them straight into a trap. Another failure. Pushing herself off the ground, she offered Phobius a hand. ”Where did you get that- that bracelet?”

~

The line between ILLUSION and REALITY
is one I am willing to cross

[Phobius]

Phobius took the woman's outstretched hand and pulled himself back onto his feet. He felt fine, for a few ticks; then his legs seemed to forget how to work, and he held onto her for a bit longer, trembling and tottering until he was able to steady himself. If this was what being "fainted" was like, he hoped that it never happened again. Ever.

All that aside, it was good that she had agreed with him. If monsters from that awful place--the place that she'd called the "other Alvadas"--were wandering around the city, they needed to be inside. It'd be safe, there, assuming that none of the monsters knew how to open doors or crawl through windows...or walk through walls, like he'd heard ghosts could do. But weren't illusions kind of like ghosts...?

Were all of those monsters even illusions?

Phobius thought about it for a bit, then nudged it to the back of his mind when Miss Maya asked him about his bracelet. "This?" he said, looking down at it as though he was seeing it for the first time. He hadn't known the name for it in Common, and had taken to calling it his "beady thing". "Oh. Remember when we went to the Alchae, in Spring? And when the people came for Miss Wanda?"

It was still a painful memory for him, like a wound on his brain that hadn't ever healed, but he tried not to let himself get sad thinking about it, now.

"That man with the flower beard gave us coins. Mine was in my pocket, but when I got to the Inn it was gone...and this was there. So I think maybe it was a present. Like a birthday present?"

He paused, then gave the woman a curious look. "Did you get a present?"

a Nari a Common a

[Aislyn Leavold]

Pulling her companion back onto his feet, Aislyn was relieved to see he was relatively unharmed from the encounter. He’d been put into worse shape by lesser things in the past, but he didn’t seem all that upset at all. Either that, or he was very good at hiding things; of which Aislyn was doubtful, considering her knowledge of Phobius’ psyche. He was untouched, while she was shaken at a level she hadn’t been for seasons. Yet the illusionist was the one used to these things, Phobius was… not.

When the Inartan boy stumbled, Aislyn caught him immediately. Not entirely untouched, then. Still, she was surprised by the practically subconscious movements. The woman had still made herself certain that her right hand was the only one to make contact at any point in time, but any contact at all was a constant threat. She was cautious, but not as cautious as she had once been. A caution that stemmed not from threat, but from… Something else. Phobius wasn’t a threat, of course, she had known that for quite a while. But she still felt unsafe around him. A threat in a different sense. He wasn’t a threat to Maya, but a threat to Aislyn.

Staring down at the bracelet she had inquired about, the pieces began to fall together. Even before he was finished speaking, she knew what he was going to say. For a moment, she was taken aback by the simplicity in how the event could be named. Remember when we went to the Alchae? Half a city block had exploded, leaving dozens dead, if not more. Not a soul had batted an eye at the deaths, and only three souls had even bothered to investigate. Due to Ionu’s favour alone and perhaps a bit of luck, Aislyn had not been one of the lives claimed, but that hadn’t meant she had escaped unharmed. After all, at that point in time Wanda had almost approached a point in which she and ‘Maya’ could have been friends, then she was whisked away by the Serpent, never to be seen again. Nearly a year, it had been, and no explanation. She hadn’t been marked for death by the Speakers, but at this point, Aislyn almost wished she had. Then there would have been an answer- a definite explanation- to where the woman had gone. Instead, all they had been given were coins.
Coins that didn’t stay coins for long.

Aislyn’s coin had morphed into the Eye, which she kept atop her clothing even then. It had a purpose, that much she was sure of, but the only question was to what that purpose was. Surely the answer would lie within the locket, but admittedly the illusionist had no idea how to open it. But that wasn’t the question she needed to answer at the moment.
Aislyn hadn’t even considered the fact that the others had been given a gift as well. They had all been delivered coins, and Aislyn’s coin had changed. Who was to say the other coins hadn’t changed as well? Phobius’ had become a bracelet, which was an answer to a question that brought many more questions with it. First of all, Phobius and Aislyn hadn’t been the only ones at the scene, nor the only ones to receive a coin. A certain snake had also received one, and surely his must have morphed as well. What had Rey’s become? And more importantly, what did it do?

Shaking aside the unanswerable questions, the woman focused on the answerable for the moment. She couldn’t outright ask Phobius what his gift did; he might not even know, anyways. They hadn’t exactly come with instructions, after all. But they had purposes, that much she was certain of. Nothing the Speakers did was ever without purpose, and this was no exception. She just had to figure out what that purpose was. But if Aislyn knew the Speakers, no gift came without a catch, and she certainly didn’t want to worry Phobius with that. Especially with what had happened.

”What was that…” Despite her calmer interior, the woman still didn’t seem to be able to relax. It was like she had run across the length of the city, and suddenly lacked the breath to speak with. Her mind knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she simply couldn’t say it. It was quite possibly the most frustrating experience Aislyn had ever had the trouble of knowing. ”What was that you said about birthdays?”
Forcing a smile, she kept one hand on her crossbow the whole time, another bolt half-notched on the string. The only reason it remained half-notched was the fact that, should Aislyn not actually need to fire, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of options for getting rid of the arrow. After all, she didn’t think Phobius would appreciate her shattering a bolt on his floor just to get the thing out of the bow without damaging the weapon. Or damaging herself.

”Yours... Yours was on the twenty-second, right?” She hoped her memory didn’t fail her, but the boy had held a party on the date the year prior, so it was a fairly memorable occasion. This year there had been no party, though. No announcement, either. In fact, Aislyn hadn’t even come to wish him a happy birthday, or anything similar. With all the events of the season, such a thing had seemed so… Unimportant.
Obviously, it wasn’t.
”I’m sorry I missed it.”

~

The line between ILLUSION and REALITY
is one I am willing to cross

[Phobius]

The woman didn't answer him, acting as though she hadn't even heard his question, and as much as Phobius wanted to know what had happened to her coin he didn't ask, again. It was alright if she didn't want to talk about it; bringing the whole thing up was enough to make him start to feel sick to his stomach, so he could understand the reluctance. Some small part of him still held onto the hope that Miss Wanda was out there, somewhere...and for a few ticks he felt tempted to ask Miss Maya if she felt the same, but he held his tongue, not wanting to bother her.

When she mentioned his birthday, he smiled at her; then she apologized for missing it, and his face fell a bit. "It's okay," he said, not seeming to mind. "I didn't have a party, this time. I...I wanted to, because the last one was fun and I liked it a whole lot, but..."

He scrunched up his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug, feeling as though he didn't need to explain himself. A party wouldn't have been a good idea; not with how scared all of the Alvads had been of the illusions--the monsters--that had been roaming the streets and hurting their friends. He'd been scared, too; so scared that he had decided to spend his special day inside of the Inn with Miss Georgia and Nini. There'd been no music to dance to or food to eat, save for a pear that the woman had given him, and the Inn's somewhat-empty lobby was nothing like the Crooked Playhouse, but they had found ways to enjoy themselves. In the end, there wasn't much that Miss Maya had missed.

Phobius was silent for a moment, his brows furrowed and lips pursed, looking as though he was trying hard to remember something important. To his dismay, however, he couldn't.

"I don't know your birthday," he said, sounding a bit surprised. Then he blinked at Miss Maya, the revelation seeming to bring others with it. "I don't know a lot about you. That's...not good, is it?"

She had about half of a tick to answer him before he went ahead and did it for her.

"It's not. We're friends, but...but I don't know what food you like, or what color's your favorite, or if you have any brothers or sisters..." the boy went on, feeling more and more disappointed in himself as he realized just how much there was that he didn't know about the woman. They'd been friends for over a year, now, but...

"Maybe I'm a bad friend," Phobius muttered, and hearing the words outside of his own head made him anxious, all of a sudden. Afraid. "Maybe...maybe that's why everybody leaves, and why they were monsters in my dream, monsters that wanted to hurt me. I'm a bad friend."

a Nari a Common a

[Aislyn Leavold]

It was good to see Phobius smile again, though the resigned way he mentioned the last celebration he had held was rather disheartening. But what was worse were the statements that came next. The silence was calming while they walked, a solid rhythm of their feet falling into step. But the talking was the problem. It wasn’t Pho’s fault, of course- he couldn’t possibly have known any better- but nonetheless his words set her on edge. Not just the birthday question, though. I don’t know a lot about you, he had said. He couldn’t possibly have known how right he was.

For a moment, she opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, her eyes drifting from Phobius’ countenance to the floor. She had nothing to say. There was nothing to say. She felt guilty, and for good reason. It was strange how good of friends she could believe them to be without ever knowing much about each other at all. He was right; he knew very little about her. But that was purposeful. What was not purposeful was how little she knew about him.

Met with her silence, Phobius continued. He was right. It wasn’t good, not in his eyes at least. But it was for the best. To dig deeper into ’Maya’ would result in nothing. Searching for something that didn’t exist, to find nothing at all. She had, of course, pondered what history ’Maya’ would have, what happy fallacy the persona might retain. Aislyn had made stories specifically for this reason, written down thoughts of what would be the most believable, what would be easiest to lie about. But this was not the situation she had prepared for. Phobius was not the one the lies were for. Maybe Maya’s favourite colour was white, and she liked strawberries and sweet breads. Maybe she had a sister, or a full family, a full, happy family where she never felt alone. Maybe Maya was happy.
But, in the end, it didn’t matter how happy she was.
Maya wasn’t real. But Phobius was, and Aislyn was. Perhaps it was time for the truth.

But only a little bit of truth.

”My… Birthday?” She met his gaze for just a moment, caught off guard by his words. Of course the woman knew her birthday. But that didn't mean she could vouch for the credibility of the knowledge. After all, she had only her mother’s word for it, and Aislyn had been birthed half-dead to a starving woman recovering from an assault and survival in the elements before crawling back the the civilization that was Alvadas. Her word was not the most sacred thing. ”The first day of the summer season.” I think.
She looked down again, the mention of her date of birth bringing up some memories she’d very much like to avoid. Her birth itself wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration, from an outside point of view. Her first few birthdays she barely survived, from what she could gather from her mother. Skip a few years, “Maya” was created on her fifteenth birthday; the first lie of many. Her sixteenth, “Maya” became everything, while Aislyn lost everything. Her seventeenth, as she created the tradition of changing something every year, “Thief” was created. Her eighteenth passed without so much as a whisper, forgotten to time. Her nineteenth…

Aislyn didn’t want to think about that at the moment.

Forcing herself to bring her eyes back up to Phobius, Aislyn repeated his words again in her head. What food you like, or what colour’s your favourite, or if you have any brothers or sisters… Truth, she had told herself she’d tell at least a little bit of the truth. The only question was how much truth. It was easy to blend the truth of her own story, but to tell the story of Maya was an entirely different tale.

But Phobius deserved the truth.

But the truth was dangerous.

Eventually, Aislyn decided that maybe, maybe for once she could just allow herself to act irrationally. Emotions were fickle, but perhaps it was time to give in just once. Phobius was scared, it had been a long night, she was exhausted. She didn’t even have the energy to lie. Not anymore.

”Phobius…” A bad friend. He thought himself a bad friend, after all she’d put him through. He was the one person in her life that didn’t ask questions, didn’t distrust her, didn’t leave and didn’t run away. Yet he thought himself to be the bad one.
The question was, which did she care more about, her safety, or his happiness?

”How about… How about we fix that, then?” She smiled, just a bit. A fake small, but only mostly fake. She was Maya, she was Phobius’s “friend”. Maya had nothing to hide. ”I like fruit, I suppose. Nectarines, or apricots are my favourite. But they’re hard to come by,” Mentioning meat seemed like a bad idea, even if she was just paranoid. She knew exactly why everything other than flesh tasted bland. But that wasn’t something she planned on advertising.

”Azure is a nice colour. A shade of blue, with just the smallest bit of green.” It was so strange, to speak so casually about herself. Nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing, horribly, horribly strange. But what was stranger was she was still smiling. Fake smiling, perhaps, but a was a smile none the less. And the strangest thing about it was the fact that it wasn’t entirely fake. This was dangerous. This was information she didn’t need to be talking about. But Maya would keep talking. Maya would smile. And, admittedly, sometimes it was nice to be Maya. After all, Maya had friends.
Or rather, a friend.
"And…” The smile was short lived, as she thought over her companion’s final question. Foods and colours were easy; easily faked. Of course, she hadn’t lied, but then again, the truth wasn’t worth anything, really. Useless facts. But family was much closer, and… much more complicated.

”I don’t know,” Perhaps she’d gone in too far. She didn’t like to think about whether or not she and her mother were the only one of blood relation to her. Besides, she had never spoken the word father in her life, never mind cared about his life. It was likely she wasn’t the only one he had spawned, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. ”I don’t know if I have any brothers or sisters.”
She wanted to change the subject. In the end, the trade went both ways. She knew no useless facts of Phobius, but now was as good a time as any. After all, she could see the inn coming up the street; might as well end the night on a happier note. Phobius had mentioned monsters, and Aislyn couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit concern for what he had mentioned. She didn't address it direction, but perhaps the best way to keep the monsters at bay was to keep his thoughts at bay too.

”What about you? What’s your family like?”

~

The line between ILLUSION and REALITY
is one I am willing to cross

[Phobius]

Like a flower that'd been out in the sun for too long, Phobius wilted, his head hanging and shoulders slumping, gaze falling to the ruined toes of his age-old boots. Good friends were good at keeping their friends and making them happy...but bad friends weren't, and he'd been a bad friend, hadn't he? So bad that the people around him had decided to leave once they'd had enough of him, without bothering to tell him where they were going or if they were ever coming back.

And it was all his fault. His fault for not giving them enough reasons to stay, his fault for not trying harder to make them smile, to make them laugh, to make them feel as though they had come to a place that could become their home, a place that they could grow to love...

"How about...how about we fix that, then?" Miss Maya said all of a sudden, bringing him out of the gloom and doom of his thoughts, and though it took a good deal of effort--his head felt as though it was full of rocks--he looked up at her, somewhat surprised to see a smile on her face. She talked about fruits that she liked, then about a color that he was sure he'd seen, before, though its name was new to him. And then the smile was gone, a small, unhappy frown taking its place when she admitted that she didn't know if she had any brothers or sisters. But how could she not know? Wouldn't her mommy have told her? Or her daddy? Did she even know where either of them were, right now...?

Phobius was confused, but the woman's frown told him that it was better if he didn't ask her to explain it. It seemed like something she wouldn't want to talk a whole lot about, like how he felt about the collar. A short moment later, she surprised him by asking about his own family, and he blinked at her, so unused to the question that he wasn't sure how to react to it, at first. He had always enjoyed hearing about other peoples' families--about the grandmas and grandpas and uncles and aunts and cousins that he would never have--but when it came to his...well, there wasn't much to talk about.

The boy said nothing for a few ticks, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled at her, and despite how conflicted he was feeling there was a bit of humor in it, as though she had told him a joke and he was just starting to get the punchline. "I don't know."

Was it funny to him, not knowing what his family was like? Not knowing if he even had one? No. But what was funny was that they both seemed to have the same problem: they both didn't know things that most people probably did about their own families.

"In Wind Reach, when mommies and daddies can't take care of their kids, they send them to a place where teachers take care of them, instead. I grew up in one of those places," he continued, turning away from her so that he could stare down the sidewalk, his smile faltering just a bit. "Most of the other kids knew their mommies and daddies, 'cause they were just sick or working hard and didn't have time for them...but I never knew mine. The teachers told me my mommy--"

left me there

"--gave me to them when I was a baby, but they didn't see her for long, so they couldn't remember what she looked like. I can't, either."

There was a dull ache in his chest, now, but he ignored it. He'd felt it, before, and knew all too well what it meant.

"Sometimes I wish I did, though. Sometimes I wish I knew if her hair was straight or not, and if she liked to wear beads in it. Sometimes I wish I knew what her voice sounded like, and if she could sing. Sometimes I wish I could meet her, just to see if she's happy...but I know I can't. Not when I don't know where she is, or if she..."

And then he trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the words that were in his mind. The Inn wasn't too far ahead of them, but he didn't seem to notice it, slowing down until he came to a stop a few feet behind the woman.

"Miss Maya...?" Phobius said, not looking at her. "Umm...I...I'm really happy you came back. You and Mister Ekans were gone for so long, I didn't think...I didn't think I could see you, again. And I got scared."

The aching in his chest grew stronger and stronger, and he gripped the sides of his katinu, hardly noticing the fresh tears that gathered in his eyes and how badly his voice trembled when he spoke, next, still without raising his head to look at her.

"So don't leave anymore, okay...? I don't like being scared. I don't like being alone."

a Nari a Common a

[Aislyn Leavold]

Seeing Phobius so sad was strange.
He had always been the happy one, the one that showed her what happiness really was. That it was possible at all. But something was very different, now. Even his sadness was strange, a sort of quietness with- even more strangely- a smile on top. I don’t know.

That was not the answer Aislyn had expected.

The story the boy told was very different from what the illusionist had imagined. He had never mentioned his family before, never mentioned a mother or a father or any sort of extension, never so much as a vague reference. He rarely mentioned this Wind Reach, either. The last time had been, what, several seasons before? She never asked, because that left her open to be asked questions of the same caliber. It had always seemed safer- more reasonable- easier, even, to ask nothing at all than to be forced to lie. She had wondered, yes, but Phobius was one of the few souls she asked very little of, and whom asked very little of her. It was one of the reasons she had been able to stay around him for so long; they knew very little of each other, so there was no room for problems to emerge.
Or at least, that was how it had always seemed.

As Phobius spoke, Aislyn tried to piece together what parts of the story she had missed. He hailed from Wind Reach, yes, but she had never known when, nor if he had come alone. She had known he was Inarta, and that Wind Reach was the city where such people came from. She had known about the birds, the glasswork, and the mountain. What she had not known was how, exactly, the city worked.

When mommies and daddies can’t take care of their kids… An orphanage. Or a temporary one, at least.

I grew up in one of those places. But not temporary for all, then.

The more he spoke, the more a dull realization came to light. An orphan, Phobius was an orphan. Whether his parents still physically lived and breathed or not, they had left him long ago, and he didn’t have any parents anymore. The piece she was missing in the story, however, was what happened between then and now. Orphanages didn’t put collars on children, but the question was, who did?

In his words, there was a familiarity Aislyn would much rather avoid. An angry familiarity, to the point where she almost didn’t want to hear it anymore. He couldn’t remember his mother, and he didn’t even mention his father. He didn’t know what she looked like, or what she sounded like, or what it would be like to meet her.

She had never met her father. She didn’t know what he looked like, or what he sounded like, or what it would be like to meet him.

He didn’t know where she was, or if she was dead.

She didn’t know where he was, and she hoped he was dead.

Forcing her anger into movement, her pace quickened, a hardened gaze set in stone on the cobbles beneath her feet. The story was most definitely similar, and familiar, of course. The difference was, Phobius seemed to want to meet his parents. Aislyn did not.

When the boy spoke again, the illusionist realized she had pulled ahead, the boy having slowed to stillness behind her. Immediately she turned, a question on her lips that was swallowed when she saw his expression. The woman had looked in the mirror enough times to recognize such a look. Loneliness. Absolute, and extreme. He mentioned only two names. To Aislyn’s dismay, she recognized the latter. Did he know no one else? Did he still speak to the Mister Ekans he thought of as a friend?
”I don’t…” There was no way to really respond to that. People didn’t just do that. Didn’t just welcome her back from places, say they had missed her. He had worried about her. He cared about her.
Except her didn’t. He cared about Maya. ”I wouldn’t...” Could she promise that? Could she really, truly say she wouldn’t leave him and believe it? She certainly didn’t plan on leaving, but what situation could force her to? What would make Maya leave?
Death, certainly. Not the death of Aislyn, but Maya. The death of an illusion, what did that entail? If an illusion died, who could be blamed for killing it?

”I’m not going anywhere.”

She could promise that Miss Maya would never leave him, because the only way Miss Maya would die was if Phobius killed her.

~

The line between ILLUSION and REALITY
is one I am willing to cross

[Phobius]

"I don't..." the woman began, not seeming to know what to say, and Phobius gripped even harder at his clothes, his knuckles turning as white as bone.

It wasn't fair for him to tell her to stay. Sure, she seemed to like living in Alvadas, but what if she got bored with it another season or two from now? What if she wanted to travel to some other part of Kalea, or hop on a boat and sail all the way to a big city like Syliras? What would he do, then; get on his knees and beg her not to go? He might want to, but...he couldn't. Not if leaving Alvadas was something that would make her happy. And what kind of friend would he be if he kept her from her happiness?

A selfish one, that was the kind. A friend who couldn't even be called a friend, because friends cared about their friends, not themselves. As a matter of fact, friends cared about their friends more than themselves. So what did that make him...?

"I'm not going anywhere," she said all of a sudden, and Phobius looked up at her, his tear-blurred eyes wide and full of disbelief. She...she wasn't going to leave him? Ever? It almost sounded too good to be true, but he didn't think that she was lying. She wouldn't lie about something like that.

Seeming a bit less sad, the boy dried his damp cheeks with his sleeves and caught up to her just as she started to walk. "O-okay," he said, and tried to smile but couldn't. It was then that he realized just how tired he was; the day had been an unexpectedly long--and terrifying--one, and he was more than ready for it to be over, his body yearning for the bed that it had been taken from.

After walking in silence for a few chimes, the two reached the Inn. Phobius looked up at the spinning cubes, wondering for the umpteenth time how it was that he could never feel his own room spin when he was in it. Was it because the cubes were magic, or was he just so used to it that he didn't even notice?

"Well...we're back," he said to no one in particular, staring at a window that he wasn't sure was his. Then he looked over at Miss Maya and frowned, suddenly remembering that she didn't live here. "You have your house, but...you're not gonna go there, are you...? It's late and dark and..."

He trailed off, then seemed to think of something.

"Oh! You can stay with me in my room! That way you won't have to walk back by yourself. Miss Georgia won't mind, and I don't think you have to pay, but you might? Maybe. It's not a lot, though. And it's safe."

It seemed like a good idea to him, at the very least. If she walked all the way back to her house, there was no telling what monsters would try to hurt her, and what if there were too many for her to fight off with her wooden thing? Assuming that she didn't need to be home for any reason, she could just avoid all of that and spend the night with him. Despite everything that had happened, it could be fun, couldn't it?

a Nari a Common a