Flashback The Morning After the Fall

[Elysium]

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Light poured through clouded windows, illuminating the motes of dust that whirled about the room. It was newly sunrise. Syna kissed each individual surface on the shoulder, just beginning her ascent to the sky. The room was sparse except a bed, a dresser and a smoldering candle. It’d burned into nothing overnight, a token of comfort from his saviors. Christy had worried over him as he slept, chestnut eyes awash with concern. It was she who’d helped him settle in. And likewise, it was her voice he awoke to. Only this time in the form of a shriek.

”Even!” Her voice cracked. ”A monster!” A baritone chuckle emanated from the other side of the wall. ”Please, hurry!” She urged. ”Now honey, I think you’re over-“ Even Ellis froze in the doorway, his eyes trained on the creature now occupying Xavior’s space. ”How the petch… Get my bow, quickly!” He took a cautious step forward while his wife ducked out of the room. The inert beast seemed still asleep, though certainly not for long. ”It’s a petching Zith… Leth’s moonlit arse! How did he end up in here?”

Christy barreled back in the room, thrusting the weapons at him. ”I can’t find the man from last night!” She was incensed. ”Quick, get the Shinya. Maybe they know what happened the Ethaefal.” Even cracked the broad side of his wooden shortbow across the monster’s face. ”I’ll keep him busy until they arrive – now go!” He pushed her roughly away. Still wild with fear, she took off running.

It was obviously going to awake, one way or another. ”What have you done with the Ethaefal!” His voice trailed up an octave. ”Tell me!” Even was famous for his bravado, despite the cowardice he held inside. This was his home. Something didn’t add up, however. It was too convenient that just at sunrise, the being that took Xavior’s place was comfortably asleep. More notably, in just the same position he’d laid down in. But it didn’t make sense. Ethaefal couldn’t be Zith in their earthbound form… Could they?

"Who are you…?” Comprehension dawned in his eyes.
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[Xavior Silhouette]

The morning air lazily drifted through the window left ajar. The scent of salt in the air, carried by the ocean’s wind. Sleep, if you wanted to call the listful drifts between consciousness and sights that confounded his restless mind. The sheets that covered his body, long gone as daylight shined bright on his hyde. The dark fur that covered his brawny body helped to insulate the cool air from his flesh. His long ears barely flicked as the sound of the wooden door creaked open, a concerned stranger, a guest to it’s own room. Christy expected to see a man but what she saw was terror personified asleep in their bed. The shriek, Xavior’s eyes only half parted disoriented by the commotion. “Another nightmare?” He thought to himself. The sudden strike to his head made his eyes snap open. The hard wood of the bow made a great spring for it, but also made the strike that much worse. It took a moment to register what had occurred as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of light. He saw Even with a bow, wielded like a club. In fear of another strikes his body rolled out of the bit of stuffed hay and pressed himself against a nearby wall. ”Not a dream, but not the best awakening.” He attempted to make humor of the situation as he attempted to suppress the shock; not to mention the rage he didn’t know existed in his soul. Eyes glared at Even, the slow transformation from surprise and shock soon turned to primal anger. The daggers, if manifested into the world, would have torn Even’s body apart with his glare. The heavy and strong wings flexed and knocked the soft wax of the candle off the dresser. The blob of melted wax bounced dully on the wood before it rolled to a stop. Xavior hissed at Even as the man yelled at him. “I do not know,” Xavior’s speech was broken. The first utterance of word from his mouth shocked him. No longer surreal, it was hoarse, guttural, and growly. “Are you mad? I’m Xavior, right here.” A low growl came from his chest as he attempted to make himself seem imposing in defense. The claws on his fingers dug into the wooden surface behind him. Even didn’t seem to begin to move toward him as he used the bit of stick to keep Xavior at bay. Curiously, Xavior moved his hands out in front of him as he began to study his new body. He was in simple shock not from the blow to his head but to what he had become overnight. His mind couldn’t comprehend what had happened to him. “What? What did you do to my body!” Xavior’s mind finally attempted to piece together what he thought had occurred, “Too kind. Yes that is why you allowed me in here,” Xavior took a step forward onto the bed. As his sharp claws of his feet dug into the fabric of the mattress. “You did this, magic.” He accused blindly, “ I’m still Xavior but my body is gone! What is this body? What is a Zith?” He spoke loudly utterly confused and naive of what the bestial body actually was and why it was branded the name ‘monster’.

[Elysium]

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The air split as two great wings stretched forth, thrusting the candle aside. Even nearly choked at the sight. If this stranger were to attack, he’d be quite overmatched. But instead of assaulting him back, the thing replied. It was a very visceral dialect, peppered with rage. He didn’t know, he claimed. That was too human a response. Even’s eyes were wild as he crouched low. He looked again into the face of this man, searching.

”You can’t be…” Yet doubt had already seized his mind. ”You’re… He was…” Speech failed him. If this was Xavior, they’d made a grave error in calling the Shinya. But still, he wasn’t convinced. ”If you’re him, then where did we find you last night?” That was as good a question as any given the short time they’d known one another. There was too much whizzing about the hunter’s brain.

What clinched it was the moment he found himself to be a monster. The Xavior-thing beheld himself in earnest, his mouth contorting in disgust. ”I didn’t do it!” Even nearly squeaked, unwilling to draw his ire. ”Trust me, I’m not a mage.” He gave a apologetic sort of expression. Even Ellis was a simple man in most regards. Magic was beyond him in both reason and application. The accusation was near to laughable.

Looking for a way to deescalate the confrontation, Xavior began to babble. ”Zith is a race with batwings and fur, much like yourself at the moment. They attack, enslave people and sometimes even worse… If the rumors are true. They aren’t allowed in the city.” That was a detail he could have excluded... But it didn’t make a difference with the guard en route. ”I don’t know any magic,” Even said again, this time puzzled.

”Ethaefal, that’s what you are. If you’re really Xavior than this must be your daytime shape.” His explanation left something to be desired, but they had little time. ”Um… Earthbound form, I think they say. Every Ethaefal changes day to night, depending on whom they served. Since you belonged to Leth, this would be your last mortal form. But that’s just what I’ve been told by the people at the Temple.” He undercut himself again. Two steps forward and three steps back.

Just then, the door sprang open. A man bearing a naked head, a light blue robe and a long polearm stepped over the threshold. Christy entered on his flank, heart heavier than stone. ”Wait!” Even cried as the Master struck a swift projected blow near Xavior’s waist. ”He’s an Ethaefal!” The Shinya gave pause. ”He was ethereal last night! Really!” His eyes were desperate while his wife’s grew hopeful.

The guard straightened. ”If what you say is true, then there is only one way to know.”
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[Xavior Silhouette]

Xavor didn’t dare move closer, although one on one the Zith may have a chance of escape relatively in one piece. Though the confusion of that he felt acted as a hinderance and only made Xavior feel like a trapped mouse in a corner. The wings finally settled as he felt another attack was not soon to come. They folded down toward his back before Xavior looked down at himself. He found that the clothing he was given had fallen from his changed body. The wings quickly flicked and soon wrapped around his body like a primitive cloak. His teeth still bared he breathed deeply as he listened to Even’s words. He appeared to strain as he attempted to remember the night prior. But it seemed he had trouble as he attempted to recall the asked information. The trauma of being wrenched from the place he had come from so great as he was struck with a bout of amnesia. “I, I don’t...” His voice sounded smaller, though still as abrasive as before. “Remember water and cold.” He paused shortly, “what does it matter, what has happened to me?” He growled again his eyes never left Even’s body. Xavior was about to continue his rant before Even began to speak of the Zith. He began to step back as his wings once more unfolded from around his body. He looked at the sharp claws that crowned each of his fingers. “This is a body of a beast?” He spoke to himself under his breath. As Even continued to explain what an Ethaefal was Xavior’s anger slowly underwent a metamorphosis. The revelation was great as his fingers folded in tightly in a balled up fist. The tips of the sharps claws pressed against the slightly thicker skin. The palms of the fur covered furr began to matt as tiny drops of his own blood soaked into it from each of those needle sharp points dug into flesh. Confusion, fear, fury, nihilism, as he began to realize the possibility that he is this monster by day and a perfect sculpture by night. He took several deep breaths as he attempted to calm himself from doing something rash in that moment. Soon his fists unclasped, he could feel dull pain in the palms, before he folded them across his torso to press them under the opposite arms as if to hide what he had done to himself. The glare in his eye was soon glossier as moisture added more of a sheen across his eye. It especially began to show as he heard noise of feet as they quickly moved over the wooden floor. It was then Xavior realized what was going on. He looked at Even with a fearful and hurt look in his eyes. Progress seemed to have been made with Even, but now it would seem a second wave swiftly approached. “Please, Even I’m terrified--” His pleas were cut short as the door opened and a man dressed in colorful robes stepped into the room. Xavior’s head turned in the direction before he felt a dull thud ripple through his body. He clenched at his side in fear that he may have been shot. He collapsed to his knees before he pulled his hands away and found that no arrow or blade had pierced him. The dull throb of the impact zone quite a mysterious occurrence. His hands clasped together as he remained kneeled on the floor. The voices and sounds tuned out as his wings once more draped around his body. A pathetic attempt to shield anymore invisible blows to his body as his tears made his fur darker on his face. His eyes shut as he quietly began to prattle out a mishmash of prayer. “My father, show me this is nothing but a nightmare. My father, I need guidance away from these creatures. My father, shine the light through the sun’s rays,” there was a pause as the Shinyan’s words rubbed him wrong, “to prove my innocence?” “What do you mean one way to know?” He growled annoyed, “this is something between myself and the divine, who are you to lay judgement on me?” Defiant eyes stared at the monk. Whether it be an attempt at suicide by enforcement, or a genuine drive or heightened sense of importance, was not clear. “I don’t belong here, among the beast of man.” He said solemnly before his eyes moved back toward the ground, “even if I don’t remember what I am.”

[Elysium]

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It was true, then. His response had clinched it. Even’s eyes widened a fraction as he beheld the irony of it all. This man’s life was an incredible contrast. He’d be reviled by day and worshipped by night. What sort of divine madness had seized Leth in making such a thing? His heart sank a bit to think he’d landed the first blow, introducing him to such mindless hate. The whole affair had put a sour taste between his lips, which only worsened with the arrival of the city guard.

The blow sent Xavior reeling, which in turn caused Even to cringe. He’d pled for help. The guilt accumulated more swiftly than freshly fallen rain. Christy was horrified. ”Please, no more.” She whispered, putting herself between the Shinya and his prey. ”Just tell us what he needs to do.” The Guard looked between the supposed Ethaefal and his protectors, quietly digesting his words.

”You have been sent here, as have all Ethaefal.” The Master sighed, rubbing his head thoughtfully. ”If what you all say is true, this was Leth’s choice. We treat all his children fairly, but you are certainly not the first. Your judgment had already been passed – just not by us.” He eyed the Zith, his gaze suddenly critical. ”All you must do is consent to be held in a cell while we wait for the change. At nightfall if you speak truth, you will be freed.” Of course, consent was a formality. A Zith, however divine he might be, would not be allowed the lay of the city. It was far too dangerous.

”Come with me.” He said. It was not phrased as a request. Christy of course, was on guard. ”Naturally, he needs witnesses right?” She turned to this disoriented beast of a man. ”I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.” Her eyes were that of a faun, of instinct and unconditional love. Humanity did not deserve Christy Ellis.

"This is acceptable. We shall go." The Shinya fixed Xavior with a penetrating stare.
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[Xavior Silhouette]

Xavior felt the flood of different, foreign, emotions flood his body. It crashed around within him like an unbridled tsunami as it slides over the coast and deep into his livelihood. He remained on the ground as his body naturally began to slump toward the pain in his gut. His gaze was locked with the Master’s own. Rage once more flowed from his face, a look that would send most to cower if it were any other situation, and melted once more into self pity possibly even shame. “I apologize,” he muttered as he moved a hand to his face to clear his face. He felt guilt as he looked at the two who took them into their home. He remained quiet as he waited for a reply back from the Shinya. When he heard the solution, he sighed and began to stand once more. The feeling of physical pain didn’t match the emotional pain he felt within. “That is reasonable, if you say that this form may be a threat, as a foreign body in this world I’ll do what I have to do to prove my innocence.” Xavior began to step toward the Master before he heard Christy chime in. He smiled some and waited for her to accompany him. He wouldn’t thank her, but his body seemed to perk a little, more confident in himself. The wings remained wrapped around his body to help conceal his naked frame. There was a moment while he began to follow the Shinya out of the home and he couldn’t help but blurt out his thought, “what is a cell?”

[Elysium]

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As they walked, Christy’s hand rested lightly upon his forearm. Anxiety was etched into her every line as they walked along. If only she’d understood before she’d called Even… If only she’d known. The mistake was hers and she felt obligated to rectify it, even if it meant sitting around until nightfall. The Shinya were accommodating enough to civilians. The concern was not for her own wellbeing, at any rate.

There was light traffic on the street and the shock of a muscle-bound, bat-winged man caused the crowds to give way. Many gaped openly while others turned away, unwilling to make eye contact. Zith periodically got bolder and attacked some of the lower tiers, but it’d never been such an issue as to make their physiology well known. Urgent whispers rippled from cluster to cluster, spreading the word that a creature was being led through the city. It was unheard of. The beast should have been killed.

”A cell is a confined space where people are…” Christy chose her words delicately. ”…Held.” That was the easiest way to put it. It was bad enough he’d fallen from the sky and immediately woken to abuse and imprisonment. The woman resolved to make things better in the only way she knew how. She maintained the light yet comfortable grip on Xavior as they navigated the city, finally approaching the Pavilion.

As they entered, the constant breeze was replaced by a wash of aridity. The first level of the Pavilion was sparse and severe, save for the most necessary accommodations. The Shinya led a very spartan life, evidenced by the room around them. ”We do not usually take prisoners,” the Master explained, glancing back to his charge. ”Justice is not in the hands of a Shinya. However if what you say is true, there is no need to involve the Priesthood.” Keeping it simple was the object, in this case.

”Follow me.” They ascended a set of stairs. And another. And another. Upon arriving at the fourth level, there were pairs of guardsmen sparring, using projected blows to topple the other. It made for an incredible fight, one which they were allowed to watch momentarily before being ushered into a side room – no larger than a broom closet. ”This is the best we can manage. You will not be able to slip away and I shall monitor you myself. Make the best of your time.”

These words carried implied menace. Christy gave his wrist a squeeze of encouragement.
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[Xavior Silhouette]

Xavior walked shakily out of the home and into the bright sunlight. His pupils shrunk in the pools of bestial, rusty, red, pools of irises. As the warmth began to sink through the leathery membrane of his wings and through his fur. Though as the smooth flesh of Christy’s hands graced his own rough flesh, his wings parted once more to reveal his arm. He turned his head and leaned it closer to Christy’s ear. He could see the color drained from her flesh, the dismay on her face, the guilt she felt. There was a beginning warmth that began to flow through his body and it seemed to radiate around him like a natural aurora. His spine straightened as his posture became more confident even though the looks of horror and fear on people’s faces were cast his way. He was unsure of what it was, but the aurora seemed to rub off on Christy some as his lips parted. “I forgive you,” he said softly sure of himself before he straightened back out. Perhaps the unexplained feeling could be felt by those who ventured close enough to the zith’s form. Escorted through town by the Shinyan, his ears swiveled toward the murmurs in the crowd. He listened to them passively and soon became numb to their disgust toward him. ”Is man this fragile? Feeling guilt when they act on instinct? When confronted with something...different, they find them strange? Zith’s sound like animals, beasts, monsters, yet a cat kills a bird and brings into the home to present it as a gift to the family. Disgust may befall them, but unconditional love remains.” Xavior continued to wax his thoughts even as the cold, glassy, stone transitioned to delicately textured steps up into the pavillion. ”True! Zith’s can kill a man with little regards from what I understand. But then so can those that look at me in disgust or speak ill of what I am. They may not know it or deny it, but if man is as fragile with their emotions as Christy, it’ll only take one spark to bring out their inner Zith.” He barely heard Christy’s explanation as his eyes readjusted to the dull light in the room. He looked around the sparse room, Xavior equated it to a cave. “A cell is a cage then?” They continued to walk through the building as the Shinyan master spoke. He leaned over and put his hand over Christy’s own, “you don’t have to do this. The beauty of a songbird doesn’t need to be caged.” Xavior’s ears however perked when he heard something of interest to him. But he waited until the Shinyan had finished and escorted them to a small, closet like room. Two men could be heard as they grunted due to invisible blows. It was strange to him, yet it interested him for a moment. Curiosity, boiled just under his skin, however the more pressing question had made its way to his mouth. He stepped into the closet and turned careful of his wings against the narrow walls. “You do not deliver justice? Does the priesthood? These rules, are they not made by man in this land?” Xavior looked hopeful for a moment.

[Elysium]

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Christy’s stricken expression faded. ”Thank you,” she breathed, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. He saw the pain in her eyes and he absolved her of it. This man could not be a monster. As they moved through the streets her actions became more driven, as if compelled by a strengthened resolve. Christy glared protectively at passerby, unwilling to let them judge Xavior so easily.

“A cell is a cage then?”

She winced. The truth could not be avoided. ”Yes,” she replied quietly. Her maternal instinct was to shield him from this pain. Much like a newborn, Xavior was thrust into the world blind. Christy would see his image of humanity grow and evolve. She feared what it would be after the abused he’d already suffered.

”I want to do this,” she said. ”If you must be caged, then let us be caged together.” Her expression was serious, thoughtful. There would be no dissuading the woman from her ultimate goal. They’d provided him asylum during the night; they’d do the same during the day. No matter what sort of creature he’d become.

”We deliver the justice,” the Shinya answered wryly. ”The Priesthood decrees it.” He seemed very intrigued by this reasoning Zith. As time rolled by, the man’s claim seemed more viable. ”Some laws are that of the Gods while others are that of men. It all depends on the subject, for mortal concerns can be inane to those blessed with divinity. You truly do not know?” The fact he didn’t know wasn’t so surprising. What struck him was the fact that Xavior wanted to know. What were laws to the lawless beast?

They stood in silence. ”Since your guest has volunteered to be at your side, I will be standing just outside this room. If you harm but a hair on her head, retribution will be swift.” He stared at Xavior to impress the point. ”We shall see what you truly are.” With a short step, he moved out of the closet and just outside the door.

”I’m so sorry,” Christy began again. ”I should never have reacted in such a way.” She hung her head. ”This is all my fault.”
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[Xavior Silhouette]

The time passed as Xavior stood near the back of the tight room. The sounds of the duel as it continued on in its foreign ways could be heard muffled by the walls. Xavior’s toes gripped the floor below as he became lost in thought. His larger body settled near Christy as he placed a large hand on her shoulder. “It isn’t your fault,” Xavior rubbed in reassurance, “perhaps this was meant to be a good thing.” He leaned over Christy’s form as he eyed the Shinyan who blocked an escape. His eyes drifted to the man’s form, “The priesthood what sorts of gods do they serve?” Xavior seemed critical asking both the Shinyan and Christy, “I don’t mean any disrespect with my questions. My mind just can’t wrap around the idea of,” he paused, “this world. Gods have a link to mortals yet mortals don’t have faith that they will protect them from I?” He was merely talking out loud before he continued, “forgive me, I never got a name. Mine is,” there was a pause. ”What is my name?” Xavior attempted to remember and as he began to explore his mind he found that what had happened the night prior was also concealed by a thick fog. ”Cold, water, surely I should have uttered a name? What was it?” “Forgive me, I have no name to give at this time. I don’t remember it.” Xavior openly admitted.