Observe...and Terminate

I heard the strangest sound as we got into a series of hills. I'd say Chonk and I were in a remote area, but hell, everything seemed remote here. Not one city, town, or village for miles. Last structures I saw were that castle and Dal Matia's patchwork tower.

So color me surprised when I hear a bass guitar quietly being played off in the distance.  Chonk seemed dead set on heading that way, so my curiosity was to be sated at least. There were a lot of 'don't look' 'don't touch', and 'don't eat' warnings on the travels so far, this one was at least not warranting a 'don't listen'. 

As we crested a hill, I heard more to the guitar.  It was faint, but I heard a woman's voice. She was singing, and there was faint treble music.  It was a full fledged song, I would've bet money that it was one I knew too. Kelly Clarkson's 'Miss Independent'.  I was in college when that song came out, never really cared about American Idol, and I was dismayed to find out it was still on when I came back, but I digress.

The hill leveled off into a flat plain, with another small picturesque brook going through it. Cattails and tall weeds waved back and forth, catching up against me about to the waist. There were stickerbushes and those little hooked seed plants that the idea for Velcro came from.

And there was a little house made of wood up ahead. Complete with a deck, stairs, and a chimney.

I was pretty visible, and decided to play it straight and just be noticeable rather than sneak around. Seems like the folks in these parts were really, really, really magic inclined, and stealthier than I could ever be. To hunch down and let the weeds give me away, that just sounded like stupidity. Better I look foolish etc...

When I got close, I heard the song change to voices.  Radio commercials. This person had a radio that worked in hell Underland. I started to finally clear out of the meadow, when a figure opened up the door and stepped out, obviously looking right at me.

This is where I'd expect to find Rika again, because my life falls into patterns and shit.

I did not.

The man was older, dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt. He wore one of them big western hats, that helped tame the wild long grey and white hair that signified him as a senior. He also wore a Sam Elliott style mustache.  Hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed it was Sam Elliott.  He kept squinting at me, reached inside his door and drew a few feet of iron on me.

Yep, the cowboy had a shotgun. Imagine that.

I put up my hands. He didn't point it at me, just yet, but it was there, and I felt the sudden urge to be exceedingly respectful.

The talk on the radio started up again, I wasn't paying attention.  He casually mouthed a cigarette out of a pack while staring at me approach, and lit it one handed off of a match.

Its a pretty long trek to walk sixty yards towards someone toting iron on you, with your hands up. Just sayin.

I finally get close enough to talk to him, standing off of the porch still, hands still up.  The radio's pretty loud, so I open up to talk over it.  The music changes to some girlpop song about wanting her boy to fall in love or something.

I stood there, unmoving.

He did the same, just smoking, giving me the stink eye.

The girl sang out about him being her baby.

After about thirty seconds, I sort of motion discretely to the radio.  He doesn't move. I mean I'm comfortable enough in my asexuality I guess, but this was just awkward.

Finally, he moves over to turn off the radio, always keeping me in his sight. The man didn't wear boots, but a pair of beaten sneakers not too unlike mine. In retrospect I guess my gear never really wore away back when I was dead, I guess that was good.

He sits in a chair on the porch and looks at me. Calmly, he finishes the cigarette and rubs it out. I get the sense that he should speak first, so I finally close my mouth and stop letting the flies in, as they say.

"Two questions." He says finally, as he leans back in his chair, that weapon in his lap, a hand on it.

I start to talk, and he cuts me off with that air of presence and finality. "How the hell haven't I met you before?"

I blink.  That wasn't quite what I had expected, and respond with a blank "Uh....?"

He squints at me again, and so I continue, "I'm new here, is why?" The sour look he gives me tells me that's not the answer he wants. I elaborate, "Seriously, I'm new here. I came here looking for a killer, and well, things got very muddled, I got locked up for a while, and now I'm just..." I shrug weakly, "Trying to get home."

The man leans forward a little, finally having gotten something he's interested in. "How long?" I pause, and stutter, "I need clarification, how long I was here, how long I was gone, what?"

Suddenly, Chonk pipes up, "Well, so much for his debt of hospitality. That got out of the way early, hmmm."

I ignore him, and look to the old man. "How long were you captured?" I think on it, and finally gesture to my missing arm, "Long enough to heal from this? Three months maybe?" 

He grips the shotgun tighter, "Come on, don't lie to me."  He raises it straight up, the threat was palpable as was the contempt in his voice, "I can see you. Hell, you're glowing like a sun. There ain't no way you've been here for just a few months. You'd better start giving me some answers."

Insert the Dukes of Hazzard commercial break music here.

Living in a technocolor dreamworld

"Stop speaking in riddles."

"Stop breathing air."

We both answered at the same time, "No."

I sighed at Chonk. Chonk the Faeline had been nothing but cryptic answers since I met it. We were travelling still, the road stretched on forever to wherever it went. It was lush, green, verdant...I always wanted to call something verdant.  Not too far from home, except here, here the colors were more vibrant, the experiences were richer. The scent of clover fields or something else nice because I'm not sure I've ever smelled clover.

The point is, this was the nicest part of the entire 'Underland' I'd seen.  We saw large moving trees, wrapped together like a statue made of parts of wood, that walked between the trees, not moving a branch. Chonk advised me to steal fruit from them, and with my stomach rumbling in agreement, I did so.

I'm sure that's not going to bite me on the ass.

We both ate, we drank from streams of water.  It was the wild, but it was the best wild I could ever imagine. Something out of one of those Miyozaki films, the romanticizing of an overland trip.

And Chonk here was my festive, snarky sidekick.

I sat, and finished off the fruit that I have no idea what it was. It had a sweet and bitter taste to it. I found myself disappointed I had only grabbed three.  For a sense of gratitude, I planted the pits of the fruits near where I ate them. That'd come across less awkward if I had a trowel or shovel.  Instead I was just one-handed trying to pry my short sword into the ground, and dig up a small hole.

Still, Karma +1, am I right?

I pressed my luck and started to grill Chonk again. It was cleaning itself, those big tuffed ears twitched, as it sensed my attention. I considered if the ears were a hint as to the lynx or bobcat heritage.

"This guy we're going to see." I started.

It continued cleaning itself. (I'm using gender neutral because I don't want to have THAT conversation with a fae), then looked up, "Yes. To see, smell, hear, vrinch, all the senses."

I gave it a sour look, Vrinch?  Its playing me for fun again.  "He's human, and has been here for a while...so the thought is that he can help me out?"

I've already gone over this with him, but apparently cats are still too clever for their own good, even in the Underland. Chonk likes to omit things, so far none of them have been life-threatening, but I've had a few moments of discomfort, as flower pollen got me high, or some sort of water thing took offense at me drinking from a creek I had found.

He's fun at parties though.

That's an assumption, I don't go to parties much.

Chonk pulled itself up and let that tail sway, "He was human, last I checked. Long enough that I remember him."

I nodded, "But his name was deigned to be beneath notice of your attention?"

Chonk raised its head, accepting the flattery. Cats are still cats, it seems. "Mortals usually don't stay for long."

I nodded, "Well then. Lets get me home before I get dead."

Chonk rolled a throaty purr, as I got up and started walking. It continued, "Seems to me that the two options....are the same."

I freaking hate cats sometimes.

Road to the Heavens

I walked with Chonk for a while, talking, learning. Its all too much to go into here, and I have to remind myself that the Fae...or the 'Good Folk' have a very orange way of viewing things, so what I hear may or may not be true...from a certain point of view.

Fun fact: Wards hold magic. Okay I get that much, but apparently the more precious the materials of it, the more pure and pristine and detailed it is, the more magic it can hold. I don't quite get it all, but it has something do to with the ward representing something about the spell.

Nifty, so all that item creation back in Star Ocean 2 was fairly spot on. Good to know.

Also explains why back after my revival, that I saw someone handing out those little beadsprite things, that looked like Norse runes.  Can't imagine that'd have a lot of magic in it, but hey, something better than nothing.

We walked.

I was used to that.

I got hungry.

That was a little less familiar nowadays.

We were walking because I couldn't "find my way home" according to Chonk. See, I used to be able to use this old 'Path of Black Leaves' to go from place to place.  I know it sounds stupid and made up, but in essence, it is effectively a different dimension that is something of a shortcut. You think of where you want to go, you exhale and invest yourself into it happening, and you just move there.

I learned that when I was possessed by a twisted tree spirit that had me out killing friendlies!

Ugh.

But today, its not so much the case.  Chonk commented on me being one handed, and tsked at me.  He was elusive, and aloof. A cat but moreso.  Made me think that maybe since I'm different, that what I do has to be different.

He's insufferable about being mysterious, too. However, I think overall, he's more help than harm.

We travel the meadows of a dry rolling land, away from where I've been. Even the Tower leaves my sight. There's fruits and plants, that seem familiar but not quite. Imagine going to Africa and eating tuber plants that remind you of carrots or rhubarb.

Out here. Way out here, its nicer. No monsters. No gaseous clouds or strange lightning. Its...

Unspoiled.

I spend the nights curled up, with the fat faeline next to me.  His purr is soothing, and he's warm. I drift off to sleep again.

I'm not content yet, but I'm starting to feel like me for once.

My soul finally starts to heal a fraction.