In every MMORPG I’ve played, I always wind up with the Mage + Minion class for my main character. Usually with a DPS Healer as my secondary because melting faces is fun. (Me? Group heals? Do I look like Aeris to you?) AI minions are nice, but fucking dumb. You are essentially playing two characters at once, monitoring your skill timers and your minion’s simultaneously. Get it right, and you go to the top of the PvP KOS list. Get it wrong, and half the zone will descend on you while your minion goes off to chase butterflies.
In the first dream, I kept getting it wrong.
I kept cycling through all the MMORPGs I’ve played. Mage + Minion in each one. Most of the games had two player factions. (Hooray for our side! KEK!) A few had three. The zones I were in were below my level. The game monsters were nothing to me. But I was surrounded by players from rival factions that were my level or higher. I was often the only player from my faction present.
And the only one not flagged for PvP.
I got a lot of shit talk and taunting gestures from the others. But until I started an offensive action, that was all they could do. Don’t start shit, don’t get shit. Right? Right.
To my horror my minion automatically attacks the closest flagged player once the player is in its aggression zone.
I barely escape the zone. (Bubble-hearth. Because fuck valor.)
Check settings, wait for flag timer to reset, and try this again. Despite making sure the minion is set to Defend or Passive, it still targets the nearest flagged player and charges.
This time I’m able to stop it before contact is made and I remain unflagged and untouchable. But this happens game after game, zone after zone. I realize I’m dreaming and try to see past the obvious to the intent of the dream.
I’m running a message, but not in an official Courier aspect. That would draw too much attention. If I were to fledge out and become Weaver Ravenwinged, that too would draw too much attention. The other players are other entities that have gathered to this realm for questionable purposes. Their hubris is such that they would not hesitate to attempt to bring down a Courier simply for the sport of it, and I wonder if they are gathered here just for that purpose.
My cover is that of a simple explorer/forager. Don’t mind me, I’m just a low level crafter harvesting this and mining that. I would not be noticed except for the damn minion. After narrowly avoiding my character’s perma-death for the umpteenth time, I dismiss the minion.
Without the minion acting as my shield, I’m more vulnerable to the game monsters. Mage + Minion classes are usually Glass Cannons + Guard. They deliver a lot of concentrated damage but a flicked booger can take them down. I can’t switch to my alternate character without arousing suspicion. I’ll just have to play it cool and avoid players and monsters alike.
Moving through the zone, I zigzag between crafting nodes. I’m being followed by other players and a few taunt me by harvesting the node before I can. My cover holds. Some players drive aggressive monsters towards me just to fuck with me. I use one of the few skills that won’t flag me. Fear. One primal scream and the aggressive monsters run around in chaos for ten seconds. Long enough for me to get out of aggression range. When the spell wears off, they will attack the closest players, of which I aim to not be one.
The further away I get from the main city in the zone, the fewer players dog me. They are waiting for someone to make an appearance and they have to prepare. Rumor is a very high-ranking player with elite gear has a quest to complete in this zone. She’s bearing GM level blades that can cut through realms, and they are lootable to whoever manages to kill her. The promise of rare gear is not their primary goal, and each player has a slimmer chance of looting if from her. Assuming they can stop her. It will take the effort of several guilds to stop her from completing her quest. She must be stopped, no matter what.
However, I’m not the elite player they’re waiting for. I’m just a bot, they are saying. Probably a stolen character being used to harvest material for the auction house later, they say. A Mage + Minion without her minion? Yea, just a bot. The scouts say the elite character is about to arrive. All players get in position!
For a moment I sincerely wonder if I’m the elite player they are looking for. Yea, right. Whoever it is, I wish them luck, and I hope to see them unleash hell on these griefing fuckers.
I get to the cave that leads to the crater where I’m supposed to meet the recipient. Two players continue to dog me, refusing to return to the assembly point with the others. One is a Warrior class, the other is a Rogue. Either one can undo me in two strikes. Both are within attack distance. They say nothing to me, only follow me closely. I think they are on to me.
I turn to face them. “Ni hao.” Since they think me a bot, I shall play the part. And there is no game bot like a Chinese bot. They charge me.
No damage incurred.
I’m not flagged. They are. They are trying to psyche me into counter-attacking, which will flag me and allow them to destroy me. But as long as I don’t attack them, I’m fine.
Too late, I realize their tactic. They didn’t want to get me to flag up. They wanted to distract me from the very large lizard that patrolled the cave. They knew they couldn’t touch me. Game monsters on the other hand…
I’m shoved from behind and ground into the dirt. My leg is bitten, causing my character to lose a fifth of her health. The Warrior and the Rogue cheer and laugh. The lizard looks up at them and sounds the alarm.
The other two players make taunting gestures.
More lizards pour out of the cave.
They stop taunting and start running. Before either player had taken two steps, each player had five lizards descend on them. The Rogue is torn to pieces at once. The Warrior kills one lizard before his armor is turned inside out.
The lizard pinning me down lifts me, turning me, and screams in my face. The Stun skill is super-effective. All goes dark.
“Careful, your leg is bandaged.” I’m lying naked under my cloak on a hard surface covered with scaly pelts. A weight is on my injured leg. I look to one side and see a draconian mending my armor. Ke looks up at me and sniffs lightly.
“Thank you.”, I say to kir.
“You’re welcome.” The reply comes from the other side of me. I turn over and catch my breath. In the comfort of a huge lava tube, a grand red and black dragon is lying on a hoard of gold. The former coins have been gently compressed into a malleable bed for the dragon. The dragon has a long pipe in kir mouth, but is using it to keep a small steady flame under a stand. On the stand is a kettle. “It is customary to serve the messenger refreshments, yes? Your kind partakes of… T’… I am advised. Warm, but not boiling, yes?”
I smile. “Yes. Thank you.” Another draconian came to assist me into a seated position and serve me the over-steeped tea in a hastily made gold bowl. It brought tears to my eyes from the bitterness, but I laughed it off and downed the bowl. A realization chilled my mirth.
“Forgive me, I don’t know what the message is I was supposed to bring you.”
The dragon smiled. “You are the message, Mage. Or may I call you Weaver now that you are away from the others? That you were sent to me is a signal. Of what, is not for you to know. Weaver Hotblooded is at my den. I have work to do.”
A huge roasted leg of indeterminate species was brought to me. “The work can wait for your recovery. A leg for a leg is fair, yes?”
“I only know one other reptilian, and her species very much differs from yours. I am at your mercy, and wish not to commit social offenses. If you say it is okay to eat of the lizard that attacked me, I will take your word for it.”
“I say it is okay. He was only supposed to smell intruders for their heat. Weaver Hotblooded has a far greater heat scent than others of her kind. He wanted a nibble and now he pays in nibbles.”
Roast lizard is good. Goes well with bitter unsweetened tea and balances the flavor well. We chit-chat a bit about social graces and the dream fades.
Two peoples were at war. Their civilizations rose as they ran that horrible arms race. One would gain an upper hand for a year or two, before subterfuge and espionage would restore martial balance. The origin of the feud was lost to history. Each side taught their children that the other side was at fault and threatens to destroy them if they didn’t fight back. Anyone that called for mediation was accused of being an enemy sympathizer and deported at best, executed at norm. Anyone thrown to the other side of the border was accused of being an enemy spy.
So it went until nature shrugged. A mutating virus became deadly to both sides of the border. As populations crashed, desperate leaders accused the other of biological warfare. Open war erupted. What populations were weakened by the virus, succumbed to post-war starvation.
Technology failed.
The factories stopped producing munitions, masks, and medicine. Those that survived the war were further culled by ignorance.
All that was left of millions huddled against wreckage strewn across a border that no one remembers drawing. If the species were to continue, it would be from these. Barely a hundred if you count bodies. Barely fifty if you count fertility. But half wore blue, and half wore green.
And the colors had never mixed before.
It was into this wasteland that I was sent. A messenger of their gods long abandoned millennia ago, for the crime of loving both factions. I stood on the border and listened as each side yelled at the other to hand over their fertile women and children. Even now, on the dusk of their species, they still hurl invectives about political allegiances.
I make myself visible, and the war of words (for they have nothing else left to throw) ceases. “Your gods, your abandoned and forgotten gods, have been watching. Your ancestors walked away from them because your gods knew what you still don’t know. You are both one people, and you argue over what color to paint your casket. And now, look. Your population is almost too small to be viable. There is no one else, your ancestors saw to that. All the tribes of the world was conquered by the Blue and the Green, and then you turned on each other.”
“I bring a message from the gods, the patient gods, who hold hope in their hands and nurtures it carefully. If you put aside your allegiance to the fallen states of Blue and Green, if you throw aside this artificial division and come together as one tribe, the gods will help you to rebuild your population, and help you create a new culture from the decay of what came before. You will become the founders of new clans, and your world will be restored in accordance with your growth in wisdom. What say you?”
Immediately, each side wished to know if their color would be placed on top of the new flag.
“There will be no flag. No more Blue. No more Green. Look about you. Those countries are dead. You are fighting over the echoes of a million last gasps. Other than the color of the flags, what do you know about the Blue Nation? About the Green Nation? What do you remember, that kept you warm when the nights were cold, and kept you filled with hope when your fathers fell dead? Tell me? What is there to carry forward?”
They spoke in rhymes of propaganda. In ancient folk tales that had been twisted to portray the other side in a negative light. But as they spoke, they read each other’s faces. Their voices faltered. Everyone was covered in the same color of mud. They could not tell if the person next to them was of Blue or of Green. Even the language was the same.
The children explored each other’s hands and made up games to play with their new friends. The adults looked on, realizing everything they had grew up believing was someone else’s madness. They asked what had to be done to secure their future.
“No more Blue. No more Green. You come together as one people, and start a new history with a new flag.”
This appealed to them. They openly decided to exchange their last weapon, a dagger, as symbolic of coming together. The decision instantly worried me. But until the gods told me to withdraw, I was to continue.
The hundred survivors gathered together as each representative gave a little spiel about unity. “To life!” Everyone cheered. I braced myself. I expected them to stab each other in the gut. The hate between these two countries has been devouring peoples whole for thousands of years, after all.
They surprised me.
They turned and stabbed me in the chest, burying their daggers in each lung up to the hilt. Both men spat expletives at me and each other, accusing of trying to disarm their more righteous fellow so to slaughter the vulnerable afterwards.
They realized what they had individually done and stepped back from each other. Now the horrors of generations of hate truly sunk in. They openly cried and rent what few clothes they had. They called out to the gods, each claiming righteousness, each calling for the destruction of their reflection.
“You little shits. You had one chance, and you fucking blew it. If just one of you had acted in good faith…” I pulled the daggers out of my chest and sealed the wounds with spits of flame. Above us, thunder rolled in a suddenly darkening sky. I heard the voice of the gods and winced. “Yea, y’all fucked.”
I held the daggers and called a heat so intense in my hands, the daggers melted and dripped onto the ground. “Here the word of your gods, those you have rejected. Here the condemnation of those that would have lifted you to life. No child will live another hour. They shall be spared the agony to come. Those women that are pregnant shall miscarry, and not a single women here shall conceive ever again. Your species is done. Everyone else here, except for the two that stabbed me, shall live what remains of their life in tears and sorrow. You begged for food, and food you shall have. Tonight you dine on your children, and drink the waters of the womb. It will be the last you use your mouths. Come morning, they shall all be sealed, and you shall be dead by the third day.”
“But you two, you who were entrusted by the remnants of your people to lead them back to glory. You who chose to listen to fear and hatred rather than humble yourselves to secure your childrens’ future, you shall not die. Ever. Your mouths will not be sealed, and you shall feast in the days to come, for no flesh will be available on the land except for the corpses of your countrymen. And when the flesh is gone, you shall gnaw on their bones. And when their bones are gone, you shall dig out the graves and pull down the towers. Not until you have eaten each and every remnant of each and every countrymen will you be able to complete the last task left until you die.”
“For once you have cleared the canyons, and dug out the mass graves, and dredged the lake bottoms, and cleared this land of every speck of your species, you two shall fall on each other. You will not be able to die, until you have killed the other.”
A lightning bolt cracked overhead. The thunder slamming everyone to the ground except for me. A woman cried out that her water had broken. Followed by another. A mother called for her son. Her son never answered. The shrieking began as a high series of wails. The two men each blamed the other still.
“No god will ever turn their face upon this world again. When others speak of this world, they will call it ‘Desolate’ and ‘Damned’. You sacrificed the future for the past. Good bye,”
I left the world and almost left the realm. The gods stopped me, and checked my injuries. They had mostly healed by the heat of indignation alone. I asked them what were they going to do with themselves. They reminded me the universe is vast and multiple. They would try again, and learn from their mistakes. They asked if the gods of my species were doing better. I remained silent. I could not face them. I looked at the ground and said nothing for a long time.
“The gods of my species are vast and innumerable. Some are petty and childish. Some try to raise mortals, but for the most part… ” I sighed. “I tell you the truth, I am wondering if I am looking at the future of my own species, and if it is a very close future. There are too many sacrificing the future in memory of the past.”
The gods stood with me in silence. One by one, they left the realm for other universes, other worlds. I stayed until it was only me, and the Progenitor Deity. Ke alone was the one to seal the realm. And once ke did so, no other god or Traveler would be able to enter it. “I regret this race. I regret coaxing their evolution. I regret teaching them speech. I regret freeing them from their instinct. And while they will not be able to inflict their evils on anything else, I will remember them. And I regret that. Thank you, Traveler, for stepping where I could not. Leave, now. I wish to be alone.”
I bowed in deep respect to the Progenitor Deity and turned to leave.
The sound of a parent mourning will haunt me for a long, long time.
“Hey. You forgot your shit!” I look at the leaking bag I’m holding and back at the speaker who is hurrying to catch up to me. He hands me a bucket full of a heavy, dark, rank material. “You need to carry your shit.”
“I have my shit, I’m just not carrying it well. The bag is leaking.” I set the bucket down. “That’s not my shit. I’m not carrying it.”
He tries to force me to take the bucket. “You can put your bag in the bucket, then you won’t leak your shit all over the place.”
I put my free hand behind my back. “Fuck off. I’ll deal with my own shit, thank you very fucking much. Your so-called help means I’ll have to deal with your shit, too. Nah bruh. Sucker someone else.” I kicked his bucket away, almost toppling it over.
“But it’s your fault I have this shit to deal with! Take responsibility!” He tried to lift the bucket but the contents suddenly increased. He could barely budge it.
“No one told you to eat my cooking. No one told you to step in my wake. Responsibility means you not only handle your personal shit, but you take steps to reduce how much of other people’s shit you take on. After all this time, I have my shit reduced to this one leaking bag. And I am actively looking for a different bag because it is my responsibility to carry my shit right.”
“But I need help! And you’ve proven you can carry this shit! You’ve publicly carried much more!” His bucket was overflowing. I stepped away from the increasing puddle.
“I publicly carried much more than I should have. Decades of other people’s shit. I had to carry it, or drown in it. It made me stronger, but poisoned me with a malaise that will never go away. A lot of people see that malaise and think since I’m already poisoned, what’s one more bucket. Right? Have me carry it since I’m strong so the weak can be spared, right? How the fuck do you think I was almost buried in the first place? By people unwilling to handle their shit and looking for someone to walk that Roman mile!”
I waved my leaking bag around, scattering drops of fecal fluid. “This is my shit! This right here is my responsibility! My bag leaks, and sometimes it really stinks like a burning latrine, but it’s a lot better handled than what it was before and I’m improving! I will not carry your shit for you! I will not yield to unlawful directives and take responsibility for something that isn’t mine! I suggest you learn how to compost and do something useful with your shit before you drown in it.”
He points at the leaking bag. “Look at you! You scream about responsibility but fling your shit all over the place! Why can’t you just shut up and be quiet about your shit! No one gives a fuck!”
I smiled, confusing him. “Indeed. No one does. You have spoken a mystery but you do not understand it. That mystery is why I only have a leaking bag of shit now after dealing with copious bales before. You carry your shit as you need. I’ll carry mine as I need. And there shall be no fucks between us.”
I smiled, turned my leaking bag so it wasn’t leaking as much, and proceeded down the road with a little bounce in my step.
The tide always returns to the sea. It has been years since I last stood on this shore. The last dream here occurred in the unsettling years between my apostasy and my discovering of my aspects. It was a simple and peaceful dream. At the time, it was just a gentle segueing into deeper sleep.
Looking at that dream with what I know now, I understand it to be the tide returning to the sea. [The Ocean], like so many other entities, has always been here in my life(time). And like the other entities, I was blind and ignorant of it until my awakening.
The waves wrapped around my ankles and pulled gently on the return.
Come. Drown to me.
“You’ll extinguish me. You know my heart.”
You are unquenchable. You said so yourself. Come. Drown to me.
Without being aware of it, I had wandered into the surf up to my knees. “[Ocean], I am afraid of you. Afraid of the depths you take me to. Afraid of not coming back. I’ve fought so hard to wake up the little bit I have. And while what I see disappoints me, it’s still a clearer sight than what I had before. [Ocean], you have my blood, but I am more than that. And I am afraid you are trying to claim more than blood.”
Why would I take what is not mine?
The waves embraced my legs gently when flowing in, but pulled strong against them when flowing out. I remained only knee deep in the surf, but could not pull myself to turn around and head up the shore. “Because you are [the Ocean]. I just don’t know if you are merely [the Ocean], or if you are one of the shades of Blue that was shed by the Dreamer. Either way, you are like [Rummer John] and [others]. You are a Power, and far beyond me. You would take what is not yours for the same reason you came into being. Because you can.”
Merely [the Ocean]. Though I could be more to you if I wanted, but that would destroy you. So, to you, I am merely [the Ocean].
I laughed. How could I do anything else but. I laughed because I heard in kir voice the same condescending tone when Snake talked of his origins and why he is bound to me this lifetime. It was the same tone a parent tells a child when the child asks why this family, why this parent. Because that’s how it came to be, that’s why.
The tide always returns to the sea. The last time you were here, you returned to me. Let go. Drown to me.
I did drown last time. Peacefully. Without struggle. With unforced compliance and full surrender. The Ocean told me it was time to drown. I released myself to the waves. The water pulled me under the surface, and I gently, softly, drowned.
“The last time I was bid to let go, my worlds changed. I lost a ceremonial coat and gained feathers. I lost a magician’s cane and gained swords. Now you are telling me to let go. What is the cost of letting go, and what do I stand to gain?”
You will lose your fear of me. And you will gain what you are seeking.
“No ambiguities. Not this time, [Ocean]. I seek many things, and most of them are not consciously sought. What shall I give up in letting go? What shall I gain in its stead?”
You will lose innocence. You will gain wisdom.
Without a word, I turned around and started walking out of the tideline. I stumbled on the suddenly unsteady sand. Tliltc Ocelotl caught me.
“We go.” She spoke, surprising me. “We go into the sea.” Her voice is a full octave below mine. Low, soft, and mature. Feline eyes looked over my shoulder to the horizon. They turned to focus on my eyes. “No more fear. We go.”
The sound of thousands of small rhythmic rattles announced Mxtl’s approach. She placed a hand on my shoulder. In full regalia of feathers and beaded cloth, she spoke with a stern tone. “Agreed. No more fear. We go.”
“[Mxtl]… we go to our death.”
“And this differs from all the other times, how?” I had to laugh at her rebuttal. She made it sound so trivial.
“This isn’t like when Ravenwoman would roast our ass, or getting torn apart by Shamblings. This isn’t a mere scattering of our awareness. This is death. This is dissolution. This is the undoing of everything we are as Keri. That is [the Ocean], but that is more that just [the Ocean]. And I’m not ready to give up on being Keri just yet.”
Mxtl raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. The rattling punctuated her smirking. “You’re… not? I thought you were done.”
“So did I, until I was faced with the tangible expression of it. And I’m not. And I am terrified.” I gripped the arms of my two aspects. “But… I trust you two. You two have knowledge and understanding that Ravened Flesh doesn’t know. If you two say it’s time to drown, then it’s time to drown.” I didn’t realize I was crying. I didn’t realize how terrified I was. And I didn’t know what was terrifying me more, the physical act of drowning, or the dissolution that will follow.
Tliltc pulled away and walked around me. She entered the surf, salt water splashing on her black jaguar hide. She waded to knee deep, where I had stood before, and turned around holding her hand out. I released Mxtl and entered the surf after Tliltc. I wrapped my arm around Tliltc’s waist and she reciprocated. Mxtl came up on my other side and we entwined the same.
When we took a step forward, we became one person. Weaver Unbroken continued stepping further into the surf until the water swept me off my feet. I swam away from the shore until I lost sight of anything resembling land. The currents assisted by pulling me further and further away. I felt the currents suddenly release me. Above me, clouds were gathering and turning. Around me, the water was still.
I looked under the water and saw a crack in the continental shelf. I could see the currents had descended and were flowing into the crack. Adjusting my eyes for underwater sight, I could see all the currents were converging onto this one spot and flowing into the crack.
Water tugged gently at my feet.
Come. Drown. Drown to me.
I was afraid, but I was confident. I was terrified, but I was sure of myself. I feared never coming back, but I knew I had to go forward.
“Stasis is death.”
I dived under the water, releasing my breath, and willfully took water into my lungs. Before I could change my mind, the currents gripped me tightly and pulled me straight down. Having the last of surface air squeezed from me by pressure and constriction, I fell into the crack at the bottom of the ocean, and entered the depths of the abyss.
I drowned.
My body lay lifeless on the bottom of the ocean floor. Silt lay undisturbed around me. Nearly microscopic sediment settled in nearly unmeasurable movement over me. A cold hand reached into my corpse and squeezed a colder heart.
If you were quenched, this would not be here. If you were quenched, you would not be here. Until this ceases, you can not be dissolved. This is what holds you. My heart shuddered, ejecting my spirit from my flesh. I had just enough of my wits to realize the ejection had completely stopped my heart. My body was dead.
My body sunk into the sediment. I could feel its form starting to disintegrate. The cold hand that squeezed my heart now pushed gently on the chest of my subtly spirit, lowering my spirit so that it floated two feet over my body. Close enough to remind my flesh what I am. Close enough to stop the dissolution of flesh, and reverse it by presence alone.
You do not trust. You have learned well not to. You have learned that those greater than you only take interest in you if there is something they can wring for themselves from your broken flesh. Gods have enslaved you. Men have chained you. Your own flesh and blood sold you away until they found a reason to buy you back. Everything has a price, but not all prices are fair. And you have paid far too much for far too little in return.
You have drowned, to me, in me. I hold you and there is none that can take me from you. You have good rights to fear. I do not want your attention for fear. Each day, there are tens of thousands that fear me upon the waves. Each night, there are thousands that pour out libations to me even though they are far from my shores. I do not want you to be one of them.
Your blood… tú sangre… is mine by oath. This is why your body rests on me, in me. It was promised to me by your bloodline’s progenitor, someone that predates a bored housewife that carried me often. A promise you renewed, and I can, will, and have claimed it. But you are more than your blood. You know that nothing that comes to my embrace can leave it without my will.
The hand lifted away from my spirit. Slowly I began to rise, pulling my influence away from my dead corpse. It started to decay the further I rose. I knew as I continued rising, the pressure would lessen. As the pressure lessened, the faster I would rise. Until my spirit was free of [the Ocean’s] embrace.
Weaver would be free because Weaver is not claimed.
Keri would be dead on the bottom of the ocean floor.
I understood.
The hand pushed on the chest of my spirit, slowly lowering me above a pile of sea-lice covered bones. As I approached the mass, the sea-lice were driven away and fled quickly. The sediment itself reformed over the exposed bones. Keri’s body solidified on the bottom of the ocean depths.
I do not want your fear. I want your trust. I have told you what Keri is. You do not believe me. I do not wish any of [mine] to be bound. I wish each one to be what they are. The generations between your progenitor and you have defiled us both. You fear the claim I have on your daughter. This then is the beginning of your lesson of trust.
I yield my claim on her. I yield my claim on her descendants, should she have any by blood or adoption. For I know the bonds of love is stronger than the flow of blood. I yield this, with no expectation of return from you. I am [the Ocean] who became because I willed to. And I will this as well.
Your spirit is removed from your body. Your body will not be given up until I will it to. If your spirit moves too far away from your body and remains for too long, you will not wake up. You are helpless to me, in me. I have not forgotten what you had sought. It shall be brought to you, but in the manner appropriate for how you are now. Your spirit will travel on the currents, but it shall return to me. It shall not leave me.
The hand lifted off my spirit’s chest. A current pushed into me, feeling like the nose of a porpoise at first. My awareness faded the further away my spirit traveled from my body’s remains. Things were seen and felt, things that the conscious mind can not comprehend. The current brought me back to the depths where [the Ocean] would hold my spirit over my remains again. Just long enough for my body to be pulled back together and the decay reversed. [The Ocean] released me, and I was swept away by another current for another turn through the depths.
The tide explores the land, but returns to the ocean time and time again. The water that was in the north is eventually in the south. Debris from the east is deposited in the west. I ebbed and flowed, rose and fell, and always returned to [the Ocean]. Just like the tide. Just like I did those many times when a naive and ignorant girl dreamt of letting the waters of the ocean pull her under the surface, to escape the pains that never left her waking, to die gently into deeper sleep.
I could not speak, but I could think. And think loudly, I did. How many times, [Ocean], how many times did you wait for me to open my eyes? How many times did you watch, unable to intervene because of oaths made in confidence that were maliciously betrayed? Maybe, once upon a time, I could have been what you say I am, and fit the role you keep describing. That time is gone now. The Ravens have my heart, and though you have my body, you have not me.
The hand held my spirit just above my body.
These Ravens, they have your heart, but I have your blood. They will never release you, and neither will I. You think fire and water can not be kept in the same container? You are multitudes, [Weaver]. Each one of your names is a legion of aspects.
Trust me. Yes, I have designs for you. But not a single one can be carried out without your willful consent. Yes, I am greater than you as the ocean is to a drop of water. But you [redacted like fuck]. I have your blood. I want your trust. Blood can be taken. Trust must be earned. Even I know this.
The hand pushed my spirit back into my body. My flesh was horribly cold and stiff, but still yielding. It felt only hushed, as if I were only sleeping.
You came to me as the tide returns to the sea. You drowned, drowned to me, drowned in me. But the tide doesn’t stay in the sea for long, it returns to the land. And now, so do you.
The sediment around me lifted me up as a sudden underground current broke the bottom of the depths of the ocean. The current carried my cold dead body up, faster and faster. Light was suddenly visible and I winced as it shone through my closed eyelids.
I coughed and rolled over. I was on the shore. That shore. I was lying on the high-tide mark. Strange grey sediment covered me and the sand around me. I watched the waves mutely. Each wave reached a little less than the one before. The tide was receding.
But I wasn’t receding with it.
Strangely warm blood flowed through stiffly chilled flesh. I sat up and watched the ocean. I felt like I had slept for a hundred years and was just now waking up. I felt like my life before this moment was part of that dream. I felt…
I felt alive.
What was dream and what was waking? My memories were a slurry of sea-salt and sand. I sat on the shore until the waves no longer reached my feet, placing the scattered moments into order. I was once again elated to know my daughter would not have a bloodline binding to deal with. She was truly her own. I immediately worried about what kind of dangers would she be exposed to as a result of it.
I struggled to my feet. I was weary. I needed some sleep to recover from my sleep.
“I have tea if you like. Or coffee, if that would be better.” I turned to see a campfire had been made from driftwood. Berber Snake patted a low stool before it. He looked… parental.
“How did you find me? This place… I wasn’t even sure it really existed.” I stumbled to the stool and sat down. I didn’t realize how cold I was until the heat of the fire began to warm me. Snake draped a heavy cloak over my shoulders to help catch the heat.
He handed me a warm ceramic mug filled with warmer tea. “I can always find you. I just can’t always accompany you. But I can always find you.”
I sipped the tea, slowly warming up. “I was dead.”
“By various definitions, yes.”
“But Keri continues.”
“For now, yes.”
“You’re not surprised I found a will to live.”
“You have a very strong contrarian streak. Now that everyone is assured of your will to die, you’ll find a reason to live just to fuck with them.” I scrunched my face at him, but stoic Snake sipped very stoically. “That, and it’s biological. When you actually manage to override your flesh’s desire to live, I’ll get worried.”
“Fuck you.”, was my attempt at a vicious reply. But I was smirking far too much to deliver it properly.
He leaned over and gently kissed me on the forehead. “Not until you get each and every sand-critter off your body.”
I leaped up and backwards, throwing off the heavy cloak and dropping the mug into the sand. The thought of the sea-lice crawling over me was more repulsive than anything the Shamblings had ever covered me with. I shrieked, flaming up as I did so. I danced about pulling suddenly fiercely burning clothes off me and forcing my body’s flame to burn hotter and hotter.
Only when I saw the waves sizzling off almost molten sand did I stop increasing my flame. Snake remained at the fire and watched my streaking display with humor. I stood there, fully naked, fully inflamed and realized Snake had just pranked me into action.
“YOU!”
He smiled his most disarming smile and fluttered his gorgeous emerald eyes. “Hmm?”
“DON’T ‘HMM’ ME, MISTER! YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!”
“I know where you’ve been. You needed to heat up greater than any fire I could produce. You don’t suffer cold well. Not yet, anyway.”
I scrunched up my face and bent down to pick up some sand to throw at him. But I was standing in a puddle of molten glass. The seaward side of the puddle shattered on contact with spray from the waves.
“Fire and water.”
“Pardon?”
“[The Ocean] said I could contain fire and water. I know I can reduce my flames so as not to burn those I touch, but to be both?” I sighed, extinguishing my flames, but fledging out into Weaver Ravenwinged. I smiled knowing I could be described as a harpy as such. I danced and pranced on the shoreline, relishing in the bliss of movement.
“Sounds like you should talk to someone that has managed to be this already.”
A name came to mind. I sucked a tooth at the thought. I’m already in deep shit with that pantheon already, and it is only by carefully toeing the line have I managed to stay out of perdition. By what could I possibly claim the right to even petition for an audience?
The answer came to me so fast, I fell over my feet trying to come to a halt landing face down in the sand.
As I burst into unkind expletives, kicking and bludgeoning the shore, the waves receded a little more and the trees leaned away from my infantile temper tantrum. I had completely forgotten about /why/ I had sought [the Ocean] in the first place. What question it was that started the chain of events that peaked with me lying dead in the depths of the ocean.
The question that I just received an answer to. Just like [the Ocean] promised. An answer that would require me to explore a certain pantheon in order to complete the task that prompted the question. “What do the eight extra cards of the 48-naipe Baraja Española deck refer to, for my use?”
“Flame? Check. Emotional response? Normal. Contemplation of skinning me to make a new coat from? Completed. Well, Weaver Hotblooded, now that I see you’re back to yourself, how about we go back to the lair, so you can start your day.”
I flipped him off and left the dream instead with his laughter chasing me to waking.