FotD, Chocolate #9, Bubble Gum #25
Author: Saya
Universe: The Shadows Within
Rating: Everyone
Flavor: Flavor of the Day: matrifocal (focused or centered on the mother; of, pertaining to, or designating a family unit or structure headed by the mother and lacking a father permanently or for extended periods), Chocolate #9 (resentment), Bubble Gum #25 (debt)
Toppings/Extras: N/A
Wordcount: 1,800
Warnings: Minor mention of (fictitious) religion and possessions. And an infodump.
Notes: Ooooo... things are starting to get interesting. I knew I had a plan! [/such a liar] Goodness gracious! Another piece with dialog?! I must be going sane!
Despite the biting chill in the air, Aiay trudged onward. She desperately needed the tranquility that the forest would bring her. She tugged her coat more firmly around herself as she made her way through town; trying to protect herself from the pitying glances as much as the cold. As much as she would like to forget, everyone knew what today was. It was the anniversary of her father's death. She tried to avoid town as much as possible in an attempt to avoid the condolences of the masses. They'd already offered them a dozen times before, why did they feel the need to give them again?
But the house had been unusually oppressive. She snorted, unable to contain her cynical mirth. The house had felt oppressive ever since her father had died. It lacked the warmth it used to and in its place were awkward silences and an empty chair at the supper table. But today, of all days, it was the worst.
It didn't help matters any that she and her mother'd had another fight.
Ny's studies were slipping. To say he was struggling would be a misnomer, he'd given up and no longer cared if he learned or not. Their mother's lectures about how hard it was to afford putting him through school did nothing but make everyone else feel awful. It was obvious (at least to Aiay) that guilt tripping wasn't working. Did her mother try another tactic? Of course not.
Aiay hadn't meant to attack her mother's parenting choices, really, she hadn't; but that didn't stop her mother from taking offense. And when she launched into the whole "if your father were here," speech, Aiay had lost her temper.
"But he's not! And he's never going to be again! So stop dragging him into our mess! Just let him die in peace and leave him be!" She'd shouted, unaware (or maybe just uncaring) that it would damage her mother so.
The tears had been fast in coming and Aiay couldn't tolerate them. Her anger was too raw, irritation too close to the surface, and the temptation to lash out once more all too prevalent. So she'd done the only thing she could think of to do. She grabbed her coat and fled for the sake of her sanity moreso than the preservation of her mother's feelings or their relationship.
And now she was stomping her way through town with everybody staring at her with sympathy when all she wanted was peace and quiet and to be left alone.
Thankfully, everyone was smart enough to give her a wide berth and she made the trek to the forest in silence.
She didn't stop when houses gave way to trees, didn't stop until she couldn't see anything but trees behind her. Only then did she find herself a tree to collapse against. Her head fell into her hands without her permission. She told herself it was to keep her nose warm, but she knew better.
Unlike her mother, she refused to allow herself to wonder what might be different about their lives if her father had survived the accident. The dangers of that path of thinking were many, littered as it was with mental traps and pitfalls. That didn't stop the ache that lingered, even after all of this time.
Just when she felt herself teetering on that emotional precipice, a voice cut through her internal reverie. "You know, that brother of yours will never learn anything."
Her head snapped up, disbelieving that anyone could have sneaked up on her, despite being encased in her own thoughts. To her surprise, it was Polhin, a young lad between herself and her brother in age. She had no idea that he thought meanly of her brother and could not fathom why he was so stupid as to follow her when she was obviously not desirous of company entirely to disparage her brother. Whom he had no business discussing at all, of course.
"Go away and never speak of my brother like that again, Polhin," she barked.
"Foolish human, you do not see, do you?" His smirk was far too self-satisfied for her comfort, and seemed out of place on his young, open face. And then what he said suddenly clicked. He didn't need the telepathy she now knew he possessed to follow her thoughts. "Since we are old friends," he simpered, invading her space. "You may call me Safuri."
"As opposed to...?" She couldn't help but ask.
"God, of course."
"Of course." Aiay tried to restrain her humor at such a statement, but considering the look of annoyance that flashed over the Suine's features, she knew she failed. Served him right though, to be so cocky. "So, we're old friends. How did we met again?"
"Oh, we haven't." His eyes glittered dangerously.
In spite of the unease welling within her, she decided sarcasm was still her best course of action. Probably not the safest, but she'd heard that the Suine appreciated such things. "So how are we friends if we've never met? I don't seem to recall trading any correspondence either..."
"Well you see, your father and I were very dear friends. Business partners even. We made a bargain and your father promised me something. Something that you are in possession of, I have come to claim it." Predatory, that's what he was. Definitely predatory. "I just figured things would go more smoothly if we at least pretended to like each other, don't you agree, my sweet?"
"Don't call me that," was her reflexive answer, but it poorly concealed her agitation. What could she possibly have that a Suine would be interested in? Just because she didn't believe they were as all powerful as they claimed didn't mean she didn't believe they were still capable of a great many wonders. She was just your average human, nothing out of the ordinary. "What is it you're after, exactly?" She finally asked.
"Why, you of course." He made no attempt at displaying his delight at her instinctive recoil, probably reveling in the ability to make her uneasy. "To make a very long and complicated story short and in a format you, my mortal friend, can comprehend with your limited human mind: I have been banished from the Beyond by the other Suine and I am in need of a more permanent host."
"Go find yourself a Vessel then."
"It's not that simple, my sweet." Despite the continued light, patronizing tone, she caught anger flashing behind his eyes. "Ownership of a Vessel is restricted to those approved by the Suine as a whole. I would never be permitted to choose from among their lot. Besides, it is only temporary. A momentary complete possession to enable communication, like now," he said, gesturing to his current body. "Or miracles, or other such as deemed necessary. Your frail, corporeal bodies cannot withstand such a presence for a prolonged period of time. I would go through hosts faster than they could be replaced if that were the case. No, I need something... special."
"Special?" She inquired when he remained silent for a long moment. Unnerved by his steady, unblinking gaze.
"Tell me, have you ever heard of a partial possession?" He flicked a hand dismissively before she could answer. "Of course not, you have no interest in the church. Why should you study the finer points of Suine possession if that were the case? Partial possession differ from complete possessions in that instead of controlling all aspects of a host body, the Suine only observes. They are quite useful things, but are rarely employed. Complete possessions are seen as being less messy, less hassle, despite the danger they pose to the human hosts."
"Which of course, is sooo high on the Suine's priority list," she couldn't help but toss in.
To her surprise, he didn't seem the least bit offended. In fact, he looked amused. "Quite. Which is why partial possession are so rarely used. I quite like them because they are not so great of a drain upon the hosts. Which means, they can be done for longer periods of time."
"How long?"
"Indefinitely, in theory. As I've previously stated, they're rarely used. Never has there ever been need to test it out. Until now at least. So, care to be a pioneer?" At her bewilderment and hesitation he continued. "Oh, why am I even asking? You see, you really don't have much choice in the matter. Your father promised that he would provide me a suitable host, I believe he intended for it to be himself at the time, but since he died, it now falls to you, as his eldest, to fulfill your father's half of the bargain. I have fulfilled mine, so it is time to pay up. I have long grown impatient of hopping host to host for so long."
"Why me, though?" It was difficult to find relevant questions capable of expressing the breadth of her confusion amid the barrage of information.
"Because you are imminently well suited to being a host." He offered no more explanation than that, despite her inquires as to why specifically she might make a good host.
"Do you consent or not?" He asked tersely, having come to the end of his patience.
"Why does it matter? You have already proclaimed I do not have a choice in the matter."
His sigh was long-suffering and she huffed at his eyeroll. "Because such a possession cannot be forced. Complete possessions? Surely. Partial ones? No, they require the consent of the host for them to thrive."
"So I could reject?" Even to her own ears, the question sounded hopeful.
"Of course you could," he said easily, leaning back to examine the fingernails of his borrowed body. "But then I would have to enact my vengeance upon you and your family for reneging on our bargain." He commanded her gaze over his fingers, eyes suddenly serious. "I don't have to tell you, you really do not wish me to do so."
With that hanging in the air between them, she assented, mind whirling.
"Excellent!" He clapped, looking far brighter than he had throughout the discourse. "Let us move a little closer to town, I fear I have been in control of this body for quite some time and I would hate for you to have to drag him too far."
She quirked an eyebrow at him, but did as she was told.
In the end, the transference was anticlimactic. She felt no differently than she had before, aside from the crick in her spine she'd developed from dragging Polhin's unconscious body back into town. If one discounted the peace she'd failed to obtain from her attempt at sanctuary in the forest, the entire thing was almost forgettable.
Almost...