Forgiveness [Solo]

Forgiveness.

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That awkward moment when your May vignette becomes so huge it’s basically a mini solo, and you sloppily rush the end anyways. Oh well, it took me about two weeks to write this so here it is!

Set in Scara Brae. Solo.

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When was the last time she felt joy?

She was hapless. She watched the drink glass in front of her in a daze. The water seemed pristine enough, especially with the ice cubes keeping it crisp and cool. The girl sank slowly down her seat. All that ice did was remind her of… her.

Her… one of the most influential people in her life. Yet, one of the darkest. She did not know whether or not she would see her again. She lost sleep thinking about her, and what sleep she got was tormented with hostile memories. How could she loathe and love the same person? She had her dire worries, yet she desperately just wanted to forget her right now.

Today’s events would bring her the complete opposite of this desire.

In attempts to forget, her path came to an unlikely place. Right now, she looked disastrous. Her hair was usually tied back. Now, however, it was let loose. Strands of red covered her face. Green eyes peered through the red mess. Her hood over her head, jacket completely pulled over her in a lack of internal warmth, the teenager was obviously lost. Yet, she was just another lonely one here.

She was one of many depressed, rejected patrons within the Zirnden. A surprising place to find a child. Yet here she was. She currently sat in the side lines, eating in the corners of the dimly lit fight club. Torch flames flickered across the cool room as the crowds all cheered against the fighters in line. Slumped in her seat, the unusually quiet girl took a large bite out of her bread loaf. As she chewed, unimpressed by the fighters in the ring, she leaned against the wall. Honestly, it was hard to enjoy a meal with all that blood, sweat, and urine smell floating in the air. Yet, the tired and famished girl proceeded to viciously shove bread, meat, and vegetables into her mouth. Regardless of the most hostile of atmospheres, the half-neanderthal still needed to satisfy her massive metabolism.

As shouting sounded and crowds cheered, she brought the drink to her lips. She did not even notice anyone else was there until she heard a voice, “You seem to lack excitement.”

The teen pulled her orange strands away from her face. She looked up to see, through the thick steam and smoke, a waiter waiting with a tray of many cheeses. He set it down on the table, laying the options out in front of her. It was a foul smell, but the hungry teen did not care. She immediately started shoving the protein into her mouth between a muttered “thanks.”

The two watched the fighters in the delyn cage duke it out. The boxers seemed to hardly bring any shine to the girl’s eyes. She pushed some cheese into her mouth with her finger, swallowed it, then grunted in unsatisfied boredom. “Meh, I’ve seen better. Or worse, depending on your perspective.”

Her dead, monotone voice hardly fluttered. She needed something intense to distract her from her own thoughts. She shook her head, “I thought the Zirnden would keep me from hearing my thoughts. Thought I would be entertained.”

As one boxer completely knocked out another, she apathetically sighed. The waiter scratched his head as she listed her complaints, “I thought this was the best fight club in Scara Brae.”

She picked up her water again, “I have invasive thoughts and traumatic reflections to avoid. Your petty matches aren’t helping me at all.”

The waiter spoke up, “I’m… sorry to hear you are unsatisfied with our services.” He awkwardly looked away, “We are just a tad bit short on business and fighters right now, so-“

They were interrupted when the crowd cheered again. A lone fighter, a bulky masked man, stepped inside. He wore a gold gamberson and black pants. On his back he wore a war hammer, yet it was obvious that he was equally skilled with his bare fists. He was alone, shouting for a challenge. The teen looked down for a moment, glancing at her sword, in its sheath, resting at her waist. She looked up to the apologetic waiter with a question, “How much to join the matches?”

He eyed her in alarm, “Y-you’re a child-“

“-And you're a waiter desperate to keep his job. What does it take to get in?”

He stammered, holding his platter against his chest, “W-we’ll take anyone at this rate, actually. Business is so low, we-“

The girl placed some spare change into his pocket, “-Sold.”

She stood up, rattling the table. She stepped forth, her armored boots resounding across the room. Fearless, shoved folk out of her way. Relentless, she cleared a path for herself with her sturdy neanderthal bulk. Stubborn, she stepped up the raised platform. She walked straight up to the announcer, placing a muscled hand on his shoulder, “Still no opponents?”

He shook his head.

An angry smirk crossed her red face, “I’ll fight him. Name's Felicity Rhyolite.”

Before he could argue, she started climbing the cage. Spectators watched in shock as a seventeen year old girl climbed into the ring. Her eyes were dark and serious as she pulled herself over the fence. She needed as much intensity as she could get. Thus, it came to this.

The cage rattled as she leapt in. Sturdy boots slammed into the padded floor as her small yet muscular frame jolted. A dark growl was emitted as the opponents started to look each other down. She pulled her jacket off. Her green shirt rippled as she cast the leather coat down. As smoke swirled, she pulled her sword free from its sheath. The delyn blade reflected the limited fire light. She was positive her outfit would get bloodied, although one could wonder how her red, yellow, and brown stained pants could look any worse. Not for the violence, but the excitement, the girl chuckled. An unhealthy thrill seeker, she was thirsty for whatever punishment and pain this opponent could give her. She could bathe in it. This reckless, PTSD ridden girl was running off raw rage alone as the announcer did his job.

The announcer eyed her in curiosity before he boldly spoke, “And here we have it, folks! The moment you have all not been waiting for! Cain the Crusher verses Felicity Rhyolite! Fight!”

The opponent had to be a half giant. He was at the human height of six feet, yet his body was so large. His muscles threatened to tear through his blood stained armor. He charged forth. His speed was average, yet his extended hand had the power of a raging bear. His two handed war hammer hung off his back as he charged forth like a bull.

The redhead put her blade away. She extended her own hand, stepping into position. Her heart leapt as they collided. Their strength seemed to be the same as the ragechild held him at stay. She smirked, “I thought you were a crusher. Do better.”

The man hissed in adrenaline aided outrage. He used his free hand to dish out a solid punch. She flew against the wall, then fell down. This pain was not enough for her. She could still hear herself think. As the man tried to follow her up, she escaped between his legs. She rolled out to the other side. Adrenaline burst, her fight or flight finally stimulated her. She turned around only in time to see his fist slam into her. She saw a flash of light, then realized she was on the floor. Cain raced towards her, fists formed. He raised a massive leg to bring down his foot. The teen, in a fit of confident anger, lifted her sturdy arms. She gripped his shoes tightly, yet the spiked soles caused her hands to bleed.

Perfect.

She completely threw his leg up, her strength bolstered by her bleed-based powers. The man completely fell on his side. Even before the arena stopped shaking due to his fall, she was on top of him, punching his steel strength face.

The rest of it was a darkly fascinating blur.

They proceeded to duke it out. Blow for blow, blood splattered across the floor in their battle of endurance and strength. The night like shaded arena was completely blurred. She could taste the blood, hear the audience scream, feel the disparity. Due to her bleed based abilities, however, pain was unachievable. In a rapid heartbeat, she found herself back against the cage. Her red painted face dripped as she watched the blue eyed Cain glare into her soul.

“How’s that?” He blurted as crimson ooze slipped from his mouth.

The girl unbelievably smirked, “That was awesome.”

She reached and gripped his humongous hand. She dug her nine functional fingers into his pressure points and slammed her feet into his rib below. He staggered back, gasping fir air as the girl fell to the ground. Between the black dots that blocked her vision, the image of blood and urine splattered floor entered her head. She could feel the sweat and blood all over her. Any and all thoughts of anything was gone as she shook. Was she insane for enjoying this? Was she psychotic?

Cain pulled the hammer off his back as she staggered to her shaking feet. He smiled a crooked grin, raising the hammer in an untrained, yet experienced, overhead slammer.

-Suddenly – out of nowhere –

-A third, cloaked and hooded, figure leapt from the cage. She neatly filled the gap between the two, her lithe frame barely seeming to handle the hand in a half sword on her back. Her entire outfit was made of sloppy, black rags. Armor hung off her like the plates on a giant lizard. Her uninvited interruption left the announcer in shambles as she pulled the sword down. Her cloak flowed just as pain finally hit the berserker she seemed to protect. Felicity actually screamed, the agony was so severe. She collapsed. Cain awkwardly pointed to her as she freed her damascus blade from its sheath, “Uh, you are?”

Mismatched eyes, one blue and the other burgundy, blankly looked up to him, “Nothing important.”

In a strict as unpredictable and speedy as a bolt of lightning, she struck. Cain suddenly exclaimed, the sword embedded into his heel. She spoke in a cold, surprisingly somber, tone. “You’ll live. You’ll heal. I just needed to end this quickly. For her.” She yanked the sword out with a heave. As she gasped for breath, obviously malnourished and physically weak, the fighter collapsed onto his back. The woman, within the shocked silent of the crowd, cleaned her blade with a cloth. She turned just in time for Felicity to lay eyes on her.

The face was instantly recognizable.

The woman frowned, “For your own good, get out. You could get killed in this club.”

The redhead’s mouth gaped open as she left as quickly as she came. Which direction and how, she was way too discombobulated and pained to have a clue.

Her blurred vision doubled before she passed out.

~~~

Peridot eyes flashed open.

She gasped as her vision met a wooden ceiling. There was within the air not a sound but the crackling of the warm fireplace. As the sound of fire crackling and popping wood calmly resounded, the girl felt an ache spread across her entire body. She felt very, very bruised and sore. She lifted her dominant right hand, seeing that indeed some of her arm was black and purple.

She panicked.

She switched from zero to sixty. Adrenaline burst as she lept from the bed. The warm, white and brown sheets flew as bare feet hit the oak floor. She wore a plain white tunic, best as bedwear, and could clearly see the damage done to her legs. Her appendages were terribly beat up and blue. It felt like torture just to stand on them. She was sure she was dislocated at a hip.

Her long, freshly bathed hair flowed freely as she placed her hands on her waist and gritted her teeth. In a large, sudden *snap* she relocated her hip. A shout of pain rang across the room. For a moment, pain endured, but then she felt better.

She heard something, however. Instinct suddenly kicked down after she fully recovered from tge adrenaline rush. She just felt it. Somebody was at the door-

-Somebody just raced out of the door!

The rush of air caused her hair to blown in her face. The sound of the brown door clicking shut was all that was left behind.

The teen gasped. She looked around.

There was but a single chair and stool next to the stone hearth. The window at the side of the room had daylight shinning through it. A bathtub in the corner had been drawn, Felicity could smell the water and, ew, whatever else was sloshing in the tub. Groggily, the girl limped over. The floorboards cried as she looked into the red, black, tainted tub. Her eyes widened at the mesh of horrific smells. She looked down to the floor to see traces of blood drops, all leading to a pile of crumpled, bloody, disgusting clothes.

The girl grimaced as she covered her nose. Steadily, traces of the previous night floated around her foggy mind. The fight in the club. The bloodbath. That- that girl-

Her mouth seemed to force itself open. A crack of a whisper tried to force its way out, yet something else caught her eye. On the shelf above the fireplace, under a metal cup of stale water, there was a note. Felicity pushed the cup aside and picked the small piece of paper up.

I had to pull you out of there. You could of died, and I could not allow that to transpire. I have paid for you to stay until tomorrow evening. Clean yourself up and stop doing stupid things like getting involved with fight clubs. I cannot save you twice.
~ An old acquaintance.

Felicity recognized that handwriting. It only confirmed what she saw last night. Without thought, she raced towards the door, dropping the note. She finally screamed her name.

“Ashla!”

She burst out the door. For a moment, she had to readjust to her visual input. She was in the corner room of down the balcony's isolated top hall. The place was dimly lit with warm, safe torches. More light was faintly visible from the rooms below, which were safeguarded by mahogany rails lining the open hall. At the edge of the hall, a person halted. Her hands froze as the were just pulling her sword up over her back. Her cut up, almost useless rags stunk from across the long hall. Her greasy, mangled hair was let down and dirty. Even from the distance between them, Felicity could see how bare and meatless her arms were.

Millions of wordless questions caused static to blaze inside her head.

The woman reluctantly turned to face her. Her deathly pale face was devoid of much expression, aside the hints of melancholy blur in her multicolored eyes. It was unbelievable to say, but she was worse off than Felicity.

For a moment, silence crept across the empty hall.

Felicity remembered.

Rumors had been flying around that the leader of P.A.L.E. was mentally insane. Or maybe someone attacked her and there was a traitor amongst them. Daisuke had seen to Ashla and told them that she was, in fact, having a mental breakdown. Felicity was since then looking around for her.

Her speech impairment made her shouts very distinguishable. "Ashwa!"

She ran across the camp, sand getting on her leg's wrappings. She kicked up grains of broken rock with her sandals, ponytail bouncing behind her. "Ashwa!" Felicity hollered, "Ashwa!" People and barrels flew past her, the clumsy child ran into several people. She apologized and continued. Felicity was there for her teacher, even now. She would not fail her mentor now.

Arming swords clanging in their shealths as she ran; Felicity pulled her flamberge back to it's proper place as she ran to the edge of the camp. She skidded to a halt, noticing a discarded hair ribbon half buried in the sand. She looked up ahead to see a familiar figure walking out into the desert.

"Ashwa!"

The woman stopped, dead to the spot. For a moment, silence. Then, she straightened her outfit before turning to face her. The two girls were now face to face. The redhead gave her a grim expression of worry. "You okay?"

The woman opened her chapped mouth, "I'm leaving. This is it, I'm done."

Felicity just stared at her. Wide, green eyes were backed by a mouth with a slight frown, "What?"

The young woman frowned, trying not to take notice of the pain in Felicity's tone. "This era of life is over. I'm going."

Felicity scoffed, as if something was wrong with her, "What? Ashwa!" the kid tossed her arms, "This is youw home, youw famiwy! Do you eel nothing fo them?"

The brunette looked at the apprentice, "That's why I'm leaving them. What good is a mother who can't provide for her child?" She looked away again, "This is what is best."

Childishly, Felicity shuffle her feet, a silence taking over them. The redhead was thinking. Surprisingly, Ashla waited for the teenager's response. She simply watched the sand dunes as the wind carried them.

The sun lowered to where the sky was pink. At this point, Felicity had her answer. "Okay, it seems wike I can't convince you."

Felicity's footsteps led her by her side. "I'm coming with you."

That was when the nightmare started. A nightmare she willingly walked into.

She was aggressive.

The sound of steel clashing sounded from the forest clearing. It was evening. As purple skies floated above, the ringing metal and human grunts and shouts drove all wildlife away. Crickets still croaked as the fifteen year old redhead struggled; shaking in physical weakness.

Felicity was being continually forced back in the ferocious swings. With the blunt side of her sword sweeping the teen's lower leg, the half-elf forced Felicity to fall to her side, dropping her blade.

"Weak!" She shouted critically.

In the uncomfortable dirt and itchy grass, the teen tried to pull herself up. However, her teacher walked around her and raised her foot, pressing it against her back as her blade slightly pressed into the girl's neck. It was not enough to injure, but it was enough to hurt.

"A-Ash-"

"Ayleth!" She shouted in a dominating, rage filled tone.

"Yeah, vat…" the girl grunted, visibly under both physical and emotional stress, "Ca-can we take five and-"

"No." Ayleth replied icily, "We will stop when your defense improves.”

Removing the blade and lowering her foot, she took a step back in apathy and waited for the sweating, bruised girl to return to her opening stance. "Get up."

Pushing her shaking body to respond, the young woman stood up, but did not raise her sword again, "Aweth, p'ease…"

The young woman walked up to her, lowering her sword. With bitterness written on her face, she raised her hand and backhanded her cheek. "Obey, apprentice."

Holding her cheek in pain, the girl struggled to stand, but held herself together. Closing her eyes to push back her tears, she responded, "Yes, ma'am."

She had to close her eyes, holding back the tears again.

The blunt, metal pommel slammed into her gut. The teen cried as she choked a sound out. Holding herself, the girl fell to the floor. Tears dripped down her red cheeks. She opened her eyes to see Ayleth towering over her, holding her sword.

“Felicity,” She spit venom, “You are wrong.”

Felicity held her head, vision groggy as she pushed herself up to her knees. Her legs rubbed against rough, stone floor. The cold air of Coronian autumn was crisp and bitter. The nature surrounding them was dying, just like their relationship.

“No,” Felicity coughed, “You’re wrong! Think of all the people you killed! All the lives you stole and-“

She gasped in fear. The weapon she held was raised in a wrath guard. All the wrath in the world was pounded into her as the force caused her to fall onto her hands and faced. Blunt pain burst into her head as her thoughts rattled. This conversation had only turned into an argument. And this argument had turned… into a beating.

Just another brutal lesson.

“Felicity,” Her voice seemed patient, yet everything else inside her obviously was not. It was nagging, tugging, “They got what they deserved.”

“M-maybe- they did deserve that, but-“ She wheezed, holding her chest, which was tightened by anxiety attacks. “-When you delivered the blow, wh-where you worse off than them?-“

“-Shut up!” Ayleth kicked her side, causing enough pain to shoot through her like lightning. As the teen huddled into the fetal position, the woman scolded her. “I did what I had to do! Nobody was taking care of these murderers, slavers, robbers! The Rangers weren’t! The Bladesingers weren’t! Somebody had to do something! So I did. And I will extract justice onto every criminal in the world until there is only the goos guys-“

“-If-“ Felicity managed a single shout before crying in whispers, “-If you killed killers to bring peace… there’s still one killer left.”

The wind was bitter, nipping them in the freezing air. Dead, brown leaves fell from the almost bare trees. Icebreaker bent down to her. Crouching to her level, she lifted her finger and shook it in her face, “Don’t you dare judge me.” Her quiet voice was so cold, one could feel the chill, “I tried using mercy and compassion. Those don’t work. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I will take every measure necessary to save the world.”

Felicity opened her eyes again. Scorching with pain, the student eyed the mentor as she pulled her hands behind her back, with visible backbone.

I'm leaving. This is it, I'm done."

The last time they spoke echoed through her mind. Felicity remembered the lifeless winter. White, powdered snow coated the icy countryside as the ends of a battle against just another group of robbers finished. Back turned on her teacher, Felicity watched the red liquid mesh into pure white. Even the season of death was tainted. Here and now, as the shivering girl put her sword into its sheath, she made the single hardest decision of her entire life.

"You are my sister, Ashla… I'm sorry, but I cannot stay. Goodbye.”

A sigh was emitted from Felicity's mouth. Cold breath was emitted from her shaky lungs. She waited.

The voice of her teacher, bitter and broken, responded. "Then go."

Tears burst out of her eyes. Salty water raced down her cheeks, off her jaw, and hit the snow covered ground. Her back heaved as she quietly wept; severing the bond. She vibrated in both the frost and the grief. She took one step forward, into the hazy cold winds. A second step. A third.

She disappeared into the frost.

Little did she know that standing alone, back turned, a single tear crept down Ayleth's face as well.

And here they stood again.

They now stood facing each other, in a warm, dry building. No blood, no gore, no tears. No tears yet. Ayleth could not look into Felicity’s eyes. They were sheepish. Desperate to speak but terrified to try, Ayleth side stepped. A single, armored hand rested against the rail. Snow white fingers wrapped around the wood.

Felicity was bold. She broke the silence. Her tone was neutral, unemotional. It was as if speaking to a co-worker or meager acquaintance. “It’s been awhile.”

She sluggishly threw her hand. Yet, silence remained. Ayleth now leaned against the railing, moppy hair hiding her face. Felicity frowned, looking down. She tensely looked up again, short in breath, “You look like you're doing horribly.”

The always sassy half-elf scoffed.

Felicity walked closer, to the pole that started the rail line. She leaned against the pole, forgetting her lack of daytime clothing, “Ayleth?”

Ayleth looked down, her hair falling. She sighed in some form of exasperation. Her hands were rested against the railing, but now she squeezed them tightly, sweat forming. For the longest time, Ayleth seemed so… uncomfortable. She fidgeted and twitched as Felicity watched in patient silence. Not a single soul walked these halls but these girls.

At last, after eons, she pushed herself off the railing. The burnadette throbbed before looking up at Felicity with tears in her eyes.

“Fe-Felicity, I- - I’m…”

Felicity could not believe her ears. All the guilt, shame, agony, sleepless nights, loneliness, and traumas all fit so shockingly well into two, cliché, common words.

“I’m sorry!”

It was such a wild, deranged, sorrowful, ashamed, hollow, deep, vast scream. Streams of woe echoed across the hall as she threw her skin and bone arms. Felicity felt the breath sucked out of her; yanked into the gravity of the black hole that was Ayleth.

Despite everything, Felicity’s dropped any anger on the floor. She darted forth, grabbing her bony shoulders and pulling her into a deep, meaningful hug. Tears pounded the oak floor like the rainfall of a hurricane. Her arms wrapped around her back. She could feel her backbone. It was so weak, so frail… All the good memories lightning sped across her mind. Memories of the woman before Ashla, before the trauma, before all the neglect and abuse.

Felicity remembered Ashla Rose Icebreaker for exactly the person she was.

Ayleth stood still, taken aback by the instant forgiveness and acceptance. It was obvious she was not used to this, unable to return the hug in pure bewilderment. Yet Felicity kept clinging on, bawling her eyes out as all the energy she stored up sleeping drained again. Ashla always, always, always had Felicity’s loyalty and love.

”I was just like you when I was your age. Kind of pathetic, I know. But I see potential in you. Let me train you; let me show you how to be strong."

Ashla was the only person who ever completely believed in her.

Ashla. Not Ayleth. Felicity could tell. This was Ashla she was holding onto today.

The path to complete recovery was far away, yet as of now, all sins were forgiven.

It was in late spring, within Corone’s green forests. As the leaves vividly fell in a clearing, two young women sparred. One, a fourteen year old, was Felicity, obviously. Yet, the second one was different. She had long, black hair and black clothes. She held a hand-in-a-half sword in her left hand, sparring with a slightly younger Felicity, whom used the same sword that was in her hand now.

"Excellent," the young woman replied, "Your upper cuts are improving."

"My postuwe sti' sucks," Felicity sighed, lowering her sword and slumping in exhaustion.

"We will get to that," Ashla pulled a canister of water from a satchel on her belt, "Remember, Ettermire wasn't built in a day."

Felicity thankfully took the water and started gulping it down. As she did so, her mentor pulled out another sword from her hip, "Ready to practice some duel wielding? Remember, this technique requires form and coordination. I will critique you as we go."

A confident smirk crossed the blue eyed woman's face as she continued, "Let me know if I'm too fast for you. I'm sure you can keep up though."

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Done.

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1,232 experience
132 gold

All rewards Added!