V2 Incline 25: Vapooliar

"Nine-thousand nine-hundred and ninety-nine. Ten-thousand." I declare pointlessly to the empty world around me. Stopping in motion, I do not do a ten-thousand-and-one'th headstand push-up. I just fall with a soft thud, against the snowy walls of the mountain right before it ascends into the snowbelt and beyond. Blinking aimlessly, I glance around at the patches of clear, night sky as my sweating body is cooled by the easily changed frost.

In a single, smooth action, I rise back up to my feet and walk towards the edge of the mountain. In response to my presence, the glowing winds howl at me in force as I hold my ground against it. My dress flaps in the wind and my magic-tinted brown hair slightly jostles as I look down at the mountainous, forested world below. Slight, green, stained glass light emits from my eyes and hair before I calm my power down.

I do not quite understand why I chose to come out this far, so very far away from the aelenvari flower. But, even now, I still feel that urge for solitude, that urge for quiet pondering. I crouch down and snap a piece of rock from the mountain, crushing it further within my palm. Light, stone rain dribbles from the gaps in my fingers and it is taken away on the breeze.

Catching the pebble that remains from that mountain chunk, I throw it out towards the moonlit horizon. A cloud bursts into existence shortly after and I watch the mountain my pebble struck remain still. I pick up another pebble and throw it even further, breaking through some of the distant clouds. Striking out the sight of a lunar diamond.

The greatest cause of anger in my life, that damnable moon, Jhrarda. The Mightiest Moon, Jhrarda the Mighty, Protector of the Meek Moon, whatever it wants to be known as. It's just one of fourteen heads, one of four, traitor-thought-filled, fratricide-stained heads. The Fourteen-Headed Moon Beast, the Fourteen Moon Gods.

A whole, heretical empire follows this thing, this evil, damnable thing... They're trying to wipe my people out, the faithful people I have sworn to protect. They've brought machines beyond us for that task. They're coming to kill us and burn our faith to ashes within our torn-down temples...

My hand nearly touches the sword-caused scar that remains on my gut before I stop it from doing so. It's my sword-bearing hand, the rune engraved into my flesh, my palm marks it as so. I can feel it tingle, it's egging me towards accepting my badge of office once more. But, if it is regret or force of habit, I can't quite figure it out.

I'm no longer worthy to call myself Valkinvar, I resent the aelenvari for refusing to call me anything else but it. My worth to Waionr, Honourable War was lost in that hive. In my weakness, the lowest of the world was able to steal the most valuable thing in the world to me. My sacred virginity...

My eyes water slightly as I think about how long I have been a soldier, a Valkinvar... I don't know anything else.

I can't sit down and enjoy a game with the three countrymen who followed me here. They are not so different from me, being soldiers, but I just do not know how to enjoy anything they do. I can't strike up conversations with anyone because my range of knowledge is so hyper-focused on war. I was a thoroughly refined servant of the god who honours all who take up the eternal march.

I can't talk to the aelenvari really about anything without it being about weapons or armour... Somehow, I only really feel like I can talk to anyone when I am with Nin. I don't understand why, though. We couldn't be any more different, him and I.

But, by the graces of the gods and goddesses, we have some similarities. We are both strangers in a foreign land, though, he is far further from home than I am. I might as well have just gone out for a walk in comparison to him. A very strange, haunting walk.

I have spent time doing certain things that I am just doing as a force of habit, even when I am not meant to. It consistently catches me off guard so often that it's almost humorous to think about. A small smile forms as I recall this morning, when I tried to recite a morning prayer intended to be spoken by a Valkinvar... I'm not even at a battlefield or within one of Waionr's temples, but, I do it anyway.

Again and again, frustratingly so often.

"I wonder if Nin ever experiences anything like I am going through..." I mutter as I calm down as I think about him more. His right arm scares me, what it became terrifies me, but, I feel safe when I am close to him. I don't know why, I am the old soldier, he's just a worker. I am so much stronger than him it is not even a contest, what took all of his body and mind was effortless for me, those weights.

Yet, when I saw him succeed and toss it high into the sky, I was happy. I want to assume I am just happy that my paranoia and worries were poorly founded. But, the further I think about the just-ended competition between all the men. I keep thinking about how it concluded.

When the... When the Ivy-Mother ran up to him, dragging him to the ground so she could plant a loving kiss on his lips. Not just once or twice, again and again for some time. It was mesmerising but also so easily hateable...

It bothers me more than it should and I don't know why, I can't figure out why at all. Assuming he feels the same way, we're just friends who were forged in a pit of despair, in that now-gone mountain. So why does the Ivy-Mother's affection stick in my mind like it is now? The aelenvari fawning over Nin doesn't bother me, so why does this?

Not even the coddling and teasing by the Ivy-Mother bothered me. It is just that one moment when her lips met his on the sweat-soaked grass. Right as Nin stood in his moment of triumph over everyone else in the flower. I understand it makes me angry, but I can't figure it out...

I sigh and stare out across the night-shaded land and try to spot the sights. My hands come together awkwardly and when I look down at them, they look like two people's hands are together. Almost like the tired couples on their way back home, long ago when I still lived in Thurn's Forge. Across the Great Bridge all the way down into the Thunlanann half of the city where most of the people lived.

I frown as I pull my hands apart before I hear the sound of powerful, methodic drumming. My frown's purpose changes and I quietly float away from the current mountain as I head to the familiar sound. A bluish light catches my eye and the sound of hand drums grows louder. Sensing it with increasing clarity, I gently land on a nearby mountain and look over at it.

A lone, spectral giant dances about in what looks like a well-rehearsed dance as it bangs its spectral instrument. My eyes widen with worry as the Marching Giant's colossal feet hit the ground in time with a nearby army on the march. These emotivores feed off of the intent for war, but to even call a single one into existence requires so many... My mind quakes in contrast to my still body and wide eyes look around everywhere.

I flinch as the obvious suddenly hits me, I feel overwhelmed and I barely stop myself from having a panic attack. Trembling, I duck and hide behind the dense mountain as three things with tremendous magic power come into view. A mighty roar comes from them like thunder, a sound I cannot forget. Almost as if it was pressed into me like a blacksmith marks his quality-made armour.

Crunching some rock within my hands, I lean out into the open and make sure the marching giant is hiding my magic. My lip trembles as my eyes shake about maddingly as eighteen streams of pure, deep emerald make themselves known. Three batteries of thousands of guns a side defy the darkness with the strength of their engines. Vily-marked banners dance in the wind and a ring of dimmer light pushes up against the cloth-rimmed sides of the machines.

Unlike the one I saw from before, however, these ones are plated in a brassy colour for the main body. A paler, almost goldish tone covers the rims and engines of the machines, outlining their otherwise brass, cannon-covered bodies. I blink fearfully at the three machines as they move slowly across the sky in a close column. To see three in one place when only one was needed to destroy an army of forty-thousand veterans and their Valkinvar accomplice...

So many of those guns, if one ship could do what I saw, what can three accomplish?

I nearly take a shaky step back as my fear overcomes me, the urge to escape and fly is all I can feel. But, additional sounds stop me and although it is the enemy, it is something familiar. Many kite-holding soldiers glide across the sky far ahead of me with long, bladed skates. Their magic propels them forward at their behest and they scrape by and beyond the mountains around the machines.

Windcatchers.

"They haven't noticed me... Wait... The machines, they aren't moving." I realise as my focus finally stabilises as I watch the last of the heretical soldiers fly by on their patrol. I am slightly surprised they feel the need to keep the area around them clear. Only a dragon would dare move towards such raw, blatant power carelessly. These machines are clearly vulnerable, somehow, we sat amongst the wreckage of something smaller back at the hive!

I stop my marked hand from calling upon my sword and I glare at the distant threat. Shaking my head, I turn away slightly, I am no longer Valkinvar, I am not a soldier of the Theocracy anymore. These are no longer my enemies unless they personally come to confront me, even then, they might leave me be. I have no reason to look at them with such fear and caution, I just need to calm down...

But I can't, my body screams for me to run or fight. I have no armour and my sword is a way off, attacking three of these machines at once is suicide. Especially if three, perfectly emerald-haired witches step out to face me. I probably wouldn't even make it that far towards them, I'd likely vanish in one of those ominous orbs. I shake my head and try to ignore the feelings within me.

I can't sit well knowing what I do now, let alone sleep, so I dash crunchingly along and leap off the mountain. Gliding down into the valley, I gently start to fly away deep in the safety of the valley's bottom. I need to convince the others that we need to go, but, they won't understand unless they see it... I need to bring Nin here and hope this is all still here!

I cast a final glance towards the sound of the marching giant and pick up the pace. Reaching a far enough distance, I accelerate up to my usual speed and blast away along the valley floor. Glancing up, I shoot up along the mountainside and break out into the sky. Reasserting my speed with a loud, cloud-marked explosion, I fly off into the faraway night.

I need to get back to the flower, I need to prove my worries to and convince him to come with me... Anywhere but this flower, we need to find somewhere safe!