"How long until you open up? Today's a shop open day, right?" I question as the final bite goes down my throat to plop satisfyingly on the breakfast already in my tum'. Patting the exterior of it, I lean back and sigh the feeling of a comfortably full belly, Liada's smile in view.
"Not long now, why?" she asks, the pop and twist of lids coming to a stop as she moves on to opening and closing cupboard doors instead. The air of which is enough to blow her hair gently. More starts to move as she begins to walk.
"Haven't got any work or jobs and I don't think I'd be able to lounge about upstairs doing nothing. Knowing you're down here dealing with everyone and their mother when that bell rings." I tell her and she shakes her head, a hand sliding along my arm before it catches on my head. She stoops down and hugs me close, rubbing up to me with excessive affection and I huff.
"Naturally you'll need to shower first." she remarks as she aligns herself with my lean, nearly enveloping my head into her bust. Moving forward, she groans gently and I take up the cloth she has tucked into her clothes. Turning to her fully, I eye the bits of dirt dust she's managed to put on herself and I tut a quick shake of my head.
"Thankfully for the water bill, you just need a quick wipe." I tell her, smirking deviously as she lets out that wanted noise of insincere 'I hate you.' Tucking the cloth into the shadow my head just neared, I head off, grabbing my mask on the way.
"I need to do my hair..." Liada pouts and I stop to look back.
"Bucket. Water." I chirp, pointing at each thing to the joy of her growing scowl.
"Get out of my sight now and quickly." she threatens as her tail makes one heavy swipe towards the floor. Glasses, metals and ceramics shake with growing tension in their little plate and cup hearts.
"I'll leave anything you might need out of the bathroom." I explain as I reach the stairs, flashing a quick grin at her, she starts to whisper. She goes through the motions of a prayer to her god, left hand cupping the right, only, she knowingly breaks the rule. A middle finger wiggles at me and I laugh.
Lingering for a moment as she crosses her arms and juts one hip out, putting one of her impressive legs on display, I ponder. She's told me that the way she does that is to interrupt a moment of prayer and in turn insult her god, technically. But, the intentions are to send that disrespect towards the one the nail top is pointing towards, making it more of a curse(?) I suppose. Honestly, having met the guy, I'd like to know Iderim-Ovi's thoughts on the matter, just a shame I know what I need to do to talk to gods reliably.
But, knowing I shouldn't, I contemplate it anyway, what could I do in response? Prayers go through my head and yet, even with the humour of it guiding my actions, I can't fathom violating their sanctity. A prayer should not be taken for granted or used to invoke spite on another unless it's the point of the prayer, like with Avanvenger. God of Revenge lets you damn the one in thought, figures.
A digit rises and my mouth opens with a silent 'ah.'
Taking my palm and placing it out in the open, I form a fist with the other and lower it. Striking the palm with three, gentle strikes, I send a playful insult her way by invoking Thurnmourer, the god she despises. That scowl of hers narrows and her shoulders move up and wide. Cackling quietly, I go up the stairs, picking up the pace as Liada's foot-claw steps echo after me.
Shifting around the corner just as she likely points those eyes up after me, I wait until I hear the scoff of amusement. The corner of my mouth moves and I stop with the bad attempt at hiding, heading on into my room to gather some things. Popping in and out, I head to the bathroom and nab any old towel I can see. Setting things up, I lift my mask up and hold it in front of my face.
"To soak or to shower?" I question, glancing towards the large mirror that nearly takes up the entire wall, I look at myself. Frowning, I twist and turn, taking into account all of the filth on me and even the scars I have, despite their age. One across my chest from when I was killed by Vapooliar, one on my right palm from Waionr to make sure I go to Undwote and another from Vapooliar on my right knee. And yet, not one scar is here because of Smiling Jhurack, he left me nothing.
Five years of fighting him, five years of all of that and the only scar I have is the one Lari left and it's out of view. I was cut up right bloody but to make sure I was up and ready to fight him again, Jhurack somehow healed me. Nearly every night, for five whole years, it's all a blur. Nothing sticks out and is incompatible with the formula, no festival memories, birthdays or holy days, not even regular ones.
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Just memories of fighting him and at the end... Losing her.
"All that and not a physical scar to show for it, only the memories." I quietly contemplate, gently knocking the side of my head like the soft-cored nut it is. Looking at my mask, it enters both of my palms and the lenses stare back at me with a foggy reflection. It's a shame, really. Nin Urtuan is, I am the Dark Crow, there is no separation, no dreams of it, no alter ego.
Everything I was changed and or vanished when I put on this mask all that time ago back at Rose's flower. The name of Dark Crow might be something I've put out there this year, but, I might as well have always been him. I didn't go back to Tobaballe to get home, really, I went back there to put what was Nin to rest. Undwote doesn't have me yet, but he has enough.
Heading to the bathtub, I move a claw onto the shower knob and gently push it around its fitting. The machine comes to life just like that and water comes roaring out like a wyvern's breath. Fire-touched and burnt into the smoke of water, it's a relaxing feeling. Mud starts to wash away and it gets into the gaps of my natural armour.
Getting into the tub properly, mask dropping to my side, I let go of it and it thunks on the tub. Steadily sliding off towards the drain on the shallow current that only takes a foot to shift about. Holding an arm up, I watch the water as it both flows like a new set of veins, webbing or rope. If I try, it's like I have water magic myself.
"I wonder if she ever tried anything like this, despite her magic. She loved to enjoy the simple and the silly, I feel like this would be something she does." I ponder, the blurred-out visage of the mirror and its contents readjusting to normal when I focus on it. My muddy shell has given way to a natural shine to an extent now and although it is impermeable, it's darker than normal. I blink, noticing the condensation-prevention magic active on the edge of the glass.
Stepping forward, I knock on the edge of the bathtub and notice how wide it is, its centre almost like a seat. Turning down the water pressure, I settle down into the odd chair and look back towards the mirror, noticing the depth of the ground just outside the tub. Or, rather, the extension of the tub into the bathroom floor. Bringing my claws to my side, I note further how oversized this chair is for me.
"Ah, a place for Liada to easily clean up her tail and hair if she wants to." I realise, the wide berth of clear space the bathtub has is enough of a radius for Liada's tail to swing. Spotting the handled sponge she must use, I grab it myself and dip it into the clean end of the shower water. Scrubbing at my legs, I uncover many scratches and unrecoverable bits of shell and even disturbances in my muscles. And yet, oddly, I can recall all of them and not one is because of him.
The only thing left of my failed struggle for Lari's life is within my heart and mind. Both of which have the potential to forget what was in favour of what I believe it might've been. I cannot forget why my palm is cut or why my chest has this pale gash, I have proof of it. And although Lari and everything else was and is real, it all might as well have not existed at this point.
I'm not waking up to the sound of Lari's laughter, Omb's cooking and Einervaene's gentle singing. Rose'lhia is not pestering me with her strange, aelenvari standards of romance and there's no icy shrill from Tiyanat. Quinshuu is not brooding and even Liada has changed so much. As I joked earlier, she hid behind my cloak like a baby and now she runs a sit-in bakery based out of an old blacksmithy.
Change is not inherently bad, but, when the one I want to remember has left me no physical reminders... I... It's hard. Liada is still with me, but I'm yearning incessantly for what I have lost and my respect for what I have is iffy.
My claws drum the bathtub and I reach for the mask which has now picked up more dirt than it had before. A line of brown runs from the widening face of it to the tip of the beak that's managed to remain reasonably sharp after all this time. Standing back up, the water comes back out with greater force and I get to cleaning my mask properly.
I sigh, quietly clicking my tongue as well as I can.
"No mask for now, no Dark Crow..." I look towards the mirror, "Just as Nin as I can be."
And I look away, not even convinced by my own words.
Guess if anything, these past five years have shown me that I am a man of action, all that matters is the act. Don't say I am going to be more mindful of Liada and the others, just do it. Enough talk, I need to focus. Focus!
I'll keep to my word, I'll come downstairs dried off and ready to help however I can with whatever I need to do. Memories come and go, I cannot avoid that and in some ways, it is probably for the best. I miss Lari but missing her will only make me suffer, it will only strain Liada back to how she was right before I stopped Jhurack. Get out...
Get out. Get out! She screamed.
Turning the shower off, I step out of the bathtub and set my mask down on the closed toilet. Squaring up to my reflection, my chitters take on an aggressive tune and I lean in close, one eye wide open against the glass. My posture relaxes into a timid shuffle and I huff bemusedly. I really can be an idiot.
My eyes go back to the mirror and then away, spotting a photo frame, I walk up to it and I frown. There's a picture I am not familiar with and it is of me, by the looks of it, it's one from when I was first fighting Jhurack. My body was not used to the intensity of the fighting, I don't recall it ever getting easier, but, clearly it did. And, right above, Liada is taking care of me, blood-dirtied cloth in hand.
Picking it up, I look into the eyes of her past self, "I owe you quite a few good memories, don't I? So many memories do I owe you."
I don't put it back where it was, instead, quickly drying myself off, I move to hide it somewhere. I need to do my best, I owe her that much and I will give it to her. I've brought so much suffering and blood quite literally up these steps and down the drains. The toughness of her soul is gone and now she is tender.
Bringing my left palm up, I place the closest thing I have to a middle finger in it and bring them both to the tip of my face.
"I promise you, Liada." I pray, finishing the alien motion to Iderim-Ovi.