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Lestaria: Depart from the Harbor of Memories
(Ale) 2 -1a | Misery Enjoys Company, Usually

(Ale) 2 -1a | Misery Enjoys Company, Usually

image [https://draviaaris.neocities.org/images/lestaria1scenery/mpfheadquartersdaytime.png]

It seemed to be the right place, though I couldn’t fathom as to why a decrypt building of unfathomable age would be remotely attractive to any potential hires—me included, if I held a choice in the matter. Like finding a ruined city in the middle of the desert—you would think it to have been an oasis, long established before you ever set foot upon those lands. But it lost to its hubris, and to the growing greed of the upper class who angered those they depended on. A tale of tragedy, of rises and falls, and of—

Ah, godsdamn it. I needed to stop getting carried away. I rubbed at my eyes again, and pushed open the door to the Maia Planetary Forces Saturni headquarters. The flyer on my phone showed a picture of a young woman I remembered only from history books, Erna Dee Belmonte. Long, messy black hair accompanied brown eyes, brown skin and a black sweater under a green jacket. Said jacket appeared adorned with yellow buttons and metal clasps, one of which held a glittering magenta stone. Somehow, even after thousands of years, that image of her never changed…much like a character from a book, wasn’t that so?

But—her stone. I couldn’t help but stare at the image for a bit before I pocketed my phone.

A crown jewel we could all only hope to attain, much like the forbidden fruit, the orange of chaos, the seven mysteries that plagued us, hardly unlike my own…no, no, stop it. Stop it. I told myself I wouldn’t think about that anymore, unless I wanted to end up back in what I’d dubbed the “issues chamber” again.

Now, what was her name….?

She was Erna—Something, Bel—something else. Right, maybe I’d have it memorized soon…

As soon as I made my way over to the receptionist desk, I spoke, cutting off the young woman in front of me who spoke on the phone only seconds before. “I’m here for the new Saturni—“

She spoke to someone on the phone.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

She stopped when I approached, now staring at me while stewing over thoughts of hatred, I was SURE, even if she smiled on the outside. Oh, gods, gods.

“Sorry!” I blurted out before she could speak again. Her smile dropped, wide-eyed and stunned as if I ripped away every juncture she had in front of her to deal with me. “I mean, I, uh…Saturni! The Saturni Specialty Division! I’m here for the orientation?”

What a mess. I could feel the pointed, annoyed stares aimed at my back by everyone else present. This couldn’t be over sooner…

“Oh my gosh, who are you?”

A shock traveled through my spine as I rammed my back against my chair, the screech of the legs against the floor loud enough to make a baby cry. What a perfect accompaniment to my already fried nerves!

“Ale Felix Levansiaka,” I responded in a tired, robotic voice that made me cringe. After I officially registered for orientation, I took a seat on a couch nearby while the receptionist waited for the others to arrive. The young woman next to me appeared to be one of them? Hm. She didn’t strike me as the type of person to apply for a dangerous job like this, but perhaps that was a rude assumption to make.

The way she looked at me reminded me of…I didn’t know how to place it. She smiled so kindly, but the look in her eyes made my blood run cold as though I were cornered by a beast of prey. My fears were only confirmed when she stuck her nose up at me, her bright grin turning into a cruel smirk.

“Eugh, that last name sucks,” she grumbled. She shoved her face far too close to mine, scrutinizing me for a few moments before stepping back and throwing herself back into her chair. “But I can let it slip if it means we get to be goooooood friends, you as my punching bag, fellow enjoyers of the Art, etcetera, etcetera.”

I had no idea what she was talking about.

Wait…wait. Was she trying to…? No, no way. I didn’t have room for those kinds of connections in my life anymore. The river of time flowed ever forward, eroding the sand and stones that accompanied its journey, and I knew in that fashion I’d already—

“I think he’s dead…” Someone I didn’t recognize chimed in from my left. I realized then my entire monologue had been internal.

“I’ve already moved on!” I spat the words out, rubbing my hands against my face. “Sorry, I’m afraid it’s the river’s fault!”

The terrifying woman to my right gave me a blank look before she fell into a fit of laughter. The tired man that spoke up before crossed his legs and folded his arms, saying nothing else to me.

Why couldn’t existing be like a river? It reminded me more of a painful elevator ride that kept stopping and trapping you in these awkward situations! No escape, no relief, only agonizing suffering…I should had drafted up a conversation guidebook last week like I’d planned.