[Warning: Mild Spoilers for Tyrant’s Grasp at around the later half]
Ash, dust, and acid seeped across the Ustalavic skies and loomed hawkishly above Izo and H.E.N.R.I. as they trudged through the desolate pathways towards Lysithea’s hallowed home of Vellumis. Just as above, so is below as the land was twisted, if not writhed with forlorn flora and fauna. Unlike the quiescent yet untamed forests of Nirmathas with its pleasant glades and faerie-lit lights, Ustalav could be likened to the Old World saying of ‘the Wrong Side of the Tracks’ or in this case, of the Tourondel River. The thicket of plant life, if one can even stretch between the dictionary definitions of ‘plant’ and ‘life’ housed pale grey or sickly green colors that tested the resolve of the Doctor Commander’s Constitution. Instead of their skin be of the flesh of sunlight-feeding fauna, the very open-aired roots of some of the trees seemed to crave the flesh masses of those unfit enough to survive within these hostile lands. Their opened maws bred only but the darkest of shadows. Each and every plant seemed to aureate a villainous poison that the wind breezes their murderous murmurs as the Doctor-Commander and Lysithea passed over.
If his home-bodied self could fully grasp what lengths he had trodden and for how long, it would have been the longest trek he had to endure on his own two feet. Not even his flight from Houston to the Space Center was this exhausting to the Roboticist. But at least at both times, H.E.N.R.I. was by his side. Passing him rations of water and trail mix of Sugar Bombs and dried Pork and Beans when asked for not. Sometimes, when the ground became too treacherous, the Robot would assist Lysithea in clearing the way. His faithful mechanical manservant would often take the full brunt of such hazardous mishaps from poison sprouting plants, hidden falls, and fighting off any predatorial creature that happened to cross their path.
“Mama Sopas wasn’t kidding. What kind of cruel place is this!?” Izo gagged at the fetid muck that seemed to be the entirety of the soil in Ustalav. He wiped the fecal-like stain from his boot away from the petrified body of a fallen tree.
“That old crone knows nothing of what she is missing here in the Gravenlands.” Lysithea gave a cocksure rebuttal. The young lass used her hand scythe to chop several vines away that had impeded their way forward. “Careful now… I don’t want to weigh you anymore down by these.” She pushed away some of the vines to allow a tunnel for her newly acquainted neighbors to follow her.
“I fail to see what kind of madman would want to live here! This place is a bigger shithole than the one I just left!” He complained.
Just as he was trudging through the vines, one of the thorned appendages suddenly loosened and fell towards him. Izo attempted to reflexively pull the treacherous fauna away but a single thorn managed to cut through a single slash across his cheek.
“Master!” H.E.N.R.I. exclaimed concerningly as he held out his hands and cushioned his master’s fall as he reeled from his wound.
The Doctor-Commander’s mortal heart raced as he squirmed from the wound. He wasn’t so much of someone who could easily take much punishment, lacking such a constitution for such blow to blows. Much to his reliance on creating such minions out of his soldiers to take the ravages of the battle for him. But if he could clarify his mortality into a singular strike… it would be this one! He had heard of stories of evil fauna in the Wastelands outside of the safety of his old Bunker warding off predators with poisonous thorns.
Izo’s eyes flashed to keep his body within the mortal plane. Had he been struck by such a plant?
“I don’t wanna die… I g-got… so much to do… too li’l… time…” he weakly gasped.
“Do. Not. Move.” Lysithea’s turned around swiftly as she spotted the gashing cut from Izo’s wound. Her mouth jittered as she carefully lowered her body with Nurse’s caution.
Before he could even say another word, Lysithea placed her right index finger on Izo’s lips with a comforting if almost intoxicating smile to soothe Cold Iron’s nerves.
Izo held his breath as she tasted the droplet of his blood. She suckled on her finger for a torturous moment with confident guile.
“You are safe. Worry not Darling…” The Raven-Haired smiled as she held out her hand to get the Doctor-Commander back up. “There’s more to life than just screaming for just a simple flesh wound.” She unabashedly wiped off the saliva from her finger by sliding it across Izo’s chest.
Cold Iron could sense an aura of reassurance with Lysithea. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stood back up. “I thought I was about to die for a second!” he palpitated.
“Pain is but a temporary feeling mother told me.” Lysithea lectured. “You can let it do two things to you. Let it break you or let it mold you.”
“What did you choose?” Cold Iron asked.
“Well, I can say for you just one scratch from this vine was enough to BREAK you.” She teased. “Perhaps too much sitting so lazily by on some la-di-da chair of yours rather than just… oh I don’t know, touch the grass outside.” she unfurled her arms as a bitingly cold wind blew across her ivory dress.
“Fresh air my ass! I rather choke on my own shit…” Cold Iron coughed and shook his head. “How much further anyways to Vellumis?”
“Not too far now. But tell me, Outlander, may I ask, what is life like when you were at this… Huge-Stone you come from?” she playfully skipped along. As if enjoying the company of Izo and his mechanical manservant. For the Doctor-Commander this was perhaps the most honest conversation he had with another human being in quite a while that treats him as a peer rather as either a master that needed to be served or as an enemy that demanded to be squashed.
“My life back at Houston before I had to run away? It was… every day was a struggle…” Izo began to loosen up a bit with Lysithea. “Everyday someone or something goes all wrong. This got broken, someone got injured and died from it… we are short of this and that. We had to fight, steal, kill, and even betray people just to see another sunrise. It’s almost like… if it was inevitable that it would all come crashing down.”
“Sounds to me you come from harsh and cruel land.” Lysithea inferred.
“Harsh and cruel wouldn’t be the start of it… but Father told me ‘You got to play the hands the cards deal with you’. What a bunch of bullshit he was…” Cold Iron seethed resentfully. “Letting those Barbarians kill him… and mother…” the painful memories of his parents’ demise haunted the Roboticist greatly.
“Life does need to be such like that… sometimes all you need is a… change in perspective.” Lysithea twirled playfully as she walked.
“Oh how?” Izo was doubtful but he wasn’t much in a position to just willingly whatever words come from his new neighbors could be, not while he himself is so vulnerable to aggregation of the Pioneer’s fall.
Lysithea only giggled aloofly. “Perhaps when I get you all filled up. The best discussions are done upon a full stomach. Come now… Vellumis is just over there.” She guided the way.
They stepped over several more of the insidious Ustalavic fauna on their journey. Finally, a light came at the end of the forest as Lysithea, H.E.N.R.I. and the Doctor-Commander finally emerged from the shrouded canopy. Their luminous greeting was followed by the sight of many stone and wooden monuments dotting as far as their eyes can see reflected upon the light of a nearby shore. The signs of civilization revealed themselves as the group traveled passed over many such red-robed village folks who live a content and living with the scraps of lands they dwell upon.
“Lady Lysithea. You have returned safely.” An emaciated and sharp-toothed man meekly rubbed around his hands as he slowly approached the Raven-Haired girl. “And you brought visitors with you?” his jaw leered at Izo and H.E.N.R.I.
“Not just visitors Darling, but these brave fellows saved me from some icky-Ghouls just now. They may be from the south but he’s of the better of folks.” Lysithea appraisingly explained to the scrawny villager. Such adulation only further blushed the Roboticist with glutinous repletion.
“You always have the greatest eye for such people milady.” He bowed away as they let the group safe passage through.
“Izo, welcome to Vellumis. My home.” Lysithea unfurled her arms away to allow the Doctor-Commander to marvel before the quaint-little hamlet.
Vellumis was a scenic lakeside inhabitancy whose foundations were built upon the bones of the Old-World settlement of the same name. The bones of a once-perhaps prosperous port city held off faint fragments of Gothic eaves bathed in sun-bleached alabaster. What was once dead was easily revived into the new unerring form of life with those settlers happily overseeing the cultivation of their settlement. They worked together hand by hand to both tame the wilds beyond whilst creating their future from within. All a humbling experience for Izo, just like back in Houston with his old family and friends.
If it weren’t for the unwholesome fact that many of such labors were built upon the backs of chain gangs of ragged slaves. Eyed by Overseers, they toiled exhaustively upon the heat of the noon soon with little to no rest. Upon their sweat, blood and tears leave they leave edifices both reconstructed and wholly erected of all the comforts of a living breathing settlement. Izo averted the gazes and covered the ears of such anguish desires of unfettered marches of the chattel whenever he and Lysithea come to pass by a half-dozen of such laborious chain gangs.
Livelihood was quite rigid yet strangely tranquil for both freed and enthralled by such a settlement. All folks of life worked with a strict yet accelerant pace. A passion that the Doctor-Commander could smile with a sincere admiration that Lysithea noticed as her danciful feet glide swan-like around the cherished walkways of her home. The people of this town dreamed of a desire to rebuild and look oh how far they came. Life found a way to arise from the ashes of the ruins upon its surviving children.
But it would be naïve to mistake Vellumis is not unwilling nor incapable of defending themselves. Wasteland societies who revolved around pacifist ethos tend to not last long in the cold cruel world outside. Erected around several corners and intersecting pathways lay cages that hung above a pole. Each housing a heavily defiled corpse of black and red uniformed warriors. They wore plated armor around their bodies too refined to be slapdashed metal scraps but of crafted body armor. Decorating or more of vandalizing each gibbet were belittling placards that crudely read: ‘Thief’, ‘Marauder’ and ‘Blasphemer’.
It was a cruel method of punishment but ultimately sent a powerful warning to those who would dare follow those like them who dared to pillage the city of its valuable riches.
“Who are these guys?” he looked up at the hanging corpses.
“The Crimson Reclaimers, little more than bandits. I made sure of it if they ever try to sully this land with their filthy paws then I will show them what price they will pay if they continue to do so.” Lysithea curled her hand into a vengeful fist. “You cannot expect such a prosperous little settlement we have here to attract… the wrong sorts of ‘hopefuls’ can we now?”
“You are pretty wealthy I can give you that! Probably even more off than the Pioneers.” Izo bit his lip. “Slavery though something I have a few… oh what's the word… caveats? Cautions stuff about?”
“Ever since the Cataclysm people who could do work in helping rebuild after all of the destruction that had followed were much harder to come by. We needed people to build the walls, and farm our fields whilst we focus on retaining what little scraps we could regather from the ashes. I would be sweating away on those fields if it weren’t for those prisoners we roused to service. That we have more time to focus on more pressing matters.” Lysithea reeled Cold Iron to continue onwards.
“I mean yes, they provide labor. But the way you push them so hard… could ki---” Izo was about to lay out his argument when of the chained slaves collapses to the ground. He gasped one last time as his soul fully escaped his body, his rigors of death shriveling all the life in him to a standstill. The rest of the slaves fearfully hurried to the man’s sign to rouse him back from his collapse but there would be no second wind coming from the macerated brother.
“Look at’em! They make horrible laborers. Most of them can only do legwork most of the time. They might even die like here. But worst of all, they might sometimes complain! H.E.N.R.I. here? He would never do that. Will always do whatever he is told. Until he breaks or I forget to switch his batteries again.” Izo argued his case against chattel labor.
“Except throwing a tantrum over me swimming inside the Diving Pool to retrieve your Space Gorilla Plush.” H.E.N.R.I reminded him.
“I don’t need to be called out like that…” Izo chided his robot.
“Ninth one this week already? This is starting to get tiresome…” the Overseer sheathed his whip as he approached the perished indentured. “My apologies milady. But please excuse me…” The burly man noticed the raven-haired passerby and bowed to Lysithea.
“Bury him. His corpse can fertilize the soil.” Izo coldly proposed.
“I beg to differ. That would be such a waste of such a strong set of bones.” Lysithea nodded to the Overseer. A confident if inhumanly placid response to seeing such a grisly occurrence.
Rancorous radiation of malachite color was conjured from the Overseer. It breathed of uneasy air that made the Doctor-Commander’s skin crawl as the strange power burst forth from the Overseer’s body. Traveling across the two entities from the Overseer to the corpse of the recently deceased Slave. When the strange radiation pierced its intended destination, the corpse twitched to life. The corpse writhed on the ground for a few seconds before it grasped the ground and arose. Its eyes reopened, leaving a blank white surface that pulsed with an uncanny… if not unnatural glow.
Its fellow slaves whimpered fearfully as they saw their fellow man arise from the ground. Not daring to approach their newly emerged compatriot.
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“This does not compute. I do not detect any heartbeat from the subject.” H.E.N.R.I. errored. The Random Accessed Memories on his head raked wanderously trying to even make sense of what had occurred.
“Beautiful, compliant little bugga’.” The Overseer smirked. The cruel taskmaster picked up his whip and, with an equally callous gaze eyed the loafing serfs who witnessed the sordid spectacle.
“Impossible! What lostech is this?” Izo’s eyes widened as the reanimated slave arose back up and picked up his tools to return to its fellow chattel.
“Quit yer yapping! Now get back to work!” the Overseer cracked his whip on the remaining Thralls to recompense the precious few moments lost to such a momentary delay.
It wasn’t long before the construction resumed once more. Lysithea pulled Izo and H.E.N.R.I’s strings along as they continue onto the last legs of their trek to the raven-haired broad’s home. Again arriving at safely back at Vellumis, the despondent maiden he had met earlier back at Three Pines was now
“Nothing is impossible when you know what I know. When nothing is impossible, then one can know NO Limits. And if one knows NO Limits, all the world is just a feast for you to dine upon forever.” She giggled. “But I am getting ahead of myself… you can learn so much when you have me just like I learn quite much from you.”
“What do you mean? I just met you?” Izo rumpled his brow.
“You seem to be wary of the world are you not Darling? You suffer every day, living in filth and squalor when you can live in peace, happy, and forever fat with everything you want and everything you need? Wish you can all just make all your troubles? Run away? Tell me… Izo, what do you see in Vellumis?” Lysithea asked him.
“Your city is… well… it’s all pretty great actually. Everyone doing their part to make a future for themselves. Something I respect. You just use some… pushy means I don’t agree with to get such results. But yeah, everyone has their cards dealt to them. You all manage to get by, even with all the suffering and pain your causing to those slaves. Something I don’t personally like to handle when if I can help it.” Cold Iron shrugged.
“With desire… anything is possible. You can command so much more if you just… indulge in your envies. For I envy to see a great mighty new dominion to sprout from the ashes of the old bones of this city. And so is everyone else here in Vellumis. With such… desire… we do whatever it takes. Bleed every bit of riches the land provides for ourselves. People, Relics, Resources and all.” Lysithea espoused.
“I mean not everyone could say have to like H.E.N.R.I. at their call. He serves me, keeps me fed, healthy… so I can focus on my work. But I agree, we do what we must to survive in this cold, cold world.” Cold Iron conceded on the raven hair’s venal creed.
“Wouldn’t that also make him a ‘slave’ too?” Lysithea argued. “He doesn’t seem to have a need to rest, eat, drink or anything. He just does whatever you told him and it always looks out for your well-being above its own.” She pointed out.
“No, I… my family created him to serve us. H.E.N.R.I. was built to serve me unquestioningly.” He rebutted. “Slaves, you have to find them in groups… for lack of a better term… keep them working for you.”
“We have ways to keep our slaves working without delay. It takes practice and time, but they will come to heel eventually.” Lysithea flair her hand with chic.
“Repungant as it is.” Izo shook his head again.
“Then I do declare that I agree to disagree…” Lysithea shifted their conversation. “Ah… we have arrived at my home! Please can you leave your metallic manservant by my door? I prefer we discuss important matters between us for your eyes-only Darling ~.”
Compared to the other plain cottages that dotted the settlement, Lysithea’s was like a Rose amidst a field of dandelions, thorns, and petals all. Lysithea’s abode was a thatched cottage with adorned with vines and red aroma flowers that grew between the edges of the stone blocks that held together the building. Upon its lawn lay decorated salvaged statues of tall females caught in sensual indulgences that leave so much to the titillating imagination. One can easily mistake such a building as a brothel if it weren’t so fearfully revered with averted-eyed cowing by those of her neighbors who pass by. It wasn’t truly a perfect sanctuary, however, showing a few flaws of atrophied erosion that would have required some tender love and care for a later date. Several scythes hung lazily by Lystihea’s wall of varying sizes, from hand scythes to large farming two-handed ones too, all weathered with the stains of constant use.
“Master, I do not reco---” H.E.N.R.I. objected.
“I’ll be fine. Activate Sentry Protocols and make sure nobody else enters the premises unless me or Lysithea says they may enter.”
“Yes.” H.E.N.R.I. unconditionally obeyed.
If the cottage exterior was the wrapper of a temptatious bar of chocolate amidst an irradiated sea that was the Wastelands Izo had come from, then within its marrow was its delectable contents. A cream interior of pearlescent white hid beneath Lysithea’s abode. Welcoming Izo further was the raven-hair’s choices of aesthetic enhancements:
Lysithea’s home was single-chambered with all the comforts of a home and a small workshop to have at for herself. An easeful fireplace smoked pleasant-smelling herbs from a diffuser above its flames whilst two chairs faced against it. Her bed was of blood-red blankets that invited even the weariest of travelers to seek the embrace of its bosom. Next to the bed was an inhumanly large tin bathtub that faced upon the four cardinal directions was the sight of four representative nude maidens of likened visage to that outside of the house. But the cottage was more than just a refuge from the ravages of the outside world. Across Lysithea’s blood-red bed, lay a table shielded by screens that seemed wholly dedicated to study. The articles he could observe were esoteric books, a crystalline glass ball, and several occult implements of macabre but scarily unknown origins that the Doctor-Commander wouldn’t dare himself to discern where they come from. It was for H.E.N.R.I. to brave, rather than him.
“Are you some kind of… Collector? Or Maybe an Herbalist? Your home is so… nice… nicer than anywhere I have been.” Izo complimented the host.
“Thank you, Darling. ~ I worked very hard to make my little… slice of heaven here.” Lysithea guffawed. Her legs took her away from him as she stepped towards her desk. Izo tried to follow her, the charms of this woman piercing an unfilled void on his heart but was halted by the palmed abeyance of Lysithea. “Let a woman slip into something more… comfortable. Sit there Darling.” She pointed to the Fireplace.
Not wanting to be too pushy with his new friend, Cold Iron quietly walked and then sat on one of the twin wooden chairs that faced the fireplace. Although, the pleasant scented aromas from the diffuser and the crack of the burning pungent wood eased his muscles sored from the hiking he had undertaken earlier, all Izo couldn’t help but focus on was on Lysithea’s shadow. Her body was shielded from the blush screens that covered her full view as she undressed. The damsel stretched amorously her limbs back and forth that left little to the imagination of this audacious if a little bit aloof at times woman.
“Oh Misoyvel, Darling… you wouldn’t believe what little fly came into my little breadbasket today.” Lysithea murmured to her desk.
“Who is Misoyvel?” Izo asked from over the screen wall.
“Sometimes friend, sometimes a rival, sometimes more… Darling. She lives quite far away but she is such a dear of mine. Maybe I can have you meet her one day. She would love have you over for supper. You and her would love to debate in such… esoteric mysteries and other methodical arts for days if you ever meet her.” Lysithea twirled as she answered Izo’s question. She grabbed a new set of robes from a nearby chest.
The raven-haired dame emerged from the dressing screen, freshly scented on her spiced scrubbed body and adorned in a pallid gossamer silver nightgown. Izo’s eyes did not dare look away for a second from Lysithea’s body as the raven-haired dame playfully twirled to demonstrate her dress’ sinuous flow. Oh, so its silverin threads titillated with her night-black hair as she stepped with soporific poise to the fireplace. She nimbly sat in the opposite chair across the Doctor-Commander as she unsleeved her arm to catch the caress of the fireplace.
“Can you clarify your apparent distaste on ‘suffering and pain’ earlier? I wish to help you but only if you tell me more about yourself.” Lysithea questioned.
“What I mean by that is that… I-I don’t like to see folks suffering and pain to others unless they deserve it. If… If I can help it. I dream of a world free of want. Where men live in unity, prosperity, and harmony.” Izo answered. “That’s why I have H.E.N.R.I. and some more like him back at Three Pines Ford. They were built to do nothing more but work, work, work until they break. And then I just fix them up and send them out again. They don’t suffer, they don’t cry… just how I like it. That way… folks like me can live in such a peaceful world.” he roused his ideals as best as he could illustrate.
“Oh Darling, you and I are so much alike!” Lysithea poured a jug of spring water into two goblets, claiming one for herself and the other for the Doctor-Commander.
“I too see pain and suffering as cruel symptoms of the malady that is life. Isn’t life just like having a disease? Being sick of it every waking moment until eventually… poof! You perish! Just like you saw that slave perish earlier?” Lysithea scooted her chair closer to him. “Tell me, Tell me, Izo? Did you count all the times say, the wailing of wounds that couldn’t heal or watched a child stand crying upon the sight of their parents’ untimely demise?” she questioned him as she propped her back upon her chair as stretched out her arms, letting a playful giggle when Izo’s eyes caught a brief glimpse of what she has hidden underneath.
“The truth is, you can say that I am still that ‘child’.” He opened up. His lamentations leaked from his eyes. “Sometimes, I feel like I am not allowed to say what I feel no more. Not when there’s like a thousand things were trying to kill me and the only people, I can talk to was all built to obey me without question. That and getting the hell out of my old home before it all crumbled to the ground.”
“There ~ There~ Darling, I understand you.” Lysithea cooed. “Life may not be so crude. I have seen these things from time to time, every day here in Ustalav. Existence can be far more dignified, far more peaceful.”
“I don’t know. I like living through… If I am dead, I won’t be able to do anything.” Izo blinked thrice whilst fidgeting with the goblet of water in his hand. Sorrow and Anger broiled within Izo’s body but Lysithea’s silken hands grabbed hold of his robotic arms as she smiled with her empathic gaze.
“Tell me more of your life at Huge-Stone you come from you Doctor… or was it Commander Aye-Aye… what is your name again? Tell me everything. I can try to help you ease away all of that anger. It’s the least I can do after you had saved me…” Lysithea appealed.
“Doctor-Commander Izo Winters. ‘Cold Iron’ to my enemies but Izo, you can call me Izo.” The Roboticist replied.
“Izo, tell me everything Darling.” Lysithea leaned attentively closer to him.
“Well… where can I begin?” Izo reclined upon the wooden chair as his mind drifted off to his memories. “Houston was my Home. It was built by the very hands of the Pioneers under the great grand direction of one President John Henry Eden. You see, I come from a land that was once a mighty nation beyond any compare. Then… it came… Judgement Day or what you would call it, ‘the Cataclysm’. The Old World died and now I and the rest of the Pioneers had to pick up the pieces. You can see we are an Enclave of survivors who still cling to the old ways of when our Nation was the mightiest the world had ever seen.”
“Fascinating…” “May I ask, what is a President?” Lysithea asked.
“He’s kind of like a King or Chieftain that we put in power to make big decisions for us. But alas, he was killed before Houston was ransacked by hordes of Barbarians from the West.” Izo glowered ashamedly.
“Continue Darling, please.” Lysithea kicked her feet onto her lap as her eyes locked onto the Doctor-Commander. “Let it all out.”
“My Father was a relentlessly self-improving perfectionist of an Inventor who suffers from an Epipherine-addiction that passes down in the family with a penchant for explosive episodes on all forms of buggery. My mother whose name was Cloe is… was a timid yet healthy Cook who became Grade-A Eugenics candidate with curly hair and flat feet. The only reason she even managed to be partnered with my father in the first as she was the only woman who could tolerate half of his antics. My Father would often seclude himself in his workshop working on building more Robots like H.E.N.R.I. without stopping leaving only me and my mother to really run around the pre-fab. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the hexagon. Other times he would accuse Razorgrains of spying on him. He’s like the sort of general… malaise only the insanely genius possess and those of lesser intellects lament.” Izo talked about his family life.
“What of your childhood?”
“My childhood was typical for someone who lives in a ruined city in the middle of the desert. During the day I would make Sand Castles and play Pretend where I always seemed to get ‘stung’ by Timmy who keeps choosing to be the Rad-Scorpion. When I was insolent or didn’t listen to my lessons in school I would be pelted with expired Tatos, pretty standard there but at least you can scrub it off when my mom came for me with a wet towel. At the age of twelve one of the Elders, a colleague of my father ritualistically branded my back with a special tatoo that… It wasn’t actually that bad getting branded with a Hot Iron on the back. It’s quite relaxing after a few seconds…”
“You can stop there now.” Lysithea paused him. “I think I can see what has you all… tensed up lately… But may I ask you something, what I will say next maybe alarming to you so… I like to build say, trust with new folks I meet since I am a kind and caring lady. So, tell me Izo, do you trust me with what I am about to tell you?”
“I can take it.” Izo steeled himself for what grim expositions Lysithea will unleash to him.
“I have some unsettling news to tell you amongst your story Outlander. But I know you for a fact you are not from here. That is a given I know of. Huge-Stone, being what alarmed me of you the most.”
“Houston. And what are you trying to say?” Izo corrected her.
“You are, how should I put it… not of my world. And no… you are not of this… oh how did my Darling friend Misoyvel tell me? ‘You are not from Golarion’.”
“That is a strange way of you calling Earth, Tribal.” Cold Iron confusingly recoiled.
“Ah that’s it, you are not from Golarion because you come from Earth!” Lysithea realized what detail she had missed. “The strange lights, everyday… the bursts of Magicks around the Leylines… that’s why! It is because of the Cataclysm.”
“Magic is a fictional construct. Only confided to childish games and literature.” Izo disapprovingly argued.
“Misoyvel told me, yes its ‘fictional’ in your world it is. But here in Golarion, Magic is very much real. How does that explain how I managed to revive that Slave earlier?” the raven-haired girl contended.
“Get to the juice of it! What the hell are you trying to say to me Lysithea.” Cold Iron snapped.
“Darling, the Cataclysm was brought forth when an Interdimensional Beam of tremendous power caused your Earth and my Golarion to conjecture. Melding our worlds, our lands, and our people into one planet. Have you not yet realized all of the happenings you are seeing now? Let alone, myself seeing an Earth-Worlder such as yourself here in Ustalav.” Lysithea answered.
“Wait… meld… beam… No way…” Izo searched back behind his head.
“My Hadron Collider… Multiverse Theory… is real!?” Izo stood up. “FUCK YES!!!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
“You are much more ecstatic to hear such news than I thought.” Lysithea jerked her head back and smirked.
“I mean… one part of me is Happy. I actually built something that fucking did some god dan good. I mean… the Hadron Collider was meant to be just a power source but… an honest-to-God Teleporter is even greater too! Take that father, who is ‘not good enough’ now!” he explained. “But the other part of me is sad that my experiment failed because well… I… Eh it’s a long story. But… this actually changes so many… so many… OH… FUCK… NO…” Izo’s smile slowly soured. The gears in his head began to click the pieces of the once illogical puzzle together of all the happenstances that occurred to him for the past few days.
Lysithea distantly gazed, on the Cold Iron’s epiphany as she allowed her visitor to fully bear down her revelation. It was the reaction she was initially expecting of someone who had suffered through unintentional multi-dimensional transportation would have felt.
The gaping horror that the Doctor-Commander realized now of Lysithea’s words. His world was both gone and still here. Melded together into some cruel, new world that he is now thrust into the deep end of. It was no wonder the Leshies and Lysithea gave so much confusion when he mentioned of his old homeland of the United States and Houston, Texas. Of how Myrmidon couldn’t be able to contact their previous master and thus wasting away below Fort Bragg within Three Pines Ford.
And that broke his ego wide open…
“Hawking and Nietzche were right! I am just ‘small fish’ they both say! A fucking crap dipped roach in a sea of Deathclaws! So many impossibilities… so many questions… so little time… so much… so much… Chaos…” Cold Iron exhausted his breath.
He collapsed into his chair and glowered at his face in abject terror.
“I-I… what in the damn hell am I supposed to do now Lysithea! I am basically” Izo wailed tearfully. “What do I do? What do I do?”
“I can show you… the Way.” Lysithea, with a sublime voice, whispered in his ear. “You and I, we can work together. For a peaceful, content, and tranquil world. All you need to do is listen.” She held out her silken hands onto Izo’s with a tender caress.
“Tell me…” he fell into her charms.
He needed to know… he needed to know everything that it takes to claim his revenge…