A Blade and Her Witch

Wounds of a Telltale Heart (Witch)

Content Warnings:

 

At this very moment, I am roiling betwixt three horrid anxieties. Each more than capable of rendering me a mess on the most calm of nights.

First, We’re in the jungles beneath the Root Ways. Probably not being chased but… it’s honestly a thing of the tides now. If that wretched little town either has a few pairs of daring Witches or those Threshers return we could be soon pursued. 

Which would require speed.

Second… I… I’m not sure how to even consider that without my everything freezing up. I heard HER voice. Felt the Old Cunt’s will thrumming down behind on the Garrote she wove and… and…

Stop! 

Consider the third. Ignore the second.

I lean into my Doll’s embrace as sleep curls about me.

Third, Xafra was hit with three separate Witch Tones. Might have even received the primary resonance of the commands with how she was binding herself to Schatzi. She’s deep in her Driftdream now and the eldest of the sisters said she was hiding and broken.

Cracked and Riven Moon does that send a cold shock of familiar terror through me. Old flashes of Dolls just… falling apart as a cruel cunt unwove the Garrote from their form and giggled at how cutely they wailed and pleaded.

And how I wept for days on end after I cleaned myself free of–

STOP IT.

My Xafra needs me. Priorities you stupid Half-Knit!

And so I send more little thrums of ::Peace/Aid/Worry/Adoration:: down the tether. Still perfect and pristine despite my little maddened attempt at cutting it with my Physis. 

I… I hope she didn’t feel those. 

Whatever she sent out last time to guide me into her Driftdream does not appear. But… with my Canting, an opening forms between Bond and Tether. Quiet and cold, but welcoming.

I carefully, oh so carefully, let myself fall into this.

The forest walls are bluer than ever at their crowns, but the upper rings are all marked on their deep copper-toned trunks with sickly black slashes like hesitation marks.

The descent is slower, enough so to see the damage to the valley and the village it contains from the aperture of the shaft.

The village itself seems empty, no Geists or wisps apparent. What was the metalworking forge has been fortified and sealed to keep insides trapped. The streets and fields along the valley sides flooded with brine that flows upwards from the pit surrounding the library, the houses leveled and strewn throughout the flow. A single building seems unaffected, a waist high wall of bone preventing the brine from entering.

As my feet are gently set to slosh into the muck that easily reaches my waist I am once again struck with the odd smells of this place. But… can’t help but wince at extra tintings to it.

Iron? Maybe. 

Blood? Most likely if she’s been attacking herself.

I try to ignore the hint of decay I’d rather not consider and believe is my own overactive mind unless it becomes a problem, and begin to move forward. Wading through the dark waters that have battered this gerl’s mind and Dreams into such disrepair.

“Xafra?” I intone softly, moving toward the unbroken structure.

Wisps begin to flow forth from the forge's barred windows.

"Old parasite... What have you done to her?" 

"Tell me to free you... nightmare dredged up from some Old Hag's worst inclinations. I'll not see you leashed... by me. I'll think of something more elegant...  later”

"toss you into the sea... useless as air... Violate the Mistress's will"

"C- c- CUNT!... N- n- never Again... D- don't d- deserve th- the freedom... P- petty wr- wretched gerl"

I wince, and am about to ignore the cacophony but… pause. Reach out to offer a hand for the closest to perch on. Remembering Xafra's words about Wisps and Geists.

These are all her, or… all parts of her thoughts and memories. And probably all scared and hurting.

"C'mere." I coo softly as I continue to move through the slurry. "Or don't, whatever you need little one."

The closest zips to my hand and lands, changing from my Doll’s voice to Xafra’s. "Defect... I will teach you better soon enough." Then It flits from my palm into the Inn through the half open window.

A sting of terror roils my gut and dances in conflict to the prickles of hope at my spine as the unfamiliar exchange echoes over the waters.

Please be you. Don’t be her. Not again.

Lifting a leg I carefully and slowly move to step over and out of the muck. “I’m here.” Approaching the door with soft but not silent sloshing steps. “Where do you need me gerl?” And I lay a palm on the wood, careful as if it was any other part of her. Iron or flesh. Then Intone gently. “Would you like me to come in?”

The door swings open at my touch, revealing a simple tavern room full of wisps murmuring hopeful and kind things, an odd bar cut from a solid piece of hardwood in front of shelves stocked with bottles, a few tables and chairs, a fireplace, and a staircase upwards.

I step inside, even thinking to slip off the odd Dream boots, despite the silliness of the gesture. Both due to the nature of their craft and my still drenched stockings. 

Call out softly. “Xafra?”

One of the wisps gets louder as it drifts up the stairs, ''Bind me, Use me, Own me... be the Pharos that... waves crash against."

I can't help but let that draw up a smirk from me, and begin to make my way to the second story. Following this little errant thought-Wisp up the steps.

On the second floor, all the doors are sealed except one. A room labeled 112 sits open, a place of marble floors and golden fixtures with a display case in the center that holds an unsheathed white handled sabre. 

I take cautious steps forward, assuming from the doors opening without attendants that she at least tolerates my presence here. Maybe even… Well I won’t presume any more than she opens up to me.

“Interesting choice.” I quirk my head and look down at the blade, “Took you as preferring something with more… reach.”

The Wisp wibbles and speaks, Xafra sounding younger, her accent foreign. "By the Ashes, Namtar, I keep telling you that I won't be a sword. Be the man you insist you are and learn how to use a Geshgid."

“Ahhhh. A previous partner wanted this? Well… Incompatibilities with preferences are to be expected.” I murmur, looking back to the blade, “But that name… Namtar. I can’t place the word but it does sound like something spat out from one of the old wretched tongues. Not the one I use for my spellweavings but… hm, I’ll have to introduce you to Rokals. She makes a point to learn as many of those old languages as possible and her Grove is kind enough.”

The Wips remains quiet this time, only bobbing back and forth in idle motions.

“You’re right, of course, and I always hated that aspect of how we teach magic.” I sigh and look back to the pristine sword. “So… If all the Geists are just you, but also… hm…”

They might take on forms that match their past weapon shapes.

“Okay, let’s start softly then.” I whisper, and reach out a hand to hover just over the weapons hilt. Then give the Wisp a side-eye. “I’m going to pick this one up, and if another part becomes upset about it I’m blaming you, little one.”

The Wisp doesn’t object, so I curl my fingers around the hilt.

Almost immediately I notice the weapon gives off a faint energy, like an item imbued by a Coven working together, but with many many more strands, hundreds of different resonances all captured together, including… oh.

My own.

“Well that makes sense.” I assure myself as titterings of joy and fear dance inside me. “We… We’re bonded and such.”

And then I consider my own Physis and Ousia. Wondering… hm…

“Could I access some of my magic?” I consider aloud, and lift the blade awkwardly as nothing seems to object to my contact with her. “I know this place is the stuff of Dreams and Will. But… Well let’s start small.”

I look between Wisp and blade. Knowing my balance and form with the unfamiliar weapon is probably insulting to anyone proficient, I simply adjust it to rest nearly flat against my chest with the sharp edge facing out.  “At this junction I’m going to assume that you both trust me with what you show me, and will bar my path to anything too… well, delicate.”

The Wisp bobs again as it recites mangled phrases. "An atrocity buried... the ::FEAR/HATE::  that I was originally imprisoned in." 

“Oh don’t be so cruel, little one.” I chide her as I turn to face the door, “Cleaning oneself up was the first thing I learned to do with magic.” And then I’m moving. Carrying this odd sword shaped gerlthing a piece of Xafra thought to form herself as with little Wisp in tow, heading down steps and glancing over the other gathered sparks. “Alright, Which of you would like to help me start cleaning up this mess?”

Without hesitation the cluster zips forward to fly close, all swirling around me in seemingly excited patterns.

“Good gerls.” I hum as I lead them outside to peer over the drowned Dreamscape. “So let’s test to find out just how well I can gift stability to this place as a start.”

Reaching for will touched with just a hint of Physis, I weave a simple thing. Very soft. Nothing too extravagant. Barely even a spell, honestly. This little modest working I draw up into my sleeping form. Sending it through the tether but… stopping just before it can touch Xafra’s core.

“I’m trusting you all to start howling if this causes problems.” I announce to my waiting pod.  

Nothing but titters of happy little memories and excited phrases are their replies.

Alright.

And then I slowly begin to let my spell leak out into the Driftdream just past the wall that halts the flood of brine. This reliable twisting of my bubbles that I had to work out when the basements would flood. A weaving that both pushes the water back, dissipates it into the air as it's heated to steam, and encourages the soft mud to cycle its moisture down or up into local vegetation. 

If awake, I’d have surveyed the area first to discover all possible routes to send the flood. Was quite good at it until I managed to get the Estate to fortify its foundations. But this place is a Dream, built not on hard rules of weight and motion drowning in heat and other such nonsense. But Will and Ousia and Physis. 

So, I draw upon the old memories of my first time here, and how Xafra preferred it to be. Then use that mental image to… well… I’m not sure. I’ve never had luck twisting my own nightmares to better suit my desires and am hoping that maybe I can do better here than with myself.

But instead of rolling out from me into the Dream, the spell is pulled into the sword and causes it to blaze like a beacon. And, after a whisper of a pause, the brine flows in reverse.  

The wisps chatter "Pharos" so happily as the flood swirls back down into the pit surrounding the library.

“Cracked and Riven Moon.” I huff, looking at the thrumming blade. “Good gerl! Alright, now let's go see about finding some more of you.”

I turn my eyes to the boarded up mess of a building that was left to half drown in the flood, then back to my following of memory sparks. “I’d like to try there next. Any objections?”   

The Wisps lower and slow but continue their quiet joyful murmurs, one rising up with more broken phrases, rife with sorrow, "Built to contain me... bought with death... how I was made."

I pause for a moment to consider that, lift my free hand to cup the little one. “I’d still like to help, if I can. I’m certainly not getting any younger and this place won’t rebuild itself. Lead me, if you would?” 

The spark drifts to the building, floating in front of the door. And I follow, glowing blade leaned awkwardly against my shoulder as I approach the strange structure. Stopping beside the little Wisp. “Let’s try this again.”

And then I weave a working over the latches and planks and seemingly ramshackle crafts someone used to bar the door. Leaking a much smaller amount of Physis than before in an effort to return it to the state I remember. 

The door swings open as the extra obstacles melt away, inside, the building is larger than I last saw it, the missing Geists now found. 

For a long while I just… stand there. The terror and fear and panic and fury that I’d throttled when my Doll told me that those cunts had used their Witch Tone on my Xafra finally cracking free a bit.

The scene is gruesome. Of course. Forty eight of them lie on the floor, a mimicry of what I must imagine was their deaths, while eight others stand motionless in a circle around one holding a sword identical to the one I bear. But… Unfortunately that’s all wretched in a way that makes me want nothing more than to clean it with a huff of annoyance at the cunts who would leave such a disorganized mess in the wake of their work. Untidy magics left to stain the floorboards always aggravates me, and I’ve not felt sick over corpses since… well… maybe ever.

No, the object that freezes my blood still is clutched by those in the middle of the circle of such despair. Wisps of fear and confusion and primal hatred forming around it.

Her oldest true memory, I think. Not inherited from the Ousia and Physis these poor sacrifices bled into this wretched working, but… hers.

And from this display It’s evident that the memory was formed with the grim details only the truly scarred recall.

Moonshite, I wish I didn’t understand that.

Deep breaths, stupid Half-Knit. I remind myself. Then begin to move quickly, not rushing but… with the stride of one dedicated to a purpose. Stepping carefully around the mess until I reach the heart of this painful memory. And without hesitation or question, I reach out to pry my blade from the fingers of the Geist who holds her.

As the still and lifeless limb releases the blade into my care, the thrumming fury about gorgeous iron calms.

“That’s it. I’ve got you.” I murmur softly while pulling the two blades close. “This wasn’t your fault. You’re safe. I… We can take as long as you need, my Xafra. The cunts who did this are dead and rotted and…”

I look up and around, considering all the frozen forms and this quiet little village and how easily it was shattered. No wonder she never took a Witch as a partner, with but the barest of cruel words we can crack and hurt her so much!

“The first thing I’m going to do when we get settled is make sure this doesn’t happen again. Ever.” I growl. “Long term will be tricky but in the short term… hm…”

The best option sets my gut to roiling in fear and fury. But… I commit to my earlier words.

This wasn’t her fault.

“I need you to trust me again.” I murmur, letting eyes fall back to gaze down to the blades I hold. “Can you do that?”

The bloody blade turns into a spear, then to the form of the crossbow woman once more.

"I'm sorry. I hurt you. I trust you." Xafra smiles half-heartedly and points to the sabre I still carry. "You're literally holding the core of my soul in your hand."

Carefully and slowly, I reach out to hover a hand under her cheek and chin. Repeat the words as my other hand cradles the precious blade close. “Not your fault. Then or now. And... and what I'm about to offer is not something I want you to decide tonight. I think Schatzi convinced her sister to move us through the jungles. So It'll still be a few days, maybe a week if the weather turns, before we're back at the Estate. Nothing short of a replica of them can keep easy pace and fewer can track our scent through these paths. So you have time to safely consider this.”

She stares back and nods.

Deep breath.

“The long term protections will take time, study and research from us both, but I know that options exist for a solution that will make you independently safe.” I begin. “But… In the short term we’re more limited and it means I’ll have to keep you close. Rely on multiple small things building up something that’ll mostly work.”

A pause, and I realize how tightly I’m clutching this treasure she’s trusted me with. So I offer the blade laid across both palms. “First though. Can you hold this please? My clutching it like this might send the wrong message. Feel free to move it somewhere safe.”

Xafra looks at the blade and flinches, then puts a hand out and the sword vanishes. Once it does, the other Geists all seem to return to normal and begin to leave the building. "Okay. Close is good."

I nod. “The first layer is… Well… Something you’ve already suggested. I build a few extra Garrote tethers to wrap about you. Built with Physis so they can be removed at either of our leisure. But, and this is the part that would normally make this unreasonable, I re-weave my own wards to extend their protections through them. Which will take Ousia, and will be lost if those bonds break. The tethers might also grow frayed over time if they are… used. But I'm not certain of that. The research we did never really included only a few bindings.” 

"Alright. I'm. Yes. But... Elevar, I terrified you. You.... were trying to sever our bond because of what I did." She whispers, full of guilt and pain.

“Yes.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, open them to stare down at empty hands. “We both acted out of fear today and lashed out. But, of the two of us you were actually hurt by the event. I… I can’t apologize right now. If I dip into it I worry more stupid actions will follow. So, I’m focusing on taking care of you and next my Doll and after that… I’ll probably fall apart. I’m honestly a touch morbidly curious how…” I shake my head, ending the bubbling spiral. “Doesn’t matter. I need to explain this. The second layer is the step I expect you to reject and the one that’ll probably make you reconsider our partnership.” 

"Okay. I'm listening."

Another deep breath. 

“You cast a complex weaving back on that beach that I’ve only seen a Witch do of its like.” I turn up to meet her gaze. “An Einwandfrei, something that would grant you the title of Witch in any Grove.”

No Excuses, no pretending I’m not the cunt I am. I will keep this gerlthing safe from anything that would try and do anything like those Witches did. Especially myself.

“The second layer will weave those Garrotes from a loose net of stability into an iron shell. But… At the cost that we would Tune you, the Physis tethers, and our Ousia bond to my Witch’s Tone after I share and teach you my own Einwandfrei. And with even a weak casting of my Blasenplage you’ll have a working to burn my wretched everything away if I betray your trust and ever break my promise to you.”

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