A Blade and Her Witch

From this moment, a future grows (Witch)

 

Content Warnings:

It’s gone. All of it. 

Not evanescing away, not being absorbed by another, but just… draining into the weapon’s core. Any and all traces of Ousia and Physis snuffed like they never even existed.

And that was after the thing started to nibble at my own Ousia wards with such a hungry will that roiled with at least some intelligence. So… a Denizen with… some calling Glyph woven into the metal? No. No, a Denizen kept so close to this Bug-thing’s Core would consume it without proper Ousia and Physis wards, which this thing did not have. Even when it countered my spell it was an active effort, like the swatting of an annoying fly.

I lay the weapon thing down, carefully placing it on the floor next to the guardian’s headless corpse as I send a bubbling of my cleaning spell to empty out the dead thing of meaty gross bits. 

But the people that built these Archives didn’t forge guardians so… cruel and unrefined. Would NEVER craft a weapon that could be easily used by such a creature. So what was I sensing there after its death? And why is it gone?

“Mistress…” The wounded Doll kneeling beside me purrs. Voice a thrumming almost hissing lilt that sets my spine tingling and heart racing. “Where is this?”

I sigh and turn back to regard it, keeping focus on the weapon just in case of further surprises. “Tunnels outside one of the old Weisheit Archives.”

It looks about the room, gazing upon all the other dead creatures, four talon-tipped limbs scrape almost playfully at nearby shell before it turns back to quirk an eyebrow at me, “Why was this one not called upon at the entrance?”

After checking to make sure no other Ousia exist within my range besides my own, I move forward and command. “Remain still.” Then add more softly without the Witch’s Tone. “Please.”

“Of course.” It very nearly coos with such a… a rapturous smile, then the body stills.

Considering… 

“Other than this final guardian, the others only required a lesser version of my Blasenplage to end.”

I feel its too bright eyes boring into me as I unlatch plates, and begin to fiddle about the insides. Weave a few discrete little spells and incantations to move dislodged joints back into place but… Oh.

Cracked and Riven Moon that spear must have been imbued with some terrifying enchantments to slice through the shell and jade within. Everything it touched is just… cut straight through! All the parts that were knocked free looked to have been done as we tried to pull it out.

“You may speak, dear.” I murmur while I work. “I’m sorry if my command implied otherwise.”

A little tittering in its lower throat sends soft vibrations through its form as it purrs softly. “It didn’t, This one is just enjoying the feeling of you inside it again.”

A mundane girl would sputter at having a Doll say something so salacious unprompted, while even most Witches would probably balk at this one with the talons and fangs and… Weeping Suns, it already let the Quills break loose‽

I sigh and pause, sidestep the comment and excited buzz warbling through the tunnel at the four and a quarter out of six Quills that dance and sing. Decide to reply simply. “The Archive is just ahead, and I’d like to get at least a cursory understanding of the damage these pests have done before I start setting up here.”

A pause, and I swear I spot such… hurt in the Doll’s eyes. “You have no further need of this one then?”

I re-attach the frontal plates and pull back to stand, giving it a soft and tired smile. “Not unless you’d like to help with organizing and cleaning. Stick around for idle chatter?”

It clicks talons on the floor, considering my offer. Busywork it hates and possible conversations it does not want to engage with? Surely it will refuse and–

Its eyes lock on mine, Quills dance out a little tune. “This one will remain, if you can still make use of it.”

“Always.” I reply after only a second’s hesitation. “Although… You’ll need to avoid anything above Giyar Four movements. I can’t repair your frame until we go back above and find the correct parts. You’ll stall out quite easily if you try. So for now I think I’ll have you start to organize and break down the creature’s shells into their plates and prepare them for delivery while I check the Archive.”

Its eyes dart past me, gaze turning to a cold glare as the Doll regards the creature and weapon beside it. “And that?”

I pause, and consider the options. I’d not come here seeking plunder like some bloody adventuring fool or young insipid girl. I was here for information and understanding. And… maybe… peace of mind at what I might find…

“Sold alongside the shells or left here if it’s trapped or cursed.” I shrug. “Okay, if you’d–”

“It was alive.” It interrupts me, Quills all a thrum with building annoyance. “The creature was clumsy prey, but that thing moved faster than it should have and then the weapon would not release this frame until you laid hands on it.”

I pause, a bit confused, but glance back down at the weapon. Sitting almost… eerily still. Seeming such a weight to my senses despite not bearing a hint of Ousia or Physis now.

“Explain.” I murmur a command, extending my senses to focus more on this odd thing. 

“It… Shifted. This one could not see, but it could feel. The form was not stuck in the frame, it was grasping. Holding. Refusing to move without forcing significant further damage.”

A cursed weapon? That would explain the nibbling at the end there. That’s actually deliciously malicious! I can’t help but grin a little stupid thing at the implications of that. Quite… vindictive for the Weisheit, normally their guardians are such annoying boorish things! Big and slow and more set to scare off than eliminate. 

But to lay such a thoughtful trap for a seeker, a thing that can only be easily survived by one with sufficient wards that only their oldest Matron’s might still have had? This Archive might just be more important than I thought!!!  

“That…” I turn back to bless my Doll with my approval. “Is very good to know. This place might be more lush with rewards than I dared hope for!”

 

* *   **    **

 

It’s not. 

In fact, as I toss the probably multi-century old metal book at the far wall I can’t help but hiss another string of curses. “Pompous Salt-Guzzling cunts! To… to think that all the magic of their golden era to be just… chaff to their ‘wizened ways’! But then they keep this Archive, a place so well hidden and warded from even time’s worst bites and they just… just… Fill it with such absolute Moon Fallen Shite!”

At the loud clatter the book makes, my Doll comes strutting into the little study it built me amongst the shelves. Walls and walls of stacked books and scrolls I’ve yet to peruse and decide which to invest time and Physis into unlocking their ancient bindings.

Each such… such an exhausting and straining task. And the horrid thing I just threw demanded a little extra too!

“Mistress?” It kneels before me, Quills thrumming gently. “It’s time for rest. Thirty-Six hours is–”

“Nothing. It’s barely a murmur of energy.” I hiss, then think better of directing my rage at it and sigh weakly when I spot the glimmer of hunger and hope in its eyes.

So… so much I can’t even give them anymore.

“I’ve gone weeks without sleep before, dear.” I reach out to pat one of those restless limbs. “This is nothing. Just… frustrated at the lack of progress this past week.”

It tip-taps talons on the floor in frustration. “You found some books of value and use.”

“I’m being generous to them, and myself, honestly.” I huff. “Valuable to a collector. No more. The Weisheit were novelties of the time. Backwards in their thought process when it comes to the nature of Physis and Ousia.”

“Then…” The Doll settles down in front of me. “Why waste yourself here?”

“Because some old tome mentioned at least a couple dozen of their older Matrons as having bore the Seelenfäule. I thought… Well maybe they succeeded where others failed in understanding it.”

My Doll nibbles at its inner jaw. Hard shell safe from the fangs but… a rare sign of worry and nervousness. “Mistress… If… How long? Have… Did you make preparations for this one and its sister for–”

That sends such a jolt of anxiety and pain and… and guilt through me. 

“Of course!” I cut off its worry immediately. “You and your sister will go to Zauberei Königreich in the Cala Grove and serve an old flame of mine. She knows to expect you both and even has a few daughters who've taken to the Arts. Fine Witches who take good care of their Dolls. I plan on taking you there myself when the time comes even.”

It settles, then looks down. Eyes flitting between angers as it falls into silence.

“Go on then.” I nudge its leg with a foot. “I know you’re not done with sorting and organizing the chaff from the treasures.”

“May… if I… May this one stay here for a while?”

Such a rare thing from this one.

“Of course. You can even help make me more comfortable if you're careful with talons and fangs.”

It lights up so much at that, and soon I’m nuzzled into my Doll’s sturdy chest as I pick out a book that seems to hold promise. Settling into what I plan on being another few weeks at least before venturing to the surface for supplies and selling off of anything worth anything.

But… after about three more hours of useless reading there is a soft clatter, and my Doll is suddenly very alert. As it rises I’m already reaching out with my senses to see if any Ousia or Physis has sparked up from a trapped book or tome.

I find a little flicker, barely a pinprick really, but… very close. With my Doll practically still curled around me in thrumming anticipation of violence I carefully move around my bookwalls to the source.

And discover only the strange polearm slipped into a pile of books. I glance about. Find the book I’d tossed too far away to unsteady it…

And still the occasional flicker and prick of Ousia seems to gleam and glimmer from the space around the blade. Like… like some moving lights dancing across a reflective surface. 

“Stick close, be ready to toss the weapon as far away as you can on my command.” I whisper to my Doll, and kneel beside the weapon.

Moving closer I reach out, so carefully and gently, using old techniques from a past I’d rather not consider at the moment, and allow my sense to brush against those motes of light while fingers brush the iron.

They twitch but… My subtle and slow considerations are soft things. Only a Witch-trained would have wards ready to alert them to my prodding. 

So odd though. Like it’s… 

I stifle a hiss as I jerk back. Immediately preparing to issue the command to toss this horrid thing into the deepest shadows and abandon this tomb after leaving sufficient warnings to any future fool who might seek knowledge and wisdom from such a useless Archive.

I was wrong, and unless I’m planning to spend possible years scouring this place for the barest hope all while residing close to… to this! This nasty horridly wretched…

“Mistress?” Comes a purr from my back, and in its tone my heart breaks at those thoughts I just had. How… how to condemn this weapon on the principles of its creation rather than even attempt to help would be to call my work with this Doll folly.

“If this is what I think it is… I’d like to speak with them.” I murmur softly. Even though I understand well that words won’t reach this thing easily in this state.

My Doll clicks and whirrs in consideration and worry and probably mostly annoyance at the lack of fleshy things to dissect with those talons.

Well… I’m here but I know what a horrible idea THAT would be to indulge in old vices and–

I huff in insatiable desires and pull out the needle and bone dust I keep so close. The tools I can use just in case this thing is beyond words or my abilities to reason with.

“Okay, be ready to move at Giyar Six in a single motion of talon to toss this thing either on my command or seeming to falter. My wards seemed to protect me but… desperate sorts tend to go beyond themselves.”

“Yes Ma’am.” My Doll purrs.

And I reach out with my senses to very intentionally rouse the weapon from this slumber.

 

 

 

 

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