Capítulo 3: Green - 3
My breath hitched. Through the beauty of it all. Crystalline structures that brought light to the harrowing darkness created by the depths of the dungeon. Stairs upon stairs created in a circular pattern. Each flight marked by that same crystalline structure.
Breath hitched, eyes hiked open from the crimson whose mark stained the film of my face. Focus.
Dozens of crystals… each of them burrowed in the pouch I had made. It was crude, made from the shawl Ais had used to sneak her way into the dungeon.
I wouldn't have ever bothered, I wouldn't of even suggested this action. But each of those tiny burdensome crystals held a certain value.
In the midst of our silent slaughter she had silently, and in the fewest words possible, impressed upon me the value of carrying those small few crystals grown from the cores of the goblins we fought. I still smiled at her simple words.
'Those… have value.'
Three words, with one of them muttered. But to me… it wasn't that I searched for the truth and thought her a liar. No, it was the substance behind them. That she, the one who had stayed so silent, had thought it valuable enough to speak so firmly.
Caught in the confines of my head, the past, I couldn't help but shiver at that terrible breeze whose cold passed by me so quickly.
No, it wasn't even a breeze but a gaze. My shoulders buckled for a moment as I searched for that oppressive gaze. Nothing. Not a single eye other than the occasional adventurer. Nothing.
Maybe if I had truly searched, maybe if I had pointed it out to Ais and had her help me. And maybe if I had given it greater thought. Then maybe… just maybe I would've been able to avoid the punishment to come.
But I hadn't. And those green eyes continued to stare at me. Unknown to the two of us.
Instead, and with hurry, I shrugged my shoulders and hastened my steps. Soon the stairs faded into sunlight.
"Here." Ais spoke, she grabbed my hand and ushered me to one of the tellers. He blinked blearily and instead of saying anything just handed us a small container to place our conquest in.
I did so for the both of us, each crystal was placed with care and the box was closed. I watched as he counted each and every one of them. Then soon after he was done he gave a slight yawn, covering his mouth with his fingers, and slid us both a few coins.
I gave her half and Ais accepted. A certain smile playing on her face.
"Tomorrow?" Her head tilted slightly to the side while her golden eyes pleaded for me to say yes.
I did. With that the two of us parted. Our pockets just a bit heavier and our smiles a bit warmer, knowing that our little partnership would continue, even if it was just one more day.
My feet paced through the streets. Through busy vendors and even busier streets. Soon the inn came into view. I snuck myself through the customers and into the room. The door creaked a tiny bit as I closed it but seeing that it was so silent I just let out a tiny breath of relief.
"Inari."
I jumped. Practically flying through the air like a cat caught red handed would. I turned and gave a sheepish smile. I really tried to placate her, maybe if I looked pathetic enough she would give up her anger… maybe?
Green eyes pierced through my soul, a look of absolute disappointment on her face. She walked over with the grace of some feline goddess and grabbed me by the scruff. I tried to flail and remove her grip but to no avail.
Instead I had to just resign myself to being punished. However that may be.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice you were gone, that I would just ignore the weight tucked into my side." Her voice sounded more disappointed than angry, and I just prayed it stayed that way. I didn't want to discover first hand what Atalanta thought punishment should be.
I watched, warily, as she untucked the covers and pulled me closer. And for the first time I was greeted by her expression, unfettered by errant worries, an unbiased view that spoke of her true feelings.
Not the one I had conjured in my mind, wrought by the disaster I had thought she might reign over me. No. It was a true and lonely expression that greeted me. Pure worry as she hugged me closer, our noses nuzzling together.
Her breath tickled over mine. "I…" Her voice began but soon trailed off. Of what? I couldn't verily tell. But it sounded so… so… so lonely, so worried. Carried by an eternal sadness.
She reached behind my back and threw the bow off and into the distance. Then, with all the grace and gentleness of a mother, she placed me onto the neighboring chair.
Atalanta kneeled. It felt so solemn. Those vibrant eyes staring into me with such… such misplaced worry. I… I didn't deserve eyes like those, no matter how much I craved them.
A steadying breath was taken. By who? I can't pretend to know, maybe it was I, trying to relieve the stress that welled in my stomach. Or maybe it was Atalanta, trying to stave off that lonely depression I saw in her eyes.
Either way, she had kneeled in front of me, brought her hand to entangle itself with mine and spoke. "That god's whim." A whisper. It brought back memories of the day I had arrived. And the purpose inscribed in those words. A singular line, that like a gavel against a prisoners judgment, had carved upon me a singular purpose.
"I… I knew that this day would come. That one day you would fight beside me, would stand back to back with me against great and terrible forces. But I had hoped that I could coddle you. If only for a moment."
That hand, holding mine in hers, brought my hand to her cheek. She nuzzled it closer, her eyes closing for but a second. "I will not restrict you, I will not forbid you from going to that dungeon, fighting. To deny you purpose would be cruel. But don't expect me to be as… lax as I was yesterday. If you are to be my partner, to brave those depths, then you will do it with strength. Now come. I've no doubt that your hunt has been fruitful."
She threw the small bag of money onto the table, it landed against my bow. But before I was able to give any protest - not that I would - I was dragged to the bed. Her arms wrapped around me with such gentle depth. I slept. In the most peaceful embrace.
Only when her breathing had evened, when my own eyes strained in keeping me awake for one last second. Only then did I mutter a solemn vow. "I will. I'll train harder." Atalanta smiled. Even in her sleep she was so beautiful.
/./
So when noon found a foothold between the solemn clouds, bringing with it a wave of heat whose coming was a relief from the shivering weather most had resigned themselves to. I startled, yelped.
The blankets curled around my body and folded into a prison as I was pushed from the bed. I felt a wave of relief wash over me just looking at the ground, thankful that I hadn't been introduced face first to it.
I couldn't stop the yelp though. As despite my inherent trust I was still pushed to the ground, just seconds after my heart had stopped pounding from the sudden wake Atalanta had given me. Maybe if it was just the impact of the floor… maybe then I wouldn't of yelped.
But it wasn't just that. No. I had to be introduced to such sudden pain as my tail flailed below me and was crushed by my own weight. It was a crushing pain that spiked each and every nerve within it and suddenly I held so much empathy for the cats whose tails had been pulled by some curious and sadistic child .
"You were warned."
Blearily I looked up to Atalanta, she barely even bothered to look at me before she flipped herself towards the door and headed her way downstairs.
"Warned…" I whined. "About what."
I couldn't recall even a single word that had warned me of some nascent provocation. No, was it just revenge for the worry I had given her earlier.
Maybe?
I tried to rub my tail but there wasn't much that it could do. My tail was an instinctive part of me, something that seemed so inherent that I hadn't given it a second thought. Yet it was an extension of my spine given fur and cartilage to protect itself. I groaned and tried to ignore the searing pain, only I couldn't.
Either way I somehow made my way down the stairs, my ears still ringing at the sound of each and every patron boasting and making loud toasts and boasts. Again. I groaned.
"Eat."
Atalanta pushed a plate of food she knew to be acceptable to my palate towards me. I ate it, grateful to fill part of my stomach with food.
It was gone in the minute. The exertion from delving in that dungeon made me hungrier than I would've cared to admit. I still observed basic table manners, I could tell that if I didn't then my punishment would be harsher.
No, that was wrong to say. My training would be harsher. I nodded, yep. That was the better word.
She dragged me by the hand, it was gentle, despite dragging me to her whims. I recognized the surroundings, the edged grass that bumped against my heel, an endless expanse free of interlopers.
Yet it was different all the same. The endless maze of targets whose placement had been so meticulously planned. They were gone, completely and utterly. Replaced with the barest of sights.
I turned just in time to meet face to face with an arrow made of green energy. It burst into pieces before the impact could jostle my brain and likely kill me. I was frozen solid. Each movement took so much time… so much.
Why couldn't I move… why?
My breath hitched before that same ferocity beat through my heart.
So that was the game. My gaze fell on the faded colors of energy that flitted to the ground. It rested briefly before disappearing. Was… yes. There was no need for confirmation for that arrow was all that was needed.
A spar, something to awaken the innate talent in my body. To drag out the imitation and turn it into true skill.
Atalanta wouldn't take me hand in hand. She wouldn't give me lessons and coddle me with theory and corrections. No, rather she would display absolute skill and let me copy. She had seen me do it once and expected for me to continue that trend.
Would I sink? Or would I swim?
The latter, I hoped.
/./
My hand tensed and released the nocked arrow. It flew true. The accuracy of which was to be determined. But there was something… some practice, some imitation, whose voice screamed in my head.
They will meet.
Arrow met arrow in a burst of sparks. Green light dissipated into particles of nothing. I burst into action, my eyes dashing here and there to find the next arrow.
'There!'
I flipped. A move I had seen Atalanta take, it might've been different. With fluidity and grace greater than mine. One that allowed her to take potshots at me from the air.
No, I wasn't so great. But I did fly over the arrow. My hand touched the ground and picked the burrowed arrow from the ground.
This one was mine, burrowed there because of a missed shot I had taken earlier. For some reason - and I knew it was strange - I could keep track of every detail in this battle.
My eyes searched through the field and could tell you the order in which every arrow was sent, why they were sent and how they landed. I could tell you the likely next moves of my partner in this spar.
But despite all that advantage I was sent hurtling to the ground. By no fault of Atalanta, no. The only thing she had done was send another arrow at me.
I, in my distraction, had noticed it far too late to react more than ducking to the ground. My head shook in disbelief. No, I knew of the arrow, from the moment it left her hands to the second it impacted the ground.
It was just far too fast for my brain to track. For the moment it left was the moment it touched inches away from my face.
The grace of imitation. A performance so great that even the gods who walked amongst us could see no difference. A grace that brought me closer and closer in mind and body to the being in front of me.
Her ears twitched and sidestepped my retaliation. From the tensing of her muscle, to the grace of her body as it twisted out of the way, to the eyes that searched the battlefield and mine own body. Every part of her was imitated.
A grace so great that even her mind was copied. That serene calm as she fluidly approached, dodging… ever dodging every lick of retaliation that I could send.
Supreme imitation.
I spit in that description. No matter how great I could become, no matter the imitation I could make of her movements and grace. It was never enough. For she had one last trick… one last experience that brought her to me without a single trouble.
And maybe it was just that, experience. Her eyes spoke of thousands of deaths, of legends felled at her claws. Atalanta… she burst with speed and pinned my body down.
Dead. I couldn't even see those movements.
I laughed.
Supreme imitation my ass.
She flicked my forehead. "Good job." So gentle. Could she read my thoughts too? I just laughed.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder