2017-09-27: Night Terrors
- Cutscene: Night Terrors
- Cast: Rosaline Calice
- Where: November City
- Date: 2017-09-27
- Summary: Rosaline has been having trouble sleeping lately. She finds an unexpected solution.
Battle raged at the center of the ghost town called Araxa. Reapers endlessly poured out of an infernal machine, surrounding Rosaline and her group. The Etone-in-Training incanted a prayer breathlessly, one hand fervently clutching her Crests, the other holding up a steadily growing ball of flame. She couldn't bear the look at it directly, but she had made her choice. Lives were depending on this. She couldn't afford to be squeamish now.
But one break in her concentration was all it took to ruin it all. The flames exploded out of her hand, burning her glove off and engulfing her surroundings.
She was now running in the streets of Adlehyde, desperately trying to protect a group of civilians. Around ever corner, a Metal Demon, announcing their return and treachery to the world. Overcome with rage, the nun reached for her ARMs and sprayed bullets at them until they disappeared. Two Demons stood out, screaming their anguish at an unfair world as the Guardians cursed them. Rosaline's roar joined theirs, and she pulled the trigger on her weapons once more, disspitating the scene like mist.
The flames died down, night fell, and she was back in Hope Springs. Another frontier town, for all intents and purposes abandoned. The empty buildings had been used as so much kindling for a bonfire that had engulfed the orphanage she called home. She had found no survivors, only charred bodies. Her companions had left without her, and they would not be coming back. She was alone. Who had done this? What monster could have done this?
Trembling hands reached for her ARMs, but she remembered she didn't have them yet. A roar shook the night. Her head whipped around.
A giant, misshapen Reaper monstrosity was crawling towards her, shoving its girth through the ruined streets. It was clad in scorched Gear parts, Malevolence pouring off of them in waves. Among the hideous mass of flesh were several bodies, not quite assimilated yet. A black tie here, a Fox Company friend there, but also several faces of those lost. Father Mackenzie. Sister Flora. Brother Gevurah. Susanna. Marcus. Julia. Andrew.
Toby.
Unarmed and cornered, overcome with the rage that had become her inconvenient companion, Rosaline screamed and run straight into the horrible apparition. She clawed and bit, kicked and roared, tearing into it until she was engulfed.
Rosaline woke with a start.
It was still the middle of the night. Groggily, she reached her her gloves with a trembling hand and put them on. She dabbed at her face to confirm that, yes, she had been crying. She sat up and lit a candle.
Trying to go back to sleep after her nightmares had always been a fool's errand, she knew that. The question was, what to do to keep her busy until exhaustion could take her again?
The candle's light flickered and her eyes wandered to her open journal. Gwen had once said, though the nun wasn't sure she was being serious, that she should write a book someday. Rosaline didn't think she had the skill for it, but it had made her want to chronicle her travels. And yet, so far her travel journal had mostly acted as a diary to fill with her anxieties and accounts of her nightmares. She didn't particularly feel like adding to it right now, especially since this one was, in the end, more of the same.
Instead, she saw the prayer list next to it. It had become necessary for her to write a list of people whose souls she would pray for before bed. Her Drifter friends were largely, she had found, scoundrels with hearts of gold, but they were still almost all sinners, in ways big and small. Some of them had turned their hearts away from the Granas faith, instead worshipping the Guardians, the Goddess of the Old Moon or, perhaps most absurdly, no one at all.
And so, Rosaline had taken it upon herself to plead for their salvation. She knew some of them would disapprove if they knew, but they would thank her later, or so she hoped. But then, it occured to her, had she really gone down the entire list last night? Maybe she had skipped a name, or even dozed off before she reached the last entry-- Her own name. Maybe the nightmare was punishment for her negligence.
She took the list and pondered it for a few seconds. Later. First, she had decided, she wanted to go for a walk.
She was careful, when she left her room, to avoid stepping on one of the creaky floorboards. Not waking anyone up was the least she could do in exchange for hospitality. She reached her destination without incident.
The clergy house she had been staying at was connected to an underground Gear hangar. The engineers had gone to bed not long ago, and so the normally bustling installation was silent and dark. The candle's light did little to illuminate the majestic giants standing before Rosaline, but luckily she had very good eyes.
She stopped in front of her own Gear.
It had been called Zephaniah, as a joke it took her a few days to realize was even one. Its design was sleek, and the engineers had given it cat ears and a tail, to drive the point home. But the robot wasn't quite ready to deploy yet-- A web of cables dangled from its shoulders, where a cape should be. It wouldn't be an Ethos Gear without a cape, and this one was apparently a very special order.
Rosaline looked up the cockpit was open. After a moment's hesitation, Rosaline walked up the railing leading inside and sat in. She flicked the switch and, with the sound of rushing air and a creak of metal, the door closed.
The darkness she found herself in was quickly illuminated as the Gear started its boot-up sequence. The glow of the display screens was pleasant. The seat was comfortable, and even included a hole for Rosaline's tail. A fan started, providing cool air to the pilot. Rosaline gripped the control levers. They felt just right.
Her anxiety, she noticed, was starting to leave her just then. Maybe it was thanks to having several inches' worth of ceramic between herself and anything that could harm her. Maybe it just felt cozy.
Rosaline unfolded her prayer list. Well, here was as good a place as any. Why not?
A few minutes later, she was curled up in her seat, snoozing peacefully.