2018-09-24: Out of Reach
- Cutscene: Out of Reach
- Cast: Pearl
- Where: A Farmhouse, Filgaia
- Date: 24 September 2018
- Summary: After surviving the flooding of Azado, Pearl lands on Filgaia separated from those she had left with. CW: Violence
The light faded. She landed hard, and started coughing. Water came from her lungs, and onto the cold sand below. Long, agonizing seconds passed as she tried to breathe clearly. Her vision slowly cleared.
The sky was wrong. The Blue Star wasn’t visible. And Azado didn’t have sand.
Pearl’s train of thought was disrupted by a growl. Canine creatures had surrounded her. Hunger was in their eyes. She didn’t have time to move as the first one charged her, so she just let it bite into her shoulder. The pain got the adrenaline flowing as she punched it in the side of the head with her opposite hand. It was enough, as the monster dropped to the ground.
The others rushed her. They tore at her flesh and her clothes, as she struggled to fight back, fatigued as she was. But she fought. One by one, the beasts died, but not fast enough. She was one, and they were a pack. The monsters were strong, stronger than she was used to.
Or was she just weak? She couldn’t even channel her ki. The blood loss, the water in her lungs, the numbers… She could feel herself fading even as she crushed the windpipe of another of her attackers. The pack was large enough that it didn’t seem to matter how many she killed. There were enough to outlast her.
It was only when she dropped to her knees that she heard the shot ring out, and one of the pack drop dead. A few more shots rang out, as Pearl landed face first on the ground. The last thing she saw was the pack finally being routed as she blacked out.
In the dream she was young. A child. She had no idea where she was. No idea why she was here. There were other children, some younger, some older. And adults. Towering over them. Each of them wore the same black outfit, except one.
He wore more impressive robes, a mask. He held up a medallion. Small, silver, with a dragon’s head printed on it. “If you have skill, strength and the ability to learn, you may one day wear one of these. Those of you who don’t will die. These are your only options. Thrive or die. Do not try to escape. There is nowhere on Lunar you will be beyond my reach..”
He gave a nod. A green haired girl, only a few years older than herself walked toward her.
The man in the mask spoke only one more word. “Begin.”
She felt the blow to her solar plexus before she could process anything else. The green haired girl had moved as though a blur. Her eyes watered as she doubled over in pain. But she didn’t collapse. Not immediately. Then the green haired girl delivered a blow to the back of her head. She hit the ground face first, her nose breaking, blood dripping from her face. A second later, the blessed darkness came.
Pearl awoke slowly. Sun glinted in through the window.
...A window?
Her eyes widened and she sat up with a start, dislodging the blankets that had rested atop her. She was in a bed? Where was she?
It was a simple bedroom, a small one. Partly used for storage, it seemed. There was one doorway, but no actual door in the frame. The room was in disrepair, rarely used. Until recently.
Then she heard footsteps, and her reactions were too slow. She was lethargic, slow moving, weak. She would be at the mercy of any attacker that walked through that door way.
Instead an older man walked through. In his fifties, maybe. A slight limp, a back permanently bent from years of work.
No threat.
She still didn’t relax. The old man spoke.
“Thought I heard rustling. Gloria laid out some clothes for when you woke up, they’re on the crate there. Come on down, I’ll sort you out some breakfast. I reckon three weeks asleep’ll take it out of you.”
Pearl tried to process the information presented to her. Three weeks? What was she doing here? How long? Did anyone know she was here? If she’d been unconscious for that long…
Why was she alive still at all?
She looked down. She was wearing a nightgown, old, a bit big. And by the smell, she’d been wearing it a while. But before she could ask any questions, the old man had descended down some stairs.
Slowly she stood up, and walked over to the crate. The clothes were simple. A grey button up shirt, and a pale blue knee length skirt. A pair of simple shoes, with ankle high socks. Not made for her, but a close enough fit. And she still needed to find out where she was.
She’d eaten three bowls of the porridge before anyone had spoken. It was, like the people here, simple. This ‘Gloria’ seemed to be an older woman, around the same age as the man, who it turned out was called Murphy.
“How did I get here?” Pearl finally asked.
“Our Val was working with a caravan when she spotted someone trying to fight off an entire pack of hellhounds. You were lucky she saw you when she did. We were the closest thing to a town nearby, so she brought you here. I’d tell you to thank her, but she had to get back to work. Whole lot of caravans need protecting round here.” Murphy was the one to answer, as Pearl set her bowl to one side.
“You’re just as lucky you fit some of her old clothes. Those weird things you were wearing were just rags by the time she got to you.” Gloria’s tone was more jovial, but still factual. Still not a threat.
“I see.”
“Anyway, the doc came by about a week after, and he said you just needed time to recover from whatever the heck you’d done to yourself. Judging by those scars, I’d say it ain’t the first time you tried something like that. How in Filgaia’s name did you get there, anyway? Middle of the desert ain’t a place to be.”
‘Filgaia?’ Pearl tensed. She needed a story. Something they would believe. Something that wouldn’t make them ask more questions.
“...I escaped.” She finally answered, looking up at Murphy. “From bandits.” That had been enough the first time. She’d hoped it would serve her again.
“You really are a lucky one, aren’t you dear? Guess they’d moved on by the time Val had found you.” Gloria moved away from the table to the sink as she spoke. The sun once again shined through the window. But this time there was a glint.
There it was. Hanging on the wall. A silver medallion, with a dragon imprinted on it.
Her medallion.
Murphy had not noticed what she had. He spoke, but Pearl was no longer listening.
The situation had changed.
They hadn’t put up a fight. They hadn’t had the chance. Murphy had died first, while Gloria’s back was turned. She crushed his windpipe as she had the hellhound’s and broke his neck with one smooth elbow. He couldn’t have screamed out, but he had a few minutes left before her would die.
Gloria followed soon after, Pearl paralyzing the woman by driving a kitchen knife into her nerve cluster, and dropping her face first in the water as the sink started to overflow with a mixture of blood and water.
It had all been unnecessary.
They had no reason to know what the medallion was. No reason to understand what it meant that they had seen it. And no one here was a threat.
She stared at the medallion.
‘There is nowhere on Lunar you will be beyond my reach.’
Pearl dropped it to the ground. It was at best useless now, at worst a liability at this point. Especially if she was to reunite with those of her who had arrived on this ‘Filgaia’. The Blue Star.
Wordlessly, she left the house, and started walking.