>>6023947Life in the Landing Strip had been horrible since the first few days. The wastes of muddy land, long-since deprived of any fertility, the armed bands of marauders sacking what little was left, living day after day as you and your family tried to make a living together with the few decent people you could find there, while all of you awaited for a sign from the heavens, for the Knights of Ansàrra to allow at least a bunch of you through the warding walls and into the Holy Land.
You had lost almost everything there. So, when Master finally picked you up and chose you as his disciple, giving you a chance to prove yourself, you instantly developed a sense of urgency. And a deep-set disdain for those lucky ones who had lived in Madua all their life. What did they know of the life outside the blessed lands? The life that had been taken from you by the swindler merchants of Frigeìa, turning your family’s business, your lovely wineries and orchards into untilled land?
So, in up to a point, Rubida’s aloofness and even Soralisa’s cowardice had rubbed you the wrong way. You had tried to be friend with the brunette girl, but she pushed you aside the moment Rubida went and took her under her wing.
“Soralisa, please,” you say as you hold her shoulders, lightly scrolling her, trying to pull her out of her stupor. “You are not alone. Please snap out of it.”
Memories of Rubida’s arm flash before your eyes as you wait for Soralisa to understand what you are trying to say. You will probably never truly appreciate or enjoy the company of your black-haired companion, but after knowing what she went through you started to understand why she tried to separate you from Soralisa. Why she tried her hardest.
But now you are trying the hardest to pull her back and—
“I know you don’t want to be here,” you mutter, drawing the other girl into half embrace, letting og of your axe and holding your left arm away. “We were all scared, and we did underestimate the Malostromo. But I am with you. You have my arm as a shield. Please, Soralisa… come back. Let it go.”
You shudder as a creaking vibration echoes through the night. The night, which is now as bright as day, as the Sanction is truly blooming.
The orrery of golden fire above the two of you is turning faster and faster — a noise like a woman’s shriek starts to echo, louder and louder.
You grip her hands in your own right hand, feeling her flaky, dried skin beneath your own.
It may just be a little too late. You sigh, looking up at the growing brightness. But you are not letting go.
And it’s hard to see in the blinding light, but Soralisa’s eyes flutters, she gasps as she seems to see you for the first time.
“A-Argia?” She asks. “H-How… it hurts. I…” she looks down at her hands, her fingers trembling against your palm. “I c-can’t… I saw so many… I can’t close my hands, I c-”
“I’ll guide you.”
[cont.]
