The Letters #3

Dearest November,
Thank you for your understanding.
You know that I have always thought of your kind as
Abominations.
You live past life,
With a blatant disregard for death.
I wake each morning now with you in my thoughts
And a vow on my lips,
That I will see your kind extinct.
-Calm

Somebody's Got Clear-Hearing

At night, after dinner, they were finally allowed to visit Cocytus in the medical bay, Uo tagging along. As was expected, Kestrel's reaction was the greatest and fussed tremendously over him, annoying him and amusing the others to no end.
"By the Archon's droopy left eyelid, Kestrel, I'm fine! It's not hurting anymore and you know how potent the med bay's poultices and spells are! It's practically healed already!"
"If that's so, then why are you still confined in here? Especially in isolation." Kestrel asked obstinately.
Cocytus gave an exasperated growl. "Because I'm a 'medical anomaly'. They can't see anything wrong with me, save for these bloody veins, no pun intended."
"Chill, Kestrel. I'm sure he knows himself well enough. Although, that's the first time in ages that he hasn't addressed you by Lady, so he may not actually be perfectly fine..." Uo trailed off with a grin.
"Hey, whose side are you on anyway?"
"Yours? I don't really think you're fine at any rate. Look." Uo pointed at the dangling veins, which had, in Cocytus' annoyance, started to drip blood, although he didn't know that. Kestrel gasped while the others gaped.
"Damn. Give me a moment." Cocytus visibly composed himself and concentrated and the blood slowly formed into minute droplets and flow back into his veins. And everyone continued staring.
"What. The. Eff." Lethe broke the silence with a curse. "That's what you can do? You lucky bastard!" She exclaimed indignantly.
"I don't even know how to respond. It's so... I don't know. All I can say is, congratulations on starting a new branch of magic, Master Greywing." Kestrel said, partially dazed and not thinking clearly. "Erythromancy? Hemomancy? Take your pick of names."
"How do you feel?" Phlegyas asked simply.
Styx just stood impassively. Acherus was staring intently at his veins, Acheros on his shoulder.
"How do I feel? I don't know. Tired perhaps. Drained. Sapped. I don't think I can concentrate properly. Hungry too. An appetite is a sign of recovery, no?"
"Yeah. Should we go? You ought to eat and then get some rest." Acheron advised.
"Go. I don't want to hold you all back. Kestrel, don't worry. And Acherus... Thanks. For doing your best to heal me."
He shrugged. "No biggie. You're welcome anyway."
"By the way, Styx? You haven't said anything yet. Is anything wrong?"
"No, I'm fine. Worry about yourself. Keep honing that skill of yours. It's cool."
Uo started and turned to glare at Styx.
"You knew this already." It was a statement, no doubt involved. "I'm sure Cocytus didn't tell you. You've been peeking into his head, haven't you?" Uo said accusingly.
"No I did not!" Uo raised an eyebrow. "Well, not fully. I'm... Well," Styx murmured hesitantly. "I'm only a partial clairvoyant, you see." They nodded, it being common knowledge that the Oathmakers were diversely psychic. "Being a partial clairvoyant in my family means that I'm a total disgrace. It's like, it's like, it's like I'm an illegitimate child." Her voice quivered with anger and rage. "They treat me as if I was just another house pet. I'm as good as nothing to them. Less than nothing, even."
Lethe placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. "You're not with them now. You're in this school with us. In our little self-contained world, they don't exist. You don't have to care about what they think."
Styx glared vehemently at Uo. "What's with you anyway? Why don't you control your empathy? It's as bad as telepathy, I should think."
"You think I don't want to? You have no idea what this even feels like!"
"Oh, I should think I have a pretty good idea of it. I think you just tell everyone you can't control it and use that as an excuse to abuse it!"
"You bi-"
"This is a place for the sick! If you students think you can come in here and fight and disturb my patients, then you all are in dire need of discipline!" The matron had chosen a perfect time to make her rounds. "Now begone and disturb the poor boy no longer!"
Glaring razor-sharp daggers at each other, they filed out of the bay after bidding good night to Cocytus.

In her time,
Raewyn pulled her hood closer and knocked on the worn, unmarked wooden door. She felt a presence look her over and the door opened quickly.
"Oh hi Raewyn, hi Libys. Come on in." A weary voice for a tired boy.
"Thanks Jack." She stepped into the musty store. The light filtered through the windows was yellow, not vibrant yellow but a dead, muted yellow and cast the room in a dusk-like gloom, similar to Falselight. The air held a slight scent, a sickly-sweet scent of desiccation and dry rot. Horrid, yet oddly addicting. And with each exhalation, only exhalations, a strong smell of ash would pervade her nostrils.
A petite-looking girl, seemingly no more than 10 and possibly even younger, stepped out from behind a counter. A delicate heart-shaped face, almond-shaped eyes, Cupid's bow mouth, the picture of complete innocence and extremely out of place in this dark shop.
In a voice which seemed to carry naivety with every word, she spoke with a delightful lilt. "Hello Raewyn. And Libys. Come to service Utrennyaya again?"
"Yes, thanks a million Alice. While you fix it up, I'll be needing to talk to Jack." Raewyn passed her morningstar to the little girl, her small frame surprisingly capable of carrying the heavy weapon.
"Sure thing." Alice turned and walked off to another room.
Jack looked up from his slow sweeping. "How may I help you then?"
"I have a name."
"And you need to know who it is, how to get to the person and what you will face."
"In other words, the usual."
"Of course. What else could it be." Jack sighed slowly. The kid himself was no more than 15 and already sick of the world. "Name?"

Later, Raewyn would have a complete plan and waited for Alice to return.
Slow, quiet footsteps announced her arrival. She bore the mechanised weapon and handed it back to Raewyn.
"What did you hit with it? That was some heavy damage."
Raewyn shrugged. "Can't say and all that. Mum's the word."
"Yeah, I know you hate your dad."
"Hah. Very droll. Here." Raewyn handed her a small, yet substantial wad of money.
"No Raewyn."
"Just take it."
"I didn't take it the last time. In fact I have not accepted your payments for as long as I can remember. And I don't plan to start now. This is my payment to you."
"I didn't do much."
"Sure. All you did was give me money to start this little establishment up. The amount was somewhere over ten million if I remember correctly. And I remember correctly."
"It was an investment."
"A good investment and this is your returns. You don't have to pump anymore money into it. Keep the money. You're rich, I know, but now I'm much more well off than I was."
Raewyn sighed. Alice would never accept the money.
"Fine. But I'll be needing some equipment. What do you have that can hurt a demon?"
A grin formed on Alice's face. She looked at Raewyn with quicksilver eyes, grafted on ever since she had ritually blinded herself.
"What do I have? Oh, many, many things." She giggled, slightly maniaclly. It was macabre, to see such a reaction on so innocent a face. "Pain," she paused dramatically. "is my speciality."
"I thought you could see Pain. That was why you gouged out your own eyes, wasn't it?"
"To see Pain is to know Pain. To know Pain is to have Pain. To have Pain is to be able to inflict Pain." Alice rolled her artificial eyes. "Come and see." She led Raewyn into a room.
Jack sighed once more and resumed his sweeping. Suddenly, he looked up, evidently having heard something. Sighing again, he murmured, "Not another ghost customer." He stood straighter and talked to the air, not being able to see where the voice came from.
"Hello sir, and what would you like...."

The Letters #2

You are surely forgiven, beloved Calm.
That you take responsibility does my heart much good-
Oh wait, that's right, its no longer beating.
How could you not know that I had the gene?
I had thought that was why you had challenged me,
To a ritual fight to the death.
But don't be too anxious.
When you come after me this time,
I'll be ready.
-November

Whose Time Is It Anyway

In their time,
Cocytus went through a lengthy process of self-discovery. His control wasn't perfect, not by a long shot and many a times his levitating globe of blood would lose all cohesion and just splash all over the place. Luckily, the matron of the ward was tending to other patients who were afflicted by a rather greater need of medicine, painkillers and healing spells.
He was isolated, what with him being a special case. So far, he had been examined by various people, all of whom had failed to identify the cause of his condition. In fact, after regaining his bodily fluids, there seemed to be absolutely nothing wrong with him, save for the after-effects of severe blood loss and, of course, his veins.
He knew better than to continue his self-experimentations when there were others around. Concentrating, he willed the blood to separate from his clothes and beddings and flow back into his veins. Slowly, but surely, the blood stains shrank and disappeared, leaving no trace of the mess he had made.
He had been classified as a "medical anomaly", but for all the inspections, he was more of a "medical curiosity" or a "medical zoo exhibit". His veins, dangling limply, had its blood flow stopped, for no obvious reason, just before it could flow out and his hands, stripped of its blood vessels as it were, still bled if you cut it and pulsed with the life-giving fluid. It was as if he had simply grown new veins which protruded out of his skin.
He had ignored the mental questions of the rest of the group and had only told them that he was okay. Sitting in bed, he singularly failed to concentrate on the school work that was being sent to him after each period. He wondered what his limitations to this control was. Could he control blood that wasn't his?

In her time,
The mistress was right. Morinth had already prepared the room. Sometimes, Raewyn suspected that he had been a rogue in life, dexterity not what the undead were famous for. The one thing that she was sure of was that he had been dead and ... reanimated for a long time, given the mobility of the deathly manservant. Probably deadly too. But, this was simply too quick. Raewyn had just seen him walk past her down the corridor and the room was already cleaned and tidied. Not even live people could manage such speed, the room being as dilapidated as it was the last time she had seen it. Three days ago, to be exact. Regardless of how it had been accomplished, it was comfortable accomodations and she promptly fell asleep on the soft bed, still wearing her skin-tight black suit.
The next day proved to be as exhausting as her mentor had promised, made even more so as Karasondrias had forced two lessons into one as punishment for her transgression. On the upside, since she had moved in with Kara, she no longer needed to pay for her rent and all her daily necessities were all provided for. She had requested that her lessons be extended to encompass the whole day, but Kara was insistent that she keep her job, the job of accountings which Raewyn thoroughly detested but was instrumental in occupying her time and assuaging her guilt by adding just a few more drops into her vast family fortune.
She did not want to seem like a wastrel, not to herself, not to outsiders, not to her beloved, deceased mother and most definitely not to her dead-by-her-hands father. Sometimes, Raewyn wondered if perhaps killing him was actually the right thing to do. After his death, the distraught girl had cried for days and her heartbroken mother had followed after the father six years later, somehow developing a cancer which just kept returning regardless of how many times the doctors operated. In the end, she had gone serenely, made peace with death and Raewyn had came into her own. At the tender age of 14, she easily acquired the first place among the youngest of the rich nobles. Her family fortune was practically inexhaustible and with the imnumerable amount of debts and favors owed to the Aesiflay line, Raewyn would never need to want for anything ever again. Not that she spent as though money was water, like those other spoilt kids in her school. She lived simply, never spending more than she had to, but also not going out of her way to be extremely frugal.
She had eschewed her family mansion and had left it to the servants to stay in. She had rented a little apartment, but that was then and now is now. Although, Kara's mansion did remind her quite abit of her own...
Shaking her head to clear such thoughts, Raewyn proceeded to continue the tedious task of number-crunching and paper-pushing.

The Letters #1

I'm sorry November.
It was the wrong thing to do.
But I should have known that you would return,
Should have known that you would have the gene.
I'm really sorry for it,
But I regret nothing.
And now that you've come back,
I'm going to have to kill you again.
Permanently.
-Calm