《Unwanted.》 1. Dirty floor, dirty hands. Nothing coffee wont fix. Day one. A light shines through the barely open window. Clearly someone forgot to close it again, not learning from the past mistake of letting the rodents in. It''s morning, undoubtedly, and to the dismay of whoever lives in this wretched place -- a place once belonging to individuals high on the social hierarchy and now a vessel for one on the lowest spot you can be in society. How ironic. A foul creature is laying on the messy "bed", if you can even call it that; a frustrated groan is all it can mutter. After a bit of effort, it stands up, like a goat with a broken leg trying to drag itself around in a vain attempt to escape from its impending doom. "headache....." It has no shirt and only wears pants and underwear, resembling what one could call a sense of basic decency. A hand is used to grab the side of its head, as if trying to keep it from falling on the floor, which is covered with used clothes that haven''t been washed in far too long; no human lives in this place. Legs moving, feet touching the dirty floor. Step by step, stumbling, forcing itself to move to a nearby spot; the kitchen. The smell of old coffee fills the air. "rgh.... ARGH!" In a fit of rage, the creature plunges its fist against the stone wall, emanating a loud thumping noise that startles a few critters outside the building and wakes up a nearby bobcat, who was moments ago sleeping peacefully on a matted rug. The feline then walks over to the other creature and calmly rubs cheek on its leg. "i''m.... sorry. i promised i wouldn''t hit the wall again." It looks at its bruised knuckle. "ow... my hand..." "sigh." It stands... "She" is more adequate. She stands for a few seconds, looking at the bobcat before proceeding to nuzzle its cheek with her index finger. The "cat" (if you can call it that), as if noticing it had done its job, returns to the worn-out floor mat so it can go back to its hourly nap. ... Coffee... The caffeine beckons. Despite being reheated several hours ago, coffee is still one of the body''s basic physiological necessities. A light sip can be heard, performed with surprising etiquette. Not much noise is ever made by Kaira in this household, except for the occasional quiet clanking of dishes, the purr of the cat and the sipping of old reheated coffee. "mm..." the girl exclaims, "it''s itchy." The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. She places a hand on the right side of her neck, rubbing what seems to be a fresh scar with her thumb. Its surface is coarse, similar to the one of a lightly used nail file, and touching it causes her to flinch a little. "i''ll... deal with that later." Her... ah, yes. This... girl. She does have a name, though very few people besides her actually know it; Kaira, pronounced "kai-rah", is the name that she has given herself. The reasoning for that name is quite dubious, probably not even having a particular origin. Kaira likes her name, that being one of the few things she likes about herself. Before Kaira can take another sip of the coffee, a knock on the door interrupts her daily ritual. Not the cat''s hourly ritual, though. "should i go check it, buddy?" The cat, or, "buddy", as she likes to call it, remains unfazed, as if not having even heard the knocking in the first place. Has he heard it? "..." "nah." Another knock can be heard, to the lack of reaction from any of the two creatures inhabiting the manor. The coffee mug is, a few moments later, left on the kitchen sink, still with a smidge of coffee left. Not like crummy old reheated coffee is very pleasing, anyways. The sink is surprisingly empty of dirty dishes -- not much food is eaten by Kaira in this house. ... Another day begins, the windows are still open. Kaira''s bedroom is empty... how unusual. Not often that she gets out of bed early. Knock knock... Oh, great, second day in a row. That''s gotta be the first time, right? As is to be expected, the cat is, once again, completely oblivious to the sounds emanating from the door; to him, sleeping seems to be as natural as breathing. Suddenly, a familiar voice speaks - "i''ll- argh, okay, i''m coming." Where has she gone? A few moments later, the sound of footsteps plays, almost in harmony to the knocking -- Kaira comes walking out of the bathroom, blood dripping down her neck, making her way to the main door of the palace. This is perfectly normal for her. She opens the door. Nothing but sunlight enters the building. "..." "fair." She glances at the outside world for a couple of seconds, then at the cat. Now''s the time, Kaira. "well... wanna get some sunlight, buddy?" The cat yawns, stretches its body a few times and begrudgingly gets up, heading towards the door where Kaira is so that both creatures can go outside. The smell in the air is quite complex, coming from all sorts of sources, but predominantly wet dirt and moss, with a sharp hint of grass. A light breeze blows around the scent of wild blackberries, those that have fallen from their shrubs and decayed releasing a sweet and slightly acidic smell. It''s quite pleasant. "you know... the forest isn''t so bad. maybe i should go out more." "wait, no, that''s stupid, why would I say that," she thinks to herself, seemingly clueless as to the cat not being able to understand her language in the first place. Kaira turns her face to the sky, mostly because of shame, but also because she just wants to see what''s up there. It''s not quite everyday she gets to see the clouds, you know? The cloud formations are as mundane as ever, with most being cloud-shaped, like clouds usually are. A couple of shapes remind Kaira of her cat, "buddy", but only vaguely. ....This isn''t very fun. It''s kind of anxiety inducing, for some reason. Kaira tries to occupy herself with more miscellaneous thoughts; being alone with the local ambiance is far too terrifying. This is perfectly normal for her. She shakes her head a couple of times to bring herself back to reality. "ah. i need to buy food too. right. but... argh... i hate the humans. they''re so.... abnormal? hahah. that''s a funny word. abnormal. abnormal." "...like, meat is good and all, but i want some of that.... human food. they make some fun stuff. i like the rah-myn noodolos. i think that''s how you pronounce it." "also, bring more of that buck meat, will you? i don''t like softer meat. feels weird on my tongue. kinda gross. no matter how much i cook it, it just ends up fucking weird." "ALSO.... no dead bodies on the doorstep, please. last time i had to clean a bunch of rabbit carcasses." "also-" Nothing but mindless chit chat for five long minutes proceeds to take place, where the listener just so happens to be a beast that cannot understand a single word that ever comes out of the poor girl''s mouth. "... the hell''s wrong with me." "i''ll... get ready to go to the store. kind of a long walk, but oh well." 2. Dont call me sir. It indeed was long. Walking amidst the humans isn''t something one can simply do casually, everyone knows what happens if they don''t perceive you as one of them. Humans can be quite vicious if they notice a threat to their kind, it''s been known all throughout history; the mere thought of having to face them gives you anxiety. Damn it. I warned you that being alone with the ambiance is a terrible idea. just... keep walking. relax. you''ll get to eat good food after this. it''ll all be okay. if.... If it wasn''t for the humans, you wouldn''t be neck-deep in this deplorable state. All these thoughts aren''t very pleasant, nor are they adequate. This is perfectly normal for her, however. "Sir, that''ll be $22.59." After a short delay, Kaira forces herself back to reality in order to not look suspicious. Stay calm. Nothing bad will happen. "ma''am, please." she replies. "...Okay, ma''am. That''ll be-", but before the cashier can finish her sentence, Kaira leaves a fifty dollar bill on the counter - money that she got from selling jewelry found in abundance at her home to shady individuals on the city streets - stunning the cashier for a few seconds, but she goes on to count the change and hand it to Kaira. This interaction makes Kaira feel a pit in her stomach. This is... perfectly normal for her. Time to go home. The walk back is severely mentally draining, though the spoils of her expedition might just be worth all that hassle. Bringing home a pack of 12 ramen noodles, a few cans of grape flavored carbonated beverage and miscellaneous snacks, Kaira finds herself enduring what feels like a form of psychological torture. She doesn''t consume these human foods very often, but stocking up means not having to meet the humans for a longer period of time, and depriving herself of these simple pleasures as often as possible is a great way to extend the duration of that. Home. Finally. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ...Maybe you deserve a treat. for... your efforts. yeah. just... one can. a single fizzy drink. it''s not even cold but.... urgh... i... deserve it? no, no no no, you don''t, that''s stupid. yeah. you don''t. just... yeah ...... hahah..... nevermind. Kaira drops her groceries on the kitchen counter, then immediately heads to the bedroom. Going outside is always a terrible idea, no matter the circumstances, unless you want to torture yourself. Does she want to torture herself? She shakily takes off her mask and sunglasses, before burying her face in the bed. Breathe in, breathe out. She has learned that controlling her respiratory rate in this situations is the first thing she should do, as it helps control her heart rate and activates the relaxation of the body. Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly but surely, Kaira finds herself in a more stable state; though the thoughts didn''t go away just yet, it''s only a matter of time. Everything will be okay. This is normal. I''m used to this. Not many hours later, Kaira is back on her feet, assessing the goodies brought from her expedition. "...i dunno if it was worth it." Even though the anxiety and panic have subsided considerably, it''s still quite difficult to think straight, because, as one might expect, the paranoia of being observed and followed doesn''t exactly calms one''s nerves. Speaking of paranoia, is someone at the door? "no... i think. it doesn''t usually knock twice in a day." ... The day was certainly... eventful. But for now, at least, Kaira seems to finally get to have a little bit of rest. Day three. The door has been knocking for the past hour and a half. The sounds it makes pierces Kaira''s skull like an electric drill, each knock reducing her sanity little by little and making the simple act of sipping coffee feel less like a daily ritual and more like a trial, where the culprit is being judged for her sins. Caffeine is certainly not preferable in the occasion of a severe headache, but a girl''s gotta do what a girl''s gotta do to survive, as caffeine withdrawal along with the usual symptoms would render her effectively unable to function. "please... just... shut... up..." With her middle finger she rubs the side of her head, right above the temple, in order to attempt and soothe the pain, even if just barely. Many thoughts assault Kaira''s mind, but the ones of violence seem to stick out the most. Again, neither pleasant, nor appropriate. As usual, the best she can do is shake her head a couple of times and try to stay mindful of the present moment. Just keep sipping. The coffee won''t drink itself. ... Or, just toss the mug full of coffee right in the sink, why don''t you? yeah. great job, idiot. you know you''re the one who''s gonna have to clean that mess, right? ... What a terrible day. She can''t help but wish for it to end and start a new one over, even though it''s only morning. The rest of her day is spent in the bedroom, rotting in bed, while the knocking sounds keep playing for nearly two more hours. 3. huh? Day five. Kaira is awake. It seems she couldn''t sleep today, huh? "it''s itchy. it''s really itchy." If it''s that itchy, you should go deal with that as soon as possible. "..." Do it. "fine." Kaira desperately gets out of bed, as if her life depended on it, stumbling towards the exit. Where has she gone? Where has she gone? The bathroom. Blood once again makes her way down her neck, to the lower half of the body, and then the dirty floor beneath her feet. fuck it hurts. god DAMN it, kaira. what''s going on? what''s wrong with you? what the hell is wrong with you? the pain is unbearable. no, not that pain. this whole thing is messed up. i think something''s wrong. no, this is normal. don''t beat yourself up over it. it''s fine. this is... perfectly... fucking... normal... All the thoughts are interrupted by a familiar sound -- if this entire experience wasn''t enough, something''s knocking on the door again. The poor girl''s head, clouded by a bombardment of stimuli, can only manage to instinctively move the body it inhabits towards the source of the grueling noise, which proves to be a difficult task in itself due to the mental confusion and now blood loss.Knowing exactly what awaits her, and that being, absolutely nothing, she uses the last of her strength to open the door, making a creaking sound loud enough to wake up a hibernating bear. "shut... UP!!!"But as the words leave Kaira''s mouth... It''s real this time..? There''s a girl on the other side. ... This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Red... A familiar color. It can represent many things: rage, passion, amongst countless other states of being, though in this case it bears the pain of an interesting little creature. Not in stature, mind you, this fellow is taller than your average adult woman - but rather someone whose place in society is akin to a fourth class citizen. Living in a societal limbo, lacking any form of proper connections to modern human civilization aside from reaping the scraps of those who have failed, all while being almost completely alienated from decent living conditions isn''t necessarily easy on the mind. The concept of being "human" is completely foreing to the poor girl... is that... inherently a bad thing..? Where was I? Ah, yes. Red. It bathes the bathroom sink in its aggressiveness, a dull razor sitting atop it all, its implications being naught but worrisome. "Just... hold on." The open-and-close of cabinets and rummaging of miscellaneous utensils is heard in the distance, followed by brisk footsteps. "I told you to press it against the skin. Press it. Do not let go. Press it." Moving back to the living room, Kaira is accompanied by an unknown girl. Though her stature is much smaller, she seems to be in her mid twenties based on her figure and facial features. Her body, now visible due to her thick jacket being used as a makeshift wound compress, contrasts Kaira''s thin silhouette, with Kaira being visibly taller even though she''s sitting on the floor. "You seem to have some sort of petrolatum based ointment, this should keep the wound moiusturized... No dressing howev-" "just use a fucking shirt." "Um-" "one of mine. there, on the floor, just rip it or something, i don''t know. i don''t fucking know. it never got this bad. i don''t know." "Y-yes... cotton fabric works." This woman helping Kaira also happens to have a name, though it is one chosen not by her, but by her birth parents. A peculiar culture humans seem to have, far different from those we call "anima", wherein such thing as a birth name is a foreign concept. Anima offspring are simply referred to as the parent''s child, until it is old enough to pick a name for itself - usually during a special occasion or ritual. "My name''s Chloe." "uh...what?" "Ch-...Chloe. That''s my name. "i don''t remember asking." Kaira mumbles under her breath. "What''s... your name? Do you have a name?" Chloe gently moves the jacket being held by Kaira to the side, so she can rub some of the ointment on the wound. "what- ow fuck, that stings." "...Nevermind. There, i didn''t want to ruin your clothing. I''ll wash it later, do not worry." Chloe, while wrapping a seemingly clean shirt around Kaira''s neck, stumbles through her words a few times, stunned by the girl''s blunt way of speaking. It really seems as though following human social conventions tirelessly won''t do much in this situation. 4. There is nothing like the smell of rotten milk. Day... one? A light shines through the barely open window. Clearly whoever lives in this residence has the habit of letting natural light enter as soon as they wake up, as it boosts the production of vitamin D and helps with productivity. It''s morning, undoubtedly, and as is to be expected, the person living here is already performing her usual activities. "Hmm... That doesn''t look right." Blonde-haired, wearing big round glasses, a casual tank top, cargo pants and lacking her right arm, the woman is inspecting a glass filled a quarter of the way through with milk, which she would would usually mix with half a cup of coffee in this situation. After a bit of pondering, she decides to smell it from a closer distance. Not too close, however, as to prevent sensory discomfort. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "...No, that won''t do." is all the woman can mutter, flinching from the overly sour smell of spoiled milk assaulting her senses. Still, she goes on with the process of making her morning latte after disposing of the inadequate milk, doing so with surprising grace considering the circumstances. Chloe''s days are usually quite uneventful, consisting of nothing but the usual routine. Today, however, is her day off from college! Usually that means spending most of the day working on her "hobby", if you can call it that; it''s more of a soft obsession, which is also the thing she goes to college for, that being robotics. Such knowledge sure comes in handy, especially if you don''t have an arm, like her. Why would you need a fleshy inferior human arm when you can make a better one yourself? Well, that would be because a cybernetic version is more limited considering today''s technology, but that doesn''t make it any less extra. "Out of coffee." the woman exclaims. "That''s not ideal." There is a convenience store very close to her apartment, but going there wasn''t in the plans for today, as she only goes to the convenience store on Tuesdays to restock on miscellaneous items and buy the occasional snack, consisting mostly of 40% cocoa dark chocolate bars; the other sweets are out of question due to their inadequate texture. Chloe then decides to compromise and give up her morning latte for today, as it''s done less for the caffeine and more as a daily ritual. 5. Negative space. Day two. Tuesday has arrived, at last, meaning it''s convenience store day. Convenience store day is always at least a little exciting, especially now considering the daily morning latte has been jeopardized by the distinct lack of coffee.The streets are as calm as ever -- it''s a small city, meaning there naturally isn''t much traffic on the roads. "Sir, that''ll be $22.59.", says the cashier, greeting the person in front of Chloe. Quite an unusual person, for that matter, they haven''t said a word the whole time, only nodding to any social inquiries made by the cashier. "ma''am, please.", she replies. It''s a woman, then? She''s much taller than Chloe, that''s for sure. "...Okay, ma''am. That''ll be-", but before the cashier can finish her sentence, the woman leaves a fifty dollar bill on the counter, stunning the cashier for a few seconds, but she goes on to count the change and hand it to the woman. An unusual interaction, for sure, a lot closer to how Chloe navigates social interactions than regular people. On the woman''s way to the exit, though, Chloe could see what seems to be a fresh wound on her neck, only being half hidden by her long hair. Something''s up with that woman, but not knowing where she lives makes it not viable to contact the police station for a wellness check."Guess i will have to follow her and see where she lives.", Chloe thinks to herself. Not quite what any regular human being would think in this situation, but it certainly does the job just fine, which is obviously all that matters. Right? As the strange woman leaves the building, the fact of this whole thought process being quite socially inappropriate goes completely over Chloe''s head. "Ma''am? Will you buy that coffee?", the cashier asks, pointing to the coffee packet currently present in Chloe''s two arms, with one of them being a very clear electronic prosthesis made by none other than Chloe herself. "Um... Later." Chloe mumbles before leaving the packet on the counter, then walking out the exit, leaving the cashier perplexed by the two consecutive strange interactions. It''s really windy today, but thankfully Chloe always makes sure to keep her hair tied when going outside without fail, almost as if she can''t go out before absolutely making sure her hair is tied. The strange woman, however, seems to be struggling quite a bit with the wind, trying so desperately to hold her hair still, in a way that makes it seem like she''s trying really hard to hide something. The wound, maybe? But why would she try to hide a sign of her needing medical attention? The sunglasses and face mask also seem a little bit unnecessary, unless she has some sort of airborne disease and her eyes are sensitive to sunlight. Not that Chloe is the best person to define this, but something about that woman seems... not normal. Minutes pass and Chloe finds herself walking through the nearby forest, one she never actually visited before. It''s quite nice and the scents are very pleasant, unlike ones of the city; you can only smell so much of carbon emissions made by loud cars before you start noticing how much you always hated it. Some people seem to like it, for reasons Chloe has no way of understanding. About an hour passes, and... That was a bit of a workout. Almost makes it completely pointless having a treadmill at her apartment, especially considering how therapeutic the whole trip was. No loud noises or inadequate scents, only the pleasant chirping of the birds, the crackling of dry leaves and the subtle scents native to the deciduous forest, this ambiance could just as well make you forget what you were here to do in the first place. Admittedly, however, the exquisite old manor in sight makes it quite hard to actually forget you were looking for someone''s home. This must be it. The architecture is almost like something you''ve probably seen before, but not quite. What appears to be an ancient-greek-inspired design philosophy contrasts the victorian-esque aspects of the building, morphing into an unique mixture of pediments rich in detailed carvings supported by large columns along with large bay windows and beautiful front porches, all coming together in calculated asymmetry. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. It takes a minute or so but Chloe decides to go up the main stairs and make her way to the entrance door, a door so grandiose it leaves her slightly intimidated -- whoever that strange woman is, she seems to be quite well-off, considering her apparent living conditions. "Maybe she just had an accident? Doesn''t seem like she lives in particularly dangerous conditions." Chloe couldn''t help but think to herself. Someone this seemingly wealthy wouldn''t go to the store to buy soda and packs of instant noodles, either. Lifting her metallic hand up slowly, she hesitates. This has taken so much longer than anticipated already, and the upcoming social interactions might just make this whole thing last the entire day... An entire day of what, exactly? It''s not like Chloe has that much time to just spend willy-nilly on mindless walks and exhausting chit chat. Chloe simply stands there, hand nearly touching the main door, thinking for around a full minute. "Not worth it. I''ll just... forget it." she thinks to herself. The weirdly mysterious woman was probably the wrong pick, anyways. Chloe begins her journey back home. Such a strange day, one she would, in fact, not forget. Day three. The dark tinted metal feels extremely cold to the touch, almost reminiscent of a cold lonely night. Or just aluminum coating, in this case. A light blowing sound is heard, followed by a quiet sip. The pleasant, although bitter smell of coffee fills the air. Chloe is currently working on one of her gadgets, this one being quite special: it''s one of her prized myoelectric arm prosthesis. The reason for it being special is due to it not being a hybrid design, meaning it''s exclusively powered by electricity and nerve sensors, making for a great replacement when you''re out in public and don''t want a clunky mechanical looking doodad strapped to your body. Though it''s not quite often she goes out in public, it''s always good to perform daily maintenance on such a delicate device, even one as robust as this one. It''s quiet today, but the occasional roaring of car engines breaks the comforting silence. It''s almost like some people have no manners when driving and simply go around being a general nuisance. Loud noises aren''t too common in this area, since such a small town can only have so many people driving expensive engine-powered road vehicles (or just "cars", as most people call them), but although rare, they still get on Chloe''s nerves sometimes, almost as if her brain is specifically wired to intensify the obnoxious sounds. It would certainly be an issue, but only if Chloe didn''t have her lovely silicone earplugs built specifically for people like her. With no prior warning, her phone starts vibrating on the table, indicating it''s time for her daily treadmill walking routine. "No... My legs hurt..." Intuitively trying to use her right arm and failing, that being, the one she doesn''t usually have, she frustrates herself even further. "Shut up..." she mutters, getting irritated by the loud buzzing of the phone breaking any and all focus, before turning the alarm off with her left hand. "What the hell?" She can''t help but wonder. Forgetting the absence of one of her limbs is certainly not an everyday occurrence, even if she was admittedly using all of her brain capacity to focus on a single task. She tries not to think much of it. This day will be a fairly uneventful one once again, since she has already finished her college assignment and most of her online classes. Chloe was what you could call a "child prodigy": a person whom many expectations were placed upon from a very early age, all due to exceptional performance at school. Eventually, however, Chloe noticed how much said expectations were weighing on her, so she decided to move from her parents'' home the moment she hit the age of majority. Yes, owning property is indeed not something anyone can afford to do in the current year, but Chloe''s parents are fairly successful on their own and always made sure to give her the best accommodations they could afford, so giving her a new place to live was never really off the table, though they were reluctant in regards to not being sure she could live on her own -- every parent has thought that to some extent, but Chloe''s case is a bit more special. Special... Huh. Being "special" can be really fucking isolating sometimes. On with the day, Chloe. The prosthesis'' aluminum coating feels somehow colder than before. It flawlessly reflects the white light emanating from the brass-coated articulated lampshade sitting atop the similarly engineered desk, all whilst Chloe impatiently taps her finger against her craft for what feels like an eternity crammed within a tiny fraction of the universe''s scale of time. What day was it today again? Wednesday. Wednesday... Her focus then shifts to the calendar hanging on the clean, white colored wall, of which the engineering desk is placed against. May 6th, 2026. How long have we been at this, exactly? It''s gotten harder and harder to keep track of, despite how obsessed Chloe can be with constantly tracking most of the things about her ongoing life. Her focus then shifts again, multiple times, between different objects in her vicinity, before finally stopping at the blank space where her right arm should be. Mentally describing miscellaneous objects was always a good way to soothe whatever cacophony happens to stir inside her mind, but there''s not much to describe here, is there? 6. A liquid colored like the devil itself. Not¡­ much to describe? ¡­ Obviously something had to have happened here ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry?¡± ¡°it¡¯s exactly what it seems like. cut my neck with a sharp object, bled all over the fucking floor. what else do you want me to say?¡± Silence takes over for the next few minutes. The bleeding seems to have stopped, thankfully, meaning Kaira didn¡¯t end up reaching the external jugular. Or the carotid artery for that matter, otherwise the beautiful marble ceiling would be painted red before anyone could do anything about it, and someone would have to clean that up, wouldn¡¯t they? Chloe grabs her now bloody jacket from the dusty floor, since it won¡¯t be needed to stop anyone¡¯s bleeding again anytime soon. The cold air around her skin renders her movements slightly shaky and makes it difficult for her to concentrate on anything but the shocks being sent through her nerves. ¡°oh yeah. uh. sorry about your jacket. i¡¯ll grab something from my closet, there¡¯s plenty of stuff there i never seem to use.¡± Standing up suddenly is probably one of the worst things Kaira could do at this point in time, and unsurprisingly that ends up being exactly what she does. It takes about half a second from the moment she stands up to the moment she stumbles back to the floor, the only thing breaking her fall being a heavily startled Chloe. ¡°Don¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°oh fuck.¡± she chuckles, ¡°right, blood loss¡­¡± Before you know it, she¡¯s fallen unconscious on the woman¡¯s two arms. The strange girl¡¯s skin seems to be covered in a thin layer of dull white fur, with the area being touched by the prosthesis standing upright in response to the cold layer of metal. The tip of her nose is reddish in tone, almost like a blush, contrasting the deep dark bags under her beady, black and amber eyes. Her eyelids close and open a few times in uneven delays, before the lack of consciousness finally shuts them for good. This whole predicament is nothing like what any of the two women are used to. ¡°...I guess it¡¯s time to learn how much weight this design can handle.¡± With a deep sigh, she readies herself. Not being the one bordering hemorrhagic shock makes the task of lifting a whole person a lot easier, even if said person is admittedly a towering presence from the carrier¡¯s point of view. Each step feels progressively harder to make, not due to the sheer weight being carried, but because having to worry about not damaging an extremely complex gadget at the same time makes things messy, to say the least, but the metallic arm seems to be handling the situation better than expected. ¡°I might as well do something about this clutter.¡± ¡­ this stupid fucking clutter¡­ someone¡¯s gonna have to clean that up. argh¡­ can¡¯t seem to do anything right. ¡°someone¡­ god¡­ fucking¡­ damn it¡­¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Hello? ¡°...what?¡± Uh¡­ good¡­ morning? ¡°i don¡¯t¡­ take guests¡­¡± Slurring through her words, Kaira struggles to regain consciousness. The thoughts in her head are abstract and very hard to make sense of, almost being stuck in a dreamlike state; at least the headache seems to have subsided for the time being¡­ Or not. ¡°head¡­ ache¡­¡± Chloe then bears witness to what could be the most sudden way a person with severe blood loss could possibly jolt up from having fainted just a couple hours ago. ¡°my fucking head hurts, man¡­¡± These words mimic the aggressiveness with which Kaira regained her consciousness, all said in her raspy, semi-deep voice. Its tone reverberates throughout the mansion, tainting the ambiance in its wretchedness. ¡°Hey, no, do not do that.¡± Says the woman carrying a pile of clothes in her¡­ arm? Scouting the nearby area, Kaira notices a disembodied metallic arm laying on top of the antique dresser right next to Chloe, who briskly drops the neatly folded, color-coded pile of clothes and walks up to her, carefully placing a hand on her forehead. ¡°You need to rest.¡± ¡°i¡­ what? oh, it¡¯s you. why are you still here?¡± She gently grabs the woman¡¯s wrist to move her hand somewhere less vulnerable. ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ I¡¯m¡­ cleaning¡­¡± ¡°...sorry if i scared you. i¡¯m not used to using my voice. especially for¡­ someone like you.¡± Kaira says while eyeing Chloe up and down. ¡°L-like me? Uh, I¡­ do not see myself as exceptionally¨C¡± ¡°wait, cleaning? what the fuck do you mean?¡± Chloe stares back like a puppy being scolded for misbehaving. ¡°Uh¡­ cleaning¡­?¡± Kaira double-checks her surroundings, scouting for empty packages, tossed clothes, dirty shoes ¨C anything that would even remotely resemble her usual living space. The best she could get was, oddly enough, something left by Chloe: a lightly worn-out origami swan made from a piece of napkin, one that had been folded and unfolded way too many times. It rested near the window, watching over its owner¡¯s every movement on her journey to clean this ragged old mansion. Like an emotional support swan. ¡°...¡± ¡°thank¡­ you¡­ chloe, right? i think. i think it was chloe. your name, i mean.¡± ¡°Ah. You¡¯re¡­ welcome.¡± The interaction ends with her smiling, a smile that Kaira can¡¯t tell whether it is genuine or completely fabricated. That doesn¡¯t really matter though, does it? ¡°... wait, what the hell happened to your arm?¡± The mere sound of that question is enough to make Chloe¡¯s ears perk up from dread ¨C she¡¯s been expecting for someone to finally ask that very question. So this is what it feels like to witness something ¡°socially inappropriate¡±? Bzzzt¡­ ¡°what the fuck?¡± Bzzzt¡­ ¡°Fuck,¡± Chloe unknowingly whispers to herself, shuffling through her pockets in search of the phone currently emanating the less-than-pleasant buzzing sound. Bzzzt¡­ ¡°Shut up¡­¡± ¡°what?¡± The dirty words uttered by Chloe were like hearing someone say the most depraved slurs a mind can think of. Even if the words themselves weren¡¯t exactly as bad, Kaira was completely taken aback by such a way of speaking coming from¡­ someone like her. As Chloe turns off the alarm, she mutters ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I have to go.¡±, excusing herself and gathering her possessions. Turning around right before going out the bedroom door, however, she stands there for a few seconds, as if searching for the exact words that can express what¡¯s on her mind. ¡°...I¡¯ll be back. To check on you. I promise.¡± And within less than a minute, she left with everything she brought in, leaving Kaira by herself to ponder what exactly just took place. The swan is still sitting by the window, though, unable to do anything as it watches its owner stride onwards, far away from here. She¡¯ll be back, don¡¯t worry, swan. ¡°...¡± ¡°thanks.¡± Kaira says, even if completely aware of the fact that the woman cannot hear her words from such a distance. This is¡­ probably the first time she¡¯s properly had her wounds treated. Speaking of the wound, she removes the uncomfortable fresh bandage wrapped around her neck to reveal the now fully coagulated injury. Whilst attempting to rub it with her thumb as usual, she notices the texture has changed. It¡¯s¡­soft? Not exactly coarse, but slightly soft. ¡°that¡¯s weird¡±, she thinks. ¡°i guess it¡¯s because of the stupid cream she put on it.¡± It¡¯s less sensitive than usual, probably as a result of not leaving the wound out in the open with no proper medical aid. She misses the coarse texture, though. ¡°...at least it¡¯s not itchy for once.¡± With no coarseness to feel against her thumb, she instead fidgets with the large flaps of excess dead skin on the edges of her wound. 7. A much needed visit. ¡­ Day six. but self-assured ¡°...elea. thank you.¡± ¡°We miss you.¡± 8. Readings of a bleak future. Day seven.
Humanus, the being Anima, the soul Atrox, the cruel A tale as old as time, of unending strife.
The comfortingly familiar smell of coffee finds its way all throughout the manor. Strangely, though, it¡¯s a fresh batch, as opposed to old, reheated coffee. The steamy brew feels pleasantly warm on Kaira¡¯s face as she sips it, who also has an open book on her other hand for her to read while standing against the kitchen island. ¡°Humanus, the being, Anima, the soul, Atrox, the cruel. A tale as old as time, of unending strife,¡± is the title and subtitle that can be read from the cover of the book, them being legible enough to make out the words even with Kaira¡¯s fingers covering a few of the letters. ¡°(...) for they have denied us the freedom to exist in the world which we were born in. To trust a human is to risk losing one¡¯s autonomy, to lose the very thing that sets us apart from things which have not been conceived with the gift of life. What is it that wrought such a twisted force of nature to our path? (...)¡± Amongst cryptic passages about the anima condition, there are tidbits of what feels like actual misanthropic propaganda sprinkled in between declarations from a race that hasn¡¯t exactly had it easy for most of its time. What¡¯s this book about, exactly? Kaira can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s 254 pages of what could have been expressed with a simple ¡°humans kind of suck¡± or if perhaps it¡¯s some sort of philosophical insight she doesn¡¯t have the brain capacity to comprehend ¨C it all really does feel like something only the royal family would read. One specific passage catches her attention, however. ¡°(...) though divided by time, they shall meet once more. Human and atroxian, to rehearse history until we meet our very end (...)¡± ¡°what? what the fuck did i miss?¡± she says. Atrox? How can you willingly call yourself that? ¡°... isn¡¯t that a slur?¡± She visibly winces; this ¡°royal family¡± only seems to get more unhinged the more she learns about them. ¡°i¡¯m gonna go read something else.¡± Taking the book back to where it once was and sighing as she goes, Kaira then stops for a minute as if just having remembered something so vital, something she should have probably thought of way earlier than this very moment. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°...i should put on a shirt. chloe saw me shirtless.¡± Yes Kaira, you should, and yes, she did. A familiar creature walks up to the shirtless Kaira in her natural habitat. ¡°oh hey, buddy. where the hell have you been?¡± The bobcat judges her, as if to say ¡°I can''t believe you¡¯re still looking like this¡±. He couldn¡¯t possibly even think of that, being a bobcat, but she can¡¯t help but project her thoughts on the nearest living being. She looks out the barely open entrance door, checking for any rabbit carcasses lying on the doorstep now that the usual culprit of that crime has now arrived. ¡°none? that¡¯s new. i thought you were out hunting.¡± The cat stretches, yawns, and proceeds to lay on its usual sleeping spot: the matted rug near the entrance. ¡°...wait, you¡¯re not in heat, are you?¡± And in a final act of projection, she can feel the feline shrugging just by looking her in the eye. ¡°urgh, god.¡± Kaira begrudgingly places the book back on its respective shelf, before walking towards her now clean bedroom. It¡¯s been strange getting used to not living in a filthy environment, sure, but it¡¯s not exactly detrimental to her mental well-being. Maybe a little. It¡¯s all going back to being a mess eventually, and then someone will have to clean that up, right, Kaira? ¡°it¡¯s¡­ itchy. i can¡¯t even rub it with my thumb anymore.¡± She looks through her closet for anything resembling a proper way to cover her upper body, ideally clothing, like a regular person, while also trying not to focus too hard on the itchy wound. ¡°okay, how about we don¡¯t think of that? for now. yeah.¡± Yes, Kaira, clothing. Focus on the clothes. Don¡¯t think about it. Amongst ruffle dresses and fancy velvet gowns that have clearly not been worn for far too long, a few more casual articles of clothing can be seen in the antique wardrobe, namely, one regular oversized red sweater; it very visibly contrasts with the more expensive-looking outfits, specifically because Kaira placed it there. It¡¯s not like she would ever wear any of these with a sane mind, even if she could ¨C some of them are too small, after all, clearly belonging to a young child. The queen¡¯s child. At a closer look, however, the smaller ones resemble the fashion style of a medieval jester. Why would you dress your own offspring in something so¡­ mocking? ¡°fucking weirdos.¡± is the only thing she can bring herself to say. The fabric feels uncomfortable on Kaira¡¯s furry skin as she clumsily puts the red sweater on. How are people able to wear these all the time instead of only when absolutely necessary? ¡°...this works, i guess.¡± After looking at herself in the mirror for a little longer than usual, she exercised what looked to be a bit of a forced smile, before changing her mind and going back to her usual deadpan look. Going back to the fancy bookshelf, she finds herself endlessly looking through books and their pages, trying to find something, anything that doesn''t remind her of the upcoming end of anima folk as a species. There has to be something, right? There''s no way the royal family only reads the most life-draining word salad anyone has to offer. Right? "no... no... definetely not that one... maybe this one? it doesn''t have a title." Though the leather cover is relatively worn, it''s still in better condition than most of the other books. Might this one be more recent? Taking a quick glance at its contents the book looks handwritten, unlike all the other books, and very crudely so. What''s even weirder is the fact that it wasn''t neatly placed in a row amongst the rest of the library, but instead placed behind the well-organized codices, almost like a child very poorly tried to hide a new toy from their parents. Kaira sits on the comfy armchair near the bookshelf and begins to pry into the book''s contents, not exactly sure what to expect. "this''ll be interesting," she says. That''s a bit of an understatement, Kaira. 9. warmth. ¡°Igris Albaraolune¡± ¡°Moon 12 of the [ILLEGIBLE]th cycle, year [ILLEGIBLE]¡± A lot of the words are difficult to make sense of, with some of them being downright impossible to read. Who wrote this? ¡°Today was very good. [ILLEGIBLE] made them cook our favorite meal. I can¡¯t remember what it was called, but it¡¯s our favorite meal. She keeps reading these weird books with words that I can¡¯t understand. She says I can¡¯t read them, I hope she doesn¡¯t find out I saw what was inside in secret. What are these books about?¡± ¡°Igris Albaraolune¡± ¡°Moon 13 of the [ILLEGIBLE]th cycle, year [ILLEGIBLE]¡± ¡°Today was very good. [ILLEGIBLE] didn¡¯t make me wear those clothes today. She keeps acting weird, saying weird things. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s talking about, but it makes me scared. She makes me scared. It¡¯s okay though. We ate our favorite food last moon. ¡°...¡± ¡°Igris Albaraolune Moon 14 of the [ILLEGIBLE]th cycle, year [ILLEGIBLE]¡± ¡°Today was [ILLEGIBLE] good. [ILLEGIBLE] says I looked pretty today. I like it when she tells me I¡¯m pretty. But I wish I could choose which clothes I wear. It¡¯s okay though. We ate our [ILLEGIBLE] food two moons ago. But I wish I could eat my favorite food.¡± ¡­This is a diary, isn¡¯t it? Knock knock¡­ Knocking, huh? Time to play the usual game of ¡°is it real or is it just a figment of Kaira¡¯s blurred sense of reality?¡± Groaning and setting the diary on the seat she just got up from, Kaira makes her way to the entrance door. ¡°hello? anyone there?¡± In response, a familiar voice just outside the building says ¡°Uh, yes,¡± in an admittedly confused tone. Okay, it¡¯s just her. Taking a deep breath, Kaira opens the door. ¡°...Hi.¡± ¡°hi.¡± ¡°I, uh. I brought¡­ some things.¡± Rummaging through her bag, Chloe checks - for what¡¯s probably the fifth time ever since she left her home - to see if everything¡¯s there. ¡°To properly treat your wound. Can I have a look?¡± ¡°you should probably get in first.¡± ¡°Yes. Get in first.¡± As Chloe walks inside, she notices the wild bobcat peacefully sleeping on the matted rug, which needless to say startles her more than just a little bit, forcing a high-pitched yelp out of her. ¡°no, no no no no, it¡¯s fine, don¡¯t worry. look.¡± Kaira jogs up to the feline, before bending down and petting it on the back. He starts purring. The sight makes the previously fearful Chloe slightly more calm, though still wary. ¡°he¡¯s an idiot, he¡¯s not gonna hurt you. promise,¡± she looks up at Chloe. ¡°...Right. Promise.¡± ¡­ The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°It¡¯s healed¡­ quite fast. Even though you took the bandage off prematurely.¡± Chloe is taking a look at the wound on Kaira¡¯s neck, who¡¯s sitting on the main couch of the living room with her. Though really old, the furniture is still visibly luxurious, being both adorned with symbols that twist in and out of themselves and covered by beautifully woven linen upholstery. Taking a closer look, the wound is¡­ gross. At the core of the wound, a layer of what seems to be newly growing fleshy tissue lays just below the epidermis, making it so flaps of excess dead skin surround the wounded area. Even the dead skin itself forms¡­ layers. It¡¯s like this has been done multiple times, where skin would regrow only to be slashed again and go on to form another layer of dead tissue, then the wounded area would coagulate, new skin would start to grow and the whole process would be repeated again, and again, and again. What do you even do in this situation? How do you even treat this? How is this not ripe for life-threatening infections? ¡°What¡­ are you? Why did you do this?¡± ¡°i dunno.¡± Kaira chuckles nonchalantly. Dead silence sets in, but Chloe tries her best to keep doing her thing, whatever that would be. She¡¯s not sure herself what that entails either. ¡°Right,¡± she says, in a slightly shaky voice. ¡°Bear with me, okay?¡± Chloe starts by dabbing hydrogen peroxide on the open wound to kill any germs. It forms bubbles on the surface of the skin. ¡°Does this hurt?¡± ¡°it does. a lot.¡± ¡°...¡± The next step is to surgically remove any dead skin, to prevent necrosis. The process is done with extreme care, in order to not cause more damage to the skin surrounding the trauma. ¡°...i don¡¯t remember when it started. it just kinda did. and then it became like an itch, that i couldn¡¯t quite scratch. makes me want to crawl inside my own skin and rip it apart.¡± Silence, again. A square of gauze is placed on the wound, then secured with medical tape. ¡°it never got this bad. sorry you have to do this.¡± Kaira averts her gaze. ¡°it¡¯s gross, isn¡¯t it?¡± After a few moments of no words being exchanged, Kaira¡¯s gaze turns to Chloe, who¡¯s been looking her in the eye the whole time. With both side¡¯s gaze meeting each other, Chloe gets to have a good look at the girl¡¯s beady amber eyes, where she sees not the eyes of a beast, but something beautiful. She¡¯s not used to making eye contact, at all. Neither of them are. ¡°Her eyes are mesmerizing¡±, both of them feel. They don¡¯t think, both women just stare, feeling it. Chloe¡¯s left hand is instinctively placed on the healthy side of Kaira¡¯s neck, so she can feel her texture. The fur running between Chloe¡¯s fingers feels like touching a fluffy, still cold blanket, the touch of Chloe¡¯s fingers heating up Kaira¡¯s body as they move along: first sliding through her neck, then moving to her shoulders, her arm, then finally stopping at her waist, just under her sweater. ¡°...You¡¯re cold.¡± Chloe softly whispers, not wanting to accidentally speak too loudly at such a vulnerable moment. ¡°...Very cold.¡± Though her expression barely changed, Kaira¡¯s deadpan look has now become¡­ weak. Defenseless. The expression of someone who¡¯s knowingly putting her trust in something she shouldn¡¯t. And she really shouldn¡¯t, but yet¡­ ¡°you¡¯re warm.¡± Kaira¡¯s raspy, breathy voice resembles the texture of a lightly used nail file, with Chloe¡¯s ears tingling during every word spoken by the woman, as if she could feel the intriguing texture in sound form. ¡°you should take that¡­ thing off.¡± ¡°...Right,¡± and so she does. Chloe strips off her jacket, her upper body being now covered only by her tank top, fully revealing both her fleshy left arm, and her metallic right arm. She then gently removes the latter from her body, placing the prosthesis on the nearby coffee table so she can go back to where she was, though now being on top of Kaira¡¯s legs, instead of sitting on her knees in a less intimate position. Before long, Kaira accepts the embrace, although still reluctant to take any further action. It doesn¡¯t matter, though. Nothing matters anymore. She could stay like this forever. ¡°all that matters now is¡­¡± she stops for a full ten seconds ¨C ten seconds of nothing but the puffy breaths of the two women facing each other. ¡°fuck,¡± she chuckles in embarrassment. ¡°uh, i¡¯m not sure what to do next.¡± ¡°...Neither am I. This¡­ is probably normal.¡± It is, Chloe. ¡°wait, i have an idea¡­ close your eyes.¡± She does as told, trusting Kaira the way a human would be told to never trust her kind. As Kaira¡¯s warm breaths inched ever so closer to her face, Chloe could feel the woman¡¯s hands firmly grabbing her waist. The sudden cold touch sends goosebumps all the way up Chloe¡¯s back, stopping at the back of her neck and lingering there for a few seconds. ¡°sorry if this is weird, it¡¯s just¡­ something we do.¡± Kaira readies herself for the supposedly strange act she was about to do, and that being, a traditional kiss. Before both pairs of lips can meet, however, their noses touch for a split second as a consequence of Kaira forgetting to tilt her face beforehand. Her goat nose feels very soft, cold, and slightly wet, like the one of a cat, and her lips are dry and slightly rubbery, in contrast to Chloe¡¯s warm, soft lips that meet hers like heavenly cushions. For a brief moment during the intimate exchange, Kaira can feel something in the back of her throat. This is¡­ something she¡¯s never felt before. Is it all those years of pent up frustration finally leaving her body? ¡°ack¨C¡± Or, she¡¯s just choking on excess saliva from forgetting to swallow. ¡°sorry, sorry,¡± she pleads in between all that coughing and hacking. ¡°fuck. i didn''t ruin the mood, did i?¡± Chloe can¡¯t help but let out a chuckle at the sight; a chuckle that slowly morphs into a burst of laughter, leaving Kaira unable to respond with anything other than laughing herself. Perhaps due to the absurdity of choking in the middle of a kiss? Or is Chloe¡¯s laugh just that contagious? She doesn¡¯t know, nor does she care to know. ¡°...this is nice.¡± ¡°...It is.¡± Chloe replies, still sporting a big dumb smile on that face of hers. And without a second thought, they close their eyes and immediately lean in for another kiss. This is going to go on for a while, isn¡¯t it? 10. Dirty hands. Igris Albaraolune A light shines through the barely open window. Clearly someone forgot to close it again, refusing to listen to whoever¡¯s responsible for them for the billionth time. It¡¯s morning, undoubtedly, and to the joy of the little girl habitating this building ¨C a royal mansion, home to the highest echelon in anima society and, soon to be, a rotting vessel for any stray anima desperate enough to call it their home. ¡°Moon 15 of¡­ the cycle¡­ what cycle was it?¡± Sitting on the main couch of the living room, lies a young girl, curiously inspecting her very own diary while impatiently tapping an expensive-looking fountain pen against her puffy right cheek. She can¡¯t be older than 12. ¡°Ah!¡± The little girl exclaims, ¡°that¡¯s it,¡± before going on to crudely write the rest of today¡¯s date, right under her ¨C comparatively well-written ¨C full name. The whole thing brings a large, goofy smile to her face, her sharp teeth being only partly obscured by a large strand of hair. Are you sure you¡¯re not forgetting something, Igris? What used to be the soothing sound of silence, is then broken by the light creaking of the main door. Taking the time of day in consideration, it must be the housekeeper, coming for the daily cleaning of the mansion. Igris loves the housekeeper! Especially for the treats she always brings the little girl. Soon enough however, an imposing presence joins the room, inspecting its surroundings. Oh no. Without a second thought, Igris gets up from her seat ¨C but not before hiding her little diary in the tiny gap between the cushions ¨C and stands uncomfortably upright, with both hands behind her back as the arriving presence steps forward. Closer and closer, steadily towards Igris. ¡°Explain yourself.¡± ¡°I, uh¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Igris replies, trying her absolute hardest not to fidget. Or move. Or breathe too much. She even avoids looking up at the unusually tall figure standing right in front of her. Though she can¡¯t see her face, Igris could recognize that royal ornate dress from a mile away. It takes less than a second after bringing herself to speak, that Igris gets it right across her right cheek. A slap, mighty enough to leave a bright red mark. And so, there she stays; on the floor, clasping her now red face. She has no willpower to get up herself. ¡°Look at me. What did I tell you?¡± ¡°Uh, my, uh¡­ hair¡­ You told me to keep it tied¡­¡± Stumbling through her words, she complies, slowly moving her gaze upwards; though she always ends up having to do this, it never gets any easier. Up her eyes go, slowly, in the span of what feels like an eternity crammed within but a few seconds, stopping at the peak of the towering presence. She¡¯s still wearing that uncanny mask of hers, even in the presence of her own child. Igris can still feel the disgust coming from her glance, even behind that mask. What happened to the housekeeper? Did she get rid of her, too? Igris should¡¯ve known not to accept courtesy from anyone, but yet she still couldn¡¯t help but hope the queen wouldn¡¯t find out. Don¡¯t worry, Igris, she always finds out. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Get up.¡± Igris complies once more, not knowing where to keep her gaze. It¡¯s not exactly comfortable, but at this point she¡¯s gotten used to being able to hear her heartbeat reverberating through her skull, as she struggles to feel the air entering her lungs while attempting to breathe. As if being unable to handle such a pathetic sight, the queen leaves the scene, heading upstairs to where her bedroom is located, eventually indicating the end of the interaction with the loud - but not aggressive - shutting of the door. It¡¯s over, for now. Igris can finally catch her breath. Catch her breath¡­ Until a new day rises. ¡°...¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like tying my hair.¡± Igris looks at the mirror in her bedroom with a displeasured expression. She messes with her hair a few times, trying in vain to make it look a bit more to her liking; her large, thick twintails flow down her shoulders, like two extensions of her head that she wishes she could rip away from herself. Why can the other children choose how they look, but not her? You know the answer, Igris. You¡¯re the queen¡¯s child. You¡¯re not even supposed to have a name of your own. Regardless¡­ that¡¯s the least of her worries, considering she has to wear that stupid jester outfit today. Calling it cute would be far too generous, but it¡¯s not exactly ugly, either; it just makes Igris uncomfortable. The bedroom door creaks open unannounced. Judging by the rhythm of the footsteps it¡¯s probably the queen, Igris thinks to herself ¨C it¡¯s like she¡¯s been subconsciously trained into pinpointing exactly where her mother is in a twenty-something meter radius, even if it¡¯s a bit hard to tell sometimes. ¡°Are you ready to go?¡± The queen¡¯s voice sounds far less foreboding than yesterday, perhaps even trying a bit too hard to sound comforting. She¡¯s not wearing the mask right now. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Igris replies, messing with her hair one last time. With the queen taking her daughter¡¯s hand, both of them walk out of the bedroom. Through the corridor, down the flight of stairs, walking towards the main door. The queen lets go of Igris¡¯ hand for a bit to fiddle with her dress before going out the door, holding her child¡¯s hand with her own right hand, and an ornate silver dagger in her left hand. The weather is quite nice, being kind enough to bestow a light breeze upon the queen and her child as they head deeper into the woods. Igris can¡¯t help but be a little nervous, but she knows it¡¯ll be over quickly. Soon enough, they approach their destination ¨C a woman, tied to a tree with both hands behind her back. She has a blindfold on and a cloth tied around her mouth, impeding her speech. ¡°It¡¯s the housekeeper,¡± Igris thinks, as the silver dagger is handed to her by the queen, who crouches to her level. ¡°Have no fear, child,¡± the queen calmly whispers into her ear, gently placing both hands on said child¡¯s shoulders. ¡°It will be over soon¡±. Being only as tall as to reach the housekeeper¡¯s stomach, she walks forth, holding up the dagger with both hands, aiming the pointy end at the woman in front of her, before lightly pressing it into her stomach. Igris¡¯ deadpan look doesn¡¯t seem to faze as the light pushing turns into her fully thrusting the blade into the woman''s gut, inciting a blood-curdling scream ¨C a scream that only gets louder and more visceral as the blade is pulled to the side, tearing through flesh like cutting through a piece of raw buck meat. Though the muscles and internal organs make it hard to flawlessly cut, she finally manages to go all the way through and pull the blade out from the woman¡¯s side. Soon enough, guts start falling out of her body as her guttural screams go on to sound more and more muffled, along with every other sound in the vicinity, until eventually, the only sound Igris can hear is a loud, high-pitched ringing deep inside her ears. She looks at her own two hands, both completely covered in blood. She almost wants to throw up. Almost. 11. Queasy. ¡°hey.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°i feel like vomiting.¡± Wrapped in a warm blanket, sitting on the sizable couch ¨C all whilst one of them leans on their partner, who was just before this interaction sipping on a hot cup of freshly brewed chamomile tea, one that is now being held idly on her left hand. There they were, Chloe and Kaira; their bodies much warmer than the cold air around them. ¡°Did I do something wrong?¡± Chloe asks, the hot steam from her mug feeling so pleasantly warm on her face. She has her glasses off, having left them on the antique coffee table ¨C along with her prosthetic arm and Kaira¡¯s recently taken-off sweater ¨C and her hair is untied. It¡¯s fairly short, being only long enough to reach the base of her neck. ¡°no, i think. i don''t know. did you?¡± Tilting her face upwards, Kaira gets a good look at her partner again, who looks back at Kaira leaning on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m asking you. You can be honest with me, you know?¡± Her voice is relatively calm and soft, as opposed to her usual rigid way of speaking. It makes Kaira feel a little better. ¡°i¡¯m uh¡­ not used to this. sorry, i¡¯m really not good with words.¡± The contrast between Chloe¡¯s quiet voice, and Kaira¡¯s raspy, louder tone is even more apparent with both of them being this close together. Before any more words can be exchanged, a familiar creature jumps into the vacant spot between both women, causing Kaira to sit up in shock and the cozy blanket to fall to the side of her hip. ¡°buddy, no, what the fuck¨C¡± but the words do little to stop the beast from comfortably laying on the little spot it claimed, yawning and preparing itself to go to sleep, as this stupid cat always seems to be doing, ¡°sorry, i need a minute.¡± Getting up from her seat, Kaira makes a beeline for the bathroom, leaving behind a very worried Chloe pleading for her to ¡°not do anything silly¡±. I feel like vomiting. She gets a good look at the bathroom mirror, trying to make sense of what¡¯s being depicted in it. It¡¯s her, in theory, but it somehow feels like nothing but a distant mirage of someone who isn¡¯t actually there. It¡¯s not the first time she¡¯s unable to recognize her own image standing right in front of her, but something¡¯s wrong this time. Something¡¯s wrong. Something¡¯s wrong. Something¡­ something¡­ Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Some¡­ thing¡­ Igris gets a good look at the bathroom mirror. Kaira stretches out her hand to touch it, hoping to maybe feel the skin on her own body. It doesn¡¯t work. Igris tries to touch her own face, hoping to maybe feel the skin on her own body. It doesn¡¯t work. It only taints her cheek with a smidge of leftover blood. She can¡¯t tell if the crimson smear is on her cheek, or if it¡¯s on the mirror. Her insides burn, then her throat, and before she can process any of what¡¯s happening, she vomits in the bathroom sink. She hasn¡¯t eaten anything, not in a while, so the only thing that comes out is bile and stomach acids. The taste that lingers on her tongue makes her vomit again, then again, and again, until eventually nothing comes out. Unbearable pain hits her stomach, from having violently contracted multiple times. She gets a good look at her bathroom mirror. She can see a dark figure standing behind her. Is it really there, or has she finally gone insane? The dark figure speaks. ¡°Kaira, are you okay? Kaira?¡± Kaira instinctively clasps her neck, unable to tell if the gush of blood painting the bathroom red is real, or if it¡¯s her mind still fucking with her. ¡°shit¡­ shit, shit, shit¡­¡± she takes a good look at the mirror one last time, then turns her gaze to the woman behind her. ¡°i¡­¡± her voice is shaky. ¡°it¡¯s not bleeding, is it?¡± Chloe uses her one arm to pull Kaira close to her, as close as physically possible, leaning the side of her face into her partner¡¯s furry chest. She can feel and hear Kaira¡¯s heart beating like it¡¯s about to explode, but, with some patience, it slows down to a slightly healthier rhythm. Kaira checks the wound on her neck, rubbing it with her thumb. It¡¯s clean, and healing up nicely ¨C if you¡¯re looking at it from the outside. In reality, it¡¯s still bleeding and rotting ¨C just not visibly so ¨C and begging to be ripped open to show what¡¯s truly inside. The taste of bile still coats the surface of her tongue and her throat, just not enough to make her vomit a fifth time. Maybe if she did vomit again she could expel her organs from her mouth and finally die a gruesome death ¨C why not try? ¡°I¡¯m¡­ here.¡± Shaky, breathy and raspy ¨C Chloe¡¯s voice mimicked Kaira¡¯s mental state, to a degree. It¡¯s really hard not to be scared, too, especially considering she has no way to know what is going on inside this girl¡¯s brain. So tall, yet so pitiful. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡± She repeats herself, sounding only marginally more confident than before. ¡°hey¡­ chloe?¡± ¡°...Yes?¡± She looks up at Kaira, her eyes looking like those of a sad puppy waiting to be comforted. ¡°...nevermind. don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Chloe did, in fact, worry about it. Far more than Kaira could ever imagine ¨C not that the bar is even remotely high. Kaira really isn¡¯t used to being this vulnerable to someone who was, just a few days before, a complete stranger; it¡¯s never easy being this close to her, this fast, but she didn¡¯t have a choice but to be vulnerable. She¡¯s not here by choice. She¡¯s not here by choice. Igris¡­ is not here by choice. The taste of bile still coats the surface of her tongue and her throat, enough to make her vomit a fifth time. The dark figure behind places a hand on her head, running its wretched fingers all throughout her hair. She¡¯s wearing that mask again ¨C that fucking mask. ¡°Good¡­ good. Let it all out.¡± The queen¡¯s shit-eating grin could be felt by anyone, be it covered by a mask or out in the open for everyone to see. 12. While it lasts.
Day¡­ ¡­ What fucking day was it again? These are such a pain to keep track of. Steam is wiped from the mirror with the gentle rub of a bath towel, revealing the slightly less blurry reflection of Kaira. Can¡¯t see properly¡­ maybe try wiping once more? ¡­ A little better. She spends a good few seconds staring at the reflection ¨C leaning closer, then away from the mirror, only to go back to her starting position, all with that usual deadpan look of hers. Looking for something, maybe? No, she just does this sometimes, for whatever reason she¡¯s not yet aware of. She leans her face to the side a little while getting her wet hair out of the way, revealing the secured square of gauze attached to her neck. ¡°this thing is definitely weird to get used to¡± she mutters, her finger instinctively poking it a couple of times. ¡°... it¡¯s like clothing, but for wounds. wait, is that why it¡¯s called ¡®dressing¡¯?¡± Holy shit, you¡¯re right. ¡°...¡± ¡°i should probably dry my hair.¡± ??? Up, then down, then up, then down. Her leg bounces to the rhythm of silence, her mind clouded by hard-hitting nothings. Why is this so goddamn nerve-racking? You¡¯ve seen her, like, three whole times before, surely you can handle her presence a fourth time, right? Kaira¡¯s chin rests on her right hand, her left hand bouncing along with the thigh it¡¯s resting upon, as she watches the entrance door from the couch across the room like she¡¯s ready to kill whoever dares to cross the line between the outside world and this residence. Knock knock¡­ ¡­no, that¡¯s not her. is it? no, i think¡­ is it? is it her? is it real? is any of this real? am i real? am i¡­ ¡°Hello?¡± ¡­Oh. Yeah, it¡¯s just her. Goddamn, Kaira. ¡°h-... uh¡­¡± The words hardly seem to come out. ¡°shit,¡± she mumbles to herself, ¡°get it together, damn it.¡± ¡°Kaira?¡± Though muffled, her voice is very easily recognizable. Come on, Kaira, she¡¯s waiting. ¨C ¨C ¨C On the other side of the door, Chloe impatiently taps her left foot in sync with the pace of her mind¡¯s inquiries. ¡°Was I too loud?¡± ¡°Did I mispronounce her name and come off as disrespectful?¡± ¡°Is my hair okay?¡± ¡°Crap, I¡¯m tapping my foot, that¡¯s rude.¡± ¡°She¡¯s taking a bit too long, maybe I was too quiet and she didn¡¯t hear me, or maybe she interpreted it as me not wanting to be here and therefore she¡¯s indicating to me that I should go home through her demeanor and I¡¯m taking too long to decipher what she¡¯s trying to convey.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡­That¡¯s a bit tiresome. In an attempt to get her mind to focus on something else, she takes off her glasses and grabs a small microfibre cloth from her bag, then goes on to wipe the lenses clean, even if they don¡¯t actually need cleaning. ¡°...hey.¡± The sudden opening of the door followed by the reveal of another person immediately startles Chloe, who drops her glasses and almost falls back, down the small staircase leading to the entrance. Her puny attempt at catching her glasses serves not only to make a bigger fool of herself, but also to send them flying farther than they would have otherwise ¨C through the door, right past Kaira and inside the house. Clack, Clack, Clack¡­ Clack¡­ ¡°...S-sorry, uh, may I, uh¡­¡± ¡°...i¡¯ll go grab them for you.¡± ??? The light clacking of dishes plays in unison with the sound of running water. Cozy linen cushions Kaira¡¯s weight on the main couch, and although it feels comfier than usual, it still could be better than this. Kaira mumbles incomprehensible words under her breath. How much longer will she take? It surely has been at least¡­ ¡°I¡¯m almost done, Kaira, it¡¯s only been two minutes. I can hear you complaining.¡± ¡°what? no, i didn¡¯t say anything. what are you talking about?¡± Kaira sits up to peek over the couch and have a look at her partner in the kitchen, then lies back down, looking all grumpy. ¡°fuck, sorry. i just don''t like being left with my thoughts like this.¡± While Kaira spends a good few seconds fidgeting with her sweater, her partner has enough time to finish doing the (admittedly small amount of) dishes and make her way to the couch, unbeknownst to Kaira. ¡°...¡± ¡°fucking hell¡­ just try to relax. yeah. relax, stay calm. don¡¯t forget to breathe¨C¡± ¡°...Could you make some space for me?¡± ¡°shit, sorry¨C¡± she sits up so that Chloe actually has somewhere to sit. Somewhere near Kaira. ¡°sorry, i don¡¯t mean to complain like that, i usually do that loudly but you¡¯re here and i figured i¡¯d try to be quiet, and¨C¡± ¡°No, no. No need for that. You¡¯re okay.¡± Chloe claims her spot on the couch. Kaira¡¯s rushing mind slows down to a halt. ¡°...yeah. alright.¡± It¡¯s quiet. Both of them can faintly hear each other¡¯s breathing and beating heart ¨C Kaira¡¯s are noticeably more agitated than Chloe¡¯s, but with each consecutive exhale the uncertainty fades away, until it¡¯s almost completely gone. Almost. Kaira rests her aching head on Chloe¡¯s left shoulder. ¡°...How have you been?¡± ¡°i don¡¯t know.¡± That¡¯s not very helpful, Kaira. ¡°...it¡¯s been a little easier since you showed up,¡± she tries her best to fill the awkward silence. ¡°that¡¯s usually how it goes, but¡­ maybe it¡¯s different this time?¡± ¡°...Is it really just you here?¡± ¡°and buddy.¡± Kaira adds. ¡°...And Buddy.¡± ¡°even he doesn¡¯t show up most of the time, though. so¡­ it¡¯s mostly just me. just¡­ me.¡± She stops. Her breathing deepens ever so slightly. ¡°i don¡¯t know, i don¡¯t like thinking too hard about it. even though¡­ i still do that. i can¡¯t help but be thinking about it.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to think about it, then¡­¡± but Chloe didn¡¯t know exactly how to reassure her. ¡°I¡¯ll try to be here sometimes, too.¡± ¡°hey.¡± Kaira looks up at Chloe. It¡¯s a little weird looking up at someone who¡¯s supposed to be shorter. ¡°Yes?¡± Chloe looks back. It¡¯s¡­ very weird looking down at someone who¡¯s supposed to be taller. She¡­ could get used to this, though. Kaira can see her own reflection in Chloe¡¯s eyes. Though blurry, she can still ¨C barely ¨C make it out. Maybe try wiping once more? ??? There, much better. Steam still distorts some of the image painted by the mirror, but¡­ It¡¯s her, undeniably. ¡°...oh, yeah, my hair. i was about to dry it.¡± Wringing her long, dull-black hair, she¡¯s able to get the excess water out and down the sink drain ¨C so it¡¯s not dripping so much all over the damn bathroom floor. With that, and the quick rub of a towel, her hair is finally in a more manageable state ¨C wet hair feels incredibly uncomfortable on her face, shoulders and back. Well¡­ Where were we¡­? Where¡­ It¡¯s like that very word is desperately trying to climb out of her throat. ¡°w¨C... wh¨C...¡± where¡¯s chloe? Kaira bolts out of the bathroom and checks the living room ¨C looking around, double-triple-checking. Wasn¡¯t she here, just now? Oh. ¡°right¡­ she¡¯s gone home.¡± 13. Dont look away. Dry leaves crackle with desperate footsteps, disturbing the quiet late afternoon. Gasping for air, fighting against tree branches, sharp bushes, loose rocks ¨C the very forest that seemingly wants to keep her trapped inside it and make every step so unbearably painful ¨C there she was, Igris. Running and running, hoping to finally get nowhere and become undone, no matter how long it took, now matter how far she had to run, her final destination being the end of her world. Yet another misstep ¨C ¡°gah!¡± ¨C she exclaims, barely breaking her fall with an arm. Add another cut to that one. Her makeup is visibly smeared from crying ¨C maybe with enough tears she¡¯ll be finally able to get this fucking stuff off of her face. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¡°...Deer?¡± Chloe whispers to herself. It¡¯s got to be. Unusual for a deer to be this active and noisy this far into the afternoon¡­ it¡¯s already a little too dark for her liking. Staying at a stranger¡¯s house for hours wasn¡¯t the best idea, even if it was kind of nice¡­ It¡¯s hard for her to admit, but Kaira is still kind of a stranger to her, considering the timespan of barely-a-week since they first met, and though they had their¡­ moments, it doesn¡¯t exactly mean much. Right? You can¡¯t just waltz into someone''s life like that and expect some kind of¡­ anything. What were you expecting, Chloe? ¡­ ¡°Ack!--¡± An audible thud breaks the uncomfortable silence. ¡°O-ow¡­¡± Chloe¡¯s body is grazed by a critter running like it¡¯s the last thing it¡¯ll ever do. ¡°Deer¡­¡± She stumbles and barely catches herself from falling by holding onto the nearest tree, then checks her surroundings, still a bit startled. As she fixes the glasses ready to fall from her face and the culprit uses the last of its strength to get up, both of them end up making eye contact. Igris¡¯ tangled mess of hair covers half of her face. It¡¯s still somehow barely tied into twintails that are just as tattered as her little jester outfit ¨C whatever it is she¡¯s been through, it wasn¡¯t pretty, yet she¡¯s dressed like she¡¯s meant to look pretty regardless of that. ¡°Are you¡­ are you okay?¡± The words struggle to leave Chloe¡¯s mouth. Is this normal for anima folk? Kaira hasn¡¯t told much about her kind, or herself, for that matter. Chloe was too busy worrying about Kaira¡¯s safety to ask too many questions. It did cross her mind that this place could be dangerous, but¡­ that¡¯s just a child. It has more reason to be afraid than Chloe does. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Igris stands in shock. ¡°O-okay¡­?¡± That woman is¡­ oddly pink¡­ and furless. She¡¯s unlike any adult anima Igris has seen before, meaning¡­ ¡°H-human¡­?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Chloe stumbles through her words like she¡¯s still trying to get a hang of herself. ¡°I am not here to hurt you.¡± ¡°Please¡­¡± Igris says in between tears. ¡°Kill me.¡± ??? It¡¯s dark, and raining heavily outside. The smell of freshly brewed milk tea fills the air. ¡°Here, this should warm you up.¡± Chloe carefully passes the hot cup over to Igris, who is sitting on the couch, curled up into a ball, wrapped in a big warm jacket. Igris doesn¡¯t respond, taking a few seconds to even notice the steaming beverage being offered. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Chloe crouches down to Igris¡¯ level, looking at her in the eye, ¡°It¡¯s yummy, I promise. Doesn¡¯t it smell nice?¡± Though Igris¡¯ face remains completely blank, the insistence seems to be enough for her to accept the hot cup. Once in her hands, she looks down on it, her expression unchanged, her innards turning on themselves ¨C it feels like she¡¯s about to throw up the entirety of her intestines, her gag reflex begging to be called upon. ¡­ None of that happens ¨C Chloe lightly pushes up the cup from below with a finger, slowly helping lift it up to Igris¡¯ mouth, to her surprise. The warm steam greets her face with a hug, leading her to finally yield and take a sip. It¡¯s¡­ ¡°...Yummy¡­¡± ¡°See? I told you.¡± Chloe responds with more eye contact, her perfectly neutral expression somehow being more comforting than anything Igris is used to at this point. ¡°Just sit here for now, and drink your yummy tea. I¡¯ll find something to help with your pain.¡± Reaching for Igris¡¯ face, Chloe carefully moves some of her hair to the side ¨C revealing Igris¡¯ right eye ¨C to check the injury once more. ¡­ It¡¯s still hard to look at. Taking her to a doctor is not an option, either. Chloe at the very least hopes she can get rid of the maggots and clean the wound to the best of her ability. ¡°...This is my fault, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be okay. It¡¯s alright.¡± You¡¯re not even sure of that yourself, Chloe. There¡¯s not much that can be done, now. It¡¯s dark outside, people are asleep. The cameras probably saw you coming in with Igris; it¡¯s only a matter of time before questions start coming your way, and things get out of hand. Plus¡­ how long has she been injured this badly for? ¡°Anima folk have been documented to be exceptionally resilient. It is not uncommon for anima offspring to be encouraged into engaging in dangerous activities ¨C though usually not without adult supervision ¨C so as to develop immunities to micro-organisms that would otherwise likely cause death, or severe long-term sequelae. Common infectious agents include: THE VERY SKIN THAT COVERS MY BODY ¡± ¡°Could you maybe smile a little more, Kaira?¡± ¡°this is just what my face looks like.¡± The look on her face is neutral, yet somehow insulting. ¡°Oh, sweetie¡­¡± Eleanore chuckles at the grumpy teenage Kaira. ¡°Your food is going to go cold, too.¡± ¡°i¡¯m not hungry.¡± Eleanore pats Kaira on the head, messing with her hair ¨C it¡¯s curly and cut short, lightly twisting around Elea¡¯s fingers as they run through it. The touch of her hand feels extremely off-putting to Kaira, somehow. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like meat, but you need it to grow up strong, sweetie.¡± Kaira stares at the plate. ¡°i want to kill myself.¡±