You're It

[Warning: non-consensual content]

"Likened to compressing an ocean in a bottle, the gods compressed all beauty in Adastrielle's body."

-Apparition reports of the Frozen Candle

©

Some folk are kind to the world; bare hands from soil giving away free crops, fingers calloused by hammers constructing free housing, yet the world doesn't reciprocate. Fate seems lenient with dangerous storms and abusive authorities to ridicule these honest men. But a few reasonable minorities decided to mirror the unkind life shoved to their faces, trying to outsmart fate because they are tired of disappointment. From the windfallen veterans to the youth of old souls, they know how the scale was rigged to favour the unfair. The Sailor navigated both of these facets whenever embarking upon this realm, naturally cold to most while treating others with firewood warmth. But now, he breathes frost itself, too frigid that the spirited crowds who were mindlessly revelling in hallways managed to part for him, for the height of cold danger the Sailor exudes contests Mt. Mynareth itself.

His back was damp from the thorn-filled wounds he gathered in the apothecary's garden, streams of blood trickling down his legs and painting the ancient halls red again. But he doesn't mind, it just reminds him that he still holds life, a mockery to those he drowned and perished for the sake of his friend's identity.

"Friend..." He scoffed.

His screaming anger could reach beyond the skyline but he kept it muffled through the rising of his ribs. He had just rudely barged into the Study Hall and interrupted the Nobles to see if his 'friend' was still in the company of the Ocmenians, but they grew infuriated with him and locked their doors. It was even Geraldine fucking Prudence who sealed him out, it was obvious from the early banquet that when asked for a diplomatic guard, all eyes landed on her. But Ian'drah believes in a vision where his 'friend' breathes safely in foreign territory under his protection, no one else's.

"Ohdyno... ohdyno... ohhyno..."

(disgusting, disgusting, disgusting...)

He chants to himself.

"Zhivorotny Ian'drah, Ohdyno, lyde'kha... Plovynkye muey ebyyr Ian'drah..."

(You're too horrible Ian'drah, You're a disgusting, Sailor... Give me my freedom Ian'drah...)

A teardrop joined the smears of blood on his tracks. What he's been mumbling to himself were the probable words that his 'friend' might say, under the logic that by the time those words left Sion's lips, they won't hurt him as much.

"Ist avichzyye'm, ist avichzyye'm, ist avichzyye'm..."

(you're suffocating me, you're suffocating me, you're suffocating me...)

With his tears trickling, joints in painful friction, and bones anchoring him down. It was then that he first felt the cold anguish.

The very first time he experienced coldness.

"Oh my fucking gods! what in Inferno were you thinking?! Nita help me!" Drina had caught Sion's feet, she had never run so fast in her entire life when she saw the future Sovenian ambassador dive outside the only tower window.

"Viri's tits! is that the Ambassador?" Amanita laughed nervously from her tower door.

"Just hurry here and help me you cunt!"

Amanita ran and grabbed his stepbrother's other leg, to the ladies' surprise the boy weighs heavier than he looks, his soft face and features disguising the mass of muscles hidden in his clothes. They managed to pull his body back, quite astonished that his skin feels softer than both of them. The three of them sat under the window catching their breath on the carpet like mindless hounds.

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" Drina hit the young alchemist on his shoulder. Sion tried to rise back to the window but four strong hands pulled him back to land hard on his bum.

"No! No! I swear a little girl jumped off this window!" He tried to rise again but Drina had enough, she rose faster than the boy could, stepping on his shoulder to pin him down as she check on the patio below if there was ever a girl who committed suicide, but the banquet is still empty.

"He must be seeing ghosts, the Castle is littered with those restless scums." Amanita said while holding the boy down beside her.

"Yeah, I saw no girls, boys, gods, saints, peacocks, cows or 'ghosts' down there..." The Silver Lady raised her brow when some few nobles arrived on the patio, "only pigs." She crouched beside Sion, inspecting him while doing her best to avoid his eyes. "Either he's a medium or a hallucinating drunkard, open your mouth." She slapped the boy's cheek which promoted the lad to obey. She's the future Kazer of his home province after all and he doesn't want to be homeless.

"Smells like flowers..." Amanita was dumbfounded, obviously enjoying these outrageous events.

"Vartholo's balls it does." Drina stood up in disbelief, locking the window panes shut in case the handsome madman tried to be acrobatic again.

"I swear there was a little girl who jumped off the window!" Sion protested as the burns of panic, guilt, and frustration gathered bitterly to itch his scalp.

"One more time I hear you say that and there will be a real girl jumping off the window." Drina took the boy hostage with her grip, pulling him away from the hazardous stairs to head back inside Amanita's Alchemy Tower. Goodness knows where this lad would jump off next time. Amanita locked the door behind them as Drina sat the boy down, stepping her foot up his arm-rest to corner him in place.

"Sion Blackmercy, you're a Dirgean Citizen under my rule, and I don't wish for any Dirgeans throwing themselves out the window when I'm around, understood?"

"But the girl..."

The Silver Lady slapped him across his perfect face, somehow she felt that her left palm became more beautiful.

"Listen here you little shit, don't make it anymore obvious that you're also a medium like your mother. I saw everything, I was descending the spiral stairs earlier but you came charging my way like a madman, screaming the Queen's name before jumping off the window! Does too much alchemy mess up the brain!?" She looked between the two alchemists in front of her, affirming her own question as they stare back like unhinged savants. She ran towards a window again to check the Patio, which is still empty except for a few guards and guests. "By the gods, good thing you're going to be sent to other lands or else the people of Sovenia will burn you if they learned that you're a medium too."

"Bitch, How could they burn such a beautiful face?" Amanita held her little brother's reddened cheeks, squirming as she pinch them gently. Her fingers travelled to his long hair, warm and soft like lukewarm moisture upon her touch. Lifting a few strands to her palms the mixed scent of wildflowers oozing through springtime showers visited her nose, making her form a smile.

"You use Glassbell Extract too when you wash your hair?

"Ah yes."

The same mother, the same hair wash.

"Then how in inferno is yours healthier than mine when we use the same thing?"

"Ian'drah." Drina answered.

"Oh right..." Amanita recalled how the Sailor would die if this man were unfolded and exposed, even from the treacherous sun. And by now, the Sailor must have been through the doors of Mozdin countless times.

(Mozdin, God of Destined Death)

"Oh sweet reunion, I'll give you both time to talk alone, I'll go light the tower's torches to tell Ian'drah of his precious snowberry's whereabouts." Drina stormed off the tower.

"And there she goes... I apologize for her harshness." Amanita sat down beside him, holding his hand gently.

"No I understand, if I were in her place I'd be mad too..."

Amanita was about to hold Sion's other hand but she noticed the crown of perfect ice that he's been holding all along. "Wait, what's that on your hand?" she pointed down to it.

"Ah, this belongs to that little girl who you know... turned out to be a ghost." Sion was convinced, no one saw Ingrid except him.

Amanita held out her hand to burrow the crown because Sion's palms were red and numb from holding it too long. She inspects the coronet weighing on her hand, strange, this must be worth a hefty amount of Akan coins. Running behind the boy, she cleared her throat and assumed her position. "I now proclaim you as Sovenia's First Ocmen-Ambassador..." she had placed the crown on Sion's crimson head, initiating a mock-crowning. "May he bring peace through the ancient strife of both nations!" she clapped in enthusiasm.

"This night really shocked everyone doesn't it?" Sion said while his eyes hiked through thousands of unlabeled alchemical bottles contained within ice cabinets, circling the walls and reaching the high ceiling of the tower. He stood up to check the patio, the ledge replenished with dried ingredients and specimens hanging from the rampant vines that trespassed the tower's window.

"Don't jump okay?" Amanita tugged on his cloak. When Sion looked down, the patio really was near desolate.

"It doesn't make any sense..." he mumbled.

"If nothing makes sense, then that's when you know you really are attending a Graygreen Party." Amanita closed the windows shut. "Want to play the Alchemist's Demise to kill time?" she paced to her Ice Cabinets.

"I thought you'd never ask." Sion followed, watching the Grey Lady as she ascend her ladder to access the higher cabinets.

This moment would tell who among Miriam's children is nearer the mother's footstep. And they both secretly look forward to it.

"Why do you hold wasteful parties each night? it seems like you hold these for entertainment and not for class!" Sion shouted from below, catching the first potion that Amanita had thrown at him.

"Oh ask my Father!" She shouted back, "Though he once mentioned that it was to appease the citizens when they found out of our mother's dilemma. So, he's been throwing money since Miriam's exile!"

"But, do you enjoy these parties yourself!?" he had caught another bottle.

"In some way, yes, I was the one who brewed all the mead served tonight! I spit on the boilers first before they get chilled of course! I'm not fond of this nightly tradition, I'm usually asleep already around this hour..." She had gathered the other potions needed for the game, setting them on the nearest table one by one.

"You know the rules, correct? Of course, you do." She pushed the lined bottles closer to the other alchemist. Games between two scholars of alchemy are considered as a session of competitive learning instead of folk tradition, where they assess each other's deficiencies depending on the outcome.

A wide smirk covered by a gloved hand, Amanita watched as Sion uncorked the first bottle, its dark fume of crimson circumventing his face. This stench... He backed away, Sion tried to hold his breath and cover his nose but it was all for nought. The aroma of Red Ginseng, the tangy specks of Pale Springpeppers, hints of Askala's Cap fermented with the odour of fresh oyster's blood. And finally, the loamy scent of Aspen Morel serving as the final wrapping of this odd present to him... Amanita was brewing an Aphrodisiac drug all along!

It was too potent, a single whiff sent the boy down the carpet, a burning sensation burning through his chest to spread to his now oiled joints. "Lady Graygreen... why?" his lips were shuddering like the last leaf of autumn, every breath laboured and vocal.

"Oh, muey zhiv harnubroc... you're correct, this night really shocked everyone..."

(Oh, my poor beautiful brother)

"Let me help you dearly." She knelt behind him, hands trekking from the bear fur on his shoulder to the deep clefts of his feverish neck- sensitively ticklish from her breath, "Oh my! you're burning up!" She cruised south to fondle his chest slowly, swelling his nipples upon the friction of her fingers as she massage through the smooth, muscled flesh. Sion's throat begged to scream but it came out as surges of moaning, he wanted to run but the boy can't feel his legs, making him falter behind and land on Lady Graygreen's bosom, fucking Aspen Morels...

"You're sweating buckets little brother! Oooh, Ian'drah would be mad if you wear soaked clothes! Let me change them for you."

Her fingers untied the knots and ribbons of his robes, large wave of heat escaping his body as his clothes were stripped from him. Amanita carefully disassembled every piece of clothing until the moonlight could touch Sion's bare skin, perfection exposed to the night. She tried to remove the coronet of perfect ice but it was too small that it became stuck on his head, even with the sweat from his long hair. She figured that he'll need it to cool his head in case his body won't be able to handle the heat later.

"This is the real banquet of the night!" She stared at the boy's bulging undergarment, she would be lying to say she was not tempted. "Should I remove your undergarment as well? is it getting too tight? oh wait, you'll discard it yourself later..."

She held each side of Sion's Jaw, "Want me to sing you a song, baby brother?"

"Why are you doing this? Please stop..."

But her Grey Eminence didn't hear him.

"Oh the breath of Mynareth's froast,

The Eyes of Syrosh, the Glassway Ghosts,

The everyday rain in Graygreen Border,

The Bardenburgh Bards, The Dirgean... Hoarders."

"please...." the boy cried as the song travelled the walls like a widow.

"Come, come, to cold Sovenia, land of blood and snow!"

"Come, come, come to Sovenia, the forgotten gods... Know."

"The party's boilers... the hall of naked nobles... you... you brewed their mead!" Sion connected the dots, earning himself childish applause from The Grey Lady.

"Ah! what a prodigy you are! I thought you're merely book smart but perhaps I was wrong." She stood up, grabbing the unlabeled aphrodisiac from the table and pouring all its viscous content down to lubricate the naked boy, smothering all hope- now he's a big, sweat-drenched, hot mess. One bottle of this Aphrodisiac is enough to spike every alcohol in the castle, so to say that Sion is a sex fiend by now is an understatement.

Amanita smiled to herself, she knows that the Sailor hasn't eaten a single bite from the banquet earlier- Now, she had just served him a dish on a silver platter that would surely satisfy his hunger.

"Good night brother... I guess I really am Miriam's daughter after all."

Some folks are kind to the world, some are not.