After disciplining those pesky Researchers, Page timed out of work and went to the Company’s arena, where she expected to find Jyn and Lilia. When she got there, they were seated and resting along the sidelines, but she didn’t expect to see them seated so close their thighs were practically touching.
She went down the steps and approached them. “Hey there,” she called out. Jyn and Lilia turned their heads. “Finished with work?” Jyn said—in a strangely smooth, soothing, motherly voice that had Page taking a pause and wondering where that came from. She could see Jyn and Lilia giving off comfy colors, like sky and clouds, but, wow, hearing the mood was a lot different. Page smiled. “Someone’s comfortable, huh?”
Lilia and Jyn shifted away from each other slightly. Page giggled, and as soon as she reached them, gently pushed them together again. “Hey now, good things are allowed, right?”
“O-of course,” Jyn said.
Page wished she could parasitize someone else’s warmth a while longer, but she had a very much serious agenda here. “Soo, I actually have a favor to ask…”
Jyn cocked an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Page scratched her cheek. “Funny story…” She recounted accepting Deckert’s offer…leaking national defense secrets along the way without skipping a heartbeat.
“You what?” Jyn sighed. All she could think about was the knee-deep danger Page had willingly placed herself in. She still didn’t have it at the front of her mind that there was a nearby goddess who literally wouldn’t let them die, but this Knight didn’t get this far without a hair-trigger sense of danger.
“Soo yeah”—Page practically kowtowed—“train me, please!”
One of Jyn’s memories resurfaced, of one of her sisters saying almost exactly the same thing. Between them, only one was alive today. “No.”
Page’s mouth was agape. She didn’t think she’d decline. “But…why?”
“You’re acting too recklessly.”
“I know that”—
“Don’t you ever think of the consequences?”
One of Page’s memories resurfaced, and an image of her father saying the same thing overlapped with Jyn. For a second, she choked on words to say, threatened with the possibility of not being able to say anything at all, but… “But then what?”
Jyn’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“Why do you think I joined you? To be…pampered or something?”
“You saw the tests Kalender had to go through. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m going to have to!”
“But why does it have to be tomorrow?”
“Then when?”
“When you can at least kill something more dangerous than a slime.”
Page couldn’t say anything to that. All she could do was clench her teeth behind her lips and look away.
All this time…it was her simplest, dearest wish to be free, not in the sense of having unrestricted access to all the paths of the world, but in being unbarred from making her own choices. Of course she knew the risks of going into the first kilometer of the Monster Wall. Of course her life would be in danger. She wasn’t dumb.
Perhaps, it was just nonsensical to others how she was able to look at the risks and think of them as acceptable, as if life meant nothing to her.
Because that was exactly the case.
Life meant nothing if she couldn’t make her own choices. She lived so far under the thumb of her family to make the safe choices—to make their choices—and what irony that was to have to choose someone else’s choice.
If all that others chose for her were the safe choices, then the only choices left—choices that could be hers—were the ones addled with risk. Those were the only choices that could let her feel alive.
So many words to say…and it was hard to say them to Jyn.
***
[Wisdom of Three (Stage 2) timer reached 00:00:00. Relaxing restrictions.]
***
Unparalleled clarity washed over Page’s mind and heart. She blinked twice, and when that didn’t work, she blinked ten times. It was nothing but weird. Even if she’d just been remembering her childhood just now, she was…calm.
“Page?” Jyn said. The girl was being strange.
Right. Page was fighting—talking to Jyn. She looked to her. How she wished the Knight would just…understand!
Jyn’s experience swiftly magnetized her hand to the hilt of her sword, but another part of her arrested the response. There was some sort of indiscernible pressure bearing down on her mind, forcing its way in, and she knew it was, in all likelihood, coming from Page—but also because it was coming from Page that Jyn forcibly ignored all her instincts.
Her eyes watered, and a tear slid down her cheek. These things were mental attacks, but what kind of mental attack also made the attacker shed tears? What kind of mental attack was so precise that, instead of crushing her mind like it was supposed to, she felt an alien emotion, instead?
It was like being alone in the courtyard of a prison, but free to roam, and fed very well.
Was this…Page’s?…
She relaxed her grip on her sword, though her hands still shook. In front of her, Page gasped. She must have realized what had happened. She started to back off, fear in her eyes, at once understanding what had happened, but failing to know how—but Jyn reached out.
“Please,” she said, “stay.”
There was a dreadful pause before Page gulped and answered, “Okay.”
Jyn stepped closer, relaxing her stance and everything else that could possibly show defensiveness. Once she was close to Page, though, she didn’t know what to do.
Lilia, meanwhile, glanced between the two. She didn’t understanding anything. One moment, they were quietly arguing, then Jyn’s fighting spirit sputtered, then Page became afraid, then Jyn was trying to calm her down.
“Are you…okay?” she asked them. She’d been asking that a lot, lately. Maybe she should check on Kalender next. They didn’t really talk much, after all. Maybe she was being a burden to his whole group and she just didn’t know, either.
The two looked to her, and she saw their glistening eyes. Those eyes could’ve been asking for help, for all she knew, so she obliged.
“Do you…want to talk about it?” she asked, looking between the two, but neither replied. They just looked at her—and each other—with such nervous eyes.
Lilia took a step towards Page. This worked on Jyn a while ago, so it might work again. The theory didn’t turn out exactly right, however, as Page didn’t reciprocate—but neither did she back away. Lilia took this as a sign, and with more confidence, stepped closer still with an element of slow caution.
Then, she was in arm’s reach of her. Page looked at her, and those eyes felt like they pierced into Lilia’s heart. It gripped her. She couldn’t breathe right, and she broke into a cold sweat. Her lungs couldn’t rise.
Even though she felt fear, she wasn’t actually afraid. Fear was something at the back of her mind, not at its forefront, so Lilia pushed on. Her show of courage helped put Page at ease, which lightened the load on Lilia, in turn. It was a self-correcting feedback loop, and it was more than enough for Lilia to finally push through and take Page’s hand.
The pressure lifted entirely. Jyn’s knees gave way, and she collapsed to a kneel. All three of them, no longer short of breath, could hear each other’s panting. Oxygen was good. Oxygen was nice.
“I-I’m sorry,” Page said. A tear crept down Lilia’s and Page’s cheeks, on sync. A bubble of regret was growing, and Lilia could feel it consuming her.
“It’s not your fault,” Lilia said. She squeezed Page’s hand, and the squeeze of alien regret loosened.
Jyn steadied herself as she stood up. Page almost gasped, but Jyn held up her hand—“Please,” she said. Still a little shaky, she approached Page, regret—her own regret—in her heart. “I…didn’t realize.”
The softness in her voice got across better through Page’s ears than Jyn’s new color in Page’s eyes. It was such an unfair double-whammy, but at the same time, she didn’t want any pity.
Jyn knew the type, though. She did have a lot of sisters.
She held out her hand. Page looked down to it.
“I shall train you,” Jyn said.
Page looked up to her, then back to the hand. Lilia, still holding Page’s hand, let go, allowing her to slowly reach out to Jyn’s hand. Page watched as those two hands—it didn’t quite feel like that was her hand—clasped together, and something in her broke.
She…she wasn’t pushed away.
She looked back up to Jyn. The image of her father disappeared. She wasn’t pushed away.
The colors started to turn all swirly. She wiped her eyes. What’s with today? Really, what’s with today?
After disciplining those pesky Researchers, Page timed out of work and went to the Company’s arena, where she expected to find Jyn and Lilia. When she got there, they were seated and resting along the sidelines, but she didn’t expect to see them seated so close their thighs were practically touching.
She went down the steps and approached them. “Hey there,” she called out. Jyn and Lilia turned their heads. “Finished with work?” Jyn said—in a strangely smooth, soothing, motherly voice that had Page taking a pause and wondering where that came from. She could see Jyn and Lilia giving off comfy colors, like sky and clouds, but, wow, hearing the mood was a lot different. Page smiled. “Someone’s comfortable, huh?”
Lilia and Jyn shifted away from each other slightly. Page giggled, and as soon as she reached them, gently pushed them together again. “Hey now, good things are allowed, right?”
“O-of course,” Jyn said.
Page wished she could parasitize someone else’s warmth a while longer, but she had a very much serious agenda here. “Soo, I actually have a favor to ask…”
Jyn cocked an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Page scratched her cheek. “Funny story…” She recounted accepting Deckert’s offer…leaking national defense secrets along the way without skipping a heartbeat.
“You what?” Jyn sighed. All she could think about was the knee-deep danger Page had willingly placed herself in. She still didn’t have it at the front of her mind that there was a nearby goddess who literally wouldn’t let them die, but this Knight didn’t get this far without a hair-trigger sense of danger.
“Soo yeah”—Page practically kowtowed—“train me, please!”
One of Jyn’s memories resurfaced, of one of her sisters saying almost exactly the same thing. Between them, only one was alive today. “No.”
Page’s mouth was agape. She didn’t think she’d decline. “But…why?”
“You’re acting too recklessly.”
“I know that”—
“Don’t you ever think of the consequences?”
One of Page’s memories resurfaced, and an image of her father saying the same thing overlapped with Jyn. For a second, she choked on words to say, threatened with the possibility of not being able to say anything at all, but… “But then what?”
Jyn’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“Why do you think I joined you? To be…pampered or something?”
“You saw the tests Kalender had to go through. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m going to have to!”
“But why does it have to be tomorrow?”
“Then when?”
“When you can at least kill something more dangerous than a slime.”
Page couldn’t say anything to that. All she could do was clench her teeth behind her lips and look away.
All this time…it was her simplest, dearest wish to be free, not in the sense of having unrestricted access to all the paths of the world, but in being unbarred from making her own choices. Of course she knew the risks of going into the first kilometer of the Monster Wall. Of course her life would be in danger. She wasn’t dumb.
Perhaps, it was just nonsensical to others how she was able to look at the risks and think of them as acceptable, as if life meant nothing to her.
Because that was exactly the case.
Life meant nothing if she couldn’t make her own choices. She lived so far under the thumb of her family to make the safe choices—to make their choices—and what irony that was to have to choose someone else’s choice.
If all that others chose for her were the safe choices, then the only choices left—choices that could be hers—were the ones addled with risk. Those were the only choices that could let her feel alive.
So many words to say…and it was hard to say them to Jyn.
***
[Wisdom of Three (Stage 2) timer reached 00:00:00. Relaxing restrictions.]
***
Unparalleled clarity washed over Page’s mind and heart. She blinked twice, and when that didn’t work, she blinked ten times. It was nothing but weird. Even if she’d just been remembering her childhood just now, she was…calm.
“Page?” Jyn said. The girl was being strange.
Right. Page was fighting—talking to Jyn. She looked to her. How she wished the Knight would just…understand!
Jyn’s experience swiftly magnetized her hand to the hilt of her sword, but another part of her arrested the response. There was some sort of indiscernible pressure bearing down on her mind, forcing its way in, and she knew it was, in all likelihood, coming from Page—but also because it was coming from Page that Jyn forcibly ignored all her instincts.
Her eyes watered, and a tear slid down her cheek. These things were mental attacks, but what kind of mental attack also made the attacker shed tears? What kind of mental attack was so precise that, instead of crushing her mind like it was supposed to, she felt an alien emotion, instead?
It was like being alone in the courtyard of a prison, but free to roam, and fed very well.
Was this…Page’s?…
She relaxed her grip on her sword, though her hands still shook. In front of her, Page gasped. She must have realized what had happened. She started to back off, fear in her eyes, at once understanding what had happened, but failing to know how—but Jyn reached out.
“Please,” she said, “stay.”
There was a dreadful pause before Page gulped and answered, “Okay.”
Jyn stepped closer, relaxing her stance and everything else that could possibly show defensiveness. Once she was close to Page, though, she didn’t know what to do.
Lilia, meanwhile, glanced between the two. She didn’t understanding anything. One moment, they were quietly arguing, then Jyn’s fighting spirit sputtered, then Page became afraid, then Jyn was trying to calm her down.
“Are you…okay?” she asked them. She’d been asking that a lot, lately. Maybe she should check on Kalender next. They didn’t really talk much, after all. Maybe she was being a burden to his whole group and she just didn’t know, either.
The two looked to her, and she saw their glistening eyes. Those eyes could’ve been asking for help, for all she knew, so she obliged.
“Do you…want to talk about it?” she asked, looking between the two, but neither replied. They just looked at her—and each other—with such nervous eyes.
Lilia took a step towards Page. This worked on Jyn a while ago, so it might work again. The theory didn’t turn out exactly right, however, as Page didn’t reciprocate—but neither did she back away. Lilia took this as a sign, and with more confidence, stepped closer still with an element of slow caution.
Then, she was in arm’s reach of her. Page looked at her, and those eyes felt like they pierced into Lilia’s heart. It gripped her. She couldn’t breathe right, and she broke into a cold sweat. Her lungs couldn’t rise.
Even though she felt fear, she wasn’t actually afraid. Fear was something at the back of her mind, not at its forefront, so Lilia pushed on. Her show of courage helped put Page at ease, which lightened the load on Lilia, in turn. It was a self-correcting feedback loop, and it was more than enough for Lilia to finally push through and take Page’s hand.
The pressure lifted entirely. Jyn’s knees gave way, and she collapsed to a kneel. All three of them, no longer short of breath, could hear each other’s panting. Oxygen was good. Oxygen was nice.
“I-I’m sorry,” Page said. A tear crept down Lilia’s and Page’s cheeks, on sync. A bubble of regret was growing, and Lilia could feel it consuming her.
“It’s not your fault,” Lilia said. She squeezed Page’s hand, and the squeeze of alien regret loosened.
Jyn steadied herself as she stood up. Page almost gasped, but Jyn held up her hand—“Please,” she said. Still a little shaky, she approached Page, regret—her own regret—in her heart. “I…didn’t realize.”
The softness in her voice got across better through Page’s ears than Jyn’s new color in Page’s eyes. It was such an unfair double-whammy, but at the same time, she didn’t want any pity.
Jyn knew the type, though. She did have a lot of sisters.
She held out her hand. Page looked down to it.
“I shall train you,” Jyn said.
Page looked up to her, then back to the hand. Lilia, still holding Page’s hand, let go, allowing her to slowly reach out to Jyn’s hand. Page watched as those two hands—it didn’t quite feel like that was her hand—clasped together, and something in her broke.
She…she wasn’t pushed away.
She looked back up to Jyn. The image of her father disappeared. She wasn’t pushed away.
The colors started to turn all swirly. She wiped her eyes. What’s with today? Really, what’s with today?
