Chapter Text

Ⅰ

V oices. I know they’re voices. It’s hot and I’m aching in a pain that I can’t recall the reason for.

“Shit, are they dead?” 

A woman's voice soothes my ears like honey soothing a sore throat, it relaxes me for a short second. Their voice is soothing but their words come across authoritative but carefree at the same time?

 Another person speaks. however they’re the complete opposite from the other. 

“They'd Better not be, they owe me 1,048 Alions.” 

They sound cunning. Like a young fox, his voice is light and holds the same carefree tone, but I’ve decided that it’s cute and cunning while simultaneously annoying.  

“You’re hustling a dead person? My respect for you falls lower every day.”  

Who are they, and where am I? I open my eyes to find two dark figures standing over me, with the sun behind them. Before I get a chance to focus clearly on the two, their faces are inches away from mine. I jolt back into a brick wall that I’m leaned up against, and the pain comes rushing back. 

"Hey, be careful. The medicine worked but you're still in pretty bad condition. Can you talk?"

It's her voice again, I open my eyes for a second time;this time I can see both of their faces clearly. They've backed up away from my face a little but they're still overwhelmingly close, and their faces are mesmerizing? It's flustering. The man on the right scoffs and turns twoards the woman. I get a chance to focus on them both. The man looks fairly young. His pale skin made me wonder if doesn’t go outside too often. He wears a black cloak with the rounded hood over his head, the cloak ends at his waist where black trousers begin. There's a brown leather thigh bag on his side. It looks pretty full. My eyes jot back at the sudden movement under the top of his hood. His facial expression looks tense and his face has gone bright pink. 

“Stop staring.”  

He turns back towards me, his gray and blueish eyes glaring down at me; they’re quite pretty. I was staring intensely, but I deserve to know what the people clamoring over me look like. The woman on the right chuckles, 

“Sorry, he's sensitive to his surroundings. We found you lying at the front gate. You were basically on the verge of death.” The woman looked at me, her eyes were a fierce black, so clear that I could see my reflection through them, I didn’t take the time to look though. The more I focus on her features the more I tune her voice out.

 Her skin is so smooth and a warm amber color, I resist the urge to poke and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Her dark black hair is styled in a thick messy side cut, the hairstyle fits her face shape. She wears a black sleeveless turtleneck that reveals the toned muscles, and scars of her arms. Over her shoulder and across her torso is a brown leather shoulder belt. The bag looks full; I assume these two are scavengers? She clears her throat, making my eyes dart back up at hers. She seems flustered? 

“Did you hear me? Do you have a place to stay? A name?” Her brow furrows worriedly. 

The hooded one shifts from a squatting position into sitting cross-legged.

“Do you always thoroughly examine everyone you meet?”

 He sits with his arms crossed and a deep thinking expression, not expecting an answer from me. Those questions make me think. What is my name? That's the one thing that everyone knows about themselves, right? Do I not have a name? Is taking time to observe people really that uncommon? He turns toward her again

. 

“Maybe they're mute, or deaf?” 

He turns back towards me, looking for a reaction. 

Mute or deaf. That's an interesting observation. Although I know I’m not deaf I’m not even sure whether I can speak or not; and I don’t have the energy to try and find out at the moment. Why do I know nothing of myself? The woman nods and begins to sign with a questioning expression.
“Do you have a name?” 

I understand what she's signed to me, but I don’t remember ever learning this language. This only gives me more questions. 

“Maybe they don’t sign Esfali?”

“Well that's all I know.” 

Esfali; that must be the language here. I understand this language, that means I must be from here; right? Going with these people is the best choice for me in my situation. They seem trustworthy enough. 

The boy tilts his head to the side and sighs,“We should just bring them along. Maybe someone at the tavern could help.”

They stand up and look down at me again. The woman reaches her hand out towards me to help me up. Why are they so interested in helping a dying stranger? I take her hand and she pulls me up. Pain in my legs rush up to my spine, I nearly fall down to my knees before the woman catches me and swings my arm over her shoulder. I notice she's taller than me. To my left my other arm is placed around the hooded one's shoulder. We began to slowly walk, the pain in my legs stinging with every step. I realized the boy’s shorter than me, I’m not shorter or taller than either of them, the way we lined up could be compared to a staircase. It's quite funny to think about.

“What’re you smiling about? We take the wrong steps and I’m sure you’d be in a great amount of pain.” The boy scoffed, annoyed but also worried. 

“Maybe the poor boy is grateful, Meino.” She sighed relieved, “We never told you our names. I’m Zalira, but please call me Zali. He's Calmeino, but we like to call him Nizar.” She laughs and looks towards the boy; Calmeino?

  He sighs, “Do not call me that. My name is Al. And please. Never call me Meino.” He replied, sounding exhausted, like he's repeated this multiple times. 

A name. I don’t have a name. I have to have a name, I just don’t know my name? They found me on the verge of death, so I’ve suffered memory loss? Memory loss that makes me forget my home, name, and identity? Who am I?