Chapter Text
Things used to be different. She moved on.
Nashatra Bealdhild hated thinking about her past. It wasn’t to say her past was full of tribulations, no, she was luckier than many others. She had the opportunity to grow, safe from the war in her hometown of pirates and anarchy. She had family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances to support her journey the entire way. If Nash believed herself to be a river, her allies were the many who lifted the rocks and wood obstructing her river from flowing freely.
Despite her belief, Nash adored almost every aspect of her past. No, it would be suffice to say she missed it. She missed the sound of cannonfire and the laughs of her hometown as they drowned themselves in alcohol, singing sea shanties Nash hummed in the brink of silence. She missed Adelaide, the bunny-girl’s eccentric and constant hops as gazing at the woman’s figure felt like smoldering in the sun. She missed her home, a place where Nash rested with only worries for the future, never the present.
Nash recalled gazing up at the stars, arms around her knees as the soft winds of the shore twirled around her hair like a ballroom dance. The rough feeling of sand and the thrills of night lured her to sleep, only to be interrupted with a name—one far too unfamiliar in her current state—jolting her awake.
She doesn’t like thinking about the past, there was much to do as a sleepwalker and little to change. A golden net replaced gritty sand, the whims of a sword replaced soft winds, and wars sang around her hair, irritatingly blowing it in her face. Reminiscing about the past would only drag her down, drown her in a sea of regret. There was nothing to do except move on. Nashatra Bealdhild is a sleepwalker. She was to support the world in its safety until her final unknown: death.
It was time to wake up. Nashatra Bealdhild awoke from her rest…and found herself with the burning feeling of swallowing saltwater.
—
Nashatra gasped for breath, inhaling copious amounts of saltwater as she kicked her feet in a fruitless attempt to float. She had no clue as to how she ended up here, not that the woman cared as saltwater entered her throat and burrowed itself deep into her throat and lungs.
"One day death will return my body, my head will return my bad thoughts, my eyes will see the light of perfection, and there will be no time."
A growing uselessness engulfed the sleepwalker as she realized with shock and bitterness: she was going to die. Her vision blanked, growing darker as her inner thoughts betrayed the elevating of hands that accomplished no end to this deep ocean. It only felt like seconds, seconds for Nash to internally remark about the cruelty of a sleepwalker perishing this pathetically before a hand hard as steel gripped hers, and pulled.
Nash erupted onto shores hard as stone, vomiting water as footsteps rushed away from her ears. She was shivering, but she supposed any would when challenged with frigid water. The sleepwalker continued to cough and vomit, dry-heaving the remnants of saltwater. Nash focused on the palm of her hand against stone to anchor her as footsteps ran out and covered her in a heated blanket. She felt warmer even as her ears rang and any sounds the other party made felt like background music. Nash was sure she herself said something, but the ringing of her ears left her deaf to even the words the girl herself spoke.
She finished retching and relaxed her body against the wall, inhaling and exhaling numerous times before the thrill of drowning calmed itself. This wasn’t her first time drowning, inhaling water was common in the line of piracy. But how did the sleepwalker get to this point? Why was she about to drown? What happened to displace her in the middle of an ocean?
“Putz grila,” Nashatra muttered. “...thank you,” Nash opened her eyes, staring at the familiar blue-haired android, “Eunoia.”
She was on a stone platform leading to two wooden docks out into a foggy sea of stained water. Nash recognized the disturbing silence of the sea, leading way to the chorus of the air’s unsatisfied whispers. The smell of corpses entered her nose, a dark twist in comparison to the usual smell of fish near the ocean. Graveyard Sea was home to no fish, no aquatic life. It was home to corpses.
The sleepwalker was used to Eunoia’s corporate-smile, a smile which turned upwards with glee whenever Nashatra requested assistance from the android. However, Eunoia’s expression held a frown, hands on her hips as she inquisitively picked apart Nash like a bug under a microscope. It made her shift uncomfortably, but it was common decency not to bite the hand that saved her.
“Are you alright, Valencia?” Eunoia asked, surveying Nashatra. “Your body temperature seems to be stabilized, and there appear to be little side-effects. How are you feeling? Is there any discomfort?”
To any, it would seem like Eunoia was worried about Nashatra. The sleepwalker admitted the high possibility that Eunoia was indeed worried about her state, but Nash felt a double-sided weight upon Eunoia’s question. The girl no doubt analyzed Nash’s predicament, in both a physical and a mental sense. Was she looking for an answer only Nash could grant?
“I’m alright, though I appreciate the gesture,” Nash said. “I suppose that makes you my savior, huh?”
Eunoia softened, giggling at Nash’s comment before Nash felt the android’s arm around hers, raising her onto her feet. “It is within my programming to assist any in danger, but it is always a pleasure to come across your presence, Valencia! We have a lot to talk about, however.”
Nash coughed, allowing the android to guide her into the store. “Am I in the process of being interrogated? I don’t believe it’s policy to interrogate a drowning woman.”
“I would rather you view this as a friendly get-together!” Eunoia replied happily, temporarily releasing Nash by the android’s desk to open the backdoor.
“Great…I’ll be interrogated over tea.”
Eunoia led Nash to the kitchen past half-built bookshelves and crates. It was a quaint kitchen, a tiny one fit for a sole person. Even so, Nash sat on a table for one, exhaling in relief as she tied her blanket closer. There was no need for worry. Nash may have her reservations surrounding the android, but there was no reason for the android to save her if Eunoia held malicious intentions. Her focus was instead fixated on the weird feeling consuming her since the sleepwalker awoke. Adelaide had once made fun of Nash for her inability to recognize the most obvious of details. It came with her personality to overthink, cast justified paranoia on a situation that could turn sour at a moment’s cost.
There was something so obviously missing from the sleepwalker. It was a feeling equivalent to losing a limb, as if a great loss accompanied her, one she just couldn’t remember. This loss, which consumed her thoughts faster than seconds of drowning, reminded her of a past filled with indecision and physical discomfort. She hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since green spiky hats and explosive-logo apparel.
She gritted her teeth in slight irritation, is she still dazed by her time underwater? Perhaps if she rewinded, it would strike Nash like the weight of a giant rabbit. What was she doing before? Nash had visited Vulcanic Heights out of a whim, scaling stone steps to reach its peak. The flame…a floating flame at the volcano’s summit, which enticed the sleepwalker enough to grasp it.
The gentle clatter of a teacup interrupted her thoughts. Eunoia sat opposite of Nash, her gaze never leaving the sleepwalker. “Is there any discomfort to your body, Valencia?” Eunoia questioned. “Sleepwalkers such as yourself recover faster than the average human, but there can be discomfort beyond a person’s physical state.”
“...I am alright, Eunoia,” Nash half-lied, initiating a staring contest with the android.
“I apologize for my wording,” Eunoia stared back unflinchingly, “but I believe you aren’t honest. Though I’m unaware if it was to convince me, or yourself.”
After a few seconds of silence, Nash broke the staring contest to set her eyes on the kitchen’s mirror, scanning her form. She internally cheered at her unruined outfit—one doesn’t look this fashionable without hours of preparation—before chugging her tea in one brisk attempt. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must return to my duties. When we meet again, I would like to treat you to something for saving me…preferably without the feeling of staying in a police station.”
“I would love to, Valencia,” Eunoia replied. Nash paused in surprise, half-frozen in her quest to stand. Truthfully, the sleepwalker expected Eunoia to say a lot more. Advice for her to rest after drowning in cold water, a request for an answer to satiate Eunoia’s curiosity, perhaps some analysis the android gathered after her thoughts arrived at an objective conclusion. The sight of a still Eunoia befuddled the girl.
“...okay,” Nash said, pulling out her crowbar. She imagined the 12th House, its small and quaint appearance, and teleported back to its brick walls. …Atleast, that was supposed to happen to the sleepwalker obviously not in the compact house. “What the…” Nash attempted to use the crowbar again to no avail, even failing to switch its mode. There was a silly thought, one that asked if crowbars had expiration days and she needed to find a crowbar repairman—or woman, the repairwoman would most likely be Eunoia—except the crowbar’s inability to function made sense. A horrifying, amount of sense.
“Nashatra…” the sleepwalker whipped her head over to Eunoia, her mouth tilted downwards—because obviously the android knew—and her eyes fashioned on the crowbar in curiosity. “I am afraid I once again have to apologize for my cruel assumption. Whatever you experienced before ending up in the sea must have shook you greatly. But may I ask you a question?”
Nash stayed quiet, her expression in disbelief as Eunoia asked. “How did someone with PSY end up almost drowning in the sea? A sleepwalker’s “Rebirth Vision” should have allowed you to see the numerous possibilities ending in your demise, and you should have been able to foresee it. That alone already implies that you’re awake, but an individual as powerful as yourself wouldn’t have drowned. Unless, if you’ve lost your PSY abilities.”
“I…” Nash scrambled through her mind, desperately attempting to recall the events that transpired after Vulcanic Heights. She looked in the mirror, checking out her beautiful and lovely self, hoping to recall a hint of her escapade.
Vulcanic Heights. Fire.
There was nothing the sleepwalker acknowledged but the flashing of her thoughts. Were words being said? Rebounded out of the girl lost in time? Nothing but her breaths and growing heartbeat were evident at the moment.
Windy Island. …Graveyard Sea.
Cold. It was cold.
“...Guardia in Exile,” she breathed out, and everything felt silent. Too silent. And a voice began to speak.
"One day death will return my body, my head will return my bad thoughts, my eyes will see the light of perfection, and there will be no time." A voice whispered in her ear. Her breath stilled. The entire room stilled, in fact, as if it were nothing more than a memory she could see yet never touch.
“You…you aren’t supposed to be here.” She gripped her head and sealed her eyes shut. Nashatra Bealdhild hated thinking about her past. It was far too different now from the past she once knew, loved. Nothing will be the same, nothing would ever be the same. Yet she hated thinking about her past because it gave her hope, hope that simply returning with her best foot forward could bring back the past. That throwing everything away that made Nashatra Bealdhild the person she was would be alright. That perhaps, the past missed and would accept Nash with gentle arms of motherhood. Nash the world she abandoned.
Voices rang in her ear. But the world she left behind wouldn’t miss Nash…at least not her.
A purple hallway. A swordfight. A stab to the chest. Words so memorable, it was almost as if he was in the room with her. How DARE you come to my resting place after you took my role. Like phantom hands which just wouldn’t let go, Nashatra Bealdhild forced open her eyes. And came face to face with the reflection of Darius Barbault, gaze as scalding as fire. Damn the world, damn you, it said, and sprinted out the mirror, hand inching near her face.
Nash unsheathed her sword, and with fluidity like flowing water, shattered the mirror. “You shouldn’t be here!” She shouted, the apparition vanishing as arms went under her shoulders and carried her up. The sleepwalker struggled like a rabid animal, under no circumstance to return this body to death’s grasp before a chin sat on her shoulder.
“Nash, it’s okay, you’re alright,” Eunoia soothed, and Nash stilled as the room came back to her and the sleepwalker recognized reality, fumbling her sword with a loud clang as her pupils stopped dilating at a hallucination. She was in a kitchen, a tiny kitchen that can barely fit a guest with a tea-making android as its owner. Not purple hallways. Not orange skies. Nashatra Bealdhild was—is…safe.
“...it is our role to be ready,” her voice cracked, “I was only chosen,” Nash muttered out, her tone trembling in the melancholy that threatened to leak out of her tongue like an elusive serpent.
Eunoia hugged her gently, whispering words of affirmations. Despite the android’s physical body, it was admittedly nice. It was rough and cold, yet she found herself relaxing in the android’s benign grip. “Whoever it was you encountered before your arrival won’t hurt you anymore. I would never allow a guest to come into harm’s way, Nashatra. I swear it. Only the two of us will ever be here.”
Nash scoffed silently, but allowed the android to continue hugging the sleepwalker until the trembling of her hands cooled and Eunoia gently released Nash on the ground. “You’re right…I doubt a person who no longer exists can bring me harm.”
“‘A person who no longer exists?’”
“Nevermind.” Nash sighed. “That’s twice you’ve helped me out now. I feel embarrassed, like a child at a daycare.”
“There’s nothing wrong with displaying vulnerabilities,” Eunoia assured Nash, who returned that statement with a dry stare. “Sleepwalker or no, you are all human at the end of the day. Not even the greatest of humans can abandon human emotion.” Eunoia chuckled. “I don’t believe even I can.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Nash winced at the shattered mirror. “I’ll help you clean up. I have enough studs to repay you for that mirror.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I can’t keep relying on you to resolve my messes, Eunoia,” Nash interrupted. “And it’ll keep my mind off of things. The least I can do is answer whatever questions you have for me.”
Eunoia stared at Nash with a cute pout of worry, but the sleepwalker ignored it in favor of walking towards the broom at the corner of the kitchen. A tap on her shoulder caused her to turn around to be faced with a pair of gloves held at the tips of the android’s fingers. She opened her mouth to refuse, but Eunoia’s worried pout weakened the sleepwalker too much to deny the android such a miniscule favor. Nash wore the gloves and grabbed the supplies as she prepared herself for Eunoia’s first question.
“Do you recall how you ended up in Graveyard Sea?”
“I only remembered the journey prior to coming here. I was taking care of business in Vulcanic Heights when I noticed a flame at the mountain’s summit.” Nash normally wouldn’t divulge so much information to the android of questionable loyalties, but it was the least the sleepwalker could do after snapping Nash out of her panic. “I decided to touch it, and ended up in a memory.”
“A memory? According to some of the notes written by past sleepwalkers, there were moments where they dreamt of their memories. Their pasts, sometimes ones even they were unable to recall.”
Nash chuckled, discarding away the glass in the wastebin. “Those ones. I wasn’t there personally, but it looked to be the 12th House…although older. It must have been far before my time. The entire dream looked uncanny, in fact, as if it were bits and pieces of the life I know today. Parts of the many places I visit.”
“I see. And you were attacked by the person who no longer existed?”
Nash was tempted to add on her collection of that hat, but her mouth felt too dry to mention it offhandedly. “My exploration brought me to a purple hallway, and that was my last location before I ended up swimming with the fishes.”
“How strange,” Eunoia commented. “Nothing I can scour over the Dreamsphere ever talks about a permanent affliction to a sleepwalker over memory worlds. Indeed, memory worlds tend to be nostalgic or melancholy, but I’ve never heard of one affecting a sleepwalker’s permanent state. Perhaps you were handicapped by a Humilitas spell?”
Nash shook her head. “I’ve been hit by some, and while the feeling is similar, I’ve never been inflicted with one that outright nullified my PSY abilities. Losing my PSY abilities feels like the equivalent of losing a limb, enough so that if I wasn’t physically capable I can understand why so many fell into despair or death. Never has a Humilitas spell lowered me so, and I know with certainty that my attacker wouldn’t have one.”
“Who attacked you?” Eunoia asked, and Nash flashed her eyes at the concerningly threatening tone the android failed to hide from the sleepwalker. “Even if they supposedly ‘don’t exist,’ I’m sure there is something I can acquire through research.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Valencia—”
“Please drop it, Eunoia,” Nash silently replied.
“Alright…if you insist.” Nash wasn’t sure if Eunoia truly dropped it, but there was little the android could do without a name. At least, the sleepwalker hoped so. “There isn’t much I can find revolving around memory worlds inflicting physical change. Losing one’s PSY isn’t uncommon regarding PSY users. I’m sure I can find potential solutions to recovering your abilities.”
“That would be appreciated,” Nash said, returning the proud cleaning supplies to the kitchen. “I’d rather not sit around and twiddle my thumbs until you come up with a potential solution. I’m going to use a ship and sail back to Vulcanic Heights, maybe I can uncover something if I locate the flame again.” Nash walked out of the kitchen before rapid robotic footsteps interrupted her exit.
Eunoia walked in front of the sleepwalker and held her hand at the storage room’s exit. “Valencia, I don’t think you should go. I forbid you.”
Nash startled. “What, why? Wait, forbid me—you’re not my parent!” Nash shook her hand like the old woman Richardson keeps teasing her for. “I’m competent enough to sail the seas, even without relying on my PSY abilities. You know my strengths, Eunoia. You’ve never been this direct when stopping me before.”
“Yes,” Eunoia hesitated for a single moment, “but I can’t risk the chance currently. I do trust in your abilities, Valencia, please don’t believe otherwise. But what would happen if you experienced another memory world in your sleep? While your sleepwalking abilities seem to be absent at the moment, what if they recover and you wake up in a sea I can’t save you in? Please understand Valencia.”
Nash paused. Loathed as she was to admit her uselessness, Eunoia was right. If the android wasn’t there to save the sleepwalker, that was a lucky streak. Luck that Nash wasn’t sure would prolong. “You’re right, but what else am I supposed to do? Work with you and accept the numerous offers you’ve given me over the months? I don’t mean to offend you, Eunoia, but I can hardly trust you yet, even if you saved me. I have no idea what your ideals are or why you’re interested in me. I apologize, but I cannot trust you wholeheartedly enough to accept any of your offers.”
“I understand, Valencia,” Eunoia lowered her arm, her expression weirdly dissatisfied. “It would seem too suspicious if I were to wholeheartedly help you for little reason, am I correct?” Nash nodded. “I propose a compromise with you, then.”
“A compromise?”
Eunoia nodded. “I will help you acquire information and assist you in regaining your abilities—if possible. However, in exchange, I would like for you to…” for some inexplicable reason Eunoia looked embarrassed? Shy? It was enough to have Nash’s mouth slightly open in surprise. “I would like you to help me experience a facet of humanity I haven’t, yet.”
“A…” Nash paused, confused. “A facet of humanity?”
Eunoia cleared her throat. “I will be blunt. Nash, will you act as my girlfriend?”
“Wh-” Nash’s jaw dropped down to the floor, “EXCUSE ME?!”
“Oh, was I too blunt?”
“BY JOSAFÁ, EXCUSE ME?!”