Chapter Text
Their hands hovered, two of hers proffered forward and tilted slightly down, an offer. His reaching fourth, upturned in sole acceptance.
With a compassionate gaze, Ranni looked down at him. Courtingly he knelt before her, on his back was slung the weapon which claimed the life force of a god. A fine and battered set did he don, upon which lay proof of countless battle, scars and scuffs marred its surface, torn and stained was the cloth that hung about him, pleasingly winding through the iron. He had earned her love.
He met her eyes through the slits of his helm, reflecting the dim light of her moon. The rippling ground lapped gently under his form, softly complimenting the serenity of the place. A plane stretching to the horizon, darkness surrounding save for the great form which she knew hung behind her. It was a beautiful, and stunning place to be together. They were the main characters of this realm, and the only.
Yet their hands still hovered, kept from touching.
Cold mist coalesced either side of them, pushed by an unfelt wind along the ground, stretched long and peaking up to her in a grand frame.
Here their breaths held, savoring their time, and relishing the moment.
He moved. Not of his accord, his form as a statue, but undeniably he slid. Along the ground slowly as he inexplicably moved backwards, still kneeling, further from her outstretched hand.
His eyes went wide as he struggled to stand, but failed as if a great force were pushing down on his shoulders. She stepped forward but her feet slid without traction, completely frictionless. Further he was pulled, scrambling to find footing, lunging forward fruitlessly, his hand still reaching to her desperately. Faster and faster, he slid as if free falling down the steepest and iciest of inclines.
She stopped trying to move, it was useless, a sad smile turned her lips. This was right, it was just as it should be. Yet endearingly, he struggled so, trying in vain to reach her, not giving up even though he must have realised the pointlessness by now. There was no sound, he grew so small as to a pinprick in the distance before finally and completely disappearing. Leaving her to stand, entirely alone on the dark plane.
Ranni the Witch, beholder of the Dark Moon, daughter of the great Renalla of Caria and the champion Radagon of the Golden Order, accomplished student of the Snow Witch, one to be completely loosed of her born bounds, and slayer of her own Two Fingers, took in her hands the edges of her shawl and pulled it close to her body, shivering.
Chilled as always, but was it so biting before? Along the edge of her wide-brimmed hat formed small crystals of ice. Delicately hanging, shimmering in dry clusters.
Ranni turned to face her moon, the cool mist dancing about her at the movement. Half set it sat, a stunning hemisphere of massive proportion and intricate definition. Its stark edge pulled into its center light in great strands, slowly moving particles fading into nothing. Keeping its middle a dark void. As always, so textured was its outer, and so devoid was its inner.
And it was hers. Something of such majesty and incredible scale before her, awaiting her action. Ready to heed her whims.
Ranni took a deep breath.
Was she ready? Not in the slightest. For who would be. The task of a detached god awaited her, to care for a lands as a third perspective. All emotion and attachments completely quenched. For that is what was required, so messily proven by the travesty of the late epoch.
Stain.
Before she had a chance to even try, a non-human voice intruded her mind. Uninvited and unwelcome.
Puny Stain.
It violated her, coarse sandpaper dragging over her mind, an incomprehensible dull tone speaking tongues behind its legible words.
Make egress. Immediately.
She stood frozen, unfamiliar to the discomfort her penetrated mind now screamed, wailing for the intruder to retract its presence.
“Who~” She strangled out a singular sound, but its tendrils had curled around the word, comprehending before it had even left her lips.
Ranni grimaced and brought one hand up to her head, refraining from contact in fear of touching the thing. Non-solid though it must be, it was there, she knew it. A pressure pressed in her neck like a clot of its own sentience, prompting her gaze up to avoid the awful sensation. To look up at her moon. Rather, at the arc which now surrounded her moon. Great pearly white boulders positioned as a rainbow, thin near the top, bulkier further down and crevassed in their undersides.
Expunge thyself.
She wretched. Teeth. A maw gaped about her moon, wholly encompassing it. Threatening a terrible fate. Ranni stood stunned, her stomach churning, hands tightly clasping her warm cloak, the once ever-shifting mist now held in complete stasis, just as she.
Her lips parted, no small feat with such an intruder in mind, “No~” It was barely a shaking whisper, and she only just held back her stomach.
As if by a trigger, the mouth slammed shut, so suddenly its pearly whites were but a blur, and so forcefully that the very ground rippled forward in waves of imposing size. She took a step back, hands held up to guard her face, as the mist lunged at her, whipping quickly past to flee in fear from the terrible action. Flecks smattering her cheeks and rushing past her ears, begging desperately for her to do the same. To run in fear and to dread what she had said with her whole heart, to simply pray to the heavens that she would die to escape the knowledge of its awful consumption, to release her mind of its wretched sounds, and bury deep her eyes so she never had to see anything so horrible again.
Ranni blinked, the sky starkly devoid of her devoured moon, and the ground eventually settled to reflect nothing. Just an empty abyss with a lone witch floating in its infinite space. She was empty. Completely missing the thing that was her only salvation.
Her mind was hers once more, whatever had been there was gone, as suddenly as it had arrived.
Was this supposed to happen perhaps? It was polarly different from her own speculative imagining: a perspective above the lands, beings with life, spots of equal energy, the current of some presence, traces of faded gold as ruins of the order, an underlying frenzy, burning roots and glowing spirits.
This was nothing like that, this was nothing like anything.
Oppressive, it pushed at her, willing to take her in arms and carry carelessly, without a whim to vast emptiness. Begging to cleanse her of all thought and mind, wash away her body in sweeps of silence.
There was no ground beneath her anymore, nothing to see or feel, to stay centered on. Her skin no longer felt the touch of her garb, and her eyes no longer perceived her hands. Even her ever-present aura of cold was null.
Something, she needed any type of stimulus, or she truly might fade away.
She curled up her legs, tucking them to her chest, but felt nothing. She adjusted her hat, pulling it off and placing it back on her head, her muscles moved to part the action, but her mind ignored it. Like a cloth covering her eyes, she saw none of it, she felt none of it.
“ ” She spoke fearfully.
Nothing. Her mind was the only source of anything. So she thought to squeeze closed her eyes, only hoping that is what she was doing. Not that it changed anything, and simply tried to think. Summonging memories with every inch of her straining mind. Vision painfully clawing its way back to her.
A figure appeared before her. Sole in the darkness.
“Woulds’t thou enter my service?”
A face, topped with a metal hat came to the person. A largely scrawny and well worn outfit, as if the man had freshly torn it from the back of an overly-aged soldier.
“I-” He began, stammering slightly, “Am not the one you seek.”
She tried to quench the doubt pulsing in her gut, he did appear to be in a less-than-desirable condition. A stubble growing on his face, harsh jawline, torn and stained clothes hanging unsuitably on his shoulders, not swimmingly, but rather a tad small.
“You fought to be here,” Ranni spoke, her lips barely moving, “did you not?”
“I did.” He spoke, not boastingly nor of confidence, but as a matter of truth.
“Then what doubt do you lay?”
He bowed his head respectfully. Despite his looks, the actions he had taken in her presence was that of a long trained knight, thinking of their first encounter with amusement. Strangely, it had been something which had stuck in her mind for days after. And pleasingly, he was fit - past his drab appearance, his muscles were bound in an admirable proof of effort. Of course, a new set of attire must be in order, if not for his own dignity, then for her own satisfaction.
“I must express my gratitude,” He looked at her, “for earlier.” He reached to pull a small bell off his hip, careful to not let it sound. “For this most precious trinket.”
It was many days earlier she had appeared to him at a ruined church, under loose guise, gifting this very item. She steepled the fingers of her topmost hands.
“Much in the way of assistance it has brought,” He held it out toward her, “But I now return it to your possession."
She shook her head, “It is yours, keep it.”
He looked as if to insist, but decided otherwise at the look in her eyes, acceptingly affixing it back to his waist.
“I do not mean to pry.” His gaze rested on the chair upon which she sat, brows slightly knitted, “But-” He hesitated, “But is it a stack of books which you currently sit upon?”
Ranni’s eyebrows rose, suddenly very aware of her artificial height. The only issue: he wasn’t wrong. It just hadn’t felt right sitting so low down, so she had to compromise. And she hadn’t expected anyone other than her company to see her in her rise anyway.
Despite her efforts at dignity, when Blaidd had first seen her utilise a makeshift stepstool to sit atop her newly risen chair, he had not withheld his playful tease. Not that she minded much, it was just Blaidd… But this man?
She resisted the urge to swing her legs which dangled freely below her, and met his eyes. A small smile stretched his lips, eyes mischievously scrunched.
The whole room had finally revealed itself to her mind. She saw the small box of glintstone in one corner, the bookshelves holding their multitudes of scholarly prizes, the haphazard ordering of her stacks of tomes. The candles flickering calmly, lighting the room in their soft, warm glow.
“What in the lands,” Blaidd’s voice spoke from behind her, “are you doing?”
Ranni hoisted herself onto the stack of books, bringing one knee up to steady herself, before carefully twisting around. Without warning, her leg slipped and she tilted, breath catching. In a flurry of movement, a strong hand took her arm, halting her fall. Her wide eyes met the wolf’s.
“Really?” His voice tinged infuriatingly with amusement.
With two of her hands, she pushed off his arm to right herself and settled properly on the chair. Despite the books she sat on, he still towered over her, a toothy grin stretching his maw. Ranni looked away from him, knowing full well the jest he was bound to loose.
“And what possessed you to conjure up this woeful idea?”
She didn’t respond, preferring to smooth her dress instead.
“Ranni, you’re short, but not that short.” He chuckled, bringing one clawed hand to his chin, “Or perhaps…” He raised an eyebrow, “Are you insecure about your height?”
She gave him a bored expression, “No.”
He raised one hand to the top of his head and then stretched it forward hovering a good distance above her own head, comparing their height. Ranni frowned.
“Are you certain?” Blaidd said teasingly.
The outer world, beyond the rise’s doorway, through the windows, resisted view. Refusing to replace the darkness that lingered. She reached one hand to her cheek, and felt her skin. Something. The conjuration of thought might just be working, however non-physical it was a ground, a tentative replacement for the abandonment of stability. More.
Hard stone roughed the seat of her dress, thick bricks crumbling slightly beneath her weight. The edge of a church she sat, long invaded by nature, sheaths of grass covered the ground, blowing softly in the night’s breeze.
The merchant Kale sitting in the far corner, plucking at his instrument by firelight, its heat washing over her in pleasant waves. He had given her a nod at her arrival, consumed in his tuning, but not before informing her of the tarnished who would surely round back to this spot.
So she waited. Patiently, hands in lap, enjoying the simpleness of the Limgrave plain. Its grass brushing aside in the gentle breeze, the distant bleats of sheep, and scurrying of small creatures. The passive company of Kale and his light chords.
Before long, just beyond the walls, sounded a low swish followed by a loud thud. A pounding of hooves approached, drowning the clanking of armour and metal plate, before a whoosh of silence, held like a choking breath. Ranni turned to see a great gold-adorned sentinel leaping suspended through the air, shield held aloft to block out the sun's rays like some great angel of doom. And just below it, the small figure of a man gazing up at its form, mouth agape in fear.
Crash!
Ranni winced. Stirred dust and flying bits of dirt lunging outwards in a chaotic spray. And through it, the man appeared, sprinting in a direct beeline straight at her.
He'd somehow managed to avoid the great impact with negligible damage. Not to say that he looked to be doing very well, long streaks of blood staining his torso, dust coating the majority of his body, one sleeve completely missing, a long forgotten shield bouncing on his back… And a furious tree sentinel hot on his tail.
Pummelling forward, his eyes fastened on the protective walls of the church. He leapt forward, passing her in a tucked roll, skidding and hopping to his feet in a far more acrobatic action than she’d expected. In the span of a breath, he took Ranni in, glanced at the charging foe, and ran forward, one hand out to her, the other wielding a rather pitiful shortsword, eyes wide.
“Move-” He shouted, clearly aiming to do something stupid like jumping in the way of an attack to protect her, before promptly tripping and faceplanting into the ground.
Ranni looked back around to see the unwelcome end of a great sharpened halberd swinging in a great arc, flying at a terrible velocity, on course to cleave her in two. She blinked. Another deafening crash followed almost instantly. The extraordinary sound echoing over the hills of Limgrave, birds flying from trees, and animals raising their heads in curiosity, before settling.
Merchant Kale turned to her and smiled. She was now seated calmly beside him, and blessed him with a small wink.
She wished she were closer so she could see the stunned look on the tarnished’s face as he watched on in horror, waiting for the dust to clear, and expecting to witness the awful remains of a woman cleaved to gore. Only to reveal her complete absence.
He jumped up, stepping forward in befuddlement before spinning wildly around, searching. He met her eyes, and visibly relaxed. Ranni raised a single, amused eyebrow at him. The poor man turned, looking around, to have his body split vertically, violently in two.
Kale and herself watched golden particles flow from the deathly wound as his fading halves fell limp onto the ground with weighty thumps, the things spiraling upwards in a streaked, glowing cloud, on a course toward the great Erdtree.
“Blessed by Grace,” Ranni spoke, admiring the motes float away, “it would appear.”
“Hm.” Kale hummed, his eyes still wide at the man’s fate, “Looks true milady.”
“And as well at that, in but a short span of time he will be given return.” Ranni watched the sentinel disengage, satisfied with its work, “I believe Grace hath granted him priority. See how they travel. Such swiftness.”
They watched the tail end of the particles fade from view, tumbling and guiding each other in a way which will become extraordinarily familiar very quickly.
Ranni sighed, “Nevertheless, a little more patience may be in order for me.”