*yeyo, here with another chapter. This one is 4k words, twice a normal one. I'm making up for the day I didn't post one :))
So yeah, enjoy, and let me know what you think. Peace out and Deus Vult*
Mark was close to bursting into laughter at the entire situation, and at some point he simply said 'fuck it' and began laughing out loudly, slapping his legs as he bent back and forth, his voice loud and contagious. Stelle found herself laughing too, while Aventurine and Acheron were confused. Mark shook his head, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to calm down.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just that this situation is so funny I couldn't help it."
Aventurine's eyes moved back and forth between the three, and a smirk appeared on his lips.
"Well played, friends. You haven't been in Penacony long, you already know how to rope people in to your cause."
Mark chuckled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms, the smile not leaving his face.
"Sorry, sorry, but we somehow got this working. So yeah, no need to worry about us, blondie. We got this, alright? See you around... I'm sure we'll meet again... and who knows? Maybe we'll go gambling around these parts. I'll give you my money, and you use your luck. I don't have that much, but with you I could earn enough."
Aventurine grinned, the idea sounding somewhat appealing to him.
"What's in it for me?"
Mark smirked.
"Experience and the thrill of playing someone's savings around."
He shook his head, heading to the door.
"We'll see about it...friend."
With that, the door closed, and it was only Stelle, Mark, and Acheron in the room. They exchanged glances, and Acheron scoffed, feeling indignant.
"Why haven't you left?" she asked, annoyed.
Stelle rose a brow, the woman's words making no sense to her. Indeed, it was only Mark who had remembered Acheron from that one dream of theirs.
"This is my room," said Stelle, more than confused as she tried to make sense of the situation.
"This is MY room," replied Acheron, sounding dead serious. She then smiled.
"I was just teasing, please forgive me. This is indeed your room. I saw that man snooping about while I was in the hallway. It didn't seem like he was searching for his own room, so it made me wary..."
She kept her arms crossed, and Mark simply waited for his moment, looking the woman up and down. The memories that came to him were those of his own, nothing of the future that was yet to come. That woman... in the same way he had a sweet spot for Himeko, she was one of the characters that felt like a kindred spirit to him. He had to keep his attention in the right place, least he'd find his heart wandering aimlessly, dragged to the bottom of despair.
"Don't be stupid, Mark. I know that she's hot, but you gotta use your brain. Sure, she uses a dope sword that you'd like to try for yourself, but just remember: you have Himeko. So, don't be dumb. Got it? Screw temptation!"
On the outside, however, he was calm and composed, keeping himself together like a sturdy building. Acheron kept talking, the moment for his thoughts passing in a blink.
"I later saw you walking in the same room, so I began to connect the dots. The situation got a bit tense... I hope you don't mind that I pulled this stunt."
Stelle looked simply flabbergasted, trying to figure out what the woman was on about.
"Anyway, as long as you're alright. I should return to my room too."
She uncrossed her arms, looking at them both, holding Mark's gaze for a second longer than needed. It was time enough for them to test one another in the subtlest of ways. It was almost like a mental battle that happened in just a few moments, with their muscles tensing. He had lost, horribly so. Before he could even react, she had cleaved him in half.
"But, before I go, can I ask you two a question? You may think it somewhat strange, perhaps even rude, but I wish to know... Have we met somewhere before?"
Stelle was ready to shake her head, already denying it with her lips.
"No, we hav-"
Mark spoke up, staring straight at Acheron.
"Yes, we have met. In a dream, right as we entered the Asdana system. The clash with memoria had all of us unite in a dream. You stabbed both me and Stelle to send us to the waking world, you know?"
Stelle's eyes widened, her head flicking like a helicopter's propeller from one to the other. Acheron's hand rested on her hip, staying there for a prolonged moment.
"She did what!?" shouted Stelle, trying to understand if Acheron was a threat or not. He smiled.
"Her name is Acheron. Space Ranger, right? You introduced yourself in the dream. You also said you got some issues with your memory, if I'm not wrong. You rely on feelings to figure some things out, especially familiar stuff."
She looked at him and nodded, unimpressed.
"Yes, it was a dream. I had a dream on my way here, and I think you two were in it... A blink of a thought in my head."
Mark nodded, smiling a bit.
"Yeah, see? I managed to recall all of it, down to the things we said. I got a good damned head on my shoulders," he chuckled, tapping it with his knuckles.
"Yes, I remember. Stelle and Mark, these are your names, right?"
They both nodded, and Stelle seemed more spooked than anything.
"At your service, my lady, because I'm sure you'll need a hand walking in this big hotel... you ended up here partially because you were lost, right?"
She looked a bit embarrassed by the thing he pointed out, but nonetheless, she kept talking.
"That matters not. What matters is that you take care. There are people who possess unwavering resolution and faith, even unto death, and they do not wield such conviction for good. And on that man's face, I see such a similar expression."
That much was pretty obvious, but she did warn them. Mark had a good feeling about her, despite the somewhat turbulent emotions that swarmed his mind and chest at the moment. He could recall more than just his world, finding solace in the one Welt came from.
"One who wears a blade must use it to cut eventually. And when a gambler has nothing to lose on the table, he will surely go for broke and bet it all on a final hand... this is all I can say. I thought you should know of it before making a choice. Goodbye."
She turned to leave, giving them no time to even say something as she walked out. Mark sighed.
"Stelle, you go ahead and prepare for the dream world. I have something to take care of. Just wait, aaaand..."
She came back, looking more embarrassed than before, her cheeks slightly red from the emotion. Mark smiled a bit, walking to her side.
"Told you," he smirked and looked at Stelle over his shoulder.
"Come on, Acheron, I'll help you find the lobby."
Mark walked out, motioning for her to follow. He waved at Stelle, speaking with a playful grin.
"Careful not to sleep for too long. Tell the others I'll join them in a bit, alright? March must be waiting for me and Himeko before going shopping."
Acheron took the corner, waiting for Mark rather than going off on her own. He sighed and looked at her.
"Wrong turn. Take it to the left, not the right."
She scuttled over, walking by his side. Mark looked ahead, trying to keep himself together. A strange feeling kept them tied together, something he didn't really know. It felt somewhat hollow but filling at the same time, like it drowned his heart in it.
"You seem familiar, not in the way that we've met before in that dream, but in the way that we share something similar," said Acheron, her voice calm and low. Mark nodded, feeling like his thoughts had been intruded upon.
"I understand what you mean. I feel the same thing. It's both hollow and filling at the same time. It's almost like an empty bottle. It has volume, but it's also ready to be filled with something. It's almost...pointless to feel this way."
She said nothing, remaining silent as they kept walking, their steps silent compared to the bustling atmosphere of the place. Mark had to glance her way every now and then, just to make sure she didn't get lost in the sea of people.
"Tell me, Mark... how did you come to be like this?"
He raised a brow, the shift in topic touching some different subject he didn't expect.
"What do you mean by that?"
He looked at her, watching carefully. A tiny smile appeared on her lips as her amusement flared up a little. He was trying his best to play stupid, and she would have fallen for it had it not been for his remembering the dream. It was no easy feat to recall such a thing in great detail.
"I understand that you're on guard, but you needn't worry. I don't wish to cause you harm. What I meant by that is related to..."
She gently pushed her finger on his chest, right in the center of it. She looked into his eyes, her violet eyes piercing his. The things he saw while staring into her being were akin to the ones found in him.
"...the things that you keep within yourself."
So, she had guessed about his powers. He smiled, simply moving her hand aside, holding it for a lingering moment as he tried to recollect himself. His facade wasn't crumbling, but he was willingly showing her what lay behind it.
"Heh, let's just say that a man's gotta have some secrets. I'm aware you understand what's inside, but I don't wish to explain too much. We both have secrets, I'm sure of it, Galaxy Ranger," he said, his voice lowering to a whisper the longer his words dragged on. He knew about a tiny something, a piece of information he had laughed at during his stay at Herta's Space Station.
"I take it that we're both informed to a certain extent. You're an intriguing man, I must admit," she whispered, holding on to his hand in turn. The moment was tense, in more ways than one. Provocation, a moveless dance of ideas that clashed against one another, breaking like waves into the coast.
"Tell me, Mark... why do you struggle against the weight you carry?"
He stared deep into her eyes, his gaze unwavering as he spoke in a soft, gentle tone. The words carried along his very essence as a being, the things he came to understand about himself.
"Because I'm a selfish man, Acheron... that's why I keep going and struggling against my restraints. I'm selfish to the core, aiming for something that might be good for some and bad for others, while for me it's the pinnacle of my existence. It's the only thing I can live for..."
She nodded and let go of him, noticing the people who were throwing glances at them.
"Let's keep moving. It seems that we stalled in the wrong place," she hummed, walking away. Mark reached out and gently grabbed her collar.
"This way, not that one."
She sighed, turning around to walk in line with him. They made it to the lobby, and Acheron seemed a bit lost still.
"No clue where to go now?" asked Mark, looking around the place, assessing other possible places. It didn't take long for his mind to recall quite the scene, something that he wished to meddle in despite his lack of skills found in that sector.
She simply hummed and looked around, trying to decide on another direction.
"How about we go to the ballroom?"
She looked at him, a bit confused.
"Why there?"
He shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.
"No clue? Like... we just go and check it out."
For unknown reasons, she found herself liking the idea, and having someone to walk around with, even if just a fading memory, didn't seem that bad to her.
"Fine. I guess we could go there. However, didn't you have other things to do?"
He shrunk down, wincing slightly at the idea of going shopping with Himeko and March. Sure, it sounds nice, and he said he'd do it his way, but the thought of having to take off his clothes multiple times to try on different outfits scared him.
"I can handle it later. Come on, let's go."
They walked side by side and managed to reach it, with Mark using whatever directions were available around. It was a wide room that lacked what didn't scream refinement. The tables were neatly arranged, people were chattering away, enjoying pricey drinks and food alike. Mark's wallet winced at the thought of the price, mainly because of what he had gotten used to. He found expensive things that had no reason to cost that much to be useless.
"Let's go have a seat, shall we?" he asked, offering her an arm. It was more done to fit in the scene, something that crossed his mind but didn't quite latch on to him the right way. Reading one too many books, witnessing such scenes in movies—all of it climaxed in that one gesture. She nodded and linked her own arm with his, walking side by side.
The people stared at the duo, their voices hushed as gossip came to be born. After all, where else would one find a woman like Acheron paired with a man like Mark, both of whom wore clothing that stood out? One of them revealed her skin to the world, like bracing for the cold with no fear, while the other had one arm clad in iron, a piece of himself turned into chivalry of old.
The empty table they found was perfect. Someone came to serve them some drinks, which apparently were handed out for free. Both of them grabbed a class and clanked them softly before sipping.
"Well, this isn't so bad," mumbled Mark, relaxing in his seat. Someone watching them could be felt—a presence special, set apart from the others who were merely gossiping. Mark felt it, and Acheron too. They exchanged a glance, and it all cleared up.
Stepping closer, an elegant woman dressed in a veil, her lavender hair swaying slightly with each movement of her hips. Mark smiled slightly, feeling his muscles itch for some movement. Her eyes were set on them both, sliding from one to the other.
"Do you mind if I ask your beautiful ranger for a dance?" asked the woman, staring with a cunning expression that blended pure desire for something within. Mark shrugged.
"Ask her, she's her own person, not my ranger. Also, may I know your name?"
He gave his glass a twirl, downing the whole thing, feeling the alcohol's pitiful attempt at scorching his throat. He had had his fair share of strong drinks in his life.
"My name, huh? Well, I'm Black Swan. Pleased to meet you."
Mark nodded, placing his hand on his chest as he stood up and bowed ever so slightly.
"I'm Mark, a mere traveler from afar."
She chuckled slightly, waving a dismissive hand. Her voice was playful and smooth, like the seductive allure of a velvet cloth. She reminded Mark of Kafka, and that wasn't exactly a good thing. The Memokeeper was dangerous, but his mind's buzzing also warned about her role.
"Oh, no need to be so humble. I know that you're a part of the Astral Express. You Nameless lot have quite the legacy to carry."
He smiled slightly, motioning to Acheron, diverting attention.
"Please, no need to focus on me. After all, you did ask for the ranger's hand as your dance partner."
Acheron simply analyzed the exchange of words, nodding swiftly as she stood up, accepting the invitation. They made haste to the scene, which was empty, awaiting a show. As Mark prepared to settle down, Black Swan gently grabbed his chin, tilting his face her way, looking up into his eyes.
"Come on, don't think you get to stay out of this. We can always switch spots in the middle of the dance," she whispered.
Mark sighed, shaking his head.
"I can't dance, that much should be known. I suck at it."
She didn't seem to care, gently slipping a finger beneath his shirt's collar, tugging softly on the golden crucifix that he's always kept beneath his clothing.
"Come on, you'll learn as we go."
Relenting, Mark followed, walking to the scene with two beautiful women at his sides. The public watched, and he felt his stomach churn at the thought of making himself a fool in front of so many people.
"Worry not, Mark. This in itself is a wonderful memory," whispered Black Swan, her breath warm against his ear. He felt a shiver pass through his body, his mind still fixed on the images of the fiery red that he so loved. His heart had to be invincible.
Light steps took them atop the scene, and slowly, the dance began with Acheron and Black Swan, their gentle moves flowing like oil; smoothly, connected as one. They spun around one another, slow movements that paired in unison with each string that the violin played.
Mark watched as the Memokeeper's hands moved from Acheron's waist up to her shoulders, gently trailing up the arms. She was the one leading the dance, at least for now. Mark braced himself, waiting for disaster to strike. His eyes followed each movement, even the one of Black Swan kissing the back of Acheron's palm, moving swiftly into another dance move.
The public was utterly silent, staring with wide eyes, and some even glanced his way, wondering why he was simply standing there, alone, motionless. Mark's cold gaze wandered over the crowd, his feelings buried beneath a layer of critical analysis. Each movement made by the two was slowly sinking into his thoughts, and he forced himself to remember them well.
Silently, the two made their way closer to him, only for Black Swan to let go of Acheron and pull him in.
"Try leading the dance yourself, Nameless. I'll do my best to guide you with subtle hints."
Mark whispered as their steps flowed out, slow and gentle, their hands latched together as his feet slid along the floor.
"Same movements?"
She gave a light nod, and Mark kicked into gear. He was impressed by his ability just as much, but the memories of the dance were strangely vivid in his mind, almost in the same way he forced the dream where he had met Acheron to stay with him. Perhaps there was more to his sealed memories, something tied to how they were always fresh in his mind down to the last detail—the images of his gameplay burned into him.
He led the dance, staring into her starry eyes. The mix of golden and the soft shade of purple were akin to the morning meeting the night, lacking intensity but filled with a soft passion.
"Where do you come from, handsome Nameless?"
The question caused his lips to flick up slightly as he lowered her on her back, leaning down to complete the movement, his gaze not leaving hers.
"Me? It matters not where I stem from, does it? Trying to pry my mind open would simply leave me without allure."
She smiled slightly, her soft lips pressed together like a gentle invitation. It felt like she was trying to play with his mind.
"You're that type, I see. Do you think the silent and 'mysterious' aura of yours will get the ladies coming? You're a decent young lad, I'm sure you look forward to your own share of memories..."
He shook his head, moving back to the side to let go of Black Swan and hand Acheron in.
"I'm not that type of man. I merely know what I must do," he affirmed with strong conviction in his words. He let go as he slid to the side, firmly grabbing a hold of Acheron's hand, giving her a smooth swirl as Black Swan came in and took her. The dance went on.
Thus, Mark waited patiently, the gaze from the public changing from all sorts of emotions as they watched, glued to their chairs. He could see some ladies lightly slapping their men as they kept staring for too long at the scene, and surprising to him, something unusual—some ladies were looking at him instead of the dance. He felt lucky to have that dysfunctional smile of his, since he could show the right side of his face to the public as cold, while the left one had the lips slightly curled in a tiny smile.
Bit by bit, horror crept in Black Swan's expression, the dance growing intense, with Acheron having taken the lead.
"Yeah, just like that, she took a peek in the wrong place," chuckled Mark, unable to hide it.
Once again, this time as if rushed, Black Swan tried to trade partners, going for Mark again, who graciously pulled Acheron away, shooting her a tiny smile as they went. Black Swan held to him tightly, a bit too much, struggling to get her fear under control.
"I guess she danced you to the bone," teased Mark, going on with gentle movements.
"She sure did," panted Black Swan, going along with him. She stared into his eyes, trying to creep upon his mind, which was her second biggest mistake during the dance. What were the odds of having a mentally unstable duo as your dance partners?
Her eyes widened even more than when she danced with Acheron, sweat running down her fore. Mark smirked, a knowing spark in his eyes. She tried to take a peek, and she was about to regret it.
The room went dark in Black Swan's vision, voices creeping in from all sides, shadows trying to touch both of them, achieving that, only to dissipate the longer they tried to keep contact, letting go involuntarily.
"What is this place?" she asked, feeling her bones cool to the core. Mark was covered in flames in her vision, their dance going, chains holding him tightly despite him still moving. They seemed to fade off into the darkness, as if tied to something far away.
"This is my mind, Black Swan," said the burning image. Mark's voice was almost like that of the shadows, a thousand different sounds mashed together. The fire was heating up as time went on, turning her into a sweaty mess. More shadows gathered around, and from above, she could feel something staring at her. She looked up cautiously, only to find a creature of horror staring down at them both with hundreds of eyes that came out from ears, mouths, even slits in the mass of charred skin that morphed with each breath the thing drew—and it drew in more than one at once.
She began shacking, feeling nothing but primal fear in its purest form. Her desire for memories was overshadowed by the strong emotion, and she tried to leave the plane... but she couldn't. Part of her had gotten stuck in there, feeling as deformed limbs tried to reach out for her, the whispers from the shadows growing louder and louder, mixed with echoing screams of pain and suffering.
Mark's fire burned brighter, the turquoise flames spreading along her being. She tried to pull away but couldn't. Unlike Acheron, who was slowly tearing her apart piece by piece, Mark was inflicting pain of all forms. Torture and hell—those were the only things she could salvage as the dance ended. The burning figure pushed her away, allowing her to fall into the abyss. She drew one sudden breath as her pupils contracted, focusing back into reality.
"Well, seems to me like you took a look at something you shouldn't have," said Mark, his tone stern. She panted, staring up at him. The dance was over, and she was still in his arms, leaning on her back with him leaned over her.
"I...You... what are you? You're no human, you're...a monster..." she mumbled, her speech slurred from the emotions. The words cut deep, but Mark put on a brave front.
"Yes, this is who I am. That's what burdens me down."
He let go of her as the dance was over, and the room shook in applause and cheering. He took a slight bow, his right arm slung over his chest. The trio walked off the scene, and Black Swan still looked deranged. The creature she saw in Mark's mind, the cold, lightless place that he was sunk into—it was all hell itself.
Mark's thoughts were focused on the same thing, disregarding the shadows that fogged his vision.
"That place looked way different than before. The Light atop seemed to be covered by that creature while the shadows ran rampant. It remains the same cold place, but... I'm chained up. Was it like that thanks to her trying to peek at my memories without my permission?"
Of course, the answer wouldn't come. He had no one to ask, no one to understand, so he simply whispered.
"God... keep me going..."