Somewhere Someplace

Step. Step. Step. Step.

With hands mutually grasping as if holding onto a bag that did not exist, footsteps strolled forth, step after step. Despite it being well-enough into the dawning morning, it was still awfully quiet… At least, wherever it was she presently was.

Hmm… She abruptly paused; for reasons unknown, she required a moment to really… Something…

She did not now; she just paused, staring around…

Her face; her arms; her hands; much of her skin, much of her figure; could feel the chilly yet ever-warming morning air… Breath by mellow breath, she took it all in, breathing gently in and out.

Two or so weeks was all it had been, yet nevertheless it was as if her existence had regressed back to what it had once been; that state she was far more accustomed to than not… For truly, indeed, how alien these sensations were…

Hm… Suddenly, her thumb and index finger pinched her cheek, tugging at it slightly… Huh, in a very strange and ultra-rare moment, she began to…comprehend, just a bit, that… Indeed, she could feel her cheek and her cheek could feel her… Soft and squishy, the nerves stung from the force of her pinch… Interesting… What a strange sensation it was…to pinch one’s cheek.

Hm… Silence, yet she could hear sounds emanating around and throughout; the sounds of domesticated animal species nearby, calling and howling; the sounds of whispers around and about; and farther off and away, in the distance of this settlement ahead, were those…alien yet familiar noises, echoing and bouncing.

Truly, now that she was on her own, it was as if her senses could process in detail again… From her ears to her eyes to her very skin… It was as if being in presences of those in her company had muted so much; as if her senses had merely differed to them far too much… Or, more likely, this contrast was just…a phantasm of her own head in this moment, not truly with existence.

For indeed, the difference was not just that she was alone, but rather that…she could also finally see.

Her ignited eyes behind that buttery masquerade so scanned about, piecing details around… She already knew from her prior inspection of this settlement’s generated coordinate map that…this area directly above that Bureau safe-bunker…whatever-place…was fairly unpopulated with respect to the rest of this city, but actually being out here—seeing it, hearing it, realizing it—was…different.

Muddy… The ground felt muddy and dirt-like, for it was largely dirt—paved dirt, but still dirt… And the pavement that was present was stained with guck and aged waste materials, seemingly. There were cracks in the some of the buildings around, many of which seemed…unoccupied and likely abandoned. The handful of denizens she could spot—denizens eyeing her in a rather peculiar way and who clearly did not want her to look at them—seemed to be…‘destitute’, if that was the correct descriptor…

Indeed, unpopulated and…not in the bestest of conditions nor development.

Antica sighed… Of course, if Coastfield could not comprehend the basics of efficient resource management and distribution to ensure qualitied maintenance and equilibrium across the whole systemic apparatus, then she could only presume that this settlement was equally so in that regard—if not worse.

“Thoo oughtesh be goeyn’, missie, tofore we starten to chargen vor ouren continuod quietrie” so abruptly spoke with an evident rhotic tap, a denizen staring down from a building near… as if hers was a sight not the first they had ever seen.

Antica immediately looked up, staring… “Oh, rightly…” Her mind was grounded back to her current priorities. “I give thanks…” she thanked despite not necessarily needing to, before promptly resuming her walk.

Thus, so began her search for that Company headquarters.

-||-

The sun rose ever-higher in the sky up high, and so frolicking out and about in greater urbanized mass to attend to their many necessary doings were…

Denizens.

Indeed…

Denizens everywhere… As well as wagons, carriages, and such drawn by equines of many kinds and sorts…or even bovines. So much noise, truly… The sounds of clopping hooves and stepping shoes intermixed, becoming one with the sounds of voices and speakings. This wide street was with rather the bustling activity, seemingly, despite not being near the center—the heart—of this large and populated settlement.

Antica had finally managed to navigate her way out of that…obscure and evidently squalorish area, only after realizing that she had been…in fact…navigating in the wrong direction with respect to where she was supposed to go from her origin point.

Though, such was neither present nor relevant.

Suffice it to say, although she had already priorly observed via her M.C.S that the…streets and paths in that specific area were…awfully twisty compared to the rest of this city, actually experiencing navigating through such had been...indeed...different.

Frankly, the confusing difficulty she had experienced in finding her way out of that destitute section, with the way paths would lead to dead ends or curve right back, made her feel as if such confusion was by design, as if there were actual intent in making difficult for that area’s inhabitants to enter the greater city… Though, such seemed too illogically stupid to be…the truth; though, as she also knew best, the truth was…more often than not…illogically stupid—especially with denizens…

Nevertheless, Inhale. Exhale. Antica continued to stroll with hands still graciously interlocked… she was now within…the ‘proper’ city; the contrast between here and her prior there was rather apparent, indeed, most especially in the infrastructure; she had not found a single patch of dirt or mud, only paved concrete and brick.

And, truly… Her eyes peered around, seeing; her ears attended about, hearing… So many souls; so many voices; so many dreams and memories playing out.

The apparent busyness of this sprawling settlement had already been evident upon first entry the day before; however, since arrival had occurred during the ending hours of that yesterday, all those noises and sounds heard were merely that of a city winding down. Indeed, this arriving morning…revealed the true extent of the busyness—the density—that had been masked.

Hmm… And as she continued to stroll through the pavement and street about, this strange sense…indeed…was emerging within—or rather, had been emerging throughout…

Familiarity…

Indeed, there was a sense of familiarity—one formed from very recent experiences with respect to the timescale within which she existed.

Certainly, it was as if she were back in Coastfield…before the bombardment. These sounds, these denizens, this walking… Such had been literally every morning: to awake, ready, and walk down those streets of denizens, more denizens…and many more…denizens—truly, this ‘Strawberry’ city still had nothing on Coastfield’s utter sprawl and population.

Nevertheless, it was not that long ago at all when she had found such…denizen noises to be so…hard to tolerate; now, however, such noises were…more tolerable; they did not violate her mind in the same way they once had.

In fact, such noises only reminded her…

Although even days prior she had found it difficult to even conceive of forgoing her Remnant equipment, and although she did certainly feel…rather unpleasant…being without, she nonetheless was so far not nearly as…discomforted by this state of affairs as perhaps could have been assumed.

For, indeed, as these noises so screamed: she was within a denizen settlement—a city.

And while within these walls, she did not need to worry about those unknowns who so seemingly avoided such population centers, and by whom she was apparently being…hunted—though, most truly indeed, it hardly felt as so; the only relevancy these unknowns have had so far was in assaulting her in memory as opposed to material reality.

However, such was not to say her guard was completely lowered even if eased… For there still existed the local denizens…

And, indeed, she could tell; her essence could tell; that eyes were watching her.

-||-

Antica sighed as she continued to walk down these streets…

Certainly, what utter so-called ‘nostalgia’ she was experiencing this moment; it truly was as if she were back in Coastfield, for she had become utterly lost.

Although this city—in general—did not seem to have the Coastfield’s unplanned sprawl, being admittedly quite straightforward outside of her originating section, such conveniences hardly mattered when she had never been to this city before and thus did not know where to even go despite knowing where she needed to go.

Recognizing the futility of her walking, she stepped off from the street and onto the side, pausing aside. Her mask-obscured eyes then gazed and scanned, evaluating the buildings and such around…

Antica was one to never really care to bother contemplating buildings—of all things… Yet…

Indeed… Although there was much to this city that reminded her of Coastfield, there was also much that so reminded her that she was…in fact…not in Coastfield.

There was a clear aesthetic and…stylistic contrast in the architecture, she had realized, even if it was difficult for her to put any descriptors to it. Nevertheless. this Strawberry locality—in general—seemed more…‘colorful’ and ‘expressive’ than Coastfield yet…simpler in actual ‘design’—if such made any sense.

In contrast, Coastfield…from what she recalled…seemed to have had more… architectural and engineering…‘elaborateness’ or visual complexity…or… Truly, she had not the descriptors…

Diverse… Indeed, Coastfield had simply been diverse… Right, a fusion between that Far Western continent across the ocean far away and this continent; she had been unable to really…perceive what such meant before, but now that she was much further inland and away from those influences… Indeed, maybe she could see it just a bit…

Furthermore, she had noticed that the ‘style’ and…‘aesthetics’ of the common attire and dress of the denizens of this ‘Strawberry’ city…were also similarly different from Coastfield’s—though, again, in a way she could not describe despite noting. But there was an abundancy of…cloth…hood…hat things…

Truly, she was not a Green-Coat.

Shaking her head, Antica immediately refocused onto the actual reasons for why she had paused and begun to stare around.

Indeed, she needed to figure out…

Hmm… She was in a narrow street, buildings immediately behind, buildings directly in front, with little gap between the buildings side by side… This street or ‘avenue’ or whatever…went in only two ways: backwards and forwards.

Yet… Hmm… Where to go from here… She pondered…

She peered up… Those primitive air-balloons hovering above both near and distant; she had noticed such well before now, but… Hmm… These were similar to the ones she had seen in Coastfield—thus, obviously Company… And some of them appeared to be drifting in a specific direction, but…

Oh, this was useless.

Automatically, as if a default instinctual action, she immediately lanced her sight to her left-forearm, her right-hand readying itself to start tapping and pressing away…

Yet…

« … » Antica stared blankly… « Ģe rectë… Nîl habo, stupidissime… » Right… Immediately sighing, her sight withdrew from her empty forearm…

Hmm, well, this was a conundrum.

-||-

Her mask-obscured eyes cast to the sky, cautiously evaluating the sun’s position… It was evidently higher in that sky up high…

Ah, what a strange sensation she was feeling… She was going to be late to this requested ‘meeting’, wasn’t she? She so presumed.

Antica was aimlessly wandering, having not the faintest of ideas where she was even going anymore; at some point, she had just stopped attending and merely ‘followed the winds’, so to speak… She had likely drifted down the wrong way and was circling around instead of heading closer to the center.

Ever-soft and ever-quiet inhale and exhale, the now warmer air went in and out through her mouth and nose, as did the…

Smell… Hmm… Right, her nose could actually smell in better detail now, and this scent…this aroma…was perhaps not…disagreeable, even if she could not possibly explain why.

Slowing, she looked down onto the pavement her boots stepped on… Petal-like things of sorts, she identified, belonging to some kind of…flowering flora species. Pinkish red, soft and fluffy… Either the wind had carried these from the world beyond, or…maybe the denizens themselves had sprinkled such about… She did not know…

Although her episodic memories blanked, there was nevertheless such a strange…implicit familiarity being invoked by these…petals.

Nevertheless, her attention returned to the environment about as she continued to simply walk. She was still…getting that odd…sense that she was being eyed; a sense that had been persistent throughout.

Her Company armband, she had surmised, was the likely culprit. Ironically, it seemed as though she was being stared at more than when she had been in her Remnant stuff… And she had already been able to infer from the looks she was getting that…hers was an unwelcomed presence…

She kept her concealed eyes on these staring few as much as they on her whenever passing them by.

Some of the buildings, she had also noticed throughout this walk… A slim few had—what the Remnant would classify as—‘vexils’…waving away as if in spite. A lightish-red or red-pink sort of color with two bars of a modest green color sometimes outlined in white…which interlocked to form a sort of ‘Ʌ’ shape.

Interesting… From her time in Coastfield and from what she had been able to see in other settlements, these sort of vexils were not necessarily a custom amongst locals of this continent. She had only ever seen such displayed in mass during festive or special occasions, but these seemed rudimentary and ‘home-made’, so to speak—nothing ceremonial.

And their shape too… Rectangular and horizontally flown, much like the Company’s ‘flag’… Right… From her understanding, the locals had multiple kinds of ‘heraldic’ and ‘dynastical’ ‘banners’, but not ‘flags’—there was a difference. Having a common symbolic ‘flag’ was a practice associated with the ‘nations’ of the Far West, not the ‘realms’ of these lands.

Though, regardless, she had taken note of these vexils because the few denizens who seemed to eye her the most tended to have armbands—like her—fashioned in the same design.

Hmm… Indeed, Antica began to realize… There was a peculiar sense she had been getting from this city… One emanating from the shadows of its superstructure; one that made her ancient instincts attentive even more.

-|-

She was now within a wider street area of sorts… Lively but more simmered, denizens going about their ways being a plenty… A few Stands and such were around; some denizens stood atop slightly elevated objects or next to the corner of turning ways with held signs, shouting words.

A ‘market’, maybe? Or… Hmm… She did not know; it did not seem to be a proper ‘market’… Maybe more…a street or area that people frequented through, and thus others established presences in order to solicit attention from such passerbys…

“Life mage! Life mage! At your service! Forty silvers, and your life might just be saved! Need a healer? Fighter? Supporter? Or maybe a friend? I can be them all, just for the price of a loaf of bread!”

“Fifteen silvers and not a more! Harmony-made ‘nd dried demi-ears to off-warden sprites and their accursed tricks!”

“Readeth the theories and knoweth the truths! ‘On the Nature of States and Power’ and ‘the Bond of Nation and Popular Will’, translated with-for typical tongue ‘nd-or Strawberrien speech! Easie to be read even by yee unliterates!”

“Now introductynge ouren novelest Elixir of Fryutifol Prolification. Sextie-nine sylvers, ond ye shan’t ever haven more nightlic complaints by-fram yer other’s desires!”

Such were amongst the shouts she heard whilst passing by. However, rather quickly, other sorts of clamors so caught her ears’ attention.

Indeed, she paused, turned, and eyed…

“Ouren tongue speche! Ouren historie! Ouren freuten ‘nd breads! Thi Alfwenie seeketh to thiefen all of hole! Howst mutch more longest moten we, fra ouren Strawberrie’s nation, enduren suchlic this suffocation? By those Alfwenie whost beareth thi bloods of elfs ond sendeth these flyghtynd soulen so-for to destructen ouren nations’ wayes!”

Antica so glared from behind a small bunch gathered to the fiery clamors of this denizen atop a stool… And she merely needed to turn to find another…

“Rejecteth theyr longearische deceifs! Thi elfs ‘nd theyr worships of fayeries! They bryngen the touchen fra fayes hwilc-by breads’ prices beth raysed! Bewareth thems of elfischkynde, Ic seethe at thee ‘nd yee! Bewareth thems ‘nd letteth none with-touchen yee naur yer youthen by daymons’ bloods!”

She recontinued her walk… « ‘[Plenty of the problems]’, énquit no? » she mumbled, recalling those words spoken by that guard yesterday—the scarcity of whom she had long noted…

Even if their…dialect was harder to parse, the voice—the fiery tone—beckoned familiarities within, both ancient and recent… Indeed, flashing into mind were those intoxicated rabblerousers from all those many-many months ago during the second day of this new year, their passionate voices of dissenting flames.

Hmm… Indeed, she became curious. She closed her eyes, focusing on her hearing as she began to listen in…on those other quieter voices bleeding behind the shouts.

“…spying on us and our wives”

“Pesky Company balloons! There hasn’t been a riot yet! What are they worried for?”

“Don’t want them Strawberriens to ransack their craps, mayhap…”

“Bah, can’t even understand what those bulge-goblins are spitting about”

“Illiterate morons can’t speak normally… What gibberish”

“…charged me twenty-seven silvers for bread and six silvers for every two strawberries…”

“Were he wearing Smile’s Crown?!”

“Sayed there bith an continued dry year fram the last, end that the count’s demandants haf risen, with atop from Grandberrie’s; shortage whence…”

“With the amount of trade thro enterin’? Hast thoo seen the center? Glutton-fats everyy sight! He was lyin’! We’re flighters unwelcomed; they’re extorting us thence…”

“Me don’t… Sire, Me be solely tryin’ to—”

“Speaketh throuch-by ouren wayes if-whan thou beest in Strawberrie! Aur out-gete hence awayes, flyghter harlot!”

“Heys! Stupidest restorationist, leave the missy alone!”

“Yee alien-loveynd whoren ben a traitors’ disgrace to-of ouren Strawberrie nation!”

“Ond ye ben tearynge ouren citie ‘sunder…”

“Straight from United Trade Surplus! Flintlock? Crystallock? Caplock? We’ve got ‘em! Modernized and rifled for your ease of defense! Come on by while supplies last!”

Wait… Antica immediately halted, opened her eyes, and gazed in that direction…

A denizen man of sorts, she identified, who was standing outside a rather distinct building; one of powder, lead, and fire… Ignoring the duplicity of…distributing such weapons in this evident environment, that denizen looked…fairly Far Western; he might know where the Company’s headquarters was, and even if he himself did not, he might know someone who did…

Thus, without delay, she promptly turned and wended way through those in front and about, heading for that identified denizen in sight.

Ultimately, her experiences this past year and more stranded in this place had demonstrated to her that, when in doubt, the most tried and tested tactic was always…asking randoms for directions…