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Other Cycles, Other People

Chapter Text

He couldn't remember much of anything, but he was oddly at peace with it. He felt like... it had happened before. Forgetting.
Before he ended up here.

He didn't remember not-remembering, just felt it.
He wondered what he forgot then. Did he get to remember it again?
Would he remember what he's forgotten now?

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She remembered much less than she should, but enough to know that it was happening again.
"It", being forced into roles she did not want. With people she did not want to be with.
Some of them were even familiar enough to give her sinking feelings.

And they expected her to... fight. She did not know how she was supposed to do that. She was not physically strong.
She had no weapons or magical abilities she knew of.

All she really remembered knowing how to do, was... drawing.

You could not fight with pencils and a sketchpad [or, at least not the ones she had.].

Why did Chaos force her here?

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He had heard talk of there being a talking duck.
A talking duck.

So he had to go see.
Was Cosmos that desperate?

So he saw, and he laughed.
And then the duck set him on fire.

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She thought maybe, if she kept drawing, she could draw herself into remembering.

She found herself drawing beaches, seashells, ocean, a star-shaped fruit.
She found herself drawing some people, that she thought she should remember. A sense of belonging, almost remembering, a feeling of longing filled her when she drew them.
And sadness and guilt.

But she still did not remember.

And when she drew the red-haired girl, there was a sense of... drawing herself.
But that... could not be right.
That was not her hair, not her clothes. Not her facial expressions, though the face was so similar...

She thought the red-haired girl and the two boys she drew must be friends.
She found herself feeling alone.

Sometimes she found herself drawing a woman. Someone told her it was the Goddess, Cosmos.

She wasn't sure how she was drawing someone she's never seen, never met.
But then again, she was drawing things she could not remember. Was it really that different?

When Chaos asked her for one of those pictures, she gave it to him.
She wondered...

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It seems to me, the gods are cruel.

An eternity of fighters fighting? For what?
And without much of a choice, no less.

Cosmos smiles at me, and I wonder, why does she smile? Does she even know?

I only want to go home, though I do not remember where or what 'home' is.
I have strange dreams, and my heart aches deeply.

And I am so tired, I-
[much more text seems to follow, but it is illegible: blurred, smudged, and stained.]
How much more fighting until I am all used up?

There is no end, there is no hope.
[If there is more writing after this point, it is unknown and lost. The page is torn.]

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"Kaaaateyyyyy..."
The unkempt man was seen wandering around aimlessly, his wails sorrowful and somewhat haunting.

He carried with him a bloodied, green backpack.

Most who saw him kept their distance.
He pulled out weapons (some of them mundane, some of them the weirdest dang contraptions) on those who didn't.
People tended to not come closer after that. There was no point in doing otherwise, their company not wanted, and their battles unnecessary.

Chuck Greene tripped on nothing and fell.
"Kaaaateyyyyy..."

Neither of the deities would claim him.
It was probably best for everyone.
He was a broken man.

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Well now, this wouldn't do.
A flick of a wrist, and some poor soul was skewered, killed, off to be reborn.

Was it that the fates were against them?
It seemed like something out there was intent on keeping them apart.
And to put them on opposite sides like this...!

Well, she would like to see them try forcing her against him.
Dared them to try.

"Don't worry father, I'm coming to you. I won't be stopped."

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I will not fight.
I will not fight!

I am free, and I will run away, and I will not fight!

They cannot make me fight.

They can track me down, perhaps.
They can kill me.
But they cannot make me fight.

In this discovery, I am free...