Mirabelle's Boots: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

A tree.

It’s the first tree that she’s seen. It’s there, off in the distance. Mirabelle stares at it, her heart feeling lighter for a moment. The fairy runs towards it, sprinting across the open field in excitement at seeing her first real landmark.

Something screeches. The light of the sun is blocked out for just a fraction of a second. Her instincts scream. She’s about to get crushed again! A boot!

She only ducks out of the way just in time, as a smaller bird of prey, some young falcon, swoops past her, its razor sharp talons digging up the dirt where she was just standing a second ago. It swoops around in the air, its body arching through the sky as it flies around, a frayed, red string dangling from its left leg.

Laying on her back, she stares up at it for a moment in panic.

Birds are bad news. Usually her kind would hide from them in the trees, in the grotto. But out here, down on the ground, she’s vulnerable. She’s just out in the open. The grass won’t protect her.

Mirabella runs.

The shadow swoops back down towards her, coming for a second pass.

The tree is too far away, she’s not going to make it.

(MIRABELLE) has started channeling [Fairy’s Chime] (Time: 3 Seconds)

SOUL: 35/62

Clenching her teeth, she spins around, dropping to her back and lifting her hand. The falcon won’t miss her twice. Falcons never miss twice.

The wind shifts. She can feel it pressing against her skin. In that instant as she spins around, her back thudding with a familiar pain against the ground, her hand held into the air, all that she sees is a brown blur in front of herself, the sky obscured by the giant body that is towering over her, talons each the size of her own chest extended out to grab her only a breath’s distance from her chest.

Everything shakes, a blast leaves the tip of her finger, pressing through the predator, the precise blast shooting through the space next to its breast, through the bone of its left wing which connects to its body.

(MIRABELLE) has blasted (FALCON) for {11}{BLACK-WATER} DMG with her [Fairy’s Chime] !

{CRITICAL INJURY!} : Applied status [BLEEDING{2}]

HP: 05/16

The falcon screeches, releasing a horrible cry. Its wing dangles off, held in place only by a thread of red, twisting sinew. Mirabella jumps up and runs away as fast as she can, just as the flailing body of the thing falls down where she was laying only a moment ago.

Pushing through the grass as fast as she can, she looks over her shoulder towards the horrible mutilation that lays behind herself. The bird, flailing and screeching in pain, flops down, its neck twisting, its beak snapping as it hisses and screeches and tries to snatch her. Blood streams out of the wound, painting the world all around them both. The animal is unable to coordinate itself and then, an instant later, it stops moving. It stops screaming.

As its body falls down and lays still, for whatever reason, she’s sure that she can hear a faint cracking noise.

[The battle is over!]

You got 10/10 EXPERIENCE POINTS!

[LEVEL UP]

Name: Mirabelle, the cruel fairy 

Custom Primary Class: Fountain of the black-water

HP: 10/10 ↗

SOUL: 64/64 ↗

LVL: 2 ↗

EXP: 09/20

OBOLS: 0

STRENGTH: 03 ↗

DEXTERITY: 07 ↗

INTELLIGENCE: 10

WISDOM: 05

LOVE: 02

LUCK: 02

NEW - [I float]{Passive}{Attribute: BLACK-WATER}

While floating in a body of water and [There’s something in the water] is active, also restore physical, non-health-point damage to your gestalt such as damaged limbs or appendages.

You got 09/20 EXPERIENCE POINTS!

She stands there in the bright, sunlit field for a moment. A surge of happiness comes to her, fueled by the adrenaline rush of her survival, of her devastating victory over something that is gargantuan in comparison with herself. A surge of happiness comes to her because of the thought of perhaps being able to fly again soon, if this new ability is to be believed.

But then a familiar feeling returns. The sadness comes to her again, as if it had just been waiting for a warm emotion to make itself seen, so that it could have something to take, so that it could bury that good feeling in a cold, wet grave.

The ability won’t work now, there aren’t any real puddles or anything of the sort here. And worse…

Mirabelle stands there, peeking out through the grass at the body of the falcon.

- It begins to melt.

She didn’t want to do this and now that it’s done, even if it was was for her survival, she feels bad.

Three things. Since she’s been reborn, she’s killed three things. Sure, all in self-defense, but these are things that would have likely lived for a while longer, had she not been here at all.

No.

No, this isn’t her fault. This is theirs. If they hadn’t chopped away all of the forest, she wouldn’t have had to kill the beetles. If they hadn’t chopped away all of the forest, the falcon wouldn’t have seen her.

Marabelle narrows her eyes. They did this. She hates them. They made her do this. It’s their fault.

The falcon’s body liquefies, as everything but its skin and its feathers turns into a viscous, black goo. The dark ooze leaks out of its deflating form, like oil out of a punctured waterskin. Bird feathers make great padding for a fairy-nest. But… she’s hardly in the mood to build a home, let alone out here, let alone right now.

Mirabelle stands there, staring at the puddle of inky goo, at the liquefied insides of the falcon. She gulps.

Apologizing to the creature, she cautiously steps towards it and then bends down to touch the black stain on the world that is puddling around the corpse. Sniffling, wiping her eyes, Mirabelle then steps into it, feeling the warm ooze squish between her bare feet. It feels disgusting. Not having a better plan, the cruel fairy lays down in the puddle, letting it coat her back. It’s not exactly floating. It feels gross. It kind of smells and its sticky and weird.

Mirabelle does her best not to think about it, as she feels something begin to tickle on her back as something regrows, pressing itself out of her and against the ground.

She takes a deep breath and then flips over, laying with her face down into the mush so that her wings have space to regrow.

_____________________________________________________

 Trees offer great safety for her kind. There’s shade, there’s shelter, there are high branches and boughs to hide in. They often bear fruit. The leaves and barks of many kinds can be used to make fibers for clothes or components for medicine.

Reaching it, feeling relieved at herself for doing so, she places a hand onto the giant oak, feeling the sun-touched warmth of its bark enter her. Mirabelle sighs, letting her body fall slack. She made it.

Sure, she’s only made it to a tree. But… still. She made it somewhere. This whole time, she’s just been walking over an exhausting, deadly field and now, she’s finally somewhere.

Its too tall for her to climb up. It’s a literal mountain. But her wings are restored. They ache a little and they feel stiff and unused, which they are, but they’re there and she can fly again.

She hovers up to a comfortable looking branch and then sits down, opening her bundle of food. Cautiously, she nibbles on the raw bug meat that is starting to smell funny, or maybe it always has, as she waits for night to fall so that she can avoid any other falcons and birds. Except for owls, but they aren’t likely to be out here. They like thick forests.

She holds a chunk of the meat to her nose, sniffing it and making a skeptical face. It smells kind of funny.

She bets that they did this too, somehow…

(MIRABELLE) +15 STAMINA

_____________________________________________________

The sun has vanished. The mother-moon has risen. For a while, Mirabelle had to consider if tonight would be a moonless night or not. Moonless nights are bad luck. But then again, the mother-moon did little to help her before, so she isn’t sure why she even cares.

Tradition, perhaps.

But now, she hasn’t been forsaken. Her wings work. She is fed. Mirabelle lifts up off of the branch, her feet beginning to leave it for the first time in hours as she rises into the air. It’s a relief.

As she rises upwards, feeling the cool, midnight dew tinge her body, Mirabelle feels… relief. Flying is such a relief. It’s so much faster, safer and easier than walking. As she lifts upwards towards the upper boughs of the tree, she closes her eyes and for a moment, feels sure that she is back home, that it is back then.

She can almost hear the voices.

- Something cracks.

Mirabelle’s eyes shoot open and she looks at the source of the noise. Her head had brushed against some thin twigs, breaking them.

The fairy sighs, pushing them out of the way as she continues up towards the branches of tree, towards a spot that looks comfortable and safe. A spot with a better view of the land.

It’s dark, so there isn’t much to see, in all honesty. But the moon is bright and full tonight and the stars all seem to be watching curiously. As if they were aware of something that was yet to happen, but that they knew was coming.

She stares up towards the sky. She doesn’t like the look of them. They seem… too intent. Too bright. It’s a bad omen. But then again, the thousand stars had gifted her this new life, this new chance of revenge. So it is perhaps not her place to question her benefactors?

Mirabelle looks around the area and quickly sees where the pond ought to be. But there is no pond.

Instead, a giant thing juts out of the landscape. Massive towers, giant pillars and homes and gates all adorn the area, dotting the midnight landscape. Warm, yellow lights shine out of the many windows, visible beyond the high walls, painting the streets with their glow.

Human-people. A city.

Mirabelle stares, exhausted. She’s too tired to be angry. But she wants to be. She’s too exhausted and frustrated to yell and to scream and to shout about she hates them. But she wants to be. Instead however, she just sits there on the branch and sighs.

Why is she here?

She was so angry. So incredibly angry, literally too angry to die and so, here she is, sitting on a branch by herself, staring at the distant warmth of the city ahead of herself. It’s a warmth that she wants to extinguish.

Mirabelle rises to her feet, hovering into the air.

She doesn’t know how, but she knows that they have to go. They can’t be allowed to continue as they have. They’ve done nothing but make the world worse. They’ve done nothing but take and destroy everything that belongs to the natural order. They’ve done nothing but make the world worse.

The cruel fairy, Mirabelle, flies up into the air. Her magic seems to be some kind of poison? Some sort of… toxic venom? It’s a corruption of her natural magics as a fairy, but perhaps this will be just the tool that she needs.

They need water. They always build around water.

So what if she just… sprinkles a little ink into their water? A few spells into the mouth of the river. A few droplets by the ponds.

They’ll all die. They’ll all die. The entire city will just… die. Like an anthill with poison poured into its entrances. It might take her a while, to fill the river with enough poison for it to work, but, it could work.

Mirabelle smiles. What a happy thought. Maybe this new life will -

- Something chirps.

The fairy blinks, looking around herself until she sees the source of the disturbance. A nest on a far off bough, on the other side of the tree. A snake has found its way into it and now gorges itself on the helpless chicks.

She flies over, lifting a finger with a glow around it. “Stop!” she yells. The big snake just looks at her in disinterest and squeezes its body tightly compressed.

- Something cracks.

Fluffy, lifeless protrusions stick out of the gaps between the serpent’s body.

Mirabelle hovers there, staring at the nest that had been left defenseless. Its owner, unlikely to return.

“Stop…” she says, dropping her finger. She doesn’t even really mean it, she knows that it’s already over.