'What was I going to do again?'
Quies stared at the ascent of rocks with a placid look. In truth, he was actually about to head back to Valerie's ship to go fish for some food. However, since the adventurers were going the same direction, it would be awkward for him to walk alongside them after having said their goodbyes. So, he decided to wait.
Earlier, though, he had decided to climb up the stone ascent for a different reason, but he had forgotten why.
'Was it to go to that megalodaunt cave? No, it must not have been… there would be no reason for me to go there at all, actually. I've already explored most of this side of the island—it's pretty small.'
Quies waited a bit longer until the adventurers were out of view, and also when he couldn't hear their voices anymore. But as he waited—standing still—an uneasiness began to swell within him. It took a while for him to notice the silence that filled his ears.
Something felt off.
It wasn't something earlier, nor was it something about himself. He felt fine, really, but it was just… his surroundings.
He looked around, paying attention to every detail of the landscape. The rocks, grass, the trees—but he couldn't find anything off. There were barely any shadows cast due to the midday sun.
Hesitantly, he closed his eyes and tried to listen for resonances around him, but nothing stood out. Only the natural sound of the song hummed in the background.
He would use his mantra, but after what he had done with the artifact—coating it with his blood—he needed time to recover his ether. It would be a waste to incant it and waste ether right now when there was no evidence of strangeness around him.
'It's just because I'm alone… and this island itself. It gets so damn quiet—eerily quiet sometimes.'
The quiet was something Quies had gotten accustomed to while living on this island. Sometimes—all at once—the world seemed to hold its breath for a few seconds.
The howling wind would choke on its own breath, the grass would stop its eternal rustle. The birds—the scant few that still live here—would halt their voices.
Rustle
Quies flinched.
Something was moving the grass.
But a moment later, Quies sighed in relief as the gusts of the island blew down once more. It was just the wind. Then, the birds began chirping once more—the flap of feathers intermittent through the rustling leaves afar.
It wasn't late yet—still noon, so he still had time to explore. Yet…
'I should get back to the ship.'
Maybe a little bit of fishing would calm his mind.
***
Whizz
Quies cast… a relatively fine looking fishing rod, actually.
He had found it in Valerie's storage compartment. As small as it is, there was a surprising amount of stuff packed into that tight space. He had gone looking for one, since, well, he didn't really want to use one he made himself.
Fortunately for him, Valerie had one. He stared into the dark, lightless abyss of the room. It looked darker right now, for some reason. He ignored it, though. It was probably just a byproduct of his anxiety from earlier.
Now, here he sat leaning forwards against the raised wooden lip of the schooner—the same one Valerie had used to interrogate him back then.
He looked to the other side and downwards at the worn, yet beautiful wooden deck of the ship. There laid an aquamarine stone fashioned in the shape of a shell—elegantly shaping the light around it. Ocean air swept through the inner walls of the hollow gift.
"Fuck…"
The longer he looked into it, the heavier the swell in his heart grew. Congested and stuck—bundled in a tight, unwindable ball of unexplainable emotions. He had yet to begin untying the many knots that formed his grief for his father—he didn't want to.
He didn't want to see the truths that hid within the complex weave of despair. He's doing just fine currently.
It was intermittent. It was small enough to hide behind the other thoughts which ran through his head. There would be some days where he never even thought about what had happened—or even about his past—whenever he was really, truly engrossed in something. Like training with Evengarde… that really required his full mental presence. It was a wall that he couldn't see… think past.
Then there were those empty moments. Moments like these where nothing could hide that ugly ball of tangled knots. They were supposed to be tranquil moments—moments where his mind could rest… but he couldn't—not completely.
He looked back at the glistening horizon—the shining Etrean sea. His line faded into a thread of nothingness as it reached far away from him.
Rustle
'Flow.'
Quies issued the mental mantra at the sudden sound. His head jerked to the side.
Eyes of the liquid night—dark with the luster of fluid ink stared back. The raven perched on the lip-edge that he leaned on. Wreathed with darkness, its feathers rustled with an unnatural stillness.
The bird from earlier.
"...hey there… buddy."
Quies looked on with curiosity. He stood up straight, holding the fishing rod in his left, non-dominant hand as he slowly paced towards the creature. Timid, the bird hopped backwards, but eventually stopped as it recognized Quies wasn't going to hurt it.
Ravens are smart birds—one of the smartest, actually. It was smart enough to notice that Quies wouldn't be a threat, at least.
Responding to its confirmation, Quies reached his hand out cautiously towards the amiable creature's head. It looked like he was trying to pet the little thing.
Out of instinct, the bird flinched—still keeping a constant dark gaze with Quies' crimson eyes. He held his hand there—a barely negligible distance away from the lightless beak of the bird.
The moment was long, but not too long.
In the end, the bird crept its head towards his hand, expecting for Quies to stroke its soft feathers of night.
Instea-
Grip.
Quies gripped the head of the pathetic little thing with his right hand.
Flap Flap Flap!
Its lightless wings flapped violently, sending turbulent torrents of wind every which way. Its body squirmed and spasmed, trying to escape Quies' grip of death. His coat fluttered from its powerful sweeps of air-
Crush.
His hand closed with a fatal grip. The raven fell lifeless.
Quies held onto the fractured head of the creature. Its wings did not flap, nor did its body squirm for freedom. Its heart did not beat either—silent to Quies' ears.
But, really, Quies didn't feel too much remorse. None, actually.
The damn thing didn't even have a real heartbeat in the first place.
He tossed the lifeless construct into the tranquil ocean—far into the ocean. Its lightless body crumbled between rays of golden light.
His gut never lied.