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Self-Annihilators are people that by all rights should not exist. Those touched by the hands of Nihility to the point where they’ve become vessels for it. That power erodes both the body and mind. It returns everything it wraps around to nothingness. While to even attempt to gain such a power, one must dip themselves into the colorless ocean that is IX’s shadow. It takes a special kind of insanity to not only seek out that void but to be capable of finding your way back.
Acheron is not the first Self-Annihilator to exist. Nor will she be the last so long as the sleeping and shapeless one drifts through the cosmos. Yet she may as well be with how few and far between they are. A rare beast the likes of which is only seen once every few millennia. No Memokeeper in their right mind would squander the chance to record such a unique individual. And since they cannot directly pluck a Self-Annihilator’s memories from their mind then they must do so through their own memories. At least, that is the excuse Black Swan would give the Garden of Recollection for her choice.
There is some truth to it. All Memokeepers are instinctually drawn to that which cannot be replicated. An Emanator of Nihility easily falls under that category. Whether or not that intrigue can overpower the apprehension of that which is all-consuming would vary from person to person. Black Swan supposes she can also consider herself a rarity for being one of the few who can say yes. Few things across the galaxy can kill a Memokeeper, and because of that they are especially fearful of that which is dangerous to them. Yet instead of wanting to run, Black Swan has found herself time and time again drawn to Acheron’s orbit.
So naturally when the dust had settled and it was time for everyone to part ways, Black Swan offered to travel alongside her. Before she finished speaking Acheron’s expression shifted. Her nose scrunched up and her lips pressed together. To see such a strong reaction painted on her normally expressionless features was such a joy that the Memokeeper wasn’t offended by it.
“You’re making a face.” On the contrary, dare she say it's cute. Black Swan is half-tempted to pinch her cheeks. Still the possibility of rejection tugs at her glass heart. “Are you that against the idea?”
“It’s not that I’m against it. I’ve traveled with others before. It’s just…” Acheron averts her gaze, bangs falling over her uncovered eye. Her thumb taps against the hilt of her sword.
“Different to have a Memokeeper following you around?” Black Swan throws out. People are often as wary of Memokeepers as they are reverent of them. Mainly because they’re not exactly known for respecting the boundaries of privacy. Such is the nature of their line of work.
“I’ve only ever stayed with people who were also touched by Nihility. They could understand me better than most.” Is what Acheron settles on once she has sorted through her apprehension.
“By understand, do you mean in terms of beliefs or…?” Black Swan leaves her question hanging for the ranger to pick up the loose end.
“There are many side effects that come with being infected by Nihility.” A curt and clipped answer. A sliver of frustration boiling to the surface.
Ah, of course. Black Swan has caught glimpses of these “side effects” in between trying to save Penacony. Acheron’s inconsistent memory, her difficulty with navigation, and her dead taste buds. She should know that the Memokeeper is aware of these things. Yet for her to be concerned over that must mean there are some side effects that she hasn’t seen.
“Acheron.” Black Swan calls out, urging the ranger to look at her. When she doesn't, the Memokeeper puts a finger under her chin and turns it towards her. “I won’t judge you for things you have no control over.”
“I know.” Acheron’s shoulders slope. Like this she looks far less imposing. Nothing at all like the fearsome woman who had split the sky open. “I know that but if it becomes too much- If I’m too much, I won’t blame you for leaving.”
“I told you before that I wanted to learn everything about you and I meant it.” Black Swan brushes aside the ranger’s bangs so that both her eyes are exposed. “Your strengths, your flaws, I want to engrain every part of you into my memories.”
“Be careful Swan, that sounds like a proposal.” Acheron’s hands find their way to the Memokeeper’s hips. Urging her closer so that their bodies are pressed together.
“Maybe it is.” Black Swan leans up to press a kiss against her cheek. A chaste peck that lingers longer than necessary. Using it as an excuse to stay against the ranger.
Neither of them has an idea of where to go. Black Swan had already deposited the memories from Penacony to the Garden and was given no specific objective to do next. During moments like these, she merely wanders off to whatever star system calls to her and see what kind of memories she can find there.
Whereas Acheron is an aimless traveler at her core. Penacony had been a rare exception and it was only to fulfill a dying Nameless’s final wish. She explains that she tries to find others who have soaked in the colorless sea. To help guide those who have been tainted by it back into the light before they reach the point of no return. As for how she finds such people-
“I follow rumors of places or people that show signs of IX’s influence.” Is what Acheron says when questioned. “Other than that, I can just tell when I’m near them.”
So where they go doesn’t matter. Both of them have had enough of the Planet of Festivities and want to spread their wings elsewhere. Thus Acheron buys a random ticket for a passenger ship. Public transport is not usually Black Swan’s first choice but Acheron can’t traverse through mirrors. However being reminded of the limitations of the flesh is not so bad.
Acheron keeps to herself on the ship. Sticking mostly to her room and only leaves it to eat or stretch her legs. Sometimes Black Swan stays in there with her, other times she spends hours observing the other passengers. Completely invisible to all but her companion. The calmness of it all is in a way jarring after the chaos that has been the past few days. To the point where Black Swan can’t help but feel a sense of apprehension that something might happen to disrupt this peace.
She is proven right on the fourth day. Black Swan is in their room, sitting on air and sorting through the memories she’s collected from the passengers. There are two people in particular that she’s been keeping an eye on. Strangers to one another before boarding this vessel only for a misunderstanding to bring them together. Black Swan has been witnessing the progression of their relationship with glee. It's so fascinating how two people can be oblivious of each other’s existence one day and then through sheer happenstance forge a powerful bond the next.
When Black Swan senses movement coming from the bed she slips out of the memory. Acheron is the type that is quick to awaken. There’s little lag between her slipping into consciousness and going through her morning rituals. She sits upright with the blanket pooling around her waist. However the moment Black Swan turns to face her she can tell that something is wrong.
The roots of Acheron’s hair are bleeding white. That taint of monochrome reaches down an inch at most but it's one too many. Likewise she doesn’t roll feeling back into her arms as she’s done every other time Black Swan watched her awaken. Instead Acheron stares straight ahead, messy bangs covering her face.
“Acheron?” Black Swan moves to hover beside the bed. Descending far enough down to catch the ranger’s eye.
They aren’t red but the light within them that makes Acheron’s gaze so breathtaking is absent. She does not react when Black Swan waves a hand in front of her face, nor when she snaps her fingers. It’s as if the ranger had become a statue with only her chest rising and falling in time with her breathing.
Black Swan cannot delve into the depths of Acheron’s memories, but she can at least skim across the surface of her mind without any risks. A trick that’s normally done to get a feel for a person’s general mood or to figure out if they’re lying. In this case, it will help Black Swan see if she’s actually conscious or is in a state of sleepwalking.
The moment Black Swan presses her memetic hands against Acheron’s head she immediately pulls back. An instinctual jerk away similar to how one would when they touch a burning pot. Her form flickers with a shudder. Her fingertips sting with a sensation that can be considered pain. The surplus of Nihility that is normally kept locked within the depths of Acheron’s being is bubbling to the surface.
How? Why is this happening? There was seemingly nothing wrong with Acheron until this moment. Not yesterday when she went to bed or throughout the hours she spent sleeping. No, that’s not important right now. The thing Black Swan should be prioritizing is fixing this.
Transitioning from being incorporeal to tangible is always disorienting. One moment Black Swan is weightless, a feather drifting in the wind. In the next she is bound by the mortal coils of gravity. Black Swan’s now solid feet land against the floor with a thud. She has to take a moment to grow accustomed to the feeling of having faux flesh. Her eyes trail over to the wall beside the head of the bed, to the sword leaning against it.
Black Swan is no expert on weapons but she can still tell that it's an impressive blade. It's taller than she is- taller than Acheron too. Standing at two hundred centimeters when fully upright. When Black Swan wraps her fingers around it just below the hilt, she can feel an alien power thrumming within it.
She’s tried asking Acheron about it but the ranger has been stubbornly tight-lipped. There are only two pieces of information Black Swan has been able to pry out of her regarding this sword: That Acheron had it before becoming an Emanator and that it helps her resist the effects of Nihility.
The white has bled all the way down to Acheron’s shoulders. When Black Swan steps closer, her shoulders rise from their slouch and her back straightens. The Memokeeper only needs to offer it for Acheron to snatch hold of her sword. She brings it to lay against her lap and the effect is immediate. That white shade dripping down her locks recedes. Her eyes take on a less dead look and becomes more dazed.
Black Swan sits down in front of her. She counts to sixty before once again poking at the ranger’s mind. It’s no longer bubbling from the influx of Acheron’s Path. But it’s also not flowing with the telltale signs of consciousness. With a huff Black Swan attempts to urge Acheron into laying back down. Yet in a surprising twist, the ranger resists her nudges. Firmly staying upright and staring directly at the Memokeeper with glazed eyes.
“You don’t want to go back to sleep?” Black Swan tries asking. She gets no response. Out of curiosity, she brings a hand up to cup Acheron’s cheek. The ranger leans into her touch, resting her weight against her palm. “Can you even hear me right now?”
Acheron merely stares at her. Black Swan finds her mind drifting to the image of large, well-trained dogs sitting at the ready as they await a command. That silly comparison causes her to subconsciously scratch the ranger’s cheek as if she were petting her. When she realizes she lowers her hand and Acheron tilts her head to chase after it.
“As cute as this is, acting like a dog doesn’t really suit you.” Black Swan leans back to rest her weight against her arms.
If Acheron were any type of dog then right now she’d be those shaggy ones with how her long hair is all over the place. She’s got a terrible case of bedhead. Black Swan slips off the bed to dig through the scant few things that the ranger actually owns. It takes but a few seconds to find the comb. Acheron’s eyes continue to bore into her while she moves back to the bed, this time to sit behind her.
Black Swan goes through the tedious process of wrangling in the mess that is Acheron’s hair. The ranger obediently sits still as she does so. Occasionally grunting when the Memokeeper tugs at a particularly tight knot. Nostalgia buds in the depths of Black Swan. The last time she brushed someone else’s hair was back when she was still human. How many years has it been since then? Far too many.
“You know, in some ways you remind me of my mother.” This is not the first time Black Swan has compared the two. Though it feels strange to say it aloud. “She had a severe case of dementia and I was the only one left that could take care of her.”
She wonders how Acheron would react to that if she were cognizant. Would she take offense to having the effects of her Nihility compared to a mental disorder? Would she offer the Memokeeper her sympathy? Or would she remain silent like she is now, unable to think of a response?
“You’re worried that your issues will be a burden to me, but I’m already used to dealing with this.” Black Swan runs her fingers through the length of the ranger’s hair, fluffing it out. A smile tugs at her lips. “At least you can remember who I am.”
Perhaps it's better that Acheron can’t hear her right now. Black Swan leans forward, pressing herself against the ranger’s back. Memories are precious but they can also be painful. They prick at Black Swan until she’s left shuddering from the intensity of it. Morbid thoughts digging them deeper.
“One day will you forget about me too?” Black Swan doesn’t want to think about that possibility. Yet now that she has the thought refuses to leave. An old wound she thought had scarred over reopening.
She feels Acheron shift. The Memokeeper straightens as she begins to turn. Those glazed serpentine eyes stare her down. An arm wraps around Black Swan’s waist. At the same time a tongue pokes against her cheek. Black Swan lets out an involuntary squeal at the sensation. Of all the things she expected to experience today, having Acheron taste her tears was not one of them.
“Mercy, you are so-” Black Swan can’t decide if she wants to pull away or lean closer. Conflicting feelings are locking horns inside her chest.
Acheron switches to nuzzling against her. It kind of tickles with how her hair brushes against her skin. In the end, the warmth threatening to burst forth wins out. Black Swan giggles as wraps her arms around the ranger’s shoulders.
“I’m alright. I was merely caught off guard by the rush of memories.” Black Swan reassures her. Whether or not the ranger actually understands her words, her reciprocation of the embrace seems to get her point across well enough.
Acheron reluctantly releases the Memokeeper. The arm wrapped around her waist squeezes her hip when she starts to pull away but acquiesces in the end. If Black Swan didn’t know better, she’d think that Acheron is just feeling mute this morning.
Usually Acheron gets breakfast as soon as she’s done grooming herself. Missing one meal isn’t a huge deal, but with how responsive she is Black Swan is curious. Especially since all she needs to do is pass the ranger her clothes and she changes into them. No harm in giving it a try.
She expects Acheron to stay sitting. Instead when Black Swan opens the door the ranger follows after her. Trailing behind the Memokeeper and pinching the flowing tailcoat of her bodysuit like a child would cling to their mother’s sleeve.
“If you’re going to cling to me, at least do it properly.” Black Swan pries her off before bringing their hands together. Fingers curling to interlock them.
Hand-in-hand the two women head towards the ship’s cafeteria. They pass by several other passengers who are also leaving their rooms. None pay them any mind. Subconsciously stepping away when the two of them happen to get close to them.
That’s an interesting detail Black Swan has observed since she first started stalking Acheron. People instinctually know that there is something off about her but at the same time they have difficulty perceiving her. Unless she approaches them, to ordinary people Acheron is a ghost drifting across the land. Forgotten the moment she is out of sight.
The cafeteria is fairly crowded when they get there. A large chunk of the other passengers had the same idea as Black Swan. She scans the various tables and finds most of them occupied. They could just return to the room after getting food, but carrying a tray while guiding Acheron back would frankly be a pain. Thankfully she spots a couple getting up to leave. Once they are a good distance away from the now-cleared table, Black Swan moves to claim it.
“Wait here.” Black Swan instructs after she successfully urges Acheron into sitting. Maybe the ranger can hear her to an extent because she does as she’s told. Remaining at the table, watching the Memokeeper move towards the counter.
Sunset eyes rove over the menu screen hanging on the wall. It’s a little embarrassing to admit but Black Swan doesn’t know much about food, not anymore. She stopped needing to eat the moment she sacrificed her human body on Fuli’s altar. A Memokeeper’s ability to remember might be better than most however even they will inevitably forget things. She only has the vaguest recollections of what various meals are like.
Although taste is not an issue when it comes to Acheron. There are a couple of specific flavors that she can still detect, but other than those everything is the same to her tongue. Because of that the ranger cares more about texture when it comes to what she eats. Acheron has a strong preference for anything she can sink her teeth deep into. While things that are too crunchy or hard are appalling to her. Black Swan admittedly finds herself at a bit of a loss for what would fit the ranger’s tastes.
Boisterous laughter followed by panicked shooshing momentarily distracts her. Black Swan recognizes the group of young men responsible for the commotion. Friends that have decided to go on an intergalactic vacation in celebration of delving into adulthood. Three of the four seem to be teasing their flustered companion. He turns away from them with a huff. In doing so, their eyes unintentionally meet. His widen and he attempts to hide his growing blush beneath a cough. Ah, so it’s like that.
His friends edge him into approaching. Black Swan fixes her expression into a polite smile as he stands. This would hardly be the first time she’s the subject of another’s infatuation. Most of the time they don’t mean any harm. She’d certainly be hard-pressed to find anyone more… shall we say, intense than Sparkle’s version of flirting. As such Black Swan always tries her best to reject them gently.
While she is debating the best way to turn him down, a weight settles against her back. The young man hesitates at the same time an arm wraps around Black Swan. She turns her head towards that familiar figure, unintentionally brushing her cheek against Acheron’s. She can’t see the ranger’s expression from how they’re positioned against each other, but she can so easily picture the glare she’s no doubt directing at the young man.
“Acheron, dear.” Black Swan puts her hand over her irate lover’s. Her fingers glide against tense muscles. “Show the poor boy some mercy.”
Acheron turns to try and look at her. Succeeding in bumping the sides of their heads together. The young man is deflected and Black Swan mouths a silent ‘sorry’ to him. He shakes his head and gives her a thumbs-up before returning to his friends. If he’s that much of a good sport then he’ll no doubt find a girl that’ll return his infatuation in due time.
“Now let’s get some food for you.” Black Swan pries herself free from the ranger’s possessive grip. Maybe she should make herself visible to others more often just to see more of these kinds of reactions from Acheron.
In the end Black Swan settles for grabbing a couple of stacks of pancakes. If she recalls correctly then syrup is fairly sweet. That might tickle the ranger’s dull taste buds. Thankfully no one claimed their table after Acheron abandoned it.
“You really are an odd one. Even though your mind is completely still, you can still react to your surroundings as if you were conscious.” Black Swan remarks mostly to herself as she watches the ranger eat. “What was that phrase again? Ah yes. You’re taking no thoughts, head empty too literally.”
Is this what happens to everyone who steps too far onto the Path of Nihility? Black Swan knows that she has an affinity for it though it doesn’t influence her in any way. Whether that’s just because she only lightly aligns with it or is thanks to Fuli’s protection is hard to say. It’s rather ironic, really. Nihility and Remembrance are supposed to be opposites. Yet here she is with a foot on both sides of the line.
“When people think of the Paths, they usually picture them in their most extreme forms. Because of that, they forget that there’s a little bit of each one inside of everyone. Only the Aeons are exempt from this.” Acheron had remarked when the Memokeeper asked for her thoughts on the matter. “Becoming a Pathstrider just means you happen to align with one much more strongly than the others.”
“By that logic, shouldn’t I be a Pathstrider of Remembrance? I can hardly think of the type of person that would align more with it than someone sworn to Fuli.” Black Swan had edged her further, not at all satisfied with that answer. She wanted to hear the opinion of an Emanator of Nihility. Not something she already knew.
“Most people do not realize how many pointless things they do on a day-by-day basis.” Acheron had put her arm down beside the Memokeeper’s. Close enough to brush against her. “While you believe that those mundane acts are precious.”
“I do.” In response Black Swan hooked her thumb around the ranger’s pinkie. “As exciting as big events are, the only reason they are so significant is because they are rare. Without these boring, peaceful moments in between they hold no meaning.”
What she did not say is how those moments are what truly define the bonds that connect people together. How anyone can make grand gestures in hopes of impressing the one who has caught their eye. Yet only those whose hearts have already been intertwined can be content with merely the presence of their partner. It reveals itself in how their fingers interlocked and their bodies subtly leaned toward one another. So yes, these mundane moments are precious.
“And that is why you are a Pathstrider of Nihility.” Acheron smiled at her when she spoke. Not one of those amused half-smiles she gets when she finds something funny. Instead it was a full-blown curve of her lips.
In the present, Black Swan feels her face heating up at the memory. That’s another odd thing about being corporeal. Her memetic nature means she normally lacks the facilities to react in such ways. It’s only recently that she’s started properly utilizing her faux body. No wonder people get so nervous around their crushes if this is how it feels.
Speaking of crushes, she wonders how that couple she’s been observing are doing. Black Swan scans the other tables. Most are occupied by families with the occasional group of friends or business partners mixed in. Just when she’s about to give up, she spots them on the opposite side of the cafeteria and tucked away in a corner. A shame she can’t go over and eavesdrop while she’s watching over Acheron. It’s more exciting to witness these sorts of things live than through a memory. Alas her beloved ranger takes priority.
To be honest Black Swan doesn’t know why their blooming relationship has captured her attention. There are plenty of more invigorating romances stored within the Garden of Recollection. In comparison this one is rather tame and painfully average. Yet it’s exciting to her. This is but another one of those “pointless” occurrences that she has felt drawn to. So long as Fuli doesn’t care what kind of memories their Memokeepers gather, Black Swan will continue to treasure these moments that the others would ignore.
When Acheron has finished up her plate, the Memokeeper leads her out of the cafeteria. Going the opposite way from the rooms. As much as that would be the smart thing to do, Black Swan is in the mood for something else right now. Near the boarding ramparts is a large communal area. With various TVs turned to the news and couches scattered throughout. What specifically draws Black Swan to this place are the vast windows that allow anyone dwelling within it to gaze out into space.
Not many people are around and the few that are make sure to keep their voices quiet. It gives a sense of privacy when Black Swan sits down on a couch that faces the windows. She pulls Acheron down to lay her head against her lap. Blank eyes stare up at her listlessly as she plays with those long bangs. Black Swan goes limp against the backrest of the couch. She stretches her legs as far out as they can reach.
Stars glide past as the ship moves ever onward. Constellations and novas form arrays of colors that blur together. The conversations of the room’s other occupants and the droll of the TVs fade into white noise. It makes for a quiet moment that stirs pleasantly within the Memokeeper’s mind. Another pleasant memory to be lovingly cherished.
Black Swan doesn’t pay any attention to how much time passes. She falls into a state of meditation, savoring the peace. All she knows is that after a while she starts to feel Acheron stir and she doesn’t mean physically. Her hand pauses its rhythmic stroke against the ranger’s crown. She watches how serpentine eyes click into focus. Acheron assesses their surroundings with her brows scrunching in confusion.
“Welcome back.” Black Swan moves her hand lower to cup the ranger’s jaw. Her thumb tracing invisible patterns against her cheek. “How do you feel?”
Acheron merely rolls onto her side with a sigh. She presses her face against the Memokeeper’s stomach. Shifting her whole body to get more comfortable. The thinnest part of Black Swan’s bodysuit is around her navel. A fact that the ranger is taking full advantage of. It’s more ticklish than anything else with how light her kisses are. A smack to the head is enough to get her to stop.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Black Swan tries again. She is not letting the ranger avoid this.
“Laying in bed with you in my arms.” Acheron bumps her head against the Memokeeper’s stomach. A small tantrum to display her displeasure. “Did I do anything strange while I was blacked out?”
“First tell me how often this happens.” Black Swan finds herself having to fight back a smile at her childish behavior. Despite how mature she seems, Acheron can be quite petty.
The ranger sighs before pushing herself upright. Putting just enough distance between them so that they can properly face each other. Acheron remains silent. Her lips are pursed together and eyes narrowing in deep thought. The longer she keeps quiet the more frustrated she grows.
“It’s fine if you can’t remember.” Black Swan realizes a little too late that such a simple question isn’t simple for the ranger. “It happens frequently enough that you know it's a problem.”
“More like annoying.” Acheron gives up on searching the empty shelves that make up her memories with a huff. “Suddenly finding yourself in a random place with no recollection of how you got there doesn’t pair well with a horrible sense of direction.”
“I would say that counts as a problem.” Sometimes Black Swan can’t help but wonder how the ranger managed to accomplish anything with her combination of quirks. Not just in Penacony but before then as well.
“I couldn’t tell you why it happens or how long those episodes last.” Acheron bows her head. Either in shame or embarrassment or a combination of both.
“While you were sleepwalking you followed me around like a lost puppy.” Black Swan still doesn’t think the dog comparison fits her, but that kicked-puppy look of hers is adorable.
“Did anything I do bother you?” Acheron immediately snaps her head up. Whatever type of flustered she’d been gone in an instant. Replaced by startled concern.
“You were very sweet.” Black Swan scoots closer to her, bumping their shoulders together. Her reassurance eases up the ranger’s worry. That is until she continues. “Though you did almost fight a man for my affection.”
“What?” Acheron stares at her as if the Memokeeper had just said Penacony had blown up. So wide-eyed and her lips parted.
“Nothing actually happened. You gave him one look and he ran off with his tail between his legs.” Black Swan brushes her knuckles against the ranger’s tattoo. She feels goosebumps rise under her teasing touch.
“That’s good.” Acheron squirms but makes no move to shuffle away. “There have been times when I regained awareness and was covered in blood. I don’t know whose it was, if it was an act of self-defense, or…”
“It was most likely self-defense.” Black Swan moves her hand over the ranger’s thigh and gives it a comforting squeeze. “You are the type to only hurt those that deserve it, Mercy.”
The reaction that gets is the exact one she expects. Eyes narrowing in a mixture of confusion and mock annoyance. It’s how she responds every time the Memokeeper has called her that.
“I still don’t think that nickname suits me.” Acheron eventually bemoans. Another one of her adorably pitiful pouts pursing her lips.
“It fits you perfectly.” Black Swan boops the tip of her nose which makes her face scrunch up further. “You refuse to draw your sword unless you're forced to.”
“I don’t need a sharp edge to kill someone.” Acheron sternly reminds her. There are plenty of ways to maim that don’t involve the colorless sea that sleeps within her.
Black Swan cannot deny that. She’s watched Acheron beat down the Dreamscape’s corrupted Memes with her sword while it was sheathed. The blunt force of her swings combined with the electricity that crackles off her strikes was more than enough to break down robotic adversaries. Were she to do the same to a person, she would no doubt shatter their bones even without the elemental infusion. It was as frightening to watch as it was hot.
“Aventurine did everything he could to paint you as the villain yet you helped him make peace with his past.” Black Swan had made sure to keep that part of the memories she plucked out of the Stoneheart in her private collection. A moment too intimately vulnerable for both involved to be passed to the Garden. “What would you call that if not mercy?”
“Oh.” Acheron stares at her for a prolonged moment. At first the Memokeeper worries she might be upset over this invasion of privacy but then she speaks. “I didn’t think you’d be able to look at that memory considering where it happened.”
“Any other Memokeeper might have been crushed by the visage of IX alone.” Black Swan admits. Which is another reason she kept it. That might have just been a dream- a Memory Zone formed by the ranger’s connection to the Aeon- but to memetic entities, there is little difference between them and reality. “It’s a good thing that my affinity matches yours.”
“Please don’t take those kinds of risks just to satisfy your curiosity.” Unbeknownst to the Memokeeper, Acheron is currently having an internal debate about whether or not she’s a masochist deep down.
“I managed to get out of your head just fine.” Black Swan states with a smugness that can’t fully hide the shivers that run down her spine at the reminder.
“It hurt you enough that you avoided me until you couldn’t.” There’s an underlying lilt threatening to crack Acheron’s voice. Her guilt attempting to surface.
“You noticed that?” It’s Black Swan’s turn to be surprised. Before that dance, the two of them had never interacted. That combined with the ranger’s spotty memory means she shouldn’t have picked up on that.
“I can feel you nearby even when I can’t see you.” She supposes she should have realized that after Acheron had called out to her after the Dreammaster ordered her to leave Penacony. It seems Emanators are sensitive to entities like her. “Your presence is warm and everything seemed so much colder when you weren’t around.”
Black Swan is no stranger to being flirted with, but the way Acheron goes about it rarely fails to make her nervously giddy. It’s because she isn’t actually flirting. The ranger is an honest person who isn’t afraid to speak her mind. Any compliments she gives as if she were stating a fact. That makes it so much more effective than any active attempt to garner her favor.
“If this is how you talk to girls then I’m going to have to start fighting off all the ones you’ve charmed.” Yet this type of song and dance is Black Swan’s specialty. She will not so easily concede.
“I’m only like this to the pretty ones.” It’s a game that Acheron has gradually grown fond of. She’s also proven to be a quick learner. “Besides I doubt many people out there can say that Robin of all people asked them for a dance.”
“Oh hush. I’m sure she would’ve asked you as well if you hadn’t been so tense.” Black Swan would be lying if she said that hadn’t flustered her at all. Sure, they’ve gotten to know the idol on a more personal level. However seeing Robin’s determination behind the scenes has made the Memokeeper admire her more than she already had.
“That Masked Fool also tried to get your attention whenever you were in the same room too.” Acheron isn’t finished with her attack. Edging the Memokeeper further over her apparent popularity. “At this rate I’m going to have to wait in line.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say I already have an exclusive dance partner. She’s a strong girl and it would be a shame if a handsome face like yours were to get bruised.” Black Swan manages to counter. It works in reddening the ranger’s cheeks but not in making her surrender.
“I think I could win.” Short, simple, and straight to the point. The type of strike that Acheron specializes in. Able to cleave down anything and everything with a single swing should she put her full strength into it.
That manages to get Black Swan to break. Laughter bubbles out from her chest. The triumphant victor leans into her. The Memokeeper feels Acheron smile against her shoulder. Her weight settles comfortably on her.
There are moments like these where Black Swan finds herself overwhelmed by how much she’s come to adore this woman she once viewed as a threat. It’s even more surprising how quickly the two of them have managed to grow so comfortable with each other once those suspicions were cleared.
Then again, maybe it isn’t so surprising when Black Swan dares to peak inward. Being a Memokeeper is lonely. Appearing and disappearing before others like a dream they can’t be certain is real or not. Because of that very reason, her fellows more often than not choose to avoid interacting with humans unless they happen across a potential future Memokeeper. Black Swan could not stomach going that far. She is a social butterfly at heart. She’s managed to satisfy that part of herself by doing fortune-telling and readings on the side, but those small interactions are no substitute for true companionship.
Something similar could be said about Acheron. She might seem like a loner at first, rarely instigating interactions outside of necessity or for her thankless work. However if one were to look closely they’d realize it’s not out of aversion for socializing. The ranger is more than happy to converse when approached. Even if her responses are oftentimes short and curt. Rather she limits how much she engages with other people out of consideration for them. Of the indirect effects that her status as an Emenator of Nihility has on the ordinary, everyday folk.
It was nothing short of pure luck that their paths were able to cross. Had things gone even the teeniest, tiniest bit differently than Acheron would have never been able to step foot on Penacony. Much less would Black Swan have taken enough of an interest to stalk her over any of the other high profile guests.
The romantic part of the Memokeeper wants to call it fate. A destined encounter if she were to be in an especially enamored mood. No matter if it was chance or the meddlings of the gods, Black Swan is gald to have found such a charming dance partner to traverse the galaxy with.