Rebirth...

Mistaya

Mistaya

Crispy Critter
Adventurer
Joined
May 20, 2004
Messages
738
Location
Upper Jeuno
This is a small closed fan-fic I've tinkered with, figured I would post it. It will probably make more sense the further it goes. Its fairly graphic, you've been warned :)

What if one day you woke up, and everything you had, everything you were, and everyone you knew was gone. And then what if you looked over to the side and realized… You did it to yourself…

Mistaya woke up with a headache. Her feline ears twitched in mild pain as she brought one hand to her throbbing forehead. Something inside her felt… empty. She blinked blearily and pushed the blanket aside.

White light bathed the sterile tiled room. It came mostly from the small rectangular window high up on the west wall. Mistaya rubbed her shoulder as she surveyed the surrounding room. She had no memory of coming to this place. It was unlike anything she had ever encountered.

Strange writing covered a notepad on a table next to the too clean bed. The room smelled vaguely of bleach. Mistaya picked up the notepad hesitantly and peered at the words. They were a language she had never seen. The white light flickered briefly. Misty shuddered as vague black and white images tried to replay in her mind.

A scythe dipped in blood. A flute carved with care. A single short katana held downwards in a steady paw…

The images ceased abruptly as she coughed up blood. Shivering and realizing she was very ill, Mistaya tried to calm herself. She hugged her knees to her chest and waited.

She waited for a very long time. The light never ceased shining, remaining as bright and sterile as it ever was. She drifted off slightly, entering a world of half nightmares.

She was different in the nightmares, taller and thicker and with great horns on her head. It was a more primal world, a world of endless war and struggle. But there was someone with her in that tangle of blood and bodies… Someone who loved her…

A sudden noise jolted her out of half-sleep. The comforting feeling of the nearness of others was gone. She was alone. She looked to her left. On the table next to the notepad was a small tray with a small dish of meat mithkabobs. Next to the food was a long syringe, dripping with a clear fluid. How it had gotten there she didn’t know. She was sure she would have detected anyone entering the room but apparently she hadn’t.

Slightly mistrusting the meal, but starving, Mistaya poked one kabob with her finger. It seemed normal. She sniffed it but it smelt normal. Finally she shrugged and bit into it. It was an old flavor, one she hadn’t tasted in a very long time. In a moment she had devoured the lot.

The syringe though she didn’t touch. There was a small tag on it in her own tongue that read: “For the headaches. Inject 3 times daily into left arm.” What bothered her more about it that anything was the fact that it was not only written in her language… It was written in her own handwriting. Something was very, very wrong.

As she puzzled over what to do (or not do!) with the syringe, another wracking headache came over her. Clutching her ears in both hands she tried to fend it off but the images poured in and she couldn’t help but let out a scream.

A tall pointed hat. A rifle with a blue feather. A friend in green pants smiling…

The last image gave her strength even through the pain. Grunting with the effort she reached over to the table with trembling hands and grabbed the long syringe. She whined slightly as she drove it deep into the flesh of her left arm.

Instantly the racking pain ceased. She panted, wiping the blood off her mouth with the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath she looked at the tiny window. It was far too small to fit through yet iron bars as thick as her wrist made any escape through that means impossible.

Mistaya glanced through the room in a panic. It was the first time she noticed… There was no door. There was nothing but the barred window, not event a ventilation duct. The mithra coughed twice more but there was no more blood. Exhausted, she crawled under the sheet and huddled into a small ball.

She was scared.

END PART 1
 
thx :D It gets worse before it gets better.

When her eyes opened again some things had changed. The blood was gone, the sheets were clean. Everything was as it had been the first time she had woken up. The tray with the food was gone. However there was a large syringe on the table next to the notepad. And there was a pencil next to the notepad as well.

Mistaya stood and picked up the notepad and pencil. She leaned back against the too white walls of her prison, glancing up and down at the strange words and symbols that made as much sense to her as a child’s scribbles. There was a puzzle in the words, if only she could unlock it. Was it her imagination, or did the writing seem to change each time she glanced at it?

Slightly bored, she doodled a small stick figure in the corner of the page. It seemed lonely, so she drew it a friend. A slow smile spread across her face as she toyed with the figures, sketching in small features. For a last touch she erased their arms and drew them holding hands.

The headaches hit her like a brick wall. She crumpled under the pain, pencil and paper lost. A thin band of tears ran down her cheek as she crawled back to the table.

He was smiling at her. His face was distorted but she clearly saw the green pants, puffed out and cutoff at the knee… It had to be him… She reached out, but he turned away, tossing something over his shoulder as he vanished…

She drove the needle home as she wept, trying to calm her erratic breathing. The pain was getting worse each time. Her shivering refused to cease for several minutes. When it finally did she took another deep breath and crawled back to the notepad. There was blood all over the front page, staining the two doodles a bright red. The words in the foreign language were completely gone.

But… She frowned and peered closely at the bloody page. The doodles were not as she had drawn them. They were moving.

Misty almost dropped the notepad in shock, but managed to hold onto it despite her fear. “What…?” She whispered. The drawings turned and looked up at her. Hello mother. Mistaya frowned. “Mother?” The drawings smiled but did not answer. Mistaya wondered if she was going mad. Maybe this was where they put mad people. Maybe she was imagining all of it.

Why are you afraid mother? The doodles asked. “I…” Mistaya shrugged. If this was her insanity, there was no help for it. “Where am I?” She asked, not sure if she even wanted to know the answer.

This is the place between. “Between what?” Between lives. This is where you wait for the summons. “I don’t understand.” You chose not to Mother. Understanding brings pain. “What does that mean?”

The doodles looked confused and sad. The bright red blood was fading to brown as it dried.

We are what we are, and when we are no more we are reborn again in new forms, on new pages. You are what you are, and this is the place between. We are sorry.

The little doodles seemed to slow as the page dried their forms melting in the liquid on the page. Mistaya cried out to them. “Wait, don’t go, don’t leave me alone here!” You are not alone Mother, he is there, and she is all around you. “Please…”

The tiny figures were gone.

END PART 2
 
Mist, if this story doesn't end up with me seeing my name twin running around Jeuno again I'm gonna be sad. I never got a good chance to level with you because I had bad playtimes and then went backpacking for 4 months. I'm sad I missed that opportunity.

Keep the story going though, I'm loving it like McDonalds.
 
The drawings, whether a delusion or not, had left her with more questions than answers. The place between… She didn’t understand. She sank down in the corner of the room, biting her lip as she tried to make sense of it all.

The white light hurt her eyes. It made it difficult to think, difficult to reason. Not that reason had a place in this tiny prison. There was no physical way for her to even have entered this place! It had no connection to reality, no substance.

She reached over to where she had dropped the notebook in disgust but it was no longer there. Sighing, she stood and walked back to the table. Sure enough there was the notebook, clean as it had been when she woke up. A new syringe sat next to it. Snarling she picked up the notepad.

The words seemed to rearrange themselves on the page. Suddenly she found she could understand some of it. It was not in a language she knew, but somehow she could read it anyways.

Be patient. It is almost time.

“Time for what?” She wondered aloud.

You are confused. But you must finish what you started even if you do not understand why.

She frowned and glanced around the room again. Finish what she started? Surely nothing here was her doing. Why would she inflict pain and torture on herself?

I am with you always. He follows as well, in this place between. As you follow him.

None of it made sense. Her head hurt but it wasn’t from the headaches. The sheer madness of it…

A loud thumping interrupted her and she turned to the north wall. The thumping continued, something was outside. There was a strong crash of shattered tile. What was this? Was someone trying to break in? Misty was torn, was this friend or a foe? She was weak and sick. Defenseless and weaponless. If it was an enemy she knew in her gut there was no hope for survival. But if it was a friend…

Throwing caution to the wind she ran to the wall. She felt the harsh vibrations and began to help, beating through on her own side. She grabbed the hard metal tray and used it as a shield for her hands as she attacked the tile wall with ferocity. The pounding on the other side noticed her efforts, and came faster. The wall shook with the force.

Tears ran down her face as she smashed into the wall again and again. Fear and claustrophobia pumped pure adrenaline through her veins and she barely noticed the pain running through her arms. Tile chips and bits of stone cut her and the force of impact was slowly going to break the bones in her hands but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stand to be alone anymore.

Finally there was a dull thud and the stone gave way. It was a small place, about chest high and barely as thick and tall to fit two arms through. Mistaya tossed the tray to the ground and dug through the loose stone to clear the rubble out of the hole. Her breaths came in gasps and wheezes.

She could hear panting on the other side. A shaky voice called out.

“Misty? Misty is that you?”

END PART 3
 
The voice was strained, sickly just as she was. And so familiar… But the name was beyond her grasp. Who was it? She delved through her shattered memory but found only a blank.

“It’s me.” She replied to the question.

“Thank god. Misty, we don’t have much time, this hole will seal itself…” The voice seemed very urgent.

Suddenly the name came to her. The name and all the memories. Gims…

The headaches stunned her. A huge pool of information rushed through her tired mind like water through a broken dam. She screamed. All the memories… They fought for control in her head, fought the drug that denied them their space. And they were winning.
“Misty come here, take my hand!” Gims yelled, and thrust his arm through the hole. He knew what she was going through, in this place between. Misty did not respond to him, reaching blindly for the drug filled syringe on the table.

“Don’t do it Mist! Don’t! Come to me! Please!” The voice begged. The vial in her shaking hand paused.

“Hurts…” She mumbled. “It hurts oh god…”

“I know it does, come here, hold my hand.”

Her eyes wouldn’t focus but she managed to reach the hole. In one hand she felt the warm touch of a friend, a lover, in the other the cold hard plastic of the drug.

“Wh…Whats happening to me…” She demanded blearily, trying to fight down the pain. She wiped the thin trail of drool off her mouth as the pain settled into a dull aching.

“Stop killing yourself Mist… Don’t take that drug. It’s erasing your memory! Its erasing you!” Gims squeezed her palm. “I don’t want you to forget…”

Mistaya wondered what this meant. She was only half conscious, the pain had temporarily blinded her. “I…” It increased tenfold. She lost her grip on Gims’ hand, everything was darkness. She could not hear or see or fight it any longer. With a gasp she injected herself, unable to stop her body’s need for self-preservation.

She blacked out.

When she woke up, the hole was gone as if it had never been. The notepad was on the table next to a small tray of meat mithkabobs and another syringe. The window remained as small as ever.

There was one difference. On the east wall, there was a doorframe. There was no door, just a doorframe set in the wall. Mistaya ate her meal as she puzzled over this new development.

END PART 4
 
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