Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #16 – Blooming Grounds

Robin fell silent. No word could convey her feelings, no word could describe what went through her eyes. Kryzalid was standing in the center of the crater, and that was okay. There were two handcuffed people, former Peacekeepers too. And that was also okay. Kryzalid had started playing her violin. Expected, even. But now, that flower.

What was that flower?

There was no way, no way at all it was a product of Kryzalid’s weapon. Even someone capable of making head pop like balloons had limits. How could sound make plants bloom out of people.?That didn’t make any shreds of sense. Who or what was Kryzalid, really? She took a deep breath, still holding a shivering Lacrima in her arms. That. Was the ‘truth’ she wanted to learn? Was that the reason why Dobrio asked her to wait? That flower, coming out of a woman’s mouth? Robin’s mind went blank. Whatever she thought of Kryzalid – of Mimi’s situation – was being turned upside down every second more. Now, that same Kryzalid was standing still, the fingers of her left hand gliding on the strings, as if they were looking for the correct position. Very slow, careful, calculated movements, millimeter by millimeter if not less. No music. Just the muffled screams of Natasha, her tears, as she couldn’t close her mouth, as she couldn’t oppose the horror taking a hold of her body, piercing her belly, her chest, her arms, sucking away her blood. Then, Kryzalid’s hand stopped, her fingers pressed the strings tightly, in a slightly unnatural, rigid position. Five prongs. The plant had five prongs. She listened to them delving into Natasha’s flesh, one by one, with a short delay between each strike. Five prongs. A young one. The sound they emitted while piercing the air, their density, their thickness. All taken into account, all matching. Droplets of sweats flew down her forehead. A question of one micron, maybe two. The difference between life and death. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. The bow landed on the strings, caressed them in a smooth motion. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It slid left and right once, erupting notes without continuity. She adjusted her pinky by an infinitesimal amount, plucked the strings again, listened to the result. Breathe. Pluck. Breathe. Pluck. Breathe. Pluck. Pluck. Pluck.

The violin came back to life, a torrent of notes, a dissonant melody filling the Eye, seizing the attention of everyone, turning every gaze to her. Lacrima shivered again, holding her belly, puffing out her cheeks. Robin held her tighter, while keeping looking at Kryzalid, at the violinist slowly walking barefoot on the molten asphalt of the crater, with meticulous, measured steps. The tendrils shook, the flower, the stem. Everything shook under her music, vibrated, twisted, turned. She increased the rhythm, the volume, moved her left hand to another position, looking even more unnatural, while the bow grazed the strings once more.

And, suddenly, the prongs

the tendrils

the leaves

the petals

exploded.

Plant matter rotting, falling off, falling out of Natasha’s mouth, falling out of her wounds. She coughed, spat green fluid again. Coughed. Cried. Screamed. Coughed. Yelled. Spat more residual plant matter. Breathed. Breathed. Breathed. Vomited. Cried. Sobbed. Breathed. Breathed. Breathed. And the music stopped. Right as she stopped retching.

“My… Lagash… take me… what… what the fuck… what the… aaaah. Aaaaah.”

Kryzalid bowed, performed an elegant curtsy in front of Petr, in front of a shocked Natasha.

“Welcome to Aralu, you two. Now that we’ve gone through the formalities… I wish you a pleasant stay.”

Then, she turned around, strolling towards the fence. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, let out a long sigh, massaged her eyes under the blindfold. Her cheeks were wet, despite the appearances, her breathing ragged. Yet, that was eclipsed by a sudden, rumbling noise. Cheers. Shouts. Voices.

“Viva Kryzalid!”

“Kryzalid!”

“Kry-za-liiiid!”

She groaned, hid her face even deeper inside her hood, as she walked through the exit, letting two other people run in to rescue the captives. The bald man closed in on her, twirled his mustache, raised his voice to make himself heard.

“That was a close call, huh?”

She was almost past the point of no return. Five tendrils. Five, Lagash almighty! I wasn’t sure I could do it. If my posture was wrong by a micron, the frequency… I… her head…

“Nah, piece of cake.”

“Ha! That’s our heroine! Marushka will check on her and explain the situation. That gal must be scared shitless.”

…I… know that feeling. I’m… still scared.

“These surface rats are weak. Now, excuse me, but I need some rest.”

She walked past him, without stopping for a second, hand on her forehead, her breathing still ragged. Yet, a bump on her road stopped her. Pressure on her leg, something wrapped around it.

“Lady Kryzalid! That was so cool!”

The kid from before. Hugging her at her thigh’s height.

It wasn’t cool – it was horrifying. But… that’s why I do it.

She estimated where his head should be, moved her bow hand till it found the target, patted it, meeting a tuft of soft hair, wearing a smile as wide as she could. A tired smile, almost fake, and yet a smile. For that kid alone. A whisper escaped her lips, her warm voice enveloped the small child.

“Yep, I’ve burned the bad plant. Once again, justice triumphed!”

She bent down on her knees, tried to look in the general direction of where the kid had to be, to at least give him the illusion that she was somehow seeing him.

“I’ll tell you a secret, sweetie: don’t have the hots for sexy plant ladies. If you think too much about them, you’ll become blind like me. You don’t want to become blind, right?”

She could feel his head turning by the weak turbulence that rotation caused. It was a no, plain and square. She found the strength to grin.

“Good. So, if you see any sexy plant lady, call aunt Kryzalid instead, yes? So that I can punish them before they turn other children blind!”

“I’ll do that, lady Kryzalid! I’ll call you if I see a rhizome!”

“That’s the spirit.”

She patted him one more time, before standing up, walking through the crowd, till she tracked Robin. The humming of her gas mask. Lacrima’s heartbeat. That was all she needed to find her way to them. A grin took hold of her face once more, a grimace between satisfied and drained.

“So, Robbie, that’s the ‘truth’, plain, naked and simple. How do you feel, now that you’ve seen it? Better? Because I feel like shit.”

And I sorely need a hug. Kryzalid didn’t say that part out loud. Still, her hand was trembling, her eyes were wet. Her blindfold was helping her keep the masquerade up. Weren’t it for that folded piece of cloth, she would have had to face reality: that even her hardened heart wasn’t hard enough. Nevertheless, she couldn’t show weakness – not in front of Robin and, certainly, not in front of her future house plant. Robin didn’t reply, at first. She simply looked down to the ground, while still holding Lacrima. Nothing made sense. Nothing. That plant. The violin. Kryzalid’s actions. Pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t mesh together. Nevertheless, some of them started to fall in place. A theory formed in her mind. A weak one, but still a theory. But, to verify it, she had to ask questions. Questions other people shouldn’t listen to.

“Can we go somewhere else? We need to talk.”

“Oh, so my ‘truth’ wasn’t truthy enough? Do you still have questions?”

“Many.”

Kryzalid wore a grin, a genuine one.

“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Let’s head back to auntie’s store, shall we? Best place to talk without annoying brats around.”

“W… wait.”

Lacrima’s voice. She finally managed to recover, to stand up, her breathing normal, her heartbeat slower. Kryzalid caressed her hair, tapped her finger on her eyepatch, followed the contour of her cheek. Then, stumbled upon a viscous substance, a fluid wetting Lacrima’s skin. Coming from her missing eye. She brought her fingertip to her lips, then deep into her mouth. Lymph. Lacrima was in overproduction. Again. Without a second thought, Kryzalid started licking her cheek, tasting the green fluid. Robin turned around, avoided eye contact, right as Kryzalid’s tongue cleaned the rhizome’s skin from every trace of residual lymph, till only her pale complexion was visible. The gas mask never felt more comfortable to her, since it could hide her embarrassment well enough. The way Kryzalid drunk Lacrima’s secretion the previous night caused her to feel all the wrong kind of feelings. Disgust, yes, but not only that. And that made her extremely annoyed at herself.

“M… Mimi…? That… that tickles. Can you… huh, stop for now? I’m fine, it was just… just a dud. I’m… not saturated, it was just… an allergic reaction to that plant! So, please…”

Kryzalid pinched her nose, tapped it once, before taking some distance from her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll squeeze you better this night, Laccy. I can wait a couple hours longer.”

I need some lymph now, or I’ll fall into pieces. I’m drained. I simply can’t…

She couldn’t finish her thought.

WEEEEEEEEO

Because

WEEEEEEEEO

a siren

WEEEEEEEEO

filled the air

WEEEEEEEEO

all of a sudden.

WEEEEEEEEO

Loud noises, the old emergency broadcast system. Kryzalid bit her lips. She knew what it meant. She was trained for it. She hoped the day didn’t come, but hopes were like that: meant to be broken, shattered to pieces. The bald guy with the prominent mustache waved his hand, gathering all the people around him. Then, he unlocked the fence, made them go through. A river of civilians flowing through the Eye, orderly running in three different directions, three different tunnels, spreading almost evenly, in silence. The kid from before eyed Kryzalid once more, extended his hand to reach for her. Yet, she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t feel his presence. Only the sirens. Only that piercing sound numbing her senses. Nevertheless, she turned around, as if she could see him. As if she could feel him. And she shouted.

“I’ll stop the bad guys – all the bad guys, little squirt! This is what heroines are for!”

He screamed something, in the utter chaos that surrounded them, something that Kryzalid couldn’t hear. But that was enough, she knew how those things went. So, she turned to Robin instead, tapped her bow on her hood, miraculously hitting it.

“Just one day. Snitches work overtime too, huh.”

“I didn’t…”

“Yeah, I know. You had no reasons to. No, it was someone else, don’t worry. I have many, many enemies. Like, all the relatives of the people I accidentally exploded. Well, time for a new concerto, I guess.”

She trained her violin, bow on the strings, tapped her foot on the ground. The sirens had stopped. Silence had fallen. Not a voice. Not a sound. Not even steps. She stretched her hearing thin, trying to listen to the subtle movements of the air, to the humming of the neons. A faint rumbling in the distance, coming from her left, from one of the secondary roads spreading out of the urban maze. A regular sound. A marching sound. Boots on asphalt. All following the same rhythm.

Peacekeepers.

Many of them.

She cursed under her breath, whispered to Robin.

“How’s the situation? How many people left?”

“Everyone else’s gone. We’re the last.”

“Even the two newbies?”

Robin squinted her eyes, looking for Petr and Natasha. But she couldn’t see them anywhere. She shook her head.

“Can’t find them. I guess they’ve evacuated them too.”

“Good.”

Kryzalid tested her fingers, placed them on the strings, checked all of them one by one. The response was perfect, precise. Just like she loved it. Her weakness dissipated, her resolve reborn.

“Take Laccy somewhere safe. I’ll stall them. Or kill them. Or both. Whatever comes first.”

Yes. She had to survive. To get back. To drink Lacrima’s lymph. No way she would die there.

That’s when they heard it.

A sneeze.

Lacrima.

Was sneezing.

Once.

Twice.

Kryzalid bit her lips, gritted her teeth. Her allergy. Lacrima’s allergy. Triggered by pollen carried by the wind. Which meant that, among the invaders…

“Rhizomes?”

Robin said exactly what she was afraid of. At least one rhizome. Kryzalid shook her head. Her last meeting with a plant ended with her shoulder pulverized. Now, without Dobrio’s support, she couldn’t even…

Dobrio.

Her mind flashed back.

Dobrio wasn’t with her.

What if the Corps found him

and

aunt Caro?

She started to sweat, her forehead wet, her breath heavy. No, no, no. She shouldn’t think about them now. If the Corps found them. If the Corps found them. No, no, no. Focus on the present. Focus on the moment. He’s safe. She’s safe. He’s just late. Of course he is late. Whenever the old hag fixed him, they spent hours chatting behind Kryzalid back, discussing about her feats, her blunders, her dates. Those two could gossip so much that they lost the concept of time. So, no. They were surely safe. And they were simply laughing at her, at the last time her one night stand ended with a partner faking it cause she blew it that bad. Yeah, she could almost imagine them, amicably chatting about her. Sure. They were safe. They were safe. No need to worry. No. Need. To. Worry.

Panic.

Sweat.

Cold.

Shivers.

No.

Need.

To worry.

Dobrio.

Aunt Caro.

Safe.

Safe?

Safe!

Breathe.

“I’m staying.”

Breathe.

That was

Lacrima’s voice.

Kryzalid couldn’t see her, but could feel her presence. She couldn’t see Lacrima’s hand reaching for her own left wrist, her left hand turning into a handle, a new, shining, black blade emerging from her arm, her vines hanging out of her sleeve. She couldn’t see her ripping her own eyepatch off, letting her rose shine, her overabundant lymph flowing down her cheek, dripping on her neck, on the ground, like spring rain. She couldn’t see her posture, her platform shoes steadily planted on the asphalt, her flawless guard, as if wielding a rapier was second nature to her. She couldn’t see anything of it, and yet she could imagine it. The movement of the air, the elegance of those moves. That. Made her calm down. A little. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t. Alone.

Another sound.

A gun.

Cocked.

Robin.

Robin was staying too.

That was

Weird.

The feeling

Of not being left

On her own.

Kryzalid’s heart beat faster, her eyes dried up. Yes. There was a chance. Not fighting to die. Not fighting to win. Just to stall them long enough, for all the people to escape to safety, to leave without a trace. And take the blame, like she always did. A familiar grin took over her face. Mimi was sent to sleep.

“Gals? I have an idea.”

Kryzalid was running the show, now.

One hell of a show.

A sound of steps. The Peacekeepers closer and closer to the light, the first ones emerged from the maze of streets. Full body armor, black visor, plasma knife and rifle. The vanguard took cover, scanned the area, seeing nothing but rubble. Their laser scopes turned left and right, aimed at the ground, at the sky. The flickering panels above them changed color every few seconds, at irregular intervals. So did the neon lights, out of tune, completely desynced with one another. Beta Three shook her head, groaned under her helmet. That wasn’t a place she wanted to be, but she didn’t have the luxury of the choice. That was the luck of the draw, a bad fortune she shared with her fellow Zeta and Eta comrades. Three squadrons, for a total of thirty six armed officers. Enough to round up a couple defectors, but enough for someone like Kryzalid? Hardly so. That’s why command decided to field…

“What are you waiting for? Get your ass on the field.”

She turned around. A woman in a blue battle armor, without a helmet. Neck-length red hair. Green eyes. Roots around her collar bones, long tendrils in the shape of an ever-moving scarf. And, behind her, a second woman. White hair, slick, ear-length. Blue eyes, more similar to ice than to water. Light brown bark covering her nose ridge. Vines around her neck too, albeit shorter. Long, thorn-like blades sticking out of her wrists, in the direction of her elbows. Beta Three groaned.

Two rhizomes, together.

Not one.

Two.

She cleared her throat, talked back to the first plant, the red-head that addressed him.

“We were inspecting the field behind cover, sir. What if they have set up an ambush?”

“Your death will just make the others more focused. Now, go. In the open.”

“But…”

“Do it.”

She reluctantly nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the red-head. Oleander. She had heard of her name – and there she was, as impatient as the tales told. If anything, she was notorious for having almost killed her own squadron twice, despite being heavily reprimanded. Rumor had it that she was Captain Commander Lily’s concubine too, in a rare rhizome-rhizome romantic relationship. But that was all that was – a rumor. No way the iron bitch had a thing for that toxic plant. Though, that wasn’t the right time for those idle thoughts. Beta Three slowly moved forward, step by step, looking through her scope. That place was the Eye, the underground crater where Peacekeeper defectors went dark with the help of the locals. It was an open secret, one that everyone knew of. If you want to disappear, look for the Eye. Yet, nobody had a clear idea of how to reach it. Until the anonymous map was delivered to the precinct, landing right on Captain Commander Lily’s desk. Right after another Beta had defected. A golden chance, one that couldn’t be wasted. If that even led to apprehending Kryzalid, the better. So, a quick call to duty later and a sudden order to march, and here she was, carefully advancing through enemy ground, slowly approaching a metal fence. Said fence was rusted, old, but still sturdy. An opening on her right, one that was clearly intentional. She gestured to her backup. Three Peacekeepers moved forward through the rubble, taking cover while she played bait. Careful steps through the open crater, on the molten asphalt, under the glitched sky. Aralu was the place of nightmares. Lower Aralu, even more so. She steeled her resolve, measuring every step in that barren wasteland. Emptiness. Silence. Only the humming of the electric engines, the low frequency buzz of her rebreather.

She froze in place.

At the other end of the Eye.

One opening.

The entrance of a tunnel.

A metro station?

It could have been, looked like one.

Neon lights were flickering wildly, capturing her attention, diverting it all towards that spot.

And, in the lights, a silhouette.

The stroboscope of neons showed her every few frames, showed a ripped cape, a black violin with golden accents, a bow, red braids, a blindfold.

And a grin.

That’s when Beta Three heard it too. Music. Notes. An elegant symphony, a beautiful solo. One second later, she understood what it meant. Two seconds later, she tried to turn around, to raise her arm.

Three seconds later

her head

was gone.