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Messages - YOLF

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Leaving a girl alone without even a hint of what was to come after building her hopes all along. Rude. Rafalia looked all around her, then to the translucent shape of some of the magic bonds she could actually see, then to herself, then to the ceiling and back to herself.

After a minute, she whistled. Her loyal steed heard her call and slowly walked out of the shadows of the lab, coming up to rub its nuzzle against her hand. She smiled, and opened her palm, the only form of motion she could do.

Her abhorrent sword appeared like a shadow made solid and tumbled over, where the night-eyed horse caught it beween its teeth.

"Help me out here, boy," she asked. It promptly began to angle its head in order to hack at the restraints that held her, visible and invisible, one by one. All magics began to tear and fray beneath the touch of that blade.


Maybe it was better to stop her. Maybe he should have just kicked her shit in and killed her for being a psychopath. Would that have made him the psycho in this situation, when she hadn't done anything in front of his eyes? It was stupid to think she'd reconsider anything from such a short conversation, though, and it was stupid to expect unconditional altruism from him. The next time... he wouldn't close his eyes the next time.

Raikou stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away.


So stop talking, fuck, we get the idea. He let out a raspy chuckle at her continued address of God. "I don't know him, and I don't give much of a shit," he said, flashing his teeth. "But I'd probably punch his mug at least once if I saw him."

It didn't take another second for the half-vampire half-angel to push her off, uncerimoniously scoffing. "So you probably want to leave before I break yours."

No reason for him to feel uneasy about it.


At last, something clicked in the girl's head.  His soul, this confidence in the existence of the devil and god, as well as a strange resentment towards those deities.  It all made sense.  In the moment of realization, Sera's eyes widened and she took a step back.

"Y-you..." she said, looking directly at his soul.  But, she couldn't stop talking now.  She couldn't back down. "I-I do it because I can keep them away from them!  Plus, I can keep them from suffering in the afterlife.  My body is better for them!  I love them!  They don't!"


Scratched record much? The strained, dangerous awkwardness of the conversation made Raikou look up, rubbing the back of his head as if to breathe away from it. But then he looked back, and took a step towards her.

"Who're you trying to convince?" He asked. If she did it for herself that was one thing, but. "I don't give a damn about what makes you happy in life, you could be glad to work sifting through trash for all it matters."

But what he couldn't, and wouldn't stand, were those bastards who thought they always knew better than others what their lives were about and tried to convince everyone else that they were in the objective right. Those who sought to destroy conceit while laden with the sin of conceit themselves, as a friend put it once. That kind of poetry didn't speak to him much, but he agreed. The hybrid took another step.

"But if you're going to take away people's choices and say that's in the right for all of them, then I can't tolerate you."


Because angels and demons with big plans in their obsolete celestial skulls never shut the fuck up about those two.

"Not being worse doesn't make you any better. So why do you do the same?"


"There are plenty of people who never asked for God or the Devil to meddle with their deaths," he said through an unnecessarily deep breath. "They didn't ask for you either."

Short of accusation or prejudice, simply heavy with the weight of personal belief and a heart that still considered itself human, his eyes pierced into her like beacons.


He really wanted to slap himself on the forehead for getting all relaxed earlier, but if he did that right now his shades might become casualties. Great. She was another loony.

"And you automatically know better than others do about their souls, huh," he groaned. "I'll pass on having mine taken."


She blinked at him, then smiled simply, walking ahead. Oh, Vanguard. "Such disdain. It hardly flatters your efforts," she said, though it made her laugh inside where others should have cried or raged.

The excrucian stepped easily onto the operating table, lying down comfortably.


"I am looking for the same thing as you.In simple terms, I need hero, a brave warrior who is willing to fight no matter the odds. A beacon of hope and strength persisting despite being surrounded by darkness." As his steps echoed over the halls, his shadow wastwisting and contorting behind both, expanding into some grotesque, massive silouhette of a thousand eyed creature.

The man smiled bitterly, looking forward. "Of course, anyone can be the hero of their story, but that is not the story I want to write. What I need is a more specific specimen, and you will help me find one."


She answered with a sly smile beneath her nighted eyes and jumped from his arms, touching down with a soft sound from her boots. "Those who despair will fall, and those who endure will be tested; until we find an ideal that shall not bend or break."

Rafalia fell in step with him, her voice a tower and her expression painted by calamitous edge. "Of course, I will help you find your hero."


"Hmph, you don't have great working relationships, do you?" She asked, twisting her lower lip. And yet he insisted on carrying her like a princess, a sham that demonstrated the casualness of his contradictory drives. It was the exact opposite of a bother though, so she simply leaned back and let it happen. "But I want to hear it. What kind of loud event are you getting together over here? Do you have a lot of associates? Your new prospective employee is asking pertinent questions!"


He rolled his eyes. Yeah, he could make his eyes shine too. He could jump to her probably quicker than she could notice and deck her in the jaw to force some sense into her dense skull too.

"Your hobby involves grabbing random people's faces and shredding them against splintered wood, only to scare them half to death with lethal implications? Take a good smell at your unprovoked crap before calling others out."

Still, Raikou crossed his arms, staring in expectation.


The only sign the girl even acknowledged his presence was a slight turn of her head.  "What do you want?" she asked.  Her ghost stood beside her, scanning the room nervously.


"I want to know that the hell was that," he answered simply, face contorting unpleasantly at her attitude. "What's with this piss reaction? If it fucking bothers you so much, stand straight and say what you have to say. Don't stir up shit and then run away bemoaning your life just cause you don't feel like being second-guessed."


For all his drivel, Rafalia knew the truth. Now that she had presented her services and mocked his test, he had set his sights on how to use her, and he wasn't going to let her escape. He would take whatever he could get, the smallest amount of power and assistance he could scavenge, and not let it loose from his grip until he had squeezed it dry of all it had to give. She didn't know the details, but he had lost numberless things up to this point, and he was not willing to let anything else go.

"Mmm, do they.... magical ones would be better," she answered. The rider nodded to herself, seemingly content, and uncaring of the harsh retorts he showered her with. "One day isn't too bad. But are you actually planning to tell me anything after that?"


If one could imagine an anthropomorphic concept of mythical doom pouting, that was the expression she made at that moment. Shaking her head, she dismissed her abhorrent blade, and said "I wouldn't assume you did all that on your own. Misunderstanding the nature of your allies can be even more dangerous than misreading your foes'."

Rafalia seemed to think for a moment on his request, then shrugged.

"Dissection would be both thoroughly inpolite and impractical, not to mention unpleasant, but if analyzing me would aid you, sure! Still, I don't recommend poking too deeply, for a variety of reasons. And most importantly, it would be an awful waste of resources if you had me strapped to a lab table all day instead of out and.... doing whatever." She furrowed her brows as she finished speaking, her expression becoming lightly creased.

"You can't expect very productive suggestions when you haven't told me anything about what you actually plan to do, yet. That's just obstuse. And so would be leaving dust to gather on my blade, my arrows, or my body. Chores are fine, but not very interesting."


All attempts to fill up her heart would falter. Any amount of mortal experiences would fail to amount to even a droplet in the void within, second only to the one behind her eyes. So she allowed it to spill into her mind, to show her exactly what his road amounted to, in the end.

It surpassed the expectations her foolish, forgetful self had of such an egotistic, unremarkable encounter. Before her was the walking gravestone to an ocean of sacrifices, a mountain of feelings wasted and shattered, and a rotting cosmos of resentment, unable to stop spinning. She saw it and delighted, buried principles rising up and coming alight.

How pitiful. How tragic! The utter conceit of this idealism, so heavy it would crush countless lives in the wheel of ambition to make mere dust into diamonds, even until the axis of time wore down! Rafalia couldn't help but reel back and laugh at the absurdity of his life.

"Haha, ohhh.... Vanguard, the one who's pointless is you. Do you understand?" The mind-freezing regard of a war god from beyond the cosmos, even reduced to a shared of itself, bore through him. But a smile of earth-splitting beauty graced him at the same time, and the emptiness in his chest receded as she spoke. "But I love that."

She stepped away, and a sword of the blackest night appeared in her hand, held vertically against the platform where they stood.

"I've decided I like you. And for that reason, I swear on this blade. So long as you strive through this impossible path, I will accompany you. And I will see that you travel this road, no matter how painful."


"You're not going to get anywhere if you're so close-minded, you know, though a person would be wise to be cautious of me," she quipped, crossing her arms. But at this point, the roles had undeniably been switched, and now Vanguard was the suspicious one which no soul should heed.

Rafalia clapped her hands and beamed. "Oh, I know. Why don't I help you make a more... unburdened decision, mm?"

In that moment, the curse that had dug out her chest reached out, and beyond anyone's ability to see, cast a sliver of its nothingness into the soul of that man. That single drop, as heavy as lead, dyed it in the same lack of color, and the hollow in her spirit began to beat as one with Vanguard.

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