(astesia, warfarin) log #257

[log #257]


The last thing she remembered was a flurry of slashes she managed to churn before she blacked out due to a head impact. It wasn’t as severe as any blows she ever received, but perhaps as she is at her own limit, the strike rendered her unconscious. She still has her memory intact, there wasn’t any abnormalities she could detect by trying to take a grip on her own Arts.

Getting in touch with her subconscious, however, taking her back to the memory land as she accessed her own ‘unique’ stances of magic. It is similar to chart a star on the wide map; a familiar, nostalgic feeling. Originium Arts has enabled her to look at the constellations with different set of views – a wholly new knowledge that hidden beneath the darkness of night was open to her at that moment, waiting to be found. She was closer to the starts than before. She was floating. She could talk to the Moon if she wanted to. She could touch Deneb or Vega with bare hands. She could map probabilities. She could count odds and ends with eyes closed. She could have the star guided her in everything, to anywhere possible.

Then again, she only found a bit later that the power is but a double-edged sword. Originium Arts also disabled her to further her chance to unlock the secret of universe. As though her eyes were closed by the veil of midnight – Oripathy fed on her body, and stars closed its doors for her to be in. She was no longer a spectator of the globe. She was unable to call the right answers anymore. She was clouded beyond doubt.

This time, as usual, she realized the limit of her prowess. Being a Guard Operator should be a chance of her to be of use, to hold back the spawn of enemies away from disturbing their formation. But then, her strength faded, much like how stars stopped twinkling and disappear, bursting into millions of particles then stay forgotten.

“Operator Astesia.”

Huh?

Strange, she didn’t know a light exist deep in her sub consciousness.

“Operator Astesia, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids were no longer heavy, she could stop wandering aimlessly asking for the unborn stars as of now, maybe.

“Operator—ah, there you are.”

A blink. A familiar yet unfamiliar pale white fingers. Too pale to be a normal being, white, close to bloodless. Though, she knew who the owner of that hand is; that sharp bloodshot red eyes, that pointy ears. There’s only one Medic Operator that fit the criteria, and Astesia felt color drained from her own face as her eyes finally focused.

Warfarin is just like her, a pursuer of knowledge—then again, as her methods deemed to be a bit … adventurous, Kalt’sit prohibited Warfarin to get any closer to Astesia. Not to mention, Warfarin is no ordinary Sarkaz, and not the same Sarkaz line of other members of Followers is. As an occultist herself, Astesia knew the danger of being bathed in her own blood while being close to a vampire. Then again, she couldn’t move just yet. Her strength has yet to return. Warfarin was holding a blood pack that’s connected to her arm, while Astesia was sitting on a tattered remain of a building.

“Worry not, I’m not here for your blood or anything,” As if noticed her growing dread, Warfarin cleared her throat and explained. “Doctor said some of Operators has yet to return and I was one of the dispatched Medic. My action right now has been authorized by Kalt’sit herself.”

Warfarin wasn’t annoyed per se, Astesia knew that serious expression is the operator’s default face. But then, Astesia should’ve shown her fear on her face without knowing.

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

The white-haired Sarkaz pulled out the tourniquet gently from where her wounded leg. The blood already stopped there so she propped it up with a help of nearby debris. “What for?”

“I must’ve … looked scared to see you.”

Warfarin heaved a sigh. “Don’t mind that, I’m used to it,” a small snicker tugged the corner of her lips after the blood pressure machine let out a satisfying beep. “Well, Kalt’sit will be angry if I took my chance to suck your blood instead giving you blood.”

Astesia stifled a gasp, “Y-You will take my blood?”

“Oh, of course not. Someone will surely fine me with a month worth of salary if I did.” the smaller woman said nonchalantly, such stuff should have happened more than once and she doesn’t seem entirely fazed.

“To be frank, I won’t deny that your blood smells nice.” Her voice shifted to a lower octave of growl and Astesia fought back a shiver. “Does constellation smell like this, I wonder?”

The treatment was done at later minutes then Warfarin quickly patched the Guard up. She tossed her equipment to her bag and walked away to make a distance between them. She signaled the HQ to get the rescue team ready as she confirmed one needed-to-be-transported patient, then she settled with another sigh.

Astesia watched the Sarkaz keeping herself in check. Warfarin is not as wild as the rumor says about her, though Astesia couldn’t deny it entirely knowing the whole background of a being called vampire. Through divination, too, readings about Warfarin showed a somewhat foul reading, and she took the advice to heart as to avoid the Sarkaz Medic.

Then again, this wasn’t so bad either – to face her fears for once given the circumstances, even though she was distant to ask the stars.

“Warfarin.”

“Mm?”

“Thank you … for saving me.”

Warfarin’s eyes narrowed a bit before she shook her head. Astesia must have imagined how the ageless vampire bit down her lip to hide a ghost of smile.

“I’m only doing my job.”