Story Reader / Affection / Liv: Limpidity / Story
Awakening from darkness, the little gray raven opened its eyes.
Before it stretched an endless expanse of fragrant grass, as it found itself cradled in the gentle curve of a maiden's arms.
...Are you still in pain, little gray raven?
Her voice was firm, yet layered with sorrow.
The little gray raven looked up to see the maiden smiling through her tears.
It tried to reach for her face, but could only extend a battered wing. A sharp pain held it back. Her teardrops remained just beyond its reach.
It tried to call out to her, but pain stole its voice. Following the ache, it found its wing stained crimson with blood.
The maiden gathered scattered scraps of paper that swirled around them. In her hands, the tattered pages stirred to new life, transforming into soft gray feathers.
Tenderly, she placed the new feathers over the little gray raven's wound, binding them with her tears.
The wound closed, and the pain slowly ebbed away. She cupped the little gray raven in her palm and lifted it gently.
Go on, now... Return to your blue skies...
A strong wind swept past. Instinct took over—the raven spread its wings and soared.
Fly on, fly on... it climbed toward the distant horizon, back to the place from which it came.
But the maiden... wouldn't she come too?
The little gray raven couldn't help but look back. There stood the maiden in white, smiling and waving as if well acquainted with goodbyes.
Yet across that vast and desolate landscape, her figure seemed fragile, almost fragmented...
To her surprise, the little gray raven turned and landed once more in her palm.
Are you lost?
You mean... you just don't want me to feel lonely?
Overjoyed, she held it close to her heart.
And for the first time, the little gray raven saw her smile, without a single tear.
——The Maiden of Eden II——
Commandant... Commandant?
Commandant!
You instinctively stare at your hands, turning them over, searching for a trace of gray feathers, but finding only familiar skin.
What was that? Why would you even look for feathers on your body?
Are you okay, Commandant? Is the heat getting to you again?
Liv's hand presses a cool, worried palm against your forehead.
I've checked, and it does seem there's nothing unusual.
I'm right here with you. Don't push yourself. If you feel unwell at all, just let me know.
Following the children's directions toward Vennquis, you walk beneath a forest canopy that shields you from the sweltering sun. The air hums with the songs of birds and insects, a living soundtrack to your journey.
About five more minutes, and we should be there.
As you move along the final stretch of path, the scenery ahead begins to open, slowly, then all at once.
It feels as though a god had swept a careless hand across the mortal realm, spilling ink and color with joyous abandon. Mountains and sky bleed together in a dreamy haze, forming a fantastical tapestry.
This is it, Vennquis.
Clustered against the mountainside are low, old-fashioned houses, many showing their age. Scattered bricks and weathered tiles mingle with the soil along the paths, telling quiet stories of time's passage.
The mountain breeze carries the scent of herbs and damp earth, and for a moment, it's easy to believe you've stumbled into a hidden paradise.
Beautiful, isn't it?
Then, a figure materializes beside you. No, not quite a figure. A female Construct, splashed from head to toe in vibrant paint.
She carries an absurdly large drawing board under one arm, seemingly heading out for a sketch. Paintbrushes sprout from every pocket, bristling with color and potential.
Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Vimine, with the WGAA. A pleasure to meet you both.
Nice to meet you, Ms. Vimine. We're—
—From Gray Raven, I know. That uniform your companion's wearing is a bit of a giveaway.
Still, it's not every day you see Task Force members all the way out in Vennquis.
Oh, a sociology project! I get it now... You're here on your honeymoon!
Huh, I was hoping for something a bit more romantic. Like a honeymoon, perhaps?
Vimine gives Liv a mischievous wink.
W-we're here to...
Meeting the parents, then?
But I'm afraid they're probably not in Vennquis anymore.
After the Punishing Virus outbreak, nearly everyone scrambled to get aboard Babylonia. The irony is, this area was barely touched, protected by the mountains and the sea.
Now that Babylonia's officially reclaiming the zone, the WGAA sent a few of us Constructs back to sketch the landscapes.
People in WGAA uniforms are sketching everywhere. So this is the birthplace of those exhibition paintings.
Under the blistering sky, these moss-clad ruins sleep low to the earth, their haunting beauty laid bare.
I've almost painted everything around here, actually. You should come see the piece I'm working on up at the windmill tower.
That's very kind, but... we were hoping to go home first.
Of course. That's only natural. After all this time, you're finally back.
...
Antonia would be so happy to see you home.
...You knew my mother?
Well, of course... Mmph—
As she speaks, Vimine lifts her drawing board and turns to leave, casting a look at Liv that seems to say, "I once held you when you were small."
I held you once when you were just a little thing.
Wait, Ms. Vimine! If you were a friend of my mother's, would you like to come with us?
I'd love to, but I need to catch this light while it lasts. The wind's been picking up. It'd be a shame if a hurricane rolled in and ruined everything.
It's Vennquis' summer; it happens. But don't mind me, I'm just making excuses to finish my work.
Anyway, I'll be camped out on the other side of the mountain for the next few days. Feel free to stop by! Bye for now!
Yeah... Goodbye, Ms. Vimine.
Vimine offers a casual, backward wave of her free arm, then turns her steps toward the waiting mountains.
Let's go too, Commandant. We're almost there.
As you pass the wooden fence, the sunlight shines with the brilliance of her childhood memory...
A gust of wind brushes the courtyard gate, and its long, creaking sigh sounds just like a gently swaying swing.
Liv?
Mom? Mom!
Seeing the silhouette from her dreams, Liv breaks into a sprint without a second thought.
Easy now, Liv. I'm right here.
Huff... Huff...
The moment her mother turns, Liv throws herself into the hazy figure's embrace. She feels a hand lovingly stroking her long hair, and then the form dissolves like sand in a stream.
Liv stands frozen, utterly unable to comprehend the void left behind.
Huh?
Back then... whenever I came home, my mom would always be waiting for me right here on this swing...
Liv carefully pushes aside the prickly overgrowth and takes your hand, leading you toward the weathered door.
Knock knock. Knock knock. She timidly repeats the old pattern from years gone by.
The house offers only silence in return.
I didn't take one when I left. But it's okay. The front door is usually locked, but the back door might be open. I'll go check.
Okay.
Targeting a window shrouded in cobwebs, you gently pry at its loose edges.
Shortly after Liv vanishes from sight, you slip effortlessly into the empty house, not even using the toolkit Lee had so insistently prepared.
Inside, dust blankets the wooden floors, and pale walls stand damp and moldy. Every sign points to the same inescapable conclusion: no one has lived here for a very long time.
Liv wanders along the edge of the house, her footsteps deliberately slow. She has never liked the front door.
When Antonia was still alive, Liv used to play with the sheep in the garden, and when she grew tired, she would come inside directly through the back door near the yard.
"Liv, welcome home."
Whenever that door opened, she would be met with her mother's loving smile or the affectionate fussing of Calliope, the maid.
There were candies, plush toys, and the safe warmth of a place where a child could fall asleep without fear.
But after her mother passed away, no one ever waited for little Liv at the back door again.
...
Now she stands on the front steps, hesitating, unable to make herself go in.
If her father answered the door, he would say, "Go on inside. I have a meeting tonight."
If it were her stepmother, she would say, "Back so late? Have you done your chores?"
Her stepbrother would brag about his grades; her stepsister would fish for compliments on her new dress.
Childhood taught her that the front door was not warm. Not welcoming. It was cold and impersonal, nothing like the home that used to welcome little Liv back.
Time sprouts branches and vines at her feet, twisting up her legs, wrapping around her body. With every step she takes, the bindings tighten.
They whisper. They scream at her, "Don't go back. No one is waiting for you."
By the time she finally reaches the door, she is tangled in green, caged in leaves and twisting tendrils. Struggling, she pushes her fingers through a gap of faint light and knocks.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Maybe this time her father wouldn't be in a hurry. Maybe this time she'd see Calliope's warm smile.
Even though those wishes had long since faded into nothing.
Who knows?
Perhaps all she hoped for was that when the door opened, someone would simply say:
Welcome home.
...
In an instant, the vines and leaves that bind her wither and fall away.
Through the doorway rushes all the warmth of days long past.
Commandant...
I'm back.
With hurried steps, Liv stumbles into the embrace, into a harbor her soul has not known for countless years.
