Alixandra "Ali" Greenwood [Resurgence LARP] : "Innocence Lost"

[Josée's Note: Resurgence this week was full of interesting things for Ali to think about. She got her Imp Mail service begun to Nat, she was able to speak with the Paladins and take their "Test of Mettle"...and things became VERY interesting from then on. While there were many tests, one in particular might just haunt Ali.]

[Josée's Note to those who were at Resurgence: You may recall I said there would be two blog posts regarding this game. I lied. I have merged them into one as the second was going to be VERRRRRRY short! I hope you enjoy - you guys were the ones making it interesting! Also, if anyone knows the name of the character Ali was wandering around with, please let me know. Calling her "Ali's Companion" sounds way too Ali-centric and Doctor Who-esque for my liking!]

Song List:

Roses of May - Kate Covington (Erutan). (Kate wrote about how her lyrics to Roses of May were meant to represent the loss of innocence in a warrior's life due to the lives they've taken and blood they've spilt. I don't think there is any better song to represent how Ali is feeling right now.)

Innocence Lost

Ali stepped off the bus, the still night stuffy and warm. Taking a deep sigh, she readjusted her backpack, her “re-enactment” sword and shield strapped firmly to its front, and strode without pause, back home.

She unlocked the door, snapped it shut smartly, and proceeded to throw her rucksack, almost angrily, at the sofa. She ran a hand through her hair and lumped herself down on the armchair. She leant back, resting her head against the back of the chair, looking up at the ceiling. She sat silent for a minute or two before looking down at her right hand. Almost cautiously, she focused on it; on the image she had seen in that forest, and with her focus, a bright, blinding white light began to emanate from her palm, growing brighter and brighter. She smiled softly for a second, before the smile became a frown, and the light disappeared, as if a switch had been flicked.

Her eyes never moved from her hand, but her mind was not focussed any more on what was in front of her. Instead, her memory kept flicking back to what had led to the bestowal of that particular gift. And not just back to the trials…but to one particular part of it.

The child.

The young, frightened boy defending himself with the abilities he held.

The child she had killed.

The child she had murdered.

He was afraid. She had asked why. There were people hunting him down. Little was he to know that she was one of those hunters. Her companion was understandably against the course of action presented to her. The moment Ali had seen the boy, her heart had sunk. It was a test, obviously. Everything they had come across in the woodland had been a challenge. But she had never expected a challenge to involve one so young. In Ali’s mind…the decision was clear. If the young child, raising the dead in defence, was to die…the remaining innocent souls in the village would be safe. If they failed to kill him, the rest of the village would be for the Paladins to cleanse “as they saw fit”. Ali had always been trained to think of the greatest good for the greatest number. To defend civilians and shield them from harm to the best of her ability. Ali, therefore, could not justify allowing him to put the lives of the village in harm’s way.

She had told her companion to stand back if she wished not to be involved, and she did. Ali was somewhat glad, and somewhat regretful as she walked cautiously towards the young boy. The child had sent the watchful “zombie” stood on guard to meet her, and she had slayed it with relative ease. And then she came to the child.

Despite knowing it was the right decision to make, it was also anathema to harm a child. “Do it quickly. As painlessly as possible.” Ali had thought as she stepped towards him. With as many quick, swift blows she could muster, the child was soon slain in front of her. Their guide had disarmed his body and Ali found the emotion within herself rising. Trying to contain it as best she could, she found herself pointing her sword at the man who had lead them to him, threatening him should he prove her trust misplaced. She knew exactly why she was so on edge; she had just taken the life of a child who, for all she knew, only raised the dead in his own defence and had not intended to do so again. She had strode away from the gentleman and her companion, and suddenly she found her companion doing an odd dance between being light-hearted and pointed about Ali’s decision. When her comments hit a little too close to home, Ali had snapped back.

Ali had goaded her, telling her to strike her down if she believed Ali to be as much of a monster as those they had previously faced. She had laid her shield arm at ease, giving her companion a clear shot at her heart. Her companion had commented that it sounded like an “enticing offer” but had declined. Ali wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Her head was clouded by the conflicting emotions of regret and disgust and determination and certainty. It was then that she had come face to face with those who had been judging her performance through her trials.

The vigilant one almost outright refused to speak to her. That was fine by her. He was too much like those she had come across with Nat; Paladins that refused to listen to reason or to accept anything but instant death of those who did not fit their view of “untainted”.

There was another one who kept asking why she had made the decisions she had. Ali had hardly been in the mood for a “progress review” and answered somewhat flippantly “I did what I had to do”…and refused to elaborate. He grew tired quickly of her refusal to explain, and she too grew tired of his persistence. As he stepped back, she was glad. At least the Inquisition would end.

Then there was the final one. This one, she warmed to far more. He spoke of balance, of staying her hand when necessary and attacking when justified. The words were hollow comfort but they were at least not insulting or dismissive. He offered her a place as a paladin, and she paused. She had promised to meet with Nat upon his return; one they deemed as too “tainted” to pass. She couldn’t turn her back on him, or worse, kill him on sight. Thankfully, the Paladin seemed understanding of this, and told her that her judgement was trusted. This acceptance of her position on certain topics was refreshing, and she agreed to join them, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

Ali snapped out of her reverie. She blinked, seeing her hand properly once more. This “gift” she had been given had arguably come at a similar price to Nat’s information. Rather than spending a year in another realm, however, Ali had sold the rest of her lifetime to the service of the Paladins. She gazed at her hand, her eyes snapping on to the pale band of skin around her ring finger. She had traded her grandmother’s wedding ring to an imp, in return for a postal route between Nat and her. Her heart sank somewhat. She knew the imps and the paladins were at odds with one another. She needed this link with her “enslaved” friend. Though she was loathed to admit it, Nat had touched something within her. He had found a way back into the loyalty and pride she had felt while with her unit. She felt able to be more open with him than anyone else she had met in the NDF. And he had wandered off to the realm of the Djinn just before she needed him most.

She looked across at the paper and pens lying on the desk, and sighed. She couldn’t write all this in a letter. She wouldn’t know where to start. “Hi Nat, I’m now part of the group who wanted to kill you.” “Hi Nat, I’ve given my life to the Paladins, sorry for moaning about your one year of service to the Djinn…”

With an uneasy stomach, she went and sat at the desk. She pulled out a piece of paper, and began to write. But when it came to writing about the child, her stomach panged painfully. The image of his lifeless body was flickering across her mind’s eye. She flinched. She couldn’t write down what she had done. She couldn’t bring herself to write about that. She was regretful and her determination that she had done the right thing had faded soon after she had left the forest. She finished the letter hastily, and stood up, heading to the kitchen. Taking a bottle of wine from the fridge, she skipped getting a glass and sat back on the armchair. She took a deep draught from the bottle and frowned.

Drinking to relax was common after her missions these days.

Drinking to forget, however? Now that was a rarity.