Topic: The New Job ? Will It Be Memorable? (OTL)

Elisa Clarke

Date: 2012-06-13 21:15 EST
I received a note at my apartment earlier that asked I come to the church at my earliest convenience. It didn?t tell me what the reason was, or if something had happened. The only person that knows I?m alive from there is Zenny, who I imagine is being very quiet about my whereabouts. This letter, though? it isn?t in her handwriting. I have to assume it?s one of the nuns that she can confide in most. The only one I know that she speaks with about personal matters is Sister Caren.

If Sister Caren brought this, it must be something particularly important?

I dropped everything I planned on doing for the day and ran as fast as I could. Maybe something happened? happened at the graveyard??

No. I can?t think about that. Nobody would be so offensive as to cause problems in a place such as that. People have at least a little respect, I think?

Each step Mayu took up the stony pathway to the church?s entrance rebounded and made her legs wobble like rubber. Each footfall resonated loud off the walls and pounded in her ears, making them hurt. She didn?t care, even as she pushed past that thin veil of discomfort the wards always presented when initially scanning her karma and her intentions.

Shoving the door open and deafening the silence with a clamorous roar of hinges and wood on stone, she poured inside, already on the lookout for that particular nun with the snow powder white hair and polished brass eyes. If she was the one that sent the letter, she would indeed be the one waiting on her arrival.

Several of the nuns busying themselves with floor cleaning duty were startled by her abrupt entrance, soapy sponges flying, buckets of water jostling. One quickly rose, a woman that Mayu had never seen before, and hurried over to her. ?Ma?am, are you well? Is there something I can help you with??

It seemed this was the way the church always handled business with potential strangers. She wasn?t used to it, what with how her last arrival was in an entirely different body with all that phosphorescent blonde hair and beaming cerulean eyes. Although she resembled her old self in the current structure, her eyes were much more round and her hair, now her natural raven black, certainly helped keep her in disguise.

?Maybe,? she answered abruptly, digging into the long coat that wrapped her body like a blanket and pulled out a letter marked with the church?s seal. She jabbed the white envelope out for the nun to take. ?I got this earlier, and I believe it was sent to me by Sister Caren. Do you know if that?s true??

The envelope was taken and reached into, pulling the creased note out and flipping it open with a stretch of fingers. ?Ooh, yes. I do believe this was written by Sister Caren, but the request came directly from Miss Zenny. They?re presently out on an errand for the Congregation Order, but we were instructed to pass a few things on to a girl who bared this letter. Which must also mean? are you our new delivery person??

Relief washed over her like water from a showerhead. If the only reason she was called on was to be given a few things by Zenny, that meant the graveyard was al-- No. She couldn?t think about that at a time like this. She took the letter back when the nun offered it, and crammed it in the pocket it sprang from. ?What kind of things??wait, delivery person?!? she anxiously threw out there, the tension in her voice already absent and replaced with shock, her rigid figure more lax and comfortable to bear witness to. At least she didn?t look like her spine was being held together like a splint, anymore.

?Yes. I was told we hired a new girl and she would be by to help us with our deliveries. We?re a little shorthanded, you see. This is such a relief. Please, this way. I will show you to them. They were left in the kitchen for you to retrieve when you arrived.? She motioned with a grimy hand steeped in suds and quickly hurried off to guide the girl, who pursued ambitiously.

Deliveries were something that the church prided itself in. Food, clothes, sometimes the occasional toy for a child that was terminally ill. They gave and gave often, only wishing to pay their part to society and keep their goodhearted faith alive. It was part of the reason Mayu was so attached to the place to begin with. That, and?

The nun pressed the door open with her dry hand and peered inside. Her shoulders perked, ebbing the listless way she carried herself and stepped aside, allowing the small girl access to the kitchen?s space. Her posture dictated she wasn?t going to be remaining for very long. ?Ah, yes! There they are. Furthest set of boxes on the middle table there. One of those is from Marlena, our cook. She generally sends deliveries out and around town? well, really, she force-volunteered a boy to do it for us. Maybe you knew him? His name was--?

Mayu shouldered past the nun and stepped into the kitchen. ?No. Probably not. I?m new around here. Are these deliveries meant for town??

?Oh,? the woman quickly returned to business, smothering her ramblings against the doorframe as she leaned against it, ?yes! I believe one in particular goes to some big inn inside the city?s limits. If you just drop it off there? Tonight?s serving should be pasta and Alfredo sauce. Two buckets. Will you be all right on your own??

Mayu slowed near the stack of twin boxes, casting a wayward glance across a shoulder without looking back at the nun. Her head couldn?t quite reach. That, or her neck refused to twist around far enough to showcase the strain her eyes were experiencing, avoiding potential waterfalls. ?Yes, I will be fine. I?ll see that they get there within the hour.?

?Great! It?s so nice to have somebody start up our deliveries for us! We generally start in the early morning hours. I?ll see that you?re given a schedule and route list before you leave! Welcome aboard, miss??? she trailed, allowing for a name to be delivered.

??Elisa,? Mayu answered after a moment?s thought of consideration, straightening and reaching to take the top box down and position it beside the other. She didn?t favor lying in a place of worship, or to her coworkers, who she also saw as friends as all the Sisters had come to be over the three years since she joined their ranks. It was an unavoidable precaution, a means to protect not only herself, but them, too.

?Elisa? Elisa Clarke? Oh, my! I?ve heard you?ve already done quite the few things to help us out before now! I?m very glad to meet you, Miss Elisa.? She flourished in her bow and, with a wave, scampered off to leave the girl alone to inherit from a dear friend what would become her brand new and only job: Delivery Girl for Saint Agnes? Cathedral of Light.

Elisa Clarke

Date: 2012-06-14 21:51 EST
?The Flowing Claws of Shamanista?. That?s how they knew her back home, now. She wasn?t known as ?The Shrine Maiden of Dreams?, the woman that inherited the power of the spirit realm and kept its integrity. She wasn?t known as Mayu Tsuzuki, the awkward girl that appeared in their realm by happenstance; she who came from Hokkaido, Japan. Nor was she Elisa Clarke, the blonde Briton woman from 15th Century Earth that arrived alongside another that went simply by the name of ?Rin?.

?The Flowing Claws of Shamanista?, the arm of the Queen. That?s how they knew her, now. The one that oversaw the fundamental necessity to keep the corporeal realm intact. The one that was here to correct committed wrongs and call final judgment to the imbalance she?d created.

She?d settled on casting off the shackles of what came before her departure from RhyDin one month ago. It needed to be done. To stop the distractions, to stop the dramatics. A girl -- no -- a corpse like her, it?s how they were. And, it had worked. She was without companion, without friend, without partner. She was happy with that. There was just one final piece. A piece so profound and seated deep in her heart, she couldn?t let go.

No matter how painfully hard she tried?

?De? livery girl,? she repeated for what must have been the twentieth time since having left the church. She found it difficult to believe that Zenny would have gone through the trouble and effort to ensure she take up the mantle of delivering food stuffs to the inn. The schedule she was given also showed that there at least three dozen residences and small businesses also ordering directly from the church?s kitchen.

The pair of boxes she was hugging close to her chest were shifted up into one arm, a corner balanced on the forearm while the other remained propped on her shoulder. She trawled for the route list and procured it with a flick of wrist, giving it a closer inspection. It was a map, riddled with a thousand of so different lines color coded to signify the time of day. Blue was morning, which was a looping circle along two of the northern-most districts. Yellow was the afternoon route, which was a direct cut through the heart of the city itself. And the evening route, marred in a kind of burlesque-shade of lipstick red, was a zigzag pattern that she still couldn?t make perfect sense out of. Even were she to run until her legs fall off, she was going to fall behind by several hours, at least.

Had Toby been doing all of this? Every single day? He hadn?t ever seemed like he was overburdened by his work. He always made it seem easy how he?d show up on time without fault. Even with four or five boxes in tow, he never seemed worn down by the work.

Maybe he was Santa? or took lessons. Took lessons by Santa. That had to be it?

She curved around a stall as she traipsed through the market district, her eyes continuing to scour the map. There were shortcuts for some of the more distant destinations. Backyards, parking lots, parks. Were these his shortcuts? ??I wouldn?t be surprised if they were,? she answered herself aloud. ?I can just see him mapping this out and then walking through somebody?s house, going, ?Sorry, madam. Church business!? ?probably flash his seal like a badge as he did it, too.?

She snapped from her reverie with a tick-tock motion of her head. ??stupid?? she muttered depressively. She crinkled the map up and shoved it away into the wide pocket of her jacket, done absentmindedly, and lowered the boxes back into both arms. Time and time again, she found herself thinking up a kooky idea or memory about what he had done, or would do. It never failed.

She came to a stop at a stall that had already been shut down for the day, lowering the pair of boxes onto the lip of the counter to alleviate the load. While there were two packed up buckets of pasta, they weren?t heavy. Not like they should have been. Sighing, she stepped away from the packages, and glanced up at the sky hazed by cloud cover.

?You?re stopping,? a feminine voice filled her ears, coming from an unknown location under her shirt. She looked down, but offered nothing back. ?You?re thinking again, aren?t you??

?I?m allowed to think?? she answered, slightly defensive in tone. Another step was taken away from the boxes.

The silence that followed was short-lived, only enough to suggest that the mysterious voice tucked away under her attire was debating how to best proceed. ?That you are. What are you thinking about??

She rose her eyes to the stacked boxes, an action that brought out a pained expression she intended to push away. She turned abruptly, enough so that black hair fanned the air and fell unevenly down her back. ?Nothing. I just want to rest for a minute.?

It was more of an excuse than an answer, and the voice knew it well. ?Hm. You know, I don?t believe that. You wouldn?t tire out from carrying a couple of boxes. Your training prior to coming back was much more strenuous than this.?

She didn?t answer.

?It?s about that boy, isn?t it? The one you went to see at that graveyard before this body was constructed.? Broaching the subject as she did, she expected something more outlandish in response than what she received. Something upsetting, saddening, heartbreaking. Tears, sputters, perhaps even an outburst.

It surprised her when she didn?t get anything. At all.

??this was his route. He did this. All the time. Every single day. I?m confused why? why anybody would suggest I do something he did?? It was unbearable. To be surrounded by everything of his so soon after returning to RhyDin. It was all just a constant reminder that he wasn?t there.

That nobody was.

The voice remained soft-spoken. ?Perhaps it wasn?t them that decided.?

Silence prevailed.

?Perhaps he left something to ask that you take it up were he unable to.?

She shook her head and returned to the boxes, scooting them off the counter with a hugging of arms. She?d already dismissed the conversation as nothing more than idle chatter. ?There?s no point thinking about it. Like I said, I got tired. Once we finish, we?ll go back and see if this is all that was needed of us. It?ll be fine.?

Lifting, the topmost box slid with the burst of her momentum, flying off the stack and tumbling to the ground. It hit the pavement with a soft clump!, a sound much different than a tub of pasta would make. Originally wincing, she immediately bit her lip and shoved the remaining box back on the counter. ?Crap. If this stuff gets all over, nobody will eat it.?

She hadn?t realized it before, but the cardboard was severely worn down, unlike the other. There was no tape keeping the top together. It was creased and folded to wedge it shut, and crudely so. Small chunks of green wrapping remained pasted to the side like chipped away flesh, and there was an abundance of scrapes and scratches, as if it?d been transported around for years. Dropping to her hands and knees, she pulled the box closer, squinting. ??weird? this box looks really worn out,? she told herself, and perhaps the voice as well.

?Is that unusual? Boxes are generally worn down over time.?

?I guess? The crates that Marlena uses are always fresh. She always moans and groans about mold spores in the cardboard if you don?t use a new one.? She scooped the box up and turned it upright, carefully pushing the top down to keep the flaps from coming undone. Shards of light peeked through the slits every time she pushed, letting her eyes catch a glimpse of something light blue and fluffy pop out. Pausing, she leaned closer. ??I don?t think this is a food crate for the inn.?

Against her better judgment, she pulled at the flaps to draw it open. The worn box tore at the corners due to her recklessness as she did so, but her attention was devoted to seeing what was inside. That blue hue nestled in the box raged through her eyes, transforming glistening diamond stars into wild dismay. Her round eyes were wide, alabaster skin already bone white, and her mind bleached clean of thought.

?This is?? she uttered from a slightly gaping mouth.

Staring back at her in the box was a folded up blue sweater. Several dabs of blood smeared the woolen fabric. Beneath it were several more in a wide variety of colors: reds, greens, blacks.

Hoodies.

?? I remember these?? she added, her sentences still fragmented. ?It was? several years ago, by this world?s span of time. We were? all getting each other some gifts. For Christmas, I think? and I didn?t know what to get everyone. I didn?t have any money, so I? I put together a bunch of sweatshirts for him. ?why were these???

?Hm??

Reaching into the box, she nudged the few of them aside to catch a glimpse of a beaded black eye attached to an extremely chocolate-shaded bear, plushy and fuzzy beyond his years. She snagged it by a rounded ear and gave the doll a little squeeze. That, too. She remembered it.

She felt her chest tighten, like the core that sustained her existence was rattled by the vague beginnings of distant memories careening to the surface. She wasn?t sure when her hands left the box and curled at her cheeks. Moments? Minutes? The feminine voice breached her ears and pulled her out of stasis.

?This is not natural behavior for a Hunter like you.?

She wanted to close the box and throw it aside. Take it and burn it in an indefatigable fire. Instead, she shoved the bear aside and delved deeper. She needed to see what else was in there.

A solid steel hoop with a small glass panel on one end that once pulsed with life. The pocketed side was torn to bits and, when she gripped it, jangled and shed jagged bits of metal like a cat?s coat. It was as if an alligator had gotten to it. Rotating it in the palm of her hand, she could make out a groove of teeth marks.

This was the slave collar the Black Phoenix put on her the moment before she left Fuka Academy. She?d remember it anywhere. It controlled her every step and made her into something she never wanted to be? It was only because of one person that she even managed to get away from it.

??Selene?? she uttered under her breath.

She dropped it back into the box and pulled herself away from its contents. She had just missed the cut out, blurry photo of a girl with sparkling green hair and lush eyes who had looked like she?d been caught off-guard by the camera jabbed in her face. It was a good thing she hadn?t.

The box?s flaps were scrunched together and folded atop one another, resealing it and what it held inside. She picked it up, silently, and swiveled around to stack it on what must have been only one bucket of pasta.

?Are you done?? the voice asked, obviously curious like a kitten and a little perturbed their course had been momentarily detoured.

She nodded, a gesture the voice could witness, and pulled her weight to drag the boxes into her grip. ?Yeah. Let?s get a move on??

Her stride down the market street toward the inn was a determined one, displaying no sway of emotion or alteration in her gait that would suggest she?d just been stabbed through the heart by a bodiless dagger. A dagger that bled grief and sorrow and crestfallen agony a girl like her would feel in a time like this.

No matter how painfully hard she tried? she couldn?t walk away from the one piece that had influenced her most of all?