Duality

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Imoen
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Duality

Post by Imoen » Fri May 18, 2018 11:09 pm

Duality


Minmir Region, Month 3 Year A.R. 140

Johanna Hornblower could feel the energy coursing into her when the Wight before her struck her with its hand. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred the jagged grin of the creature before, it’s eyes boring with triumph. She felt as if doused in frigid water. She couldn’t hear the clank of metal or soaring arrow going over the thick grass.
Darker it grew still. On instinct, she cried inside for aid, mentally crying out “Protector!” for her mouth would not move for her. But all she felt was the familiar shadow, and the awful chill. She felt it embrace her as the last of her sight began to fall away.

Outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, Month 7, A.R 131

She was seventeen, at home, on a table in her home. Opposite of her was Sir Hornblower, her father, and between them, the chessboard.
The board looked favorable. Noting a vulnerable black rook, she moved her white queen to take it.
Sir Hornblower let out a sigh after her hand retracted from the move. Johanna cringed. She knew that sound was of disapproval.
“You are too aggressive. You did not examine the board for the consequences.”
What had she missed? She looked at the board again, adjusting her helmet to make sure she could see clearly as Sir Hornblower picked up his knight and knocked out Johanna’s bishop from the board, putting her King in check and now her rook in jeopardy. No move could save both.
Johanna slumped, defeated. It was a losing game from here. She was on defense, and there was no move that could reposition things that did not spell defeat in four or five moves even with the rook’s sacrifice.
Sir Hornblower had risen from his chair. He reached for her helmet slowly, looking through the visor into her eyes. “We are alone, Hanna. You do not need to hide.”
Her heart leaped. She stood up and held it tight on her face. “I wish you to see least of all.”
She regretted the pain that went to his face. She wish she had worded it differently. Sir Hornblower’s hand went to where the helm covered her cheek, before withdrawing and moving away.
“We will continue in the morning, it is late. I expect to see you early in the morning for sparring practice.”
When Sir Hornblower was well out of sight, ascending the stairs to the master bedroom, Johanna murmured, “Protector.”
Into the chair opposite of her, began to form into a reflection of herself. The shadows began to form head, arms, legs, torso, and then melded them into a replica of herself. Its voice was lower, warmer than hers. “Mistress.”
They stared at eachother. Johanna begin to feel slightly uncomfortable as she noticed her shade had imperfectly mimicked her, revealing her face. She hated seeing her face even on another being, even in the thick shades of her Protector that masked the cicatrix, and turned away as soon as she realized it. “Must you take my form now?”
“Does it displease you, mistress?”
“It does.” Johanna said. “I do not show my face. I will not even show it to father.”
She noted the Protector’s face begin to transform. Soon her helm formed over her features, though it was too large, the plumage too thin.
“Play with me.” Johanna asked. She set up the board, before advancing forward with the Queen’s Pawn two spaces.
Her protector mirrored every move. It was not a bad strategy, for as long as White could not have advantage, then Black was even. Like battle, it was a test of waiting. Testing your opponent’s style for aggressiveness or caution, and looking for the mistake to capitalize. Copy-catting however, could be trapped. An aggressive queen move forced the Protector to end its copy-catting. She noticed the creature struggle with this. Perhaps it was a good lesson for her and her protector.
She claimed victory a move later. Her protector displayed no emotion at the outcome. She almost envied its calmness. “Why did you not try something original?”
“I sought to understand you, mistress.”
“What did you learn?”
“You are aggressive.”
Johanna was surprised at the shadow’s proclamation. It was the same as her father’s. Too brash in her sparring. “More Shield. More planting.” He would lecture her. “Save bold action for your advantage.”
“I will protect your openings, mistress.” Her Protector proclaimed.
“You cannot come to my sparring matches.” Johanna reminded it. “People will ask questions.”
“Then when you need me. At the brink of defeat, or alone. You will not fall.”
Johanna cleared the board, staring at her practical reflection of herself. “Thank you.”

Minmir Region, Month 3, Day 25, Year 140

She found herself on her feet, something pushing her to stand, energy returning to her heart as it gave a thud in her chest. Her lungs could breathe again. She could hear again, the sound of her breath panting. Somewhere, she heard her companions moving around. Someone was saying her name, and shuffling of feet were around the bodies.
She could see the grass again, the Wight was a distance on the ground, its triumphant gaze empty.
She could feel again. Her face was wet, tears mixed with sweat. She still felt so cold, her arms squeezing around did nothing to make it go away.
She felt alive. The shadows had come and protected her, just in time, once again. She heard her name called again. Reluctantly, she let her protector fall away from her and joined the others.
She said little for the rest of their journey. She felt if her helm was not on at all and in revealing clothes on the ice in Skal, despite her modest, protective coverings,
“Johanna,” She heard Dame Kerri ask later. “You are well, hmm?”
“I’m fine.” Johanna lied. She didn't want to appear any weaker than she already felt.
She listened to Kerri remind her of basic tactical expertise. “Retreat is not a coward’s choice, but a tactical one.”
Was it this time? Or was it just a result of blundering aggressiveness? And yet, she felt like a coward, hiding.
Finally, they separated, her companions going their own ways, and she was alone again. This time, it was a welcome retreat. Quietly, in the safety of solitude, she called on her protector to take form. In a smoke of black, it formed, standing opposite of herself, as her perfect shade reflection. She felt warmer, safer now, the need to hide gone.
“Thank you, Protector.”

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