Aaneq's First meeting With Ythrill

Up here, I knew that I would be granted silence. No one goes up into the tower at this hour, and it was far enough away from everything else that even if I screamed my troubles to the starry sky and the city below not a single soul would hear. From this isolated balcony, I could see both the palace courtyard and the downward slope of the city, lined with its tell-tale crystal towers and humbler rock buildings, all lit in numerous colors by scattered lamp posts and lights on wires, strung between every plaza, tall building, or other eligible structure. I recall childhood memories, hazy, dreamlike, and soothing, of my mother calling this city the most beautiful place she had ever seen, but Jurrica no longer fools me with its brilliant exterior, for I have seen it’s corrupted center, which seems about ready to give in under the weight of expectations and collapse, perhaps to finally reveal the muddled interior to the naive common-folk that dwell beyond the city walls. My work as a servant at the palace allows me a front row seat to the unrest that hides beneath the city’s polish. The two heirs to the throne, twins, are a complete mess, though nary a whisper of the truth escapes anyone’s lips. They nearly killed each other today, or at least got as close as either can manage, and I seemed to be the only witness. According to those who have stuck to this job for far longer than I have, the pair is cursed with a permanent mental link; holding a spear to the other’s throat must have felt like teetering on the edge of the world.

This place has nothing more to offer me, and escape would be impossible; I haven’t the resources or experience or skill to try anything else, nor do I possess the motivation or determination to try anyway. It’s at times like this that I come here, to have my words scatter across the wind, spoken, but never heard: “What’s the point?” 

And those who will never hear and never ask, in a kind and concerned tone, may reply, ‘What’s the point of what?’

“What point is there to do the same miserable thing each passing day just to earn a wage, just to continue living, just to repeat the process?”

They may come up with hopeful answers, ‘To play your role in society so that the status quo may yet remain standing,’ ‘To support those whom you love and who love you,’  ‘To strive to better oneself, one way or another,’ ‘To do something that you love, something that makes you happy.’ 

But the audible answer is far from kind, “There isn't a point to life. You simply exist in a state of living, or you do not.”

To that, there is never a response. Only another question, “Then why exist?” This time, there was no answer. I moved towards the edge of the balcony, where the wall meets the railing, and carefully came to stand atop it, looking out into the distance before glancing down. 

Instinct finally kicked in and provided an answer; I exist because biology dictates it, now get your ass back onto solid ground. Fuck biology, I refuse to live in misery because of cowardice; my heart was pounding as my grim outlook on life began to crumble to the basic byproducts of evolution.

Then, she spoke to me: “Have you come t-to admire the view as well?” I tensed up and hurried to get back to the floor of the balcony, in my haste nearly losing my footing. She seemed completely unphased by the panic I was in and didn’t even say another word, instead opting to walk up to the railing next to me and rest her hands upon it, looking out at the starry sky. I turned towards the horizon and rested my hands on the railing as well. They were shaking, and I couldn’t seem to bring myself to speak for some time, though it didn’t seem to matter; the copper-haired lady had said and done nothing in the meantime.

“I-I hadn’t heard you, uh, you c-coming up the steps…” I managed to get a sentence out eventually.

“I’m sorry for st-startling you.” she spoke with an occasional natural stammer in a sweet voice, and simply continued to look out into the distance.

I was gradually calming down from what I was beginning to believe was a near-death experience, “It’s fine, I-I’m just not used to people coming up here, is all.”

“That’s part of why I-I-I enjoy coming here; i-it’s quiet and calm… and you can see so much of th- the city. It really is beautiful, especially during cloudless nigh- nights like this.”

“I… guess it is nice.” I replied through the view was no different than any of the other times I’ve been up here. I thought it strange that I had never encountered this woman before.

“Some days, you can see people tending to th-the courtyard from here. I like to wonder what their lives might be like; what th-their names are, what their favorite food might be, i-if they’re married or not…” I looked over at her, caught off guard by her strange pastime and causal explanation of it, and she seemed to realize how odd it was, “Most people find i-it a little strange, but I see it more as if I was th-thinking of life like it was a story, where each person has their own backstory, motivations, and character arcs… but you might not ever know what those are, because i-in your story, they're background characters.” I stayed silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Luckily, I didn’t have to, “But then again, you could always just ask them i-if you’re curious.”

That seemed like an invitation to ask questions about one another, and considering how out of place this woman was, I figured why not get to know a little more about this ‘background character’ that nearly startled me off of the edge of the balcony. “What’s your name?”

“Ythrill. What’s yours?”

“Aaneq.”

“And what brought you to th-this isolated tower where our character arcs crossed paths? What’s your story?”

“I work as a servant at the palace, so I’ve learned my way around. I had finished for today and came up here to… to just enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“That couldn’t possibly be all, could it?”

“Hmm?” A hint of fear crossed my mind as if I had been found out.

“Where’s th-the rest of your story? Your background, motivation, skills, hobbies, conflict!”

“Why are you so curious? I mean… you only just learned my name. And what makes you think that my story would be interesting at all? I’m just some servant.” 

“Sure, you’re, ‘just a servant,’ but everyone, no matter how seemingly insignificant, has a wondrous tale to-to tell of their perfectly unique, individual journey through life. Whether th-that journey is filled with perils and heroic triumphs, or small victories and humble family stories, i-it’s still something that should be shared with someone, whether in full or in small pieces, and whether to friends, family, or... overly curious strangers.” She ended her response by shooting a warm smile to me.

I just looked at her for a moment, shaking my head ever so slightly and uttering a light chuckle, “You’re certainly… odd.” Odd was an understatement; she seemed to possess a strange, calming aura that made her seem remarkably friendly, even with her overabundant, out of place questions, and I couldn’t quite think back on what she looked like, then and there.

“Well, if you told me a little more about yourself, then perhaps I-I would think of you as a little odd too, and th-then I wouldn’t be all on my own. In any case, you look like you could benefit from a good listener.”

“You really are curious about me, aren’t you…” On one hand, her fascination with me was a tad unsettling, but it was also… slightly uplifting? I couldn’t help but start agreeing with her, believing that instead of sharing my thoughts with the unresponsive winds I should speak to an actual person and get a real reply. I sighed quietly before laughing a tiny bit, “Okay, if you’re really that interested, I’ll… I’ll tell you my story.”