Headed by a Snake

Tycon decided not to kick open the door.

'I'm not scared. I mean, why should I be?' He thought.

The green-haired youth struggled to take each step forward, as if he were wading through physical dread. Slowly and carefully, Tycon opened the door to Seldin Korr's room and peeked inside. Dimly lit by the starlight spilling through a window, the young lady sat alone on the floor of her room amongst strewn clothes, blankets, and adventuring gear. The dark-haired woman had been crying-- and was still crying, her anguished wail ghastly enough to spawn ghost stories.

Tycon decided to try the 'Escalation' approach.

Tycon tried knocking.

The crying continued, the woman unaware.

He opened the door a bit more. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but--"

Nothing.

He stood inside the room and admired the woman's handiwork. She had torn apart her footlocker, the drawers of two wardrobe dressers, and flipped her mattress. Two larger packs of adventuring gear and several smaller sacks had been emptied and sorted through. A small pile of bricks had been collected in a corner, having been pulled from the walls without the aid of tools.

One half of the room was neatly organized, various items stacked and ordered.

One half of the room was neatly organized, its various contents stacked and strictly ordered. The remaining half was a chaotic mess and included a woman curled in on herself, sobbing miserably into a pillow.

Tycon exited the room, gently closing the door. He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders.

Then he kicked open the door.

"Wh-wha?"

The abrupt sound of the door bursting open startled the woman, and she sat up in an instant. She clutched her pillow closer, straining her eye in the darkness to see, "Wh-who's there?"

The distressed young woman looked up innocently with puffy red eyes, tears sparkling at their corners. Her dark eyeliner ran horrendously and stained her pillow grey and purple.

Tycon's anger immediately abated, seeing the pathetic sight. He felt a pain in his chest, a feeling of pity in his heart. He imagined the feeling was much like seeing a whining puppy.

Tycon knelt beside the woman and took her hand. He examined its roughness, its calluses; it was a hand familiar with the grip of a blade, with pulling bricks from wall, or strangling an adult of average size and strength to death. It was the same hand he held in escaping the pressure that was the Calculator, earlier in the sun.

Tycon's golden gaze pierced into Seldin Korr's soul.

"Who hurt you?" Tycon whispered harshly. A shade of anger he could not explain had affected his voice.

[Vexing Gaze conditions met. Activate? Y/N?]

« System, do not activate. Thank you. »

Seldin's eyes widened in realization, managing a surprised whisper, "Lord Tycondrius..."

She weakly tried to pull her hand back, but Tycon held on.

The woman looked away, futilely wiping at her eyes messily with her opposite sleeve. "Sir Tycon... This... this isn't appropriate."

Tycon looked down at her held hand. With her strength and her Berserk Knight class, she could easily free herself from his grip, had she wished. He took this as a good sign.

"Tell me..." Tycon urged.

The woman refused to meet Tycon's eyes.

Tycon sighed in his mind. He could only continue.

"You work for me, now. Your problems are my problems." Tycon adopted a solemn look, cool and professional.

"It's... It's okay, Lord Tycon..." She half-mumbled. She placed a short-nailed finger on a stone tile and began to draw circles.

Tycon raged in his heart. The woman was an Iron-Rank Berserk Knight. With that rank and class combination, she could easily tear heavy wooden doors off their hinges, wrench a man's arm out of its socket, or bench-press Horse.

All that and she chose to sit on the floor-- preferring to wallow in sadness.

Tycon took his free hand and gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Tycon tried to channel his inner Tarquin Wroe. He wished he could remember the foolish drivel that came out of his mouth when he spoke to the opposite gender.

"Hey. Talk to me."

The damned Wroe made it look so easy. Had he been alone, he would have pulled out his hair and banged his head against a wall. He'd been thinking for what felt like ages and all he'd managed was 4 words.

The woman pulled away.

Tycon's heart sunk. Had he failed? Had this mission all been for naught? Had he been woken up for nothing? He was asleep! He could have had a full night's rest in a comfortable bed! He had sacrificed SO MUCH!

Seldin Korr's good eye peeked out amidst her bangs and she nodded lightly.

Tycon felt warmth and contentedness in his heart.

This was the first step. He had to remain vigilant for the next. Dealing with a woman was not a task he could handle carelessly.

Tycon knelt down, trying to find a comfortable spot to sit.

In a panicked tizzy, Seldin rushed over to one of her piles of junk. She produced a pillow, dyed and shaped like a lettuce leaf, and presented it to Tycon. The springy pillow provided exemplary comfort and support, as he sat and crossed his legs.

"Now, would you please tell me what's bothering you, Miss Korr?"

Seldin Korr mumbled a response, hiding her entire face behind her pillow.

"S-sorry, what was that?" Tycon leaned forward with eyes full of hopeful confusion.

"...Change it."

Tycon was thoroughly confused, "I'm sorry? Change what, Miss Korr?"

"No more 'Miss'..." she mumbled into her pillow.

Tycon sucked air through his teeth, "No honorific? So you're uncomfortable with me calling you 'Miss'?"

Korr nodded her head rapidly like a chipmunk.

"I'll just call you Korr, then."

Korr puffed her cheeks in disagreement.

Tycon smirked, "That's all you're getting, for now, young lady. And what will you call me?"

Korr's eyes brightened at the prospect, with a curious smile, she whispered, "Leader?"

"Call me as you like... Seldin."

The bleary-makeup girl beamed at the mention of her name.

"Now, Miss-- err, no... Seldin, now will you tell me the issue?"

Tycon sat on his lettuce pillow and waited patiently. Minutes passed as he watched the girl switch between staring curiously and opening her mouth to talk. Her eyes again began to moisten, when she decided to finally speak.

"L-leader... someone took Khloe."

Tycon narrowed his eyes. This story could be more complicated than he'd initially thought, "Who is Khloe?"

"You can't laugh..." She whispered indignantly.

Tycon looked up from his pondering. Korr was staring at him with serious, bloodshot, and deep crimson eyes. He felt a cold chill down his snakey spine that he surmised had to have been a Berserk Knight ability.

"I... promise I won't laugh."

"Khloe is... my stuffed cat doll."

Tycon shut his eyes and nodded as if he understood. Deep inside, he was struck with a deeply set, bone-chilling truth.

Seven hells and eleven heavens... It was the doll.

"...And of what significance is this... doll?" Tycon asked, knowing he would regret hearing the answer.

The quiet and usually reticent Seldin Korr became animated. In a zany adventure of repeating herself, providing too much information for minutiae, and having to backtrack to provide information she had forgotten, Tycon eventually formed a tentative gist of the story:

1. Khloe was a childhood friend.

2. Khloe shared her food with child-Seldin.

3. Khloe had cancer and had less than two arms and two legs (the number fluctuated throughout the story.) Wild animals attacked them. They were robbed by bandits. Khloe got pneumonia.

4. A promise was involved.

The woman didn't actually say that Khloe had died. Tycon refused to risk Seldin's mood by asking. He listened to her tale patiently, carefully observing the girl's mood, which eventually normalized.

As she finished, she paused for a moment.

"Leader… Have you heard rumors of… a ghost?"

Tycon lost his balance and nearly fell, "Whaaaat…? What's this about a ghost?"

"Colette came by earlier… The servants were saying there's a ghost in the manor…"

Tycon crossed his arms, placing a concerned fist over his mouth. 'The ghost is you, woman,' he thought. But Tycon gained a stroke of inspiration.

"Korr… I might be able to track down your… Khloe."

She turned to Tycon with sparkling, expectant eyes, "Leader, can you?"

Tycon nodded gravely.

"Are we going to the dungeons to defeat the ghost so you can use the remnants of its malevolent spirit to travel to the spirit plane so we can release Khloe from her ectoplasmic prison?"

Tycon was stunned momentarily. He had just heard the stupidest conclusion anyone's ever made in his presence.

He nodded. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Let's move."

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