Wordlessly (And unusually urgently), Python led Chirin to a lone bench on an empty street. They settled there, with Python staring thoughtfully in the distance as she flicked her coin in the air, and Chirin gazing unblinkingly at the ground; his exhaustion weighing heavy on his eyelids as he relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.

With trembling a hand he lightly traced the wound on his shoulder.

Python’s suspicious reaction to Chirin’s injury had taken him aback, and he knew exactly why. He tore his gaze away from the ground and looked at Python, who appeared lost in thought. She was mumbling at a volume he couldn’t decipher.

Chirin: (“She reacted the same way when I told her how I fell into the Abyss, and when I told her that I’m colorblind… ”)

He thought of the overly curious denizens of Outcry, and their barely masked fascination with him.

He thought of Hvitur: a man with eyes darker than the Abyss, staring at Chirin as if he were a messiah.

( Hvitur Lockweed:  “Tell me, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘯. How many 𝘈𝘣𝘺𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 did it take to get an aura like that? How many? How did you do it without going crazy?!” )

Chirin’s hand inquisitively grazed the wound on his skin, expecting the sensation of flesh and blood at his fingertips. However, to his confusion, he felt nothing but perfectly intact skin. He pulled his hand away, confusion clouding his features as he stared at it.

There was no trace of blood on it at all.

Chirin: “I-I… Have some questions.”

Python’s mumbling abruptly stopped.

Python: “...An answer for an answer?”

Chirin cast her a weary, flat look, slightly exasperated at the prospect of having to do this again.

Chirin: “...I’ll go first... I’ve been thinking about all the sorts of things that you and everyone else can see that I can’t, and I really want to know: what does my aura look like, and why does everyone seem so… interested in it?”

Python stared at him with measured expression, as if she were studying a work of art. There was a long silence before she finally spoke.

Python: “It’s beautiful. It doesn’t make sense.”

Chirin: “How so?”

Python: “The older an Abyssian is, the more complex their aura becomes. Spiritual energy is essentially a blend of emotions and energies; a tapestry of sensations and life experiences emitted from one’s own heart. A reflection of oneself.”

Python: “Younger Abyssians only have one color. Older ones tend to have two, or rarely three.”

Python: “The same can be said of Elders to a more extreme degree. But the thing about their energy is that it’s too potent— it’s an overwhelming sensory overload. There’s too much of everything… so much that looking at it hurts. Being around it hurts.”

Python: “But Chirin… Yours is something else. It’s the most vibrant, colorful, intricate pattern I have ever seen in my life. It’s almost magnetic. And yet, despite its complexity, when I look at it, when I’m around it, it doesn’t hurt. All I can think about is how perfect it is.”

At Chirin’s unnerved expression, Python coughed a bit.

Python: “To clarify, what I mean to say is: It’s irresistible, Chirin. It’s not unheard of for those at the end of their lifespans to prowl the streets in search of an easy, nice looking heart to take to extend it, and I don’t think I’m mistaken to think that eating yours is exactly what that snake wanted to do.”

Chirin shuddered at the sudden seriousness of her tone, not lost on the irony of her calling the stranger a “snake”.

Now that she had explained it to him, it all made sense now: the reason why almost every person they passed seemed interested in him. The Musician, the girl he met at Budesca, the engineer–

Chirin: (“And Hvitur… He must have been asking what everyone was thinking…”)

Python: “...Once you eat another Abyssian’s heart, you change. You stop being the person you were before, because essentially, that other person you stole their future from has become a part of you.”

Her next words were barely a whisper, her quiet rage not missed by Chirin.

Python: “There’s no going back from that.”

Chirin stared at her for a long moment.

Chirin: (“There’s no question about it… This seems like a really tough subject for her.”)

He thought about the conversation they had earlier today, noting how she spoke with the same intensity about the Elder as she did just now.

( Python: “ –No Abyssian reaches that state unless they want it. They chose to be like that.” )

( Python: “They don't deserve your pity.” )

Chirin: (“I’ll admit, I can’t help but be curious as to why something like this angers her so much. But… I don’t think it’s my place to pry.”)

Chirin pulled Python’s coat further over his body, the fluff almost resting on top of his head. He stared at the dark, bloody stain on his shoulder, his thoughts lingering on Python’s reaction to seeing his injury.

Chirin: “....Abyssians. They don’t bleed like I do, huh?”

Python: “How do you know?”

Chirin: “You were acting weird about my shoulder. You’re… k-kinda bad at lying. Sorry.”

Python: “...Oh.”

Python had forgone doing her usual coin tricks, and was balancing her coin thoughtfully on her thumb. She let out a long, almost disappointed sigh.

Python: “Yeah… I am. You’ve got me all figured out, Chirin.”

Chirin: “My shoulder was bleeding.”

Python: “Yes. I saw.”

Chirin: “That’s not normal, is it?”

Python: “No. It’s not.”

Chirin: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

For the first time, Chirin thought he saw Python look a bit guilty.

Python: “...I didn’t want you to worry. Look at you—“

She gestured to him as if to further demonstrate the point she was about to make.

Python: “You’re exhausted. You’ve already been through enough today.”

Chirin frowned.

Chirin: “I appreciate the thought, but all you really did was just make me worry more. You can tell me anything. I can take it. I don’t think anything can get any crazier than, well… everything.”

Python was silent for a moment.

Python: “... Alright.”

Python: “You’re… only half right about Abyssians not having blood. When we bleed, we don’t bleed the same way you do, we just lose energy. Our hearts… That’s the only part of us that’s essentially organic; The only part of us that bleeds red. But… all of you is organic? I could have never guessed. It’s almost like… You’re a giant walking heart. Nothing about it makes sense to me. Unless…?”

She sighed and shook her head.

Python: “No… It can’t be that.”

Before Chirin could inquire about her comment, Python lightly poked Chirin’s injured shoulder.

Python: “...Speaking of the bleeding, how’s your wound? I should’ve offered to bandage it up earlier… Here, I can—”

Chirin shook his head.

Chirin: “Thanks, but you don’t need to. It’s already better.”

Python’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Chirin could almost imagine the befuddled look on her face.

Python: “What…?”

He pulled down the collar of his shirt, allowing her a decent enough view of what was under the blood-stained patch of his shirt.

Chirin: “See? I’m perfectly fine… s-somehow.”

Upon seeing his perfectly fine shoulder, Python leaned back, rubbed her temples, and let out a long groan.

Python: “...Sheesh. Is there anything about you that isn’t weird, Chirin…? Surviving an impossible fall, the strange aura, healing from injuries in mere minutes… days… hours…? The colorblindness, the inability to see auras, and now… this blood stuff?”

Python: “I was so sure that all this was just a matter of you coming from Terra Firma, but now, the more I learn about you the more I start to doubt.”

Python: “It’s my turn to start asking questions now. Chirin, what in the ten worlds are you?”

Chirin stared at her, all too exhausted to really think too hard about the implications of her question, and, for some unknown reason, feeling not so much different than a cornered animal. He shot Python a wary look as he curled tighter into her coat and leaned away from her.

Chirin: “I don’t know.”

Python leaned close to Chirin, regarding him suspiciously.

Python: “…You’re not hiding anything from me, are you, Chirin?”

Chirin pushed back by leaning further away.

Chirin: “W-What? No! I thought I was an Abyssian like you said I was, but now I don’t know!”

Python filled in the gap Chirin created by leaning in closer. Her voice was low, with a hint of wariness.

Python: “Really?”

Chirin: “Ugh! Please stop doing that!”

He pushed Python away with his body, the woman in question easily complying and sliding back to where she comfortably sat. But Chirin could still feel her staring holes into him.

Chirin: “I'm sorry. I’m just as confused as you are.”

Chirin: “Now let me ask you a question. Why is the fact that I ‘bleed red’ such a big deal compared to everything else not normal about me?”

(He hated the way his voice almost cracked at that last part).

Python: “Because Abyssians don’t bleed red everywhere, Chirin. Nirvanians do.”

Chirin: (“Nirvanians…?”)

Chirin: “...What’s a Nirvanian?”

Python: “Just as Abyssians are the dominant species of the Abyss, so are Nirvanians to Nirvana.”

Chirin: (“Nirvana… She must be referring to the upper two stratums of the World Seed.”)

Python: “Abyssians are… selfish creatures. We steal the lifespans of each other for the sake of increasing our own. We’re all slaves to something, but our spirits are unbreakable. Our passion for our motivations is second to none. That’s what makes us, us. But Nirvanians… They’re terrifying. Not only because the Abyss as a whole knows next to nothing about them, but just because they’re plain terrifying.”

Python: “Unlike us Abyssians, almost all of them appear one of three ways: seeing, listening, speaking, existing for absolutely nothing else– A body devoid of mind and spirit. A single massive eye staring straight into your heart.”

Python: “They’re unconditionally immortal. And while they may be weaker than most older Abyssians, they make up for the lack of power with their numbers and resilience. Even if you can kill them, they don’t stay dead. They have no auras, and unlike Abyssians, they have no hearts.”

Python: “For as long as our history has been able to remember, they were completely and utterly devoted to kidnapping Abyssians and harvesting our hearts.”

Chirin: “Were?”

Python was silent for a long moment, her robust figure eerily still and almost radiating a faint glow beneath the flickering yellow street lights. 

Python: “...Culling entire cities and settlements, kidnapping Abyssians by the hundreds… They’ve been doing it for as long as Abyssians can remember. If you didn’t live within the safety of numbers or weren’t strong enough to defend yourself, you were more likely to be taken by them. They were relentless. They descended only in the nighttime from the open skies, so bright that they illuminated everything around them. As long as they had attacked, every Abyssian lived in fear of the darkness. There was nothing we could do about it. We couldn’t leave the Abyss.”

Python: “For a long time, all anyone could do was fight back and wonder why they wanted to harvest our hearts. And then, there was a glimmer of hope: a small group of powerful Abyssians rose up to the challenge of finding the truth.”

Python: “But a decade ago, just as progress started being made, those Abyssians vanished.”

Python: “There was not a trace of them left behind. The Abyss was devastated. The Nirvanians continued to attack us relentlessly, but right when all hope seemed to be lost, they suddenly just… stopped. They took their last set of Abyssians, and fled to the skies just as they always did. The promise of them coming back was always unsaid, but this time, they never returned.”

Python: “The Nirvanians were just as gone as all those missing Abyssians were.”

Python: “It’s been a little over a year since then, and almost everyone is happy to forget about them. Nobody wants to think about why they stopped, nor do they even want to try to know what happened to all who were taken by them. The problem has been solved now, and it’s not like a rescue mission is even possible… So what’s the point in even pursuing further?”

Python: “...But I can’t forget them. I’ve lost people to them, Chirin. More than most others. I’ve almost died fighting them.” 

Python: “They were the bane of my existence, even worse than Elders… But despite that, their disappearance left me with more questions than answers.”

Chirin’s expression turned somber. Python had narrated the Nirvanians as if they were nothing but a painful memory. It was apparent to him that they too seemed to be a tough subject for her.

Chirin: “I’m sorry.”

Python: “...It’s alright.”

Whoever these “Nirvanians” were, they seemed terrifying, and the possibility that Chirin might even be remotely connected to them as Python had implied scared him a bit. He can’t ignore the fact that something about them seemed familiar to him, though.

Python: “Tell me, Chirin. Do you… Have any sort of connection to them?”

Chirin: “To the Nirvanians?”

Python: “Yes.”

Chirin: “Are you… asking if I am one?”

Python: “No.”

Python: “I’m asking if you are somehow connected to them. If you perhaps… encountered any of them from when you were in Terra Firma.”

Chirin gulped, unsure of how to respond to a question for which he had no real answer to. 

Chirin: “I don’t remember anything, so I can’t really say. I’m sorry.”

He tried his best to keep his gaze locked onto hers, fighting the feeling of slight shame building up on the back of his throat. To his relief, Python didn’t seem to catch on to any tells of guilt.

(It seemed like he was better at hiding his feelings than she was.)

Python: “...You’re right. That was a dumb question.”

She lowered her mask over her face.

A 𓇗  𓆸 A ᪥ L

BONUS!

Art by @S0me_Moon2!