Chapter Text
Orchid was walking along a coast side, looking upon the sand and perhaps looking for sea glass, when they stumbled across what looked like a metal rod sticking out of the sand. He knelt down to retrieve it out to figure out what it was. Upon closer inspection, it was a pen. A sleek, black, pen. A fountain pen, they discovered. Assumingly full, nothing wrong, or out of the ordinary. Just… a pen. They tested it on the back of their hand, a habit they unintentionally picked up a long, long time ago. It was working fine. They then noticed an engraving on the end of it. Initials, he believed. ‘VHS’. odd. Maybe someone at the inn they were staying at might own it. But, in all fairness, it looked incredibly new, especially for this era. There was no way it could be here naturally.
they believed from the 1880s, more specifically, 1886.
but of course, this makes no sense. It was 1353. it was impossible.
for some reason, they opened the pen, to look at the ink cartridge, to see if it really was full. Inside, there was a small slip of paper.
‘reddere, colligere, infligere – VHS’.
Latin. How odd. Latin hadn’t been used for centuries. Why here? In a pen? Surely, if an 1880s pen was lying around in the fourteenth century, someone must have brought it here. But how? It felt like such a mundane thing to leave here, what would the point be? And the Latin meant what? Return, gather, inflict? It was clearly some form of belief, but ‘Orchid’ had no idea of the significance.
And perhaps maybe, that was his first mistake.
Now they thought about it they couldn’t exactly leave the pen here. It was from the future, and if any normal folk found it could change advancement time massively. People tell you not to step on butterflies, but they never tell you that you can’t afford to drop a pen.
Deciding that it must have just been from a time traveller passing through and a simple mistake, he picked it up, and moved on. They continued to walk down the beach, picking up some nice olive-green and moody purple sea glass, and eventually went back to the inn they’d booked a room in for the night.
He woke late in the night, to the sound of scratching against old paper. It sounded almost like - the fountain pen. They sat bolt upright in bed, glancing around the room. There, on the desk, where they had placed the pen beforehand, the pen was floating, as if something paranormal was writing with it. It had opened a book that our protagonist had been carrying with them for a long time. He leapt from their bed, and rushed to the table, to peer at what the pen was writing. And of course, why wouldn’t it be; it was those three words, over and over and over again, ‘reddere, colligere, infligere.’ they attempted to grab at the pen, to stop it wasting precious pages of their diary from when it all went wrong, but when they grasped the pen, it wouldn’t – no, couldn’t stop. They weren’t even right-handed, and here he was, still writing completely legibly. It wasn’t even their handwriting. Yet still writing the same three words. They had no idea what on earth to do.
They wrenched their hand away from the pen.
It was incredibly easy. Clearly this pen had no need of them. But they couldn’t just leave it here! It would be detrimental to the time they were in!
Exasperated, he closed the book onto the pen, it still writhing furiously. They retrieved a piece of amethyst purple ribbon from the desk, and wrapped it around the book. The pen was still in it, but it couldn’t escape easily. he assumed that would be enough until morning, when they’d be leaving anyway.
they turned to a small mirror in the room, a rare thing for the time period. [It was but a disk of copper, but it was better than nothing, only a few hundred years until humans would understand glass.] Mainly to ensure they weren’t… damaged by the pen, but also to observe spore development. The small red dots had run up their arms like freckles, or perhaps tattoos, but they hadn’t gone past the elbow. Thankfully they were easily coverable, as the threat of the plague had only just disappeared, and they might be mistaken as infected. They ruffled their forest green hair, and decided it wasn’t worth going back to sleep, as they’d need to leave in a few hours. They settled on rereading the scriptures he had been gifted, as their log book had been compromised. Their mind wandered however, thinking of his feeble home. After moving away from their bunker, they’d had many a home. Currently, it was this beautiful tent supported by white wood, with black, red and teal fabric draped across. Although, he’d always felt drawn to a little house that was set against rock, his red spores crawling out of it. How they desperately wanted to walk there, to look inside, to find out what he had left for him. But they wouldn’t. not yet. Patience was indeed a virtue, but never one he’d practiced.
His mind wandered to the pen. Where had they heard that set of initials before?
And then it dawned on him. Ananke. Of course, why wouldn’t it be? But what did this pen have to do with him, and why was it here?
His thoughts were interrupted by a small ‘ping’ noise from a small device on their desk. He got up to retrieve the communicator, turning it on without a hitch. It was a message from Mori, the realm had been wiped, to start anew. Whilst the trio had already agreed on this, it was still sudden. It meant he wouldn’t be able to enter the house on the rocks. It was cruel, but they were sure the house would find its way back. The trio had decided on basic rules for the new realm beforehand, to randomise groups and roles, and while he hoped to be with him, he ended up with the shadow, Mori. They weren’t particularly upset about the group he was allotted, also being put with the single demi god [although they had no idea what of], who he considered more of an obstacle than anything. Ananke was allocated with three humans, but useful ones, and ones he’d grown attached to.
The sunlight of a new day started to creep in through the curtains. They packed their small number of belongings swiftly, intending to get to the realm before anyone else, as he had a plan.