The Birth of Madness

A stone wall a good five or six feet tall, topped in tangled metal string, ran as far side to side as she could see. And, if her eyes followed the road, it went straight through the wall, yet somehow was the most unwelcoming spot to attempt crossing it – a checkpoint. Somehow, all her walking had brought her to the border of another nation. Had it really always been so close?

She was positioned about half a mile away, as she had paused as soon as the checkpoint came into view. Now, she leaned against a nearby tree, looking at this new form of obstacle. But also, opportunity. She had considered briefly turning around and trying the other fork, but that would take too long to reach, and there was no guarantee the other road wouldn't just lead to a different nation's border instead. But critically, there should be no chance the people here would know to detain her, so this was her best chance to make the crossing normally.

Unfortunately, she had no idea how to conduct herself across a border. In her mind the words 'identification' and 'toll' brushed past. If they wanted money, she could pay, as long as it wasn't much – she had very little to her name, and most of it would need to go towards food as soon as possible.

Identification would be the real problem. She'd never gotten any for herself, never seeing the need. Now, it seemed, foresight could have made this very simple. Though she had no way of knowing this would happen to her, she admitted. She never had plans to travel anywhere.

Though, if something went wrong...

How many people could be there anyway? It was hard to tell, but the two-story building set into and passing through the wall didn't look big enough to house more than a handful of people. Unless they had an expansive basement.

Nothing for it then, she decided. No matter how long she stood and thought about what might happened, she wouldn't know what would happen. And, linger too long, unpleasant things might catch up to her. With those thoughts at her heels, she resumed her walk.

As she approached, she noticed not far away from the building was a fenced in range, where three horses roamed, grazing. And, inside the gate – which was very open – two people sat facing each other. Two people, three horses; there was someone else somewhere, presumably in the building. Easier for her to deal with if things went wrong.

One of the people on the ground got up as she drew new and stepped out of the gateway to acknowledge her.

“Hello ma'am,” they greeted politely.

“Hello,” Ashi returned, putting on a natural smile.

“Can I see your identification?” and immediately Ashi's heart fell, though it didn't show on her face. Though in the end, perhaps this would work out for the better, she realized, already knowing what she wanted most from the building.

“Sure,” as she kept the smile, she pulled her bag off her back and plopped it onto the ground, kneeling down and opening it.

There could be no nervousness now. Only action.

Her hand swiftly moved to hilt and swung it out, before lunging forward, piercing in and up into their chest. Their eyes met for a moment, joy reflected in shock, and they fell to the ground. Before the second had a chance to fully scramble to their feet, mouth opened as though to scream, she leapt even further and repeated her attack, angled down. The second fell as well.

She stood tall, stretching out her arms, tail lashing excitedly. Inside the building was motion. Scraping, walking, talking. It wouldn't be right to leave half-finished. They could send out an alarm. And her other goal, of course, was inside.

She swung the door open, and saw a dining-living room combination with a kitchen set in the corner, homey. And, spread throughout the room, three pairs of eyes turned to see her. Her blade. Her smile. Her eyes. The blood, a beautiful frame.

A scramble. For a weapon. For an escape. For help.

A stab. A cut. A slash.

Ashi rested the tip of her rapier on the ground, looking around at her handiwork. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and listened. No breathing now. She exhaled with a satisfied smile.

“That was fun,” she softly laughed to herself. She paused for a moment. “Disappointing,” she conceded.

Though, she considered, shouldn't she find this revolting? The two men, the woman and other assailants, they had all been the aggressors. It was easy to logically say the blame for their deaths was not primarily on herself, and therefore the lack of remorse could be explained by a survival instinct. These people hadn't necessarily needed to be killed. Perhaps if she had simply been honest, and asked...?

She shrugged. “Nothing for it, I suppose,” she remarked again to the empty room.

Leaving her rapier on the table, she made her way over to the mini kitchen in the corner, and searched through through the cupboards until she found something that looked appealing: soup. What she'd come here for, “Lunch,” she celebrated with a grin. Without corn too, she noticed.

Putting it into a pot, and that pot onto the hotplate. She scoured the drawers some more, and found both a wooden bowl and spoon, which she placed next to the starting-to-simmer broth.

As she waited, she decided she could do a little remodeling, so she went outside and dragged the two bodies a little ways into the building. As for the blood, she found that the upstairs was divided into two barracks of three beds each, and each had a shower. Retrieving some water from there, she splashed it on the dust and blood. Hopefully that would dilute it enough to be hard to notice at a glance. If any travelers came by, they could just rush past, grateful the guards seemed to have left their post – unless they were determined to show identification and pay a toll, of course.

With a smile at that thought, she made her way back to the soup, and found it boiling hot. Taking it off the hot surface, she poured it into the bowl, and moved over to the table. She reclined in one of the wooden chairs, letting the steam clear slightly as she looked around at the now-six sprawled throughout the room. If she truly was being followed, this would be a clear enough indication to pursuers she went this way. Still, better than being held until they just caught here here.

The steam seemed faint enough now, so she took an experimental bite. Cool enough, she decided. She began ladling out bites. It wasn't corn, and that was good enough.

“Variety, the spice of life, huh?” she said to the dead.

Continuing her reflections, she thought of the gang. She hadn't killed them. Why didn't she kill them, since they were also being aggressive? She tried to think through the moment.

She was in a rush, she decided. She knew she was in a rush. That's why she hadn't killed them. Was that really all it had become, so quickly? An act only done for convenience? Or an act done only when convenient?

Before too many bites went by, the soup was entirely gone. She regarded the empty bowl, satisfied for now. She'd have to collect what she could before she left. Though, before she could do that...

She made her way up to the barracks again. A shower sounded lovely right now, both to recover from walking so many days and, most importantly, in getting the new and old blood off her person.

She turned on the magical fount that powered the water for the shower, and it began to flow. As it worked on increasing the heat, she put her rapier under the water to get the blood off. It was swept off down the gently sloped floor and away down a drain. Then, she put the rapier leaning on a wall near the shower. Even if the building was empty now, it didn't mean any precautions wouldn't be comforting. It was a good habit to get into anyway, this wasn't – or at least hopefully wasn't – the last shower she would ever take.

She looked in the small mirror this bathroom had on the wall. It was her, spotted with crimson like a leper. She brushed a hand across a spot, but it had sat long enough for it to have coalesced. She then brushed the hand across her hair, noting the spots in it as well. Hopefully they'd come out easy enough.

Disrobing, she dropped the clothes onto the floor. She stretched up and down, enjoying the lack of restriction she'd not experienced for days. With a satisfied sigh, she made her way under the now-warm water.

She'd missed this, she reflected as she scrubbed at the slowly-fading red. The simple act of washing felt like home. “Except for the blood, of course,” she remarked to the steamy air, hands working now at her hair. Though, remembering how she'd left it, maybe the blood was also like home now. Unless they'd cleaned it. She wondered if anything she left behind was still there. Would they sell the house to a new person, or burn it down, deeming it too heinous a scene to be rehabilitated? She laughed a little at that. She'd probably never go back, so she'd never know.

Exiting the water for a moment, she left wet footprints on the floor as she went back to the mirror, looking where in her hair the dried blood still was stuck, rubbing the wet strands together. Making her way back into the shower, she resumed her work; exiting the shower, she checked again in the mirror. The process repeated until she was satisfied that the blood had been – at least mostly – removed from her hair and skin.

The next step, of course, was her clothes. Her ill-fitting boots washed easily enough – they must have been enchanted to also be easily cleaned and resistant to filth. Her jacket was the same way, and washed easily – a result of an unfortunate food accident from years ago that had once ruined a jacket. The shirt and pants, however, proved very stain-able, and resistant only to losing their new decorations. The only thing for them now was being tossed to the side.

All shower tasks completed, she turned the stream of water off and went searching for a towel, which upon locating promptly rubbed all over herself before it got discarded onto the floor to act as a makeshift rug, on top of which she finally re-armored herself, using a new shirt and pants from her backpack. Finally, she went to the wall where her rapier lay waiting, and put it back on her belt. Complete.

She made her way back downstairs, carefully stepping over the dead and the puddles of blood, returning to the facsimile of a kitchen. Combing through every space she could think to check, she accumulated cans and packages of non-corn food, putting them into her pack. In addition, she took some utilities, a matchbook, some pots, canteens. She admired her newfound collection. In such a short time, she'd gone from almost nothing to a rich bounty. “Though,” she sighed, “I wouldn't mind getting to stop in an actual place and sleep in a real bed...” Her voice trailed off, and the dead still offered no response. “Actually,” she turned to them, “you wouldn't mind if I stayed the night, would you?” It was, after all, becoming twilight outside. At the silence, she smiled. They wouldn't mind.

Stepping over the blood again, she made her way upstairs and threw herself onto one of the bedspreads. It wasn't soft or fluffy, but there was no dirt on it, or grass to tickle her nose, and she swiftly fell into dreamless sleep.

And awoke to a few meager sunbeams. With a quick stretch, she collected herself and her things and left the building.

Only to immediately be shocked as she saw someone standing just across the open gate from her.

“Finally,” they exclaimed with a smile. “I was worried I'd have to wait a while for you guys to come out.” They gestured slightly to the side, at the wide-open gate, with a slight grin. “You might want to be more careful, I could've just walked though.”

Ashi stared for a moment, before a giggle rose unbidden through her throat. “I suppose so.” She walked forward, through the gate. New land for her. She regarded the person who now dug through pocket before pulling out a little booklet, and handing it over. An identification.

Ashi flipped it open and looked over the information. Name, birth date, &ct, &ct. She tried her best to look like she was actually checking for anything suspicious, though unsure where something like that would even be. Finally, she finished flipping through it, and handed it back. “Thanks for waiting.”

With a smile, they accepted it, and grabbed at a lead, connected to their mount. Mounting their mule, they passed through the gate. Ashi watched them go. A mount.

That could make progress much faster.