What...?

[Dawnika Snow]

Everything was black. Darkness surrounded the young girl for an undetermined amount of time. That was, until the white of the Nexus blinded her eyes. The nostalgic center of the universe at its finest - from the sky. Dawn began falling from the sky, as per her arrival the first time, but luckily her wings were available this time. She used them to slowly descend and land next to the pool of cool, white water, which looked exactly like the floor apart from being a fluid substance.

Once the threat of crashing into the Nexus floor was gone, the vigilante took a quick look around at the people around her: Mostly secondaries from appearance, if they were primes, they’d be moving much faster. A few primes could be seen floating above the secondaries with exceptional speed, or on vehicles of different eras and kinds.

Relatively safe for the time being, Dawn crept into the mechanisms of her mind to remember what happened. She knew she had died; if she is back in the Nexus the same way she came when she first got here, she must have died. When she tried to remember how she died, she couldn’t find it. It was like reading a book with torn pages: The memory is there but the page is blank. Unfortunately, with the knowledge of where her home was, she was doomed to wait out her abandoned memories until they returned.

It was only now that Dawn felt a horrid sickness claw at her stomach. Nausea engulfed her quickly and she wanted to hurl up her lunch if she had even eaten lunch. This realization made her wonder if she could even summon anything. She took the opportunity to summon a soda quickly and took a big swig of it. Thankfully, it tasted fine, despite soda being a bad choice of beverage with an upset stomach.

Like a lost animal, Dawn simply paced around the fountain, clawing at her memories to bring back the lost. If she could just remember where she lived, she would be fine until this sickness passed.

[Corporal Light]

The first thing that came to mind was that the air smelled sweet. It was a familiar aroma; they were the Blood Ice Berries. Red crystals of fruit attached to succulent, brown leaves that stuck out in the desert of snow. They were the only plants he knew that could survive the sub-zero temperatures of his home, and he could always tell he had found one by the enticing, belly-warming smell they gave off. They grew by the thousands back at home. He wanted to grab the closest one and pop one in his mouth just to taste the plant again. Yet, for a long time, he was paralyzed to his spot.

Suddenly, a voice, one that sounded like his own, spoke in his mind.

Open your eyes...

He did so after a moment's contemplation. He was met with a blinding light that was soon replaced by a world of white. At first, he thought he had awakened in the middle of a snow storm, and his heart began to race. At any point, he would see the Church. As he lifted his head up, however, he could not find any such building anywhere. He was not dreaming, which calmed his quickening heartbeat, but left him with another question.

Where was he?

You are in the Nexus.

That voice... he thought to himself. Who was it? He had not uttered a single syllable since he woke up, and there was no one around that he could see that could have spoken. The aroma of Blood Ice Berries encroached upon his nose, slicing through his red scarf and invading his nostrils. It made his mouth water.

The Obara-Isotz Berri you are smelling is not of a physical plane. Your mind is conjuring up familiar images and memories without meaning or context. Try to keep your temper within the realms of tranquility.

He brought a gloved hand up to his face. He closed his eyes, eyebrows creased and teeth grit as the smell grew stronger. Who was speaking to him? It could only be himself, as no one else sounded like him. But his lips were not moving. Who was doing this?

His head ached as he tried to pull every memory he could out of his mind to solve this. He groaned in pain, his head feeling like someone had taken a hammer and pulverized his skull with it. There was an unusual pressure around his chest as well that only increased when he tried to breathe. Not even coughing could rid himself of it.

What is going on? he pondered, why is nothing familiar? What is going on?

Do not worry yourself. This process is normal. For now, you must remain tranquil.

He resisted the urge to dart his head behind him, as doing so would have caused him to careen his face into the nearby fountain. W-Who? Who are you?

My identity is SPB, a logic spirit. It has been a long calendar time since we have been able to converse, gunsmith.

Converse? SPB? Logic Spirit? Gunsmith?! It didn't make any sense. How did it know who he was?

My incorporeal nature has given me minor possession of your physical and, more notably, mental form, including knowledge of all of your memories and the ability to mimic you in both a bodily and mind fashion.

His hands quickly flew back onto his head and covered his ears. The voice that was his own but yet somehow wasn't quieted down, giving his mind room to think. Slowly, he reopened his eyes.

He was sitting down on an altar of some kind that was positioned right next to some kind of grey-stoned, withered fountain. The altar, gold in color, held a basin on one end full of a clear liquid, and on the other end, a basket full of red berries with a small, crimson flame underneath it that licked the bottoms of the fruits. He could hear the trickling of water coming from the fountain, which only reminded him how parched his throat and tongue was. He slid off of the altar and stepped towards the fountain, hands cupped to drink.

His gloved hands passed right through the water, leaving no ripples or any signs that he had touched it. He almost hopped back so far he could have landed on the altar if he had actually jumped.

You cannot interact with anything as of right now. You will have to wait, or, if you really do wish to, try again.

How did this.... SPB(?) know that?! Could he even be certain he was telling the truth?

I have told no lies to y-

Holy crap, STOP.

Apologies.

He took a deep breath, fingers pinching the brim of his nose. His throat was burning, begging for relief, and his mouth felt like it was on fire. On top of it all, his body felt numb, cold, and rigid. He needed a drink or SOMETHING to take his mind off of the current state of his form. He gnashed his teeth, cutting into his lips. He could taste blood on his tongue. His arms flexed and wobbled in place. His nostrils flared; he could feel his blood pump through his veins. He tipped his hands forward.

Still nothing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would NOT be denied a drink. If there was anything life could give him after so many years of pain, misery, and suffering from so many things he could have stopped, AT THE VERY LEAST life could give him this. It could gift him just one sip of water to mend the bitter, frosty coldness plaguing every part of his body.

With that, he dipped his hands again.

His fingers felt wetness underneath the leather of his gloves. With a smile, he removed his scarf and took a drink. And another. And another. Soon, he was slurping directly from the fountain itself, mouth submerged in the water.

You do realize you look absolutely ridiculous, don't you?

THIS WATER TASTES REALLY GOOD OH MY GOODNESS IT'S JUST LIKE THE BLOOD ICE BERRIES I LOVE THAT STUFF GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!

[Dawnika Snow]

The vigilante still wasn't finding any answers. It had been agonizingly long since she fell from the sky and still she couldn't remember anything. The guns and weapons she carried were a signification that this place definitely wasn't safe. People roamed around the blankness that surrounded them all, perhaps they would recognize her.

A couple of people moved in a group past the fountain. Dawn took the opportunity to wave them down. It was at this moment she noticed her hand seemed slight opaque. It didn't stop her from trying though.

“Hey! Excuse me.” She said running towards them. They didn't acknowledge her, but she stopped in front of them. “Do you guys happen to kn-”

The vigilante stopped talking as the people she waved down walked right through her. She patted down her body and shivered down to her soles. It was like she was a ghost; incorporeal being that couldn't be seen. What kind of bullshit was that?!

“This is total crap!” She yelled out pulling at her hair. If anything was more annoying than being ignored, it was the inability to even try and interact with others. How was she supposed to figure all of this out without and memories or help from others?

As the adolescent assassin asserted her feelings passionately, a man had taken to drinking from the fountain’s water. That couldn't be healthy...could it? Nevertheless, he seemed just as confused as she did, or he was a fucking psycho. She approached him slowly, he couldn't see her obviously. The man continued drinking from the fountain’s clear water. He screamed about how amazing it tasted to him, which made Dawn’s face cringe. It looked disgusting.

“Hello? Are you alright?” She asked - No answer. One more time, louder. “Hey! Can you hear me?!” Her arms waved through the air to seize his attention, but it all for naught. The vigilante gritted her teeth and yelled at the top of her lungs.

“THIS IS BULLSHIT! GODDAMN IT ALL TO FUCKING HELL'S FIERY RECTUM AND BACK!” Dawn’s breath grew heavy as she screamed that. As she calmed down though, she noticed the psycho man staring at her. Her eyes glanced down at her hand which was fully formed and no longer ethereal. Damn.

[Corporal Light]

I urge you to cease this irrational act of liquid consumption.

FUCK YOU!

He hadn't tasted Blood Ice Berries in a long time, but with his eyes closed and his lips touching the liquid of the fountain, he could feel the sensation it gave him once again. He had taken to drinking it a lot back when he had fled Frozen Over. The drink, when properly heated over a fire, was quite possibly the best hot drink one could ever ask for in his world. He could take it cold, though, when he only just wanted the raw taste or wanted to get wasted really quickly.

The liquid you are ingesting will impair you. I suggest you stop if you wish to complete your objective.

Objective?

He stopped. What objective? What objective?! He had failed in the one thing he had set out to do! What did he mean "objective?" Conveniently, SPB did not respond. Why couldn't he answer him?! He could tell him where he was, what he was doing, and be a smartass about what he was drinking, but couldn't tell him anything else? 

His head pounded; he felt like he was getting an aneurysm. Only the sweet, sweet relief of the Berry Juice within the fountain could make it stop. As the liquid trailed down his throat, he could feel his tightened muscles relax, his skin warm up, and the pain ravaging his body dissipate. Forget what the voice said. He would prefer being "impaired" to having to go another minute resisting the urge to fall down, curl up into a ball and bawl his eyes out until he had no more tears to shed. Just basic FUNCTIONING was preferable to wallowing in that pit of misery. So he kept drinking. He drank more and more, and he would have kept going if not for an interruption of a woman's voice screaming at him.

He lifted his head from the fountain. He turned around, eyes glowing yellow, eyebrows bent in a glare, and blood-red water dripping from his maw like he had sank his teeth into the carcass of a bleeding animal. Or, at least, to him, the liquid that dripped from his chin was red in color. He stayed silent for a few moments as his eyes trailed down her body. Long, black hair was the first thing he noticed, followed the headphones around her neck, and then the weapons holstered on her belt and strapped to her back. She carried some kind of black, metal thing with a long barrel and something that vaguely resembled a stock of some kind? What in the world was that? Everything else looked like it had a purpose or like an actual "weapon." Was it supposed to be a gun? What kind of gun was that? It looked so strange and stupid! It...

It was actually kind of interesting.

He spoke up, reaching for his scarf to wipe his mouth and wrap it around his face. "...That weapon... on your back? The long black one. Is that a gun?" He pointed directly at the black rifle on her back.

[Dawnika Snow]

Although her initial embarrassment from blurting out her feelings related to the incorporated state rather passionately were completely skipped, the young girl's face still lit slightly red. This man looked rather dangerous now that she saw him up close. He seemed deranged, until he started talking. He inquired about her rifle, Oscurita.

“Uh, yeah? You've never seen an Assault Rifle?” She asked as she freed it from its holster. “Automatic carbine designed for efficient medium-ranged fighting.” His oblivious sense of common knowledge made her belief he was from a different universe.

Finally getting a chance to look at him in the eyes, something hit her. Her heart skipped a beat. Why did they look so familiar?

“Do I...Do I know you?” She asked with the gun still in her hands, safety on.

[Corporal Light]

Assault... Rifle...

It certainly had a "gun-like" sound to its name. He wished he had come up with it for his revolver, curse the blasted thing, instead of just slapping the size of the bullet and the revolving cylinder of the gun and calling it a day. ".480 Revolver" definitely didn't have the same ring to it that "Assault Rifle" or "Automatic Carbine" did. 

The real question, however, was how did they come up with it? Names all had a purpose. Parents are wise beings, at least back home. Some storytellers even believed that they had the ability to see into the future, and based the names of their children off of what they see. It was a load of bullshit, but even he couldn't deny that many parents did name their kids that way, or at the very least tried to. He didn't know why he was called Ballad, or why Timber was called Timber, but he could certainly understand why Blizzard was named Blizzard. Anyone named after any word related to snow always seemed to go the route of someone who was far too dangerous for any community to hold. Which begged the question as to why any loving parent would name their kids after snow-related words in the first place. Either they were sick in the head or else had a sense of humor he couldn't entirely understand.

He forced himself to look away from the "gun" in her hand and swallowed back the wish to take it from her. How could the thing even function? It didn't have a hammer to pull back or a revolving cylinder to load the gun with, so how could it fire any bullets? Did it even fire bullets? Perhaps it fired nothing at all, and was merely a weapon meant for show. Then again, the lady took it seriously, so why shouldn't he?

Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments.

Blood rushed through his veins.

A marching drum beat within his torso, pumping adrenaline through his body. Smoke billowed out of his sleeves.

He slapped his forehead, covering up a gash as it formed on his face. He snapped his eyes shut, letting out a loud growl as his entire head felt like it had split into two. It took every ounce of his willpower not to fall onto his knees. He inhaled the smoke, fueling the fire within his body.

What is happening to me? Stop! STOP!

And, as quickly as it had started, the smoke dissipated into thin air. The wounds on his body scarred before disappearing entirely, leaving no trace of their presence. He gasped for breath, opening his eyes. She was still standing there, but her eyes were widened and her irises shrunken. He didn't know if she had gone through a similar process that he had, or if she was reacting to the sudden, smoky display of anguish that he gone through just moments prior. 

“Do I...Do I know you?” She had asked. The gun in her hand looked a lot more sinister all of a sudden. He searched his mind for any trace of her, yet he found nothing. It didn't make any sense. He did not know her, and had no reason to know her, so why did he nearly explode and transform into... something else from merely looking at her? She looked so.... familiar, though... was it the hair? He might have seen hair like that before. Who was it? It was no one back home. Everyone back home had green skin, which she clearly did not. Who WAS she?!

"I..." he said, wiping his forehead to remove the sweat forming on it, "I don't know. I wish I could say I knew you, but I do not."

[Dawnika Snow]

The sudden display of anguish caught Dawn off guard. Ballad acted as if someone had just run him through with spear, without mercy to boot. She figured she should ask if was alright, but by the time she worked up the words, he was already finished.

The answer left Dawn even more irritated than before. It was terrifying to only know your name, it made the hair on her neck stand up. Well, things can always be worse; she wasn't in any danger, yet at least.

“This is disappointing and stupid! Why would I forget everything about me but my name?!” Ballad seemed to react to that statement. His eyes widened for a second before he spoke.

“You have lost your memories as well?” He asked, sounding just as confused as her. It made Dawn pause.

“Uh, yeah? Is it the same for you?” Ballad responded with a nod. Dawn pinched the bridge of her nose annoyed.

“Well, I offer a temporary alliance until we regain our memories. What say you- Actually, I didn't catch your name.”

“I am named Ballad, and you?” He asked in return.

An...odd name? She didn't know what to say about it, but the simple sound of it made her muscles tense a little.

“Dawn. Dawn Snow.” She said replacing the rifle in its holster.

[Corporal Light]

His brow lowered upon hearing her name. Of course, given her appearance, he could not say for certain if her parents named her that way using the same culture that his own did. If they did, however.... wow. Talk about mixed messages. One of the most beautiful, pure and wholesome events one could experience in a lifetime: the colors and warmth of Dawn, combined with one of the deadliest, most commonplace, and most negative elements in any world: the harshness and bitterness of snow. Hot and cold, fire and snow, showing two sides of the elemental, temperamental, personality coin. Perhaps a representation of two vastly different personalities? Or, more likely, a sign of the mixed relationship between parent and child?

Or he was over-analyzing this whole thing and her parents named her that because it sounded cool. In fact, come to think of it, since when did he care? He had been standing there for well over a few seconds mulling over what her name was supposed to mean. Where had that come from?

He promptly removed all thoughts about her name from his mind, instead focusing on something that more fit his interest: her weapons. A long, brown rifle with an oaken stock and some sort of metal, barrel-like object with glass on both ends that resembled a mini-telescope. A grey, metal trigger jutted out from underneath the base of the rifle and some weird, metal stick with a small sphere at the end stuck out from the right side. Like the "Carbine," there was no visible revolving cylinder nor any kind of method of cocking it, so how did it work? Did the weird, stick thing have something to do with it? What about loading it? 

He realized his eyes were gazing directly at the rifle and that there was a small amount of drool beginning to come out of his mouth. He quickly swallowed the excess saliva and diverted his eyes. He almost asked her to keep her guns out before she holstered it, only stopping once he realized just how insane that might have sounded. 

"An alliance sounds..." he said, pausing. Why did the idea of an alliance not resonate with him? Strength in numbers, after all; that's what his race lived on for so long. "An alliance sounds like a good idea, yes. Interesting name, miss Snow, though very... mixed in terms of positive and negative connotations. How did you get it?"

He had to admit, the name made him curious almost as much as her guns did. But, he figured, the name thing would be a smarter option for conversation rather than guns.

[Dawnika Snow]

The vigilante was taken aback from his question. Her father named her after her mother died.

“Snow is not my family surname, yet it is my true name.” She started, as if this would take minute to discuss. “Shall we walk as I explain? I can't stand the dreary sight of this world of nothingness any longer.”

The green gunsmith looked around, as if just realizing that he was standing in a completely blank world with nothing of any particular note within. “Ah… yes, I agree. This world is… quite a miserable sight. Impossible to stand for very long.” The glow in his eyes darkened before, like a light switch, shutting off entirely, replaced with merely two yellow eyes.

The vigilante nodded, “I don't suppose you have any knowledge of the area do you?” She turned her head to look at the gates in the distance.

He went silent, blinking. “This… This is the Nexus. The place where… um…”

The name by itself sparked Dawn’s memory. “That Omni dick said people respawn here when they die. So it seems that I died before and have comeback. It could be the same for you, it might be why we can't remember anything.” She said walking off towards a random gate.

“I suppose…” Ballad replied, following her. “You were saying about your name, miss Snow?”

“Oh right,” she continued. “My father named me after my mom died. She died giving birth to me. Poor medical situation for a struggling family.” The tone of her voice got slightly more harsh as she continued to speak. “My father saw my safe delivery as a child as...something like a silver lining. Snow. It's harsh and unforgiving and takes without giving, but every morning the sun rises. There will always be dark in the dawn, but we live for that dawn. It must sound stupid to someone else, but my name expresses everything I've lived through. My father died when I was young and I couldn't save him.”

No response was given. She turned her head to look back at him. His head was angled in such a way that he couldn’t look anywhere near her face, much less look her in the eyes. A small puff of smoke shot out from underneath his coat sleeve before it seeped through the confines of his red scarf, followed by a small coughing fit from him. His eyes glowed gold for a few moments before the intensity of the light lowered once more.

Dawn awaited a response. It seemed he didn't have much to say. “You probably think it's dumb. To me, my name is a symbol of hope. For happiness - one day. What about you? Why Ballad?”

It took a fair few moments for him to respond. “I… I don’t quite know. I assume my parents believed I would become a writer of music when I came of age. That…” he said, glancing over towards Dawn’s weaponry for a brief second, “didn’t quite happen.”

Dawn nodded and replied as she turned her head back. “Well, fear not. Everyone has meaning, whether or not you know why doesn't matter. It’s what you do with the information that makes you who you are.” The two approached the Frozen Field’s gate much more quickly than they thought. The cold winds blew through the entrance, sending a chill down Dawn’s spine.

“Shall we?” She asked.

He stared into the portal, the winds smashing into his body. His eyes were glassy, almost like he was under hypnosis before he blinked and responded.

“Y-Yes…” he said, his hand instinctively reaching for his revolver, “I have a feeling we will find our hidden memories within the Frozen Fields…”