Griar had to admit that he didn't quite know how to go about being a father for Aurelio. Not only did Griar have no experience, but the fact that Aurelio was not his own son made things a bit awkward, but of course, the boy was unaware that his 'father' was actually Lady Fe.
In fact, Aurelio knew nothing of the Stagnant Realm and Stagnant Waters. He had been born in the Peaceful Realm and had only ever lived here.
Even though Griar was doing his best, it was rather off-putting just how much the boy looked like the one who had fathered him… He had the sa clear-blue eyes, the sa pale blue hair, and just had a face reminiscent of the high priestess in general.
Griar naturally has a strong dislike for Fe. Not only was this woman the head of a cult that actively worked for the undead and had spread vileness to countless people already, but she had also done unforgivable things to Flor and many other young won.
As much as Griar would like to bring her down, he knew that she was too powerful for him to take on. So he could only keep calm for now, and let himself be transported back into the pseudo-realm in his sleep…
The young man did not end up surrounded by white light and bright fog, however. He found himself back inside the mory he had been in when he had left the night prior… Or rather, it seed like it, because he was no longer inside the body of Tahnee.
'What is this? Is this mory making take control of several different people?' he wondered. The body he was now in was that of a young man, a farmhand who had been walking near corn fields after night had already fallen.
Apparently, walking ho after having paid a visit to a girl his age… And according to the mories pouring through Griar's mind, he had stepped into the corn field after noticing sothing wrong under the illumination of the moonlight.
'Sothing's wrong with a scarecrow?' by the ti Griar took control of the young man's body, he was already only a couple of steps away from the scarecrow in question…
'Wrong' was a soft way to put it. The young man had noticed sothing reflecting moonlight upon the scarecrow. Griar could instantly tell that it was blood. The scarecrow was bloody… In fact, it was bleeding right as he looked at it.
There was a corpse inside there instead of hay, a recent cadaver at that…
'Is this-?!' Griar was instantly on alert and took a step back, only to bump into soone.
Griar, stuck inside the body of a mundane farmhand, tried to quickly spin around, but was hit in the side of the head with a hamr before he could do anything consequential.
Thankfully, the farmhand was resilient enough not to lose consciousness instantly, instead falling to the ground with a bloodied head, allowing Griar to see his attacker… It was a man garbed in a long, dusty, and worn-out black coat… Wearing an old burlap bag over his head, an expression of sadness was etched upon the face of the roughly-made mask.
"Oh shit…"
The concept of a figure dressed in such an attire was not sothing Griar was unfamiliar with in the least. The Sad-Faced Man was a scary figure often used by his mother in the past to tell scary stories… And nowadays, Griar knew that the person–Or rather being–Beneath that mask was none other than the pure undead in person.
A style so strongly associated with him that it had made its apparition on the Stagnant Realm, with so of the people infested with Stagnant Waters deciding to put on a similar mask upon their heads. Presumably, in an attempt to emulate and show their allegiance to undeath.
Whatever may be the case, Griar attempted to raise his arms in defence, but the farmhand had been hit hard and with frightening precision. He could barely move his limbs, stunned and dazed by the strike.
There was nothing Griar could do. The hamr was brought down again without a shred of hesitation, impacting against the farmhand's forehead, exactly enough tis to cause death.
Griar opened his eyes in the body of an old farm with a beard that was a mixture of grey and white hair. Despite his old age, he still had a head full of hair, and it was still bright outside as he sat on the porch of his farm, overlooking a golden field of wheat.
'This doesn't seem right…'
Nearly imdiately, Griar noticed that in the distance, there was another scarecrow that was pretty obviously 'abnormal', as in, it had been stuffed with soone's dead body. Griar found it hard to believe that there had been so many deaths near such a small town… Had his mother intentionally softened the morbid details?
'This man is very old… I will struggle to even stand up from this chair…'
He heard a door open and footsteps approach from behind, footsteps that the old man did not recognise in the least.
Footsteps produced by boots, and footsteps that had a suspiciously consistent pattern to them.
'Hey… What the hell is the point of this mory, exactly?!' just as he expected, just a few monts later, Loimos, still wearing the burlap mask, walked up to the old man's side and lodged a at cleaver right through the man's face.
Griar awoke with his back against a stone wall, surrounded by pieces of debris inside a street made of clearly abandoned hos and structures. He was in the body of a sickly, bone-thin woman whose mobility wasn't much better than that of the old man from before.
Though the situations Griar found himself in seed to be getting worse and worse.
The farmhand would have had pretty good chances of running away had he acted differently.
The old man might have been able to stand and walk away from the house, and perhaps find safety by going near other residences or people.
But this frail girl? Griar took control of her, and Loimos was already within sight, standing further down the forsaken street, holding a rusty axe in his hand.
Griar figured that just getting himself killed over and over again would not be conducive to anything, so he forced the weakened body of the woman to rise and tried to take off running away from the undead.
The attempt was cut short when sothing slamd into his back, causing the woman's body to go still. Loimos had thrown the axe and extensively damaged his target's spine.
After being slain once more, Griar found himself sitting at a dining table. Once again, he was the only person around, but he was in the body of an adult man, probably around thirty to forty years old.
He imdiately stood up and grabbed a tool that had been propped up against the wall. It was a shovel.
Griar made sure that Loimos wasn't actually hiding behind any nearby corner, and made his way to a room, locking himself inside of it.
It was dark outside, it was the middle of the night, and soon, Griar heard the sound of wood being scraped, soon followed by the dull sound of steel, and then, a door being opened, accompanied by a soft, cold gust.
Griar could not hear any footsteps, only crickets, and the distant hooting of an owl.
Griar grasped the shovel firmly, staying in what he deed to be the safest portion of the room, eyeing both the locked door, and the window…
After several long minutes of abject silence, Griar was starting to wonder if Loimos was even still here, or if Loimos even had anything to do with anything this ti–That's exactly when the door was kicked open. The flimsy piece of wood was smashed into pieces.
And as a figure rushed into the room, casting a large shadow as they stepped in front of the lantern lying upon a table, Griar raised the shovel defensively, narrowly stopping the pointy end of a pickaxe from going right through his eye and skull.
Griar pretty much couldn't see a thing as he barely managed to get away from the attacker, stumbling away, bumping into the table and causing the lantern to fall to the ground.
The movent causes the light to shine upon the intruder's face. It was indeed Loimos again, but Griar had little ti to think, as the next swing of the pickaxe lodged the digging tool right through his forearm.
He attempted to kick at the undead's knee, but the skeleton didn't buckle in the least, instead twisting the pickaxe in the wound, causing horrible pain to the man Griar was possessing.
"Get the hell away!" by using everything he had to offer, Griar sohow managed to wrench the steel head of the pickaxe away from its handle, causing Loimos to montarily cease his assault as the force he was putting into wielding the pickaxe was redirected toward thin air.
Instinctively, Griar reached for the oil lantern and threw it directly at the corpse's chest, setting Loimos ablaze, sothing which did not seem to bother the skeleton much.
Griar cursed and threw himself out of the window, attempting to take off running through a field of pumpkins, whilst being pursued by a flaming skeleton, and also bleeding heavily…
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