Borea Anthology is a collection of various short stories taking place in Borea. All RPer’s on Borea are free to use this thread for their various short stories and Non-Borean Rpers can message myself about posting stuff on here for their Borean short stories.
Addiction
[1920]
[Outside of the temporary congress building, Grand Shrine of Lilith; Newport, Nystatiszna]
Revolution has been won, the counter revolution foiled and the first civil war is over. The communists, fascists, monarchists and all others who opposed the democratic will of the people lay dead in the streets. To be gathered and burned, given funeral rites they do not deserve but will receive anyway by the soft hearted Nystatinne Akuanists.
Thanks in part to the work of Viktor von Dotseth, leader of a street gang and a thug to the head of state security. Founder of the revolution’s internal security division, despite his young age. His body was young, but his mind was older, molded by family abuse, violence on the streets and what felt like the apocalypse of civilized society only to be turned around to the era of new ideals. Freedom for the slaves, destruction of those who oppressed them. Yet no justice would be served to them, even now the liberals and socialist inside argue what to do with them instead of taking the simplest solution by taking them out back and kill the bastards.
It’s not that Viktor had any ideology to him, he only cared about Nystatiszna. He could care less if the socialists wanted to create a socialist utopia or if the liberals wanted to create Akuan democracy. All he wished was for a moment to himself, quietness in the middle of beating heart of politics.
Viktor leaned against the outside doors, taking a quiet moment to light up a cigarette and enjoy a smoke. The chilling breeze of the south sea slammed against his black cloak. Quiet moments like this are ever so rare for the young revolutionary even after the violence was ended. The endless arguing inside the parliament for the future of the country, what to do with the slave owning class and everything in between. His agents across the country, still keep busy despite him telling them otherwise. He wished for them to return home, to return to their families and find new work. Well, the ones that still had families left that is. Instead, the majority of them kept tabs on the local happenings of their region or reports on the status of the military stationed there.
If he was ever honest to himself, then he realized he is just an addict to the spy lifestyle and the endless stream of information it brings. Why else does he keep reading the reports or give suggestions to his agents? Never orders them, he would ask them to stop again but they’re going to ignore that order and keep working then he might as well put them to good use.
Leaning his head back resting his head against the ancient stone wall, taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke.
“Something told me you were out here.” Naylorbrookisza, the unspoken leader for the military of the revolution, exited the large shrine office being used for the discussions. She gave a cruel smile, resting next to Dotseth and spoke in a soft tone. Taking out a cigarette and putting it her lips. “Got a light for a lass?”
Vitkor reached into his pocket taking out his lucky silver lighter and held it out to the colonel. She leaned over and lit her cigarette. Vitkor put the lighter back into his pocket. He shoved both his hands pocket as well, keeping them warm.
“Strange seeing you out here instead of inside.” Naylorbrookiszna took a puff from her cigarette, giving a small shiver as the freezing breeze slammed against her. Viktor couldn’t help but notice it, Naylorbrookiszna wasn’t from this land and from far away. Aurora, where the sun is always shining and food just rains down from the sky or whatever bullshit.
“Needed a smoke.” Vitkor breathed out the smoke through his nose, not wanting to take his hands out of the warmth of his pockets.
“You must be smoking a lot then. I haven’t seen you inside there all week.” Naylorbrookiszna danced around the subject. Viktor kept quiet, why was he here if he wasn’t even going to enter the discussion. Instead of taking a hand in the future of the country and freedom he fought so hard just to sit outside to smoke.
“They are talking about inviting a monarch, after everything that happened. Not another Arachne but one from out of Borea. Possibly even one from fucking Aurora, the same people we killed trying to free ourselves.” She spoke with a fiery, hateful tone. Dotsteh couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, at the Auroran comment given the place of her birth.
“I see that look Vikky, I might be born Auroran but my soul is Borean.” The colonel spoke, taking another puff from her cigarette. “I never belonged in that cursed place, I was lost before I came to Borea. Now I am here, I know my place in the world. I am a Borean.”
“Alright.” Viktor replied in a simple tone, finishing his cigarette and taking out another cigarette from his pack inside his coat. Her words are not really motivating him.
“Nystatiszna is a special place, in a special time of its existence. It can be shaped to be a truly special place, a holy place, one without blemish like other nations. It is why those other of inferior types have to suppress it, they know the future glory and dominance of it. It is Nystatiszna future to rule Borea. It just needs a firm hand to guide it.” Dotseth’s interest has peaked properly now, her words actually meaning something to him. He already had an idea what she was going to ask him though he didn’t yet say anything. Taking another puff from his cigarette looking forward.
“You know that words carry weight, not in there with the corrupt politicians but with the people that have seen what you seen and done what you have done. The people who fought instead of sitting on their hands and knees pleading for scraps. They believe Nystatiszna just a place, that is simply a nation like any other.” Naylorbrookisza kept her eyes on the Zrei.
“You can take part in shaping this country, far more than those who refused to take part in the fighting. Those who misbelieved that freedom could be won by protests and marches. You can shape it into the Nystatiszna we both know it needs to be.” She kept going on with her hard sale.
“I don’t care to be a politician or be known by the history books, I just want peace and quiet.” Dotseth replied to his friend in a respectful tone.
“You don’t have to make yourself known to influence the outcome. As for peace, there can be no peace in Borea. Not when politicians care more for themselves and what they gain. Even now as they ta…” She cut off my Dotseth.
“Speak to me as your friend, not a starry eyed fool you are trying to convince on your side.” Dotseth took another puff from his cigarette, letting the smoke exit through his nose.
Naylorbrookisza gave a smile. “Sorry Dotseth, I’ve been spending too much time in that damned building.” She rested her hand on Dotseth’s shoulder.
“Listen, I have a plan to save the revolution, to make the true Nystatiszna we fought for…” Again Dotseth stopped her.
“I’m in.” His words are short and simple.
“Just like that? I haven’t even told you anything yet.” Naylorbrookiszna was slightly taken back. She didn’t believe Viktor von Dotseth of all people would be so quick to join her.
“You don’t need to. I trust you.” Dotseth tossed his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out.
“I thought you wanted peace and quiet?” She gave a cheeky grin.
“I want the unattainable. What are your orders Colonel?” Dotseth replied. Once an addict, always an addict no matter the lifestyle or drug. By the spirits he is addicted to everything Naylorbrookiszna was offering, revolution struggle, spywork and to demonstrate his unmatched love for Nystatiszna. Not the nation itself but the concept of Nystatiszna, the future Nystatiszna.
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Pocket Change
[3rd of September, 2022]
[Neo-Fantøn, Nystatinne Side]
It’s funny how quickly a symbol of resistance can be bought, printed on a t-shirt and sold to tourists as the gawk at the wall with graffiti of a cat on it. The cat wasn’t important, it was words next to it that caused a crack down, had people bagged and dragged into dark night. “We will meet again in another life when we are both cats” once stood against the government, against the Bureau and against everything Nystatiszna is. Now it’s a symbol of college students who want to appear caring about the struggle of Kemonomimi in a country they can’t even point out on a map while they smoke in their dorm rooms.
This is not even the original spot along the border wall, the original spot had too many bullet holes in the wall and too far off from the gate. This is a selected spot on the wall by the government close to other tourist districts created recently. Even the agents and their infamous trenchcoats walking around policing the area have been put on notice to be polite in front of others. They carry their sharktooth smiles and aura of just another kind of police officer. Bureau monsters in trenchcoats are just another little quirk of Nystatiszna, your average tourist not knowing the legacy of terror. Even if they did know all the things they have done or are doing, would they even care? Fat chance they would, they just would say ‘oh that’s awful!’ while they buy a t-shirt of a besmirched symbol of resistance diminished by their own fake sympathies of guilt of living a better life.
The area around this little tourist trap was dozens of small ramshackle stalls and the graffiti itself being roped off. Crowds of foreigners taking group photos together at the site with the illusion of safety of the sharks in their long black coats. Between the foreigners, Nystatinnes walk between them offering them water bottles, traditional Nystatinne snacks and souvenirs. Over by the stalls, the all-so famous t-shirts, available in every size for every species all for ‘reasonable’ prices. Nystatinnes are absolutely price gouging the tourists, $30 SHD for a t-shirt and for a country where most people have an annual wage of 300$ SHD. T-Shirts to tourists might as well be spinning gold thread.
Agents themselves were the ‘friendly’ ones that the NIB could possibly muster. Even having some kemonomimi in their ranks, giving an idea that they are kinder than the tall smiling Z’rei elf. Any actual Borean would know, it’s the kemonomimi in trenchcoats are the ones you need to look out for. They’re quickest to violence, most brutal of the lot and always had a chip on their shoulder. Though they are common around tourist areas nowadays, the tourists love to get pictures of them. Falsely believing the short folk and their ’Adorable little trench coats’ are less a threat than the Ursine wearing the same uniform. There is no such thing as a ‘safe’ Svarakk. They are all monsters clothed in black.
It is sickening, to see how tourists fawn over them. Kemonomimi, 152cm in height wearing their dark black trench coats, boots that made no sound as they step across the swept concrete, and peaked caps. One could imagine some clueless tourist misbelieving they are just children dressed up in some sort of evil looking civil servant outfit. Those who come over the wall the divides Neo-Fantøm, Western Boreans be they Rikevaari or Aszar know well enough to stay clear of the short Svarakk. Even if there is trouble, they will go to one of the humans, Ursines or Spirits forbid Z’rei dressed in the black coats. The foreigners to Borea however, always go to the Kemonomimi as if they would be any kinder. At least the NIB made sure to send their most friendly and even tempered agents here, though they do make sure it is heavily skewed towards Kemonomimi type regardless.
They were nothing but the most friendly to the tourists, kind and helpful to the foreigners as if they were luring them into an alleyway to stab them in the back. Of course, they would not do such a thing, but there is no mistaking the aura of security and friendliness they provide to the foreigners. Nystatinnes and residents of Neo-Fantøm know that aura is kept on a leash by the other agents in the area, a rabid dog ready to tear apart anyone who the Bureau decides to be a threat with excessive force.
Those foreigners who travel to the frozen lands only see their local friendly agent, clad in the uniform all Nystatinnes fear greeting them. Asking if they are having any problems or directions. Accepting offers to have a photo taken with them, even willing to make small talk with them. Always seeming so approachable, like a neighborhood beat cop in a small town in some distant farming community in Concord. Nystatinnes see it all so different, they are dogs circling around a dying animal. Waiting for a moment to strike that will never come. The tension that hangs over their head at all times, at every waking moment and all it takes for the dogs to attack is a single slip up.
–
Sølvi avoids returning to the Nystatinne side of Neo-Fantøm, even more so her own home district. Her own district was considered by Nystatinnes to be a rough side of the city. It was dead center of Tømmer, away from the tourism approved section and away from any actual important government centers. It was a mess of concrete blocks barely worthy to be called habited built in the 70s. The most dangerous part of it was all NIB agents assigned to police were Kemonomimi, and they had no direct oversight with how they were policing the area save the single Z’rei agent briefly making the rounds once a month.
Though she still has a way to go back to her home district, gotta go see her family. Wearing her usual cabbie jacket and black face mask. She has to make a stop before visiting her district, visiting the famous Håpløs Romantisk district, where that ever so famous graffiti is located. The graffiti itself is being relocated and sprayed on a more appropriate spot to attract the ever so rich tourists.
The rookie driver walked into the tourist crowd, looking for a certain child kemonomimi using a crutch. It was her little brother’s turn to use it this week, and it wouldn’t be too hard to spot him using it. She spots one of his friends, off selling overpriced mineral water to some Auroran looking tourist. You can always tell if it was Auroran by how overdressed they are and the brand named clothing they have. Not to mention the attitude. She waited a few moments before she approached the kid, letting him make the sale before walking over to him.
Speaking in Nys’tat’en to him so the curious foreigner won’t be able to understand if they overhear. “Oi Tuna Can you still pass that tap water as authentic blessed water?” She kept her hands in her jacket pockets as she walked over to him.
“They still buyin’ ain’t they.” The kid turned around, only around ten years of age. He placed the money into his front pocket. “They paid 20 Kirib for it once I got the sob story going on, even though I only offered it for 8.” He gave a smirk, “We are so lucky they are so ignorant.”
Sølvi gave a smirk in return, “Con a day keeps the hunger at bay, doesn’t it.”
“Ain’t that the truth. You should consider workin’ at the shrines. Make an honest one of ya yet.” He reached into his backpack for another bottle of water. “Can’t believe Mrs. Andresen actually ordered glass bottles lookalikes. Thought she would just have them stolen or somethin’ ya know?”
The former cabbie gave a laugh, “Perhaps she finally found her limit.”
“Nah, no way she got one.” He shook his head, taking off his green cap and placing it into the bag, replacing it with a dark gray one. “Bet ya I can get ‘em to buy another one again.”
She shook her head, “Probably, but that is not what I am here for. Have you seen Roy?”
“He’s back with the boss, somethin’ bout a missing merch.” He gave a shrug, “Probably nothin’ though, he couldn’t steal bowl from the blind.”
“Thanks Tuna Can, keep this for ya trouble.” She flips over a shiny Red Krone coin. As she heads to the building in the back, away from the stalls and crowds.
–
“Have I not been good to you?” An elven woman sits in a chair, across from a kid kemonomimi. Behind her was a wide variety of merchandise waiting to be sold to the curious tourists wanting a trinket to go home with.
“You have.” The kid held onto his orange cap, looking down at the concrete ground.
“Have I done something wrong to you?” The Rikevaari stared at him, “Look up at me when I am speaking to you.”
The kid nervously looks at the woman. Clutching his hat close to his chest. “No Ma’am.”
The elven woman sighed, “Then why did you steal from me? Should I report you to the Svarakk?” She gave a glare at the child, “Don’t just be quiet, answer me.”
The kid nervously shuffled, “Please don’t, I didn’t think you would notice it.”
“Oi, Suits cut the kid some slack.” Sølvi stepped into the shady building.
The Rikevaari gave a sigh and shook her head. “Ny’Kinul you owe me for a three bottles. I am not unkind however, you can use the crutch to make up for it.” She slides over a backpack to him, “This is coming out of your tips and you are not going to make any money from this.”
The kid got off easy, putting on his cap, taking the backpack and the crutch. Faking an injury as he walked out of the building.
Sølvi moves deeper into the building, earning glares by the Ursine bodyguards. She sits on the edge of the table.
“No sitting on the table Sølvi.” The suit wearing elf said in a deeply annoyed voice.
“Ah, not even for an old friend?”
“You are an old employee.”
“Is that not the same thing for you? Why else you spend so much time, here with all us Nystatinnes.”
“Money.”
“Aw, is it only money?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you let your employees stay over at your apartment during the winter and why you always feed your employees after their shift?”
The Rikevaari gave a sigh, “I have a bleeding heart, now why are you here? Thought you were not doing any more jobs.”
“Not that kind, no. I got a new one, a good one in fact.”
“Oh? How good?”
“Enough to move my family out of here.”
“Oh? You got a job driving some council bigwig?”
“Better, if ya hand me one of those bottles, the good one. I can cut you in.”
“Cut me in?” The elf thought for a moment, if she is not driving for a crew anymore but it pays well. Not driving some rich prick. Then what could it be? “How do I know this is a con?”
“You don’t, but for a small price of a bottle of vodka. You can earn yourself quite a deal of fortune in the pools.” Sølvi gave a smirk, she was not supposed to talk about her new career until the official release from Gyllir but she always looked out for employees. She was still a penny pinching prick but she is far better than any of the other Rikevaari doing business in Nystatiszna.
The boss slides over a bottle. “Alright, now spill while you still have my interest.” She leans back in her chair.
Sølvi reached out her hand, “Swear on spirits to keep it quiet.”
The businesswoman rolled her eyes, but shook the kemonomimi hand.
“I got a job driving for Team Gyllir in Series One racing.” Sølvi placed the bottle into her backpack. “Keep it quiet, and make sure to bet on me.” She gave a smile towards the elf.
The elf didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not but if she was. “You got a merchandising deal?”
“Yep, but I can see if I can pass a few boxes over to you.”
“Signed?” Andresen raised an eyebrow.
“Depends.” Sølvi gave a playful smirk. Eyeing the deserts behind her.
“On?” The elf looked where Sølvi was looking at, then back at her.
“Roy ain’t gonna work for you anymore and I want a box of mochi.” Sølvi gave a nod, taking her hands out of her pockets.
“Roy? Your little brother is quite essential to my business. I just gave a promotion to him. He is my assistant now.” She was not lying, Roy had a mind for numbers and good memory. It is hard to find good talent, even more so getting them when they are not developed enough to argue for higher pay.
“He did? How did he manage to charm you into giving you a promotion?” Sølvi has not been in Nystatinne for a few months. This all came to a surprise to him.
“The kid memorized my whole stock, it’s how I knew something was stolen. He told me.” The elf tossed a box of mochi over to Sølvi.
“Roy is a snitch? Spirits be kind, I thought he was raised right.” Sølvi shook her head in disappointment, catching the bag.
“He’s an honest one, even asked me to cut down his hours to go volunteer at the shrine.” The elf shook her head, “Hardly can believe he is your brother.”
“He’s not suited for this place, should be in one of those fancy academies over in Handelvaar.” The former cabbie looked over at her former boss.
“No, honestly I was thinking about getting him signed on to myself properly.” The elf of course was talking about interning him. She is not the worst person to be interned too but everyone knows what it means. Interning, of course, is going away but far too slow for the RCEU. Not that was any of Sølvi’s concern.
“Absolutely not.” Sølvi spoke in a confident tone.
“Ain’t your choice, it is his.” The Rikevaari elf shakes her head. “Listen he won’t be in a bad gig, I was going to send him to a trade school for accounting. Then put that mind to work.”
“He is my brother, he’s coming with me. What he does after schooling is up to him but he’s not becoming an intern.” The kemonomimi got off the desk. “Thanks for stuff, make sure to bet on me.” She gave a smile, “Is he in the back?”
“Yeah, yeah he is in the back. Deal is a deal, he’s free for the day.”
“That’s not what we agreed to.” Sølvi crossed her arms.
“No, but he didn’t agree to anything either. Now get out of here, I gotta convert this money.” The boss reached into several bags, going through several different currencies and taking out her phone looking up for conversion rates.
–
Stepping into the back of the building, it was a small makeshift warehouse. Various boxes around the room and Roy dressed in a dark blue coat, going through them marking them up on his checklist.
“Heard ya got a promotion Roy.” Sølvi leaned against the doorway. Looking at her little brother, turning around to face her. “Spirits be blessed, are you wearing a tie?”
“Sølvi!” Roy ran over to his sister giving her a tight hug. “Yeah! Mrs. Andresen bought me a new coat and tie as a reward for telling on Ny’Kinul for stealing.” He proudly showed off his red tie.
Sølvi hugged her brother back, “Yeah, I heard about that.” She was still disappointed in him snitching but she understood Roy was quite different from her and the rest of the kids working for Andresen.
“What are you doing here?” He tilted his head, then started speaking in a whispering tone. “Are you working on another job for Andresen?”
“Nah, I left those jobs behind me. Come on, I’ll fill you in.” She turned around to leave the room.
“But Mrs. Andresen said I need to catalog th-” Roy was cut off by her big sister.
“You ain’t working here no more, I got a new job, a good one. Enough to move all of us outta here and get you into school.” She gave a pat on top of her brother’s head.
“Oh? What is it?” Roy looked excited, perhaps he could ride in one of those fancy cars Mrs. Andresen drives in.
“You ask a lot of questions.” Sølvi lifts up Roy, carrying him on her back.
“Well you are not answering any questions.” Roy squinted at his sister.
“Yeah, I’m not. Come on, let’s go pick up the rest of the family.”
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