Walking the Abyss

[madimpossibledreamer]

Honestly I still have no idea what I’m doing with this au

Main Points:
Persona 4 Prince of Persia inspired au
Chapter Summary: Prince Yosuke continues his journey.
Word Count: 1791
Rating: Gen

        The Prince stifles a gasp and barely manages to twist his body around and grasp with scrabbling fingers on the sand where the door was still open. He hears the sound of the sand falling below. He swings slightly and feels his fingers slip. The sand is not a good handhold, but that’s only to be expected. Sand shifts. He has to figure out his next move quickly. There’s no way he could pull himself back out with the leverage he has, not that he’d want to do that. He’s been led to this door, he feels, and it’s important that he explores what’s inside. Instead, he glances downward, behind him, as well as he can without straining his arms or changing his position too much. He doesn’t want to make herself fall.
        He’s in what looks like ruins, only they’re more like the capital above, not the old ruins half-buried in the sand. There’s a lot of plants growing in the cracks, and what looks like a few waterfalls. Stairwells, doorways, a courtyard…but he doesn’t really have time to look at his surroundings too long. Below him there appears to be a crack above a doorway. It’s no different than some of the other drops he’s taken—well, other than the fact that there’s no sand beneath him to cushion his fall. He doesn’t have the time to spend trying to get it perfect, though, not as his fingers continue to slip. Yosuke takes a deep breath. “Worth a try.” Hopefully, this doesn’t break his legs or worse.
        He lets go and grabs on to the crack. His arms hurt a little, but at least he’s not out of practice, and he didn’t fall all the way down. There’s a tearing sound as one of the sleeves catches on the jagged, broken edge of the rock.
        He has a second to catch his breath and adjust his grip. There’s a stone arch below him. He drops to that, edges over to the lower side of the arch, and down onto the staircase below into a crouch. As he looks around, there’s no sign of a butterfly, and he doesn’t get any special feelings from any of the directions. There’s no shadows that he can see or feel. Perhaps he just has to explore.
        It feels dangerous to call out, but he does so anyway. He’s not been given a roadmap beyond this point. None of his relatives had spoken of their own ceremonies, as it was forbidden, and none of the stories spoke of how to contact the Kanet truly. Many prayed to them or otherwise believed they were listening, but were they really? “Hello? Kanet?” Yet what else could he do? “If you’re there, I have a request. I am a royal of Sumaru, the Amano family line. If you are there, I would greatly appreciate some sort of sign you are present, or an indication of where I should go.”
        There’s nothing but the sound of falling water in response.
        “If this is a test, I will complete it, fear not. It does not hurt to ask for assistance, though.” Some would be too proud. He had been, too, before he’d begun helping out the various civilians, and seen the pride of one with everything to lose. Sometimes it was easier to just wordlessly lend a hand, rather than offer and be rebuffed. He examines the room. He could leave through this doorway. On one hand, the sneakiest place to hide the exit would be right underneath the entrance. On the other, were the creators of this place really that sneaky? Was it the same for all who entered, and if not, was it random, or was he somehow influencing the layout?
        “Argh! This is confusing!” he exclaims, and then feels silly. If he really is being watched, he’s not giving the greatest of impressions. Then again, he’s still not Princess Yukiko. He’s not much of one for puzzles. He’s better off than Prince Akihiko, for sure, but how is he meant to solve this and read this, if he is to deal with this himself, rather than following a Spirit Guide?
                “Yami guides your steps. Right.” There’s no shadows that he can see, none that look friendly or even unnatural in any way. But perhaps…just because he can’t see the butterfly with his eyes doesn’t mean that it is not still there. He’s in the realm of the spirit. He needs to just follow his instincts.
        Perhaps it is mere curiosity that will guide him, but he’s wanted to explore, have an adventure, ever since he was a little boy. He’d loved all the stories, from the adventures of his mother and her consort to the exploits of his favorite uncle to the deeds of Naoya and the tales of the Kuzunoha family.
        Still, this is no time to be standing around. Even if he may not speak of it, it is a time for action, not words. The stairs end before they get too far, but even so, he follows them down from this doorway, as far as they will go. Down below…
        Down below there are columns leading down into a courtyard. Once, perhaps, it had been a hanging garden or something along those lines, for not all of the plants growing in here seem unwanted, but what really catches his attention is the tilework. The architectural details remind him of Sumaru. Every ceiling, floor, and wall need not merely be functional. They can also be beautiful. The designs seem to be more animal-based than those of Sumaru, which are geometric shapes in the blue laquer and the golden jewels set in the beautiful white walls. The chosen colors here are green and blue, from what he can see from the blue light filtering in.
        Honestly, it’s slightly unnerving. The desert could easily have been just a spiritual location, but this—this feels like there is history, like a people from the living world had once lived here.
        Fortunately, it looks like he can grab onto the column from here, if he drops from the broken staircase. He does, planning out his movements more carefully than he had from the sand and not as rushed once he gets there. The floor the stairs had originally led to is not entirely gone. There’s what looks like a fairly stable section of to the right of the column, easy enough to jump to. It’s fun.
        And then he gasps. That giant serpent on the wall—
        Probably actually the dragon-serpent, its wings black and full of stars, and its belly the deep white of the walls of Sumaru. The animal form of the goddess Yami. It’s hard to tell for sure—the colors look a bit off, but there’s damage and weathering and the decoration definitely does not quite match Sumaru materials. He steps forward to touch the wall painting, remembering the stories he’s heard of her. Religion might not be of as much interest to him, but even so, he’s not completely ignorant of her story.
        Driven from her home by those who feared her power, hence her care for wanderers and the lost. For they shared a kinship, as did the Princes of Sumaru, following their exile. They had a land, now, ruled their people once more, but despite his efforts Yosuke felt a gulf between them, between himself and his people, particularly those not from the capital, and the differences were not just due to the royal blood. They had moved on, and at times it seemed as if Sumaru was trapped in the past, preserved with the Kanet.
        She had been a peaceful leader, much like Queen Maya, forced to learn to fight upon the declaration of war. Now many lands feared her, her power over the watery Underworld and the Abyss of Time, the shadows that glided over the sands. Yet she was not to be feared, not for those who held no hatred for her chosen in their hears, nor for those who followed her, or indeed were indifferent.
        And then a light touch at his elbow beckons him onward. He glances over to find the butterfly flapping at his side, possibly impatient. “My apologies. Lead on, Spirit Guide.”
        It starts moving again instantly, leading him out into a blinding sandstorm. He can no longer see it, merely feel a tug on his soul leading him the right direction, even as he wishes for his scarf to wind around his face. At least the robes protect his skin much better than he would have guessed, with silk.
        The sand tears at his skin, as if with claws. He can feel the blood well up in the strips, and knows that if he spends too long in a storm of this size, it could tear his flesh until merely the bones remain. He takes step after step, sure in course, feeling the butterfly move before him, raising one sleeve to cover his face even as he coughs and inhales more sand than air.
        The action smears some of the oil and blood into the robe, and he breathes in that sweet, cloying smell. He sways and falls, dizzy, but manages to make it back to his feet, barely, for if he stops here, he will stop forever.
        At last the wind dies down just a little mere moments before his arm brushes against something—by the feel of it, a door. Nothing exists to either side, so it is not as if it leads into another structure. He cannot see the butterfly any more, but that same tugging feeling insists that this door is important, and the symbol of a blue butterfly is etched into the door, and below it, the dragon-serpent of Yami.
        He was told he would know it when he reached it. At first, he’d thought it a vague irritance, but now, he knows it to be true. He speaks the ritual words, as he has been taught.
        “Yami no Meiyo Jouou. I am Prince Yosuke, of the line of Sumaru. I humbly seek your blessing, and that of your Kanet. I pledge myself as your servant and place myself within your hands.” And then he presses both hands on the door, pushing the feeling of the kagen, so familiar, so strange, into it, and the butterfly seems to light up, the dragon darkening, and he feels the loss of that piece of his soul once more, shivering slightly at the feeling. It was to prevent him from fighting his Kanet, he had been told, though it was no less alarming for the warning. Then the door creaks inward, to complete and utter shadow, and he steps forward once more.