Revy Gray Warped World Reflections

Bibi took the food with trembling hands, his eyes never leaving Revy's. "Thank you," he murmured, before tearing into the bread with the ferocity of a starving wolf. Flam, his hunger forgotten in his curiosity, watched the exchange from Dori's lap.

As night descended, the camp grew quiet. Dori and Flam curled up together, their breaths deepening into sleep as the dragon's warmth lulled the child into a peaceful slumber. Bibi, his cheeks still flushed from the meal, took up a position beside the fire, his eyes vigilant despite his weariness.

Revy, his gambler's instincts ever alert, watched over them from the shadows. His eyes flicked between the sleeping figures and the surrounding darkness, searching for any sign of danger. The silence was a cloak, both comforting and suffocating, as he pondered the weight of his newfound purpose.

The fire crackled, throwing flickering lights onto Bibi's reddened cheeks, which stood in stark contrast to the vacant look in his eyes. It was a look that told a thousand stories of pain and loss. "What is your story?" he asked, his voice a mere breath in the stillness of the night.

Revy's gambler self took a sip from her water bottle before answering; his eyes reflected the dance of the flames. "My story?" He paused, his gaze wandering into the distance. "I don't have much of a story to tell, little one. Six years ago I woke up in a cave with no idea who I was or how I got there." He chuckled, a hollow sound echoing through the trees. "All I know is that the sword I have these abilities with and that they keep Dori and me alive."

Bibi watched the red katana with a mix of fascination and fear. "It's unlike any weapon I've seen," he said softly. "The energy... it's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Revy nodded, her gaze lingering on the weapon. "It's a special sword," she said, her voice a murmur. "It whispers to me, guides me. It's as much a part of me as my arm."

Bibi's eyes widened in surprise. "That creature did not approach you because of this sword," he muttered.

"Which creature?" Revy asked, her heart pounding.

Bibi nodded solemnly. "He watched you and your friend for a week," he said in a low voice. "Didn't you notice?"

Revy's eyes widened in shock. " a week?" He repeated, his hand tightening around the sword hilt. "How could I not have noticed?"

Bibi nodded again, her eyes never leaving the sword. "Your sword," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "Don't worry, he is afraid of the energy in the sword and cannot attack."

Revy felt a sense of relief wash over him. "What creature are you talking about?" she asked, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart.

Bibi looked at him with an expression that seemed to hold a universe of untold secrets. "Lu-gin," he murmured, his eyes searching the shadows beyond the fire. "A creature that lives in this forest with eyes that shine like the moon and upside-down feet."

Revy's gambler personality came as a deep relief. "Did you say your feet were reverse?" He couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. "Does this monster have a story?"

Bibi nodded, her expression turning serious. "An old man who was among the slaves with me told his story."Bibi started telling the story as if it were an old man telling it, not Bibi. "Twenty years ago," he began, his eyes staring into the fire as if reliving the story, "there was a beautiful married woman from the town of Ulti, located on the other side of this very forest. Her husband was a soldier, fighting in the never-ending wars that plague our lands. With him gone, she remained in their quaint little house, her beauty a beacon that drew the eyes of all who passed."

The flames danced in his eyes as he spoke, casting shadows across his face that made him appear older, more haunted than his years should allow. "But beauty, as you may know, can be a double-edged sword," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "It can bring joy, but also envy and desire. And in the hearts of some, darker things still."

The woman in question was the talk of the town, her grace and charm unrivaled. Yet, when her husband was called to the frontlines, those same admirers saw an opportunity to claim what they believed should have been theirs. One fateful evening, when she was alone and vulnerable, they struck, dragging her into the very heart of the forest that now cradled their campfire.

The details of the attack were etched into the very fabric of the trees, a silent testament to the brutality that had transpired. "They mutilated her," Bibi whispered, his voice carrying the weight of the woman's pain. "Chopped off her feet so she could never leave, never tell her story."

Revy felt a shiver run down his spine as he listened, the fire's warmth doing little to dispel the sudden chill that had settled over the camp. Dori shifted in his sleep, perhaps sensing the disturbance in the air, but remained oblivious to the grim tale unfolding.

Bibi's eyes turned distant, her voice barely above a whisper as she recounted the woman's fate. "His screams echoed through the forest," he said, "until he had no voice left. They left him there, a shattered reminder of their depravity." He paused, swallowed hard, and continued. "But the death of a woman turned her into a creature seeking revenge."