Discovery

TINK TINK TINK. More small vibrations shook Oliver from his catatonic state. He could feel the pressure shift slightly with each vibration. 'It feels almost like...when you gently tap a nail into a wall.' He thought to himself. Perhaps whatever is preventing him from moving his arms or legs is coming loose? Surely he would have seen whoever was adjusting his bonds if that were the case. Unless he was blindfolded? No, he had gone through these thoughts before and this line of thinking lead nowhere without more information. It was maddening. He felt as though he was trying to solve a puzzle that was missing most of the peices. SWISH SWISH. Oliver felt himself being swung through the air again. He had become used to the sensation, a swing or two or three followed by some vibrations. 'Making sure something doesn't come loose while I'm being slung to and fro like some sort of ragdoll. I'm a person damn it! You can't...' The thought came screeching to a stop before he could finish shouting it at whatever was reading his mind. A person would flail somewhat if they were being swung like he was. Oliver felt nothing like that. It was as if he was completely rigid. That combined with the lack of breathing, the lack of sight and taste, and not being able to hear even though he was sure there was sound nearby put an unshakeable doubt in his mind. 'Am I not a person? But I remember things...what...' The puzzle slowly started coming together. How could he have missed this? Something that should have been so obvious. 'I was in the truck. Then there was fire and darkness.' He would have vomit if he had the ability. 'I died...' The realization was devastating.

Depression had become Oliver's entire being. So much so that he did not ackowledge the new sensations he had begun feeling. Not the one that felt comparable to a bandage being wrapped tightly around a limb or the grinding that seemed to tear away part of his being. Not even the one that felt like being tucked snuggly into a warm blanket. The sound vibrations that had caused him such excitement not long ago now meant nothing to him. Why should he care? He was dead and this must be hell. 'What did I do to deserve this?' He asked himself. 'There were so many things I wanted to do...I wanted to travel...to get married...to make that new recipe for my mom's birthday.' A fresh wave of sadness washed over him at that last thought. What about his mother? What would she do without him? 'Why me?' He asked. There was no answer.

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pst pst pst. 'More sounds.' Oliver dimly thought to himself as he contemplated his life. He hadn't noticed when they started again. Something was different now though, the sound vibrations were accompanied by another sort of vibration. These were rythmetic and went from one end of his body to the other. 'I don't care for your games right now.' He thought. The new vibrations stopped. 'Just leave me alone.' He refused to thank this being, whatever it was. Small victory he thought. It was then he felt a hand grasping him again. This one different from the one that had been swinging him around before, it was smaller and less rough. 'DAMN YOU!' Oliver screamed internally. He felt the hand leave then sensation of falling followed by a series of vibrations from different parts of his body. 'What the hell was that?' He puzzled. PST PST PST PST. He felt the hand again, two of them this time lifting him. More rythmetic vibrations and a thump. For some reason he pictured a young boy in a store carrying something to the counter. He quickly pushed it out of his mind, it was probably just some random thought triggered by whatever the hands had done to him anyway. He could feel the smaller hands release him the large, rough, familiar hand pick him up. He felt a slight chill, like the one you feel when you slide out of a blanket on a cold day, but only briefly. thump. pst pst pst. 'God what now?' He asked. Again the image of a young boy in a store flashed in Oliver's mind. It couldn't be...was that what was happening to him? Some brat was to buying him, whatever he was now. He felt the small hands grip tightly around him then quick rythmetic vibrations. That was it...He was reduced to nothing more than some object to be bought and sold at a whim. 'LET ME GO DAMN IT!' He felt anger roll through him as he shouted.

"Quiet!" The single word reverbated through Oliver's mind. He hadn't heard any actual speech since the incident. This unexpected development stunned him, but only for a moment.

'Who said that?' Oliver asked. There was no reply. 'WHO SAID THAT?' Oliver demanded.

"Quiet!" The voice again replied. He hadn't imagined it, someone was talking to him!

'Where am I?' Oliver pleaded. He needed to get as much information out of this voice as possible, how would he know how long it would last? The rythmetic vibrations slowed then came to a halt.

"You're in Clayton" The voice replied giddily. "Who would have thought I would find a soul sword in a run down shop like that!"

'A soul what?!?!' Oliver questioned. He thought the voice said sword but surely he misheard.

"A soul sword!" The voice answered. "I guess you were just made recently if you don't even know what that is. Fret not, there will be plenty of time to answer your questions but that will have to wait until we're somewhere a little more private." The rythmetic beats started again. Oliver was fine with that. He needed some time to process this anyway.

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"Hello?" The voice asked some time later. "Are you awake?" It asked.

'I'm here.' Oliver replied.

"I can answer your questions now." The voice said. "But first I suppose I should explain what a soul sword is. Put simply it's a sword that has a soul of it's own. It's still a mystery of how they are made, but they are rare and powerful."

'Who are you?' Oliver asked. It would be nice to have a name to associate with this voice.

"I'm Nicholai." The voice answered. "Nicholai Verdi, third son of Baron Reginald Verdi. Who are you?" Oliver wasn't particularly impressed by the title. Was this Nicholai trying to make himself seem important? He considered making something up, he didn't know if he could really trust this person. He quickly decided against it. He hadn't really been shown any reason that he couldn't trust him. Besides this was currently the only person he could converse with, better to not anger him.

'My name is Oliver Black. At least it was before...' He trailed off. He still hadn't gotten used to the idea of being dead.

"Hmm...Doesn't seem like a great name for a sword. Not very intimidating." Nicholai responded. If he detected the sadness in Oliver's thoughts he didn't show it. "Well no matter. We can address that in due time." He finished.