#an adapted version before she became the demon sorceress from rapunzel's tangled adventure show

[simplegenius042]

could i get some silva's hope pls?

Of course @sharkyboshaw!

Silva's Hope (or the Hope County Arc) is one of the main FC5 fics that is the pinnacle star of Far Cry The Silver Chronicles. It's my deputy Silva Omar's main story and (mostly) follows the events of the game up until certain points (things start to change like with her final hostile confrontation with John and when Joseph talks about his dead wife and child). This fic delves into Silva's past (the Archipelagoes, Elsa, Irene and their daughter, her father and his Congregation, Paul, his apostles, the massacre, so much more) and present (Hope County, the Resistance, the Ryes, Faith, her grief, so on), as well as her fight for the future, both her own and the county's. I've got this "thematic paralleling" going on between Silva's past and present, how it seems to be going down the same, when in actuality that's the illusion Silva is stuck in and just can't let go of. A lot of it is still under development, but with what I've written so far? I'm liking the direction its heading.

Silva's Hope tackles themes of dealing with loss, trying to find yourself again, a total deconstruction on the black-and-white moral view of the world, the importance of relationships (familial, platonic, and romantic) as well as the deception and hypocrisy that hides around every corner in both allies and enemies alike (or in this case how those two things are embodied in a single character and even a group... I'll give you a hint; it's not Joseph, nor is it Eden's Gate, but they certainly do play a part with those themes).

Silva struggles a lot... and not simply with her fight to just simply exist as she is in the face of ideals and occupations that either seek to ensure she doesn't or restrict her future to a set course. Externally and internally, from past and in present, Silva deals with demons. Which really sucks when she's putting the county's survival on top of her own shoulders, and her medication to suppress that trauma that's built up within her for years has run out and being constantly drenched in a hallucinogenic airborne drug that can project anything from a person's psyche if the local Bliss handlers aren't around to steady it sure doesn't help.

Case in point, the snippet of the closing act of an unnamed chapter below the cut:

[TW/CW: Inhalation of hallucinogenic drugs, arson, maybe attempted murder (of self?), swearing and mentions of war crimes]

With slow breathes, Silva awkwardly rolled around to face the destruction she caused.

Holding herself upright by anchoring her arms around her knees, she watched with stoned grey eyes as fire vacuumed in the green mist, consuming it like an endless fuel, dazzling with sparkles more than Gaius' clothing ever did. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that she needed to get away from, but she couldn't find the energy to do so.

A small portion of the populace in Montana needed her help, and here she was, watching a florist's conservatory crumble to the weight of itself to be consumed by flames that she had set alight.

Lindsey and Whitehorse would probably be pissed at her for destroying the laboratory, but Virgil had asked her to bring down the Bliss operations, however she pleased. She's sure this will earn at least a pleased laugh from Lader once the news reaches the woman.

Though beautiful in its own way, Silva thought she'd... feel more catharsis from burning this building down. Maybe she was just tired, but she felt disappointment that this wasn't as satisfying as seeing Zhan's Monastery burn and crumble over the cliff side.

The soft crunch of grass echoed from behind her, a mimic of the real thing she could guess, and with a heavy weight pushing against her mind, she could guess who it was behind her.

"I'm not apologizing Faith," Silva stated aloud, allowing her bluntness to carry clearly across, "You and I both knew this was an inevitability. So you can keep your holier-than-thou "these flowers bring hope" sentiment to yourself, cause I'm not in the mood for it."

No verbal answer came, only the silent treatment that Faith liked to frequently use when something displeased her.

For someone who proclaimed that Joseph freed her from herself, she certainly had a habit of keeping thoughts to herself. A difference I've noticed between Faith and Zhan... the bruja demoniaca was far more honest than the young woman she encountered now.

Silva opened her mouth to say something to Faith... but her words were lost as soon as she heard that chuckle from behind her.

A chuckle. Not a giggle, the childish, playful, frustrating, melodic giggle Faith let slip whenever she tried to bring down her guard, whenever she tried to get the deputy to open up, whenever Silva told a joke when she felt comfortable to do so. This wasn't the giggle she hated herself for finding to be nice and safe to be around.

This was a haunting chuckle that mocked her, a chuckle amongst the maniacal laughter which entrapped her within the night terrors that persisted almost every night when she could receive sleep. A chuckle, sophisticated and condescending, belonging to a young woman of high-class, shameless in her heinous immorality, an apathetic warmongering merchant who specialized in chemical warfare, producing nightmarish poisons and concoctions that resulted in the slow deaths of families and communities, horrifying the likes of Kamski to the point the older man couldn't bare the idea of facing her.

A chuckle that should never even be able to uttered again, not amongst the living. The chuckle that belong to the Apostles' proclaimed "Herald of Death"; Zhan Tiri, the only woman she would call a bastarda despite how little it emphasized the amount of blood that stained the woman's hands underneath the dark gloves.

"Such foul words Silva. And here I thought you appreciated my honesty," the wicked viper chastised from behind, giving a demeaning tsk, "You should wash out the filth in that mouth of yours with some soap... the toxins would certainly be doing you a favor."

Exhaustion forgotten, nausea forgotten, bruises forgotten as coherent thought froze and her body took action instead. Grabbing the pistol from her holster, Silva did not care for how many bullets were in the chamber, for whatever number would be good enough for her, as long as she got a good shot, like last time. But last time was with her last bullet, for the illusions wasted most of the lead.

The deputy aimed, grip shaking as she stared at the small woman, still donning her black dress, gloves and heels. A beaded head strap rested on her forehead, a purple gem in the middle. Her faded dark hair was still braided in twin buns, her face holding dark circles belonging to a chronic insomniac who voluntarily overworked herself, the smirk highlighting the black lipstick she wore. Her purple eyes still held the same hunger, the same arrogance she had until Silva put a bullet between her eyes.

Silva's wide eyes refused to blink, for even a moment to lose sight of the mistress of toxins could end in her retching up her own blood if she wasn't careful.

"You're... no, you're dead," Silva uttered, shaking her head as she took a step back from the woman who was only a head shorter than her, "I fucking killed you!"

Zhan Tiri's eyes widened her mouth agape as she feigned a gasp, gloved hand to her mouth, "Did you now?"

Zhan Tiri lips pursed and her brows furrowed as she began examining herself, hands patting down on her body and then tracing her forehead for the hole that Silva knew she fire her last bullet through.

Finding nothing, Zhan Tiri looked to Silva and gave a mocking shrug. her grin showing the fangs disguised as teeth.

"Are you so certain about that?" Zhan grinned, showing the fangs disguised as teeth.

Silva tried to control her breathing, body protesting as she remained standing, focusing her aim towards Zhan's forhead again.

Zhan Tiri took a small step closer, the vindictive grin on her face never disappearing, "Surely you have more to say to me than this? After all, Paul did say we were fami-"

Silva fired her pistol. She heard the bang. She saw the projectile hit the target.

But no body fell. No body laid on the grass at all. In fact, Zhan Tiri disappeared in a puff of green mist, unlike the grey of her Torment.

Silva glanced around for the bruja, turning to the foliage, to the road, to the burning conservatory and the Angels that laid unmoving, then back to the spot Zhan was in, only to be face to face with the woman.

Silva couldn't act fast enough before Zhan burst in a cloud of Bliss as she pushed the deputy. The push wasn't physical, so Silva wasn't effected.

However, she could not stop herself from tripping on herself when the Bliss clouded her vision, coughing as she slipped and stumbled, tumbling down the short slope til she was closer to what was one Jessop Conservatory, the surviving green mist worming its way to leech off the deputy.

Silva pushed herself up, catching sight of the deceased Apostle who stood with a haughty posture.

Silva eyed the short woman, catching breathes of Bliss as she panted, and defiantly said, "You're not real."

Zhan hummed inquisitively, "Perhaps. But I'm real enough for you, sister."

"Cut the shit, you never cared for his spiel on "family", not in life and certainly in death... you only endured it for the resources he could provide," Silva countered, one hand on her pistol, other hand reaching for her dagger.

"In some ways you are right," Zhan Tiri concured, "But in other ways... well, I guess we'll never know."

The herald looked to the Bliss spilled about, the flames ever consuming the drug, and rested her gaze on the Angels behind Silva.

"But this surely is quite the scene you've made. And what a waste for this... "Faith" girl of yours," Zhan said with a faux pout, "All that time and effort set back who knows how long. On the bright side though, her talents lives on, if only wasted for that prophet. I think I'd be a far more better mentor, wouldn't you agree?"

Silva gripped the handle of her dagger as she pulled it out, the Bliss tied around her wrist.

In her peripheral, she thought she saw movement with one of the Angel's bodied, but ignored it in favor of keeping her eyes on Zhan.

"Get out," Silva drew her dagger to sit alongside her pistol as she gritted out with venom, "Of my fucking head!"

The surrounded bodies of Angels started convulsing, muffled groaning and screaming coming from behind their masks, catching Silva's attention. Zhan Tiri smirked.

"If you can fight for it."

Silva counted the Angels rising up from the ground, the ones she swore she took out with her rifle not moments ago. Shit, SHIT, why couldn't have the explosion consumed them too?!

"This has been such a pleasant welcome back for me, Silva," Zhan told the deputy, Bliss circling around the deceased herald's heels, raising her like she was on a colossal podium, "But now?"

Silva raised a gun at the towering Zhan, the Angels standing at their full heights around the Deputy. Glancing about, aiming her weapons in defence, Silva could count three unarmed while four held an assortment of tools like rakes, shovels, pipes and a burnt picket from a broken fence.

"Shall we pick up..."

Silva noticed how a mist of Bliss started rising up and grow in size around them, closing off the sights of the conservatory and the surrounding foliage.

Turning back to her old foe, one of the leading heralds of the former Apostles alongside Paul and his other "children", now held twin balls of Bliss, and was on a higher vantage point that looked like it could move. With a grin wide with shameless maliciousness and directed at Silva, the deputy was starting to wish she was confronting Faith now.

"...where we left off?"

Despite how much her body ached, Silva couldn't back down from this, despite how much she was going to hate it. Whether this was the Bliss, her psyche, or through whatever impossible means, real... she only had one thought to encapsulate how she felt in the moment before the Angels made their first move.

Fuck my life.