Chapter 20

"Once you drop a mask, you can never wear it again."

― Ljupka Cvetanova, The New Land

Mirasal awakens, she instinctly reaches over to the nightstand for her prosthetic, only to be met with the feel of the table's wooden surface. She bolts up, panic igniting.

"Where is it?" she tosses the covers aside, her one limb coming up to touch her head that still throbbed, her eyes scanning the room. She's certain she'd left it on the stand. There's nowhere else for it to be.

"Here," comes Robert's voice from behind her, standing beside the bed holding out her metal arm. "I got it cleaned and polished for you."

Mirasal blinks away the sleepiness from her eyes as she crawls along the mattress, taking it from him. She stares at its fresh sheen as Robert remains standing, arms tight to his sides, fingers twitching, watching her reaction.

"Um, grazach." she says as she slips it on. "It needed it. I usually take it to-"

"That place in town, near the dress shop." Robert finishes.

"Yes. You went all that way?"

"I got up early."

"Well, I appreciate it."

There's a moment of silence, adjusting her arm, before she continues. "My head still hurts. You must have gotten me good last night," she chuckles softly. "I used to share a bed with Neseret when we were really little and she used to kick me in her sleep all the time, so don't feel bad about it. It was an accident."

"I know," he says, his eyes cast downwards. "I really didn't mean to."

"It's fine."

She heads to the bathroom to draw her morning bath with Robert glued to her side, bumping against her as he tries to enter through the doorway alongside her. He immediately moves to switch on the water.

"I can do that. You can go and do something else if you-"

"No, no. I want to stay."

She lounges with her head against the rim of the tub as he massages shampoo through her mane, his sleeves rolled up. Quiet and attentive.

"Something the matter?" she peers up at him. "You seem quiet." He hadn't really spoken the whole time they were in here. The previous day's experience at the market told her this wasn't good. He didn't seem like he was still angry about the encounter with Harold.

"Nothing really, just, um, thinking."

"Mhm. I had the strangest dream last night." she says as she inches farther down, kneecaps breaking the water's surface.

Robert pauses his movements, saying nothing.

"It involved a roomful of glass windows shattering, and then people screaming and running around. It almost looked like the dining room of the hotel. It was just very strange," she reaches a finger up to wipe a stray drip coursing down her forehead. "Wonder what it could mean?" She's not one to put too much credence into deciphering dreams, but it had been so random. The details of it however, were blurry and she had mostly forgotten some of the other parts. She could have sworn Harold had made an appearance. Perhaps it was influenced by the tension between him and Robert and her being caught in the middle of it.

Robert resumes washing her, shrugging it off. "Probably nothing really. I don't think dreams mean anything."

"What was yours about?"

"Um," he halts his hands again. "Just nothing really. Can't really remember it now."

"Could have been that cold meat we ate last night."

"That would give anyone nightmares."

She playfully flicks water droplets up at him, before she dunks her head down to wash all remnants of the shampoo from her scalp. As she rises from the water, he wraps a towel around her shoulders.

She gives him a quizzical smile. "I can do that you know."

"I know. But the towel was right there." he replies, rubbing her back, handing over her prosthetic. He attempts to attach it, before she brings her hand up to touch his wrist.

"No no. Really it's fine. I can do it."

As they walk into the room, with Robert still stuck to her side, she drops the towel and dresses. As she's putting a thick gold multi-layered necklace around her neck, she approaches the desk.

"That reminds me," she pulls open a drawer and removes a medium-sized single barreled gun, Its metal somewhat spotted and dull, with bright blue highlights along the steel. "I should clean this." She pulls her chair out and sits as she reaches in to remove a small rag and bottle of liquid from the same drawer.

"You have a gun here?" Robert moves to stand by her, staring down as she starts removing a side compartment containing a row of fairly large bullets. She lines them up along the desk in a neat row. Each one printed with a circular red symbol.

"You didn't know, huh?"

Robert shakes his head. "No, I actually didn't."

"Well, it's not something I think about. I just keep it locked in the drawer. I bring it everywhere. We're advised to carry them with us," she smirks up at him. "Seeing how the guests tend to get, it's not a bad idea," she chuckles before she continued. "I haven't used it too much, but we're allowed to take them home with us when not on duty. It's encouraged." Yesterday, in her agitation, she'd forgotten it when they'd gone to the marketplace.

"Why?" Robert inquires. He eyes the weapon with curiosity.

"Someone in my unit was killed when off-duty and he wasn't armed," she quietly elucidates. "He was a friend of mine actually. Since then, we are required to have them with us at all times." She has no issue with having it in her home, keeping her daughters away from it was her main concern.

"So," Robert reaches for it. "Are you going to teach me?"

Mirasal pulls it back just as his fingertips brush along the barrel. "No. Why would I?"

"C'mon, I want to-"

"No. Absolutely not. It's not a toy."

Pouting, he reaches for it again. "Oh come on!"

"Oh stop that, it's not going to work. I mean it. This isn't mine. It belongs to the military. It's not for civilians to treat like a plaything. You can hurt yourself if you don't know how it works."

"I'll be careful-"

"What if you shoot your finger off? Then where would we be? The nearest hospital is-"

"That's OK. I can just grow out a new one."

Mirasal shakes her head, smiling. "I'm not joking. These are not like the guns from Eartho. Have you used one? I guarantee they're not alike-"

"I'm not either."

Mirasal loads the cartridge back up, placing each bullet in carefully, clicking it in place. She glances up at him, expecting him to be grinning. But no, he's got a look of utmost seriousness. She pauses her movements, watching him. There's a drawn-out beat of silence before she places the gun down on the desk to gaze up at him.

"I can do that...really." he says in a whispering tone.

Mirasal gawks at him, blinking. "You're... not joking?"

"No."

"Wait...so you can-"

"Grow out a new limb." he finishes speedily.

Mirasal cradles her elbow on the back of the chair as she turns her body towards him, eyes widening. "You can grow out a new limb?"

Robert simply nods, that visage of sincerity not dropping. She couldn't tell if this was real or not.

She continues to stare at him. "You can do that? You're serious?"

Robert kneels by her, taking her cheeks in his palms. "Look, remember when I said it's good to be open to things?"

She silently nods, eyes still surprised. Robert smiles. "Alright. I need to show you something, okay?"

"Alright." she breathes with more than a bit of concern.

"Here," he says, taking her by the hand as he leads her out the room. "Come with me."

Standing under a canopy of trees out in the grotto, he's looking down at her as they face each other. The rain had stopped, but the storm clouds still lingered. Seems like it wasn't passing over yet.

"I want to make sure we have some privacy here." he says as he peers around them. The area they were in was tucked away out of view of the hotel, near the water's edge. It was quiet, serene. No birds are chirping, no nearby animals making their usual noises. Just a complete unnerving silence.

Mirasal fiddles with her fingers, her toes squirm under the straps of her sandals. "We're alone I'm sure." She was used to him being playful, pouting, teasing. This grave demeanor he was wearing was a little troubling. She'd seen it yesterday at the marketplace, but this time seems different.

Robert takes in a deep inhale. "Promise me, that you won't get scared."

She stares up at him. Such promises can never really be made, but she gives him a barely-there nod.

"Remember you have to trust me." Robert begins to take steps backwards, not tearing his golden spheres away from her as he reaches a tree, placing his hand on it, he steps behind the trunk.

A boot with a red pompom emerges out the other side, languidly at first. Then a white gloved hand shoots out, fingers wiggling. There's a pause before his whole body stepped out from behind. Mirasal gasps as she stumbles back, the heels of her feet almost catching the water's edge as she stared, metal fingers to her mouth, eyes as big as saucers, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight.

It was the clown doll standing before her, at least it looked like it; same ruffles adorning the neck, same ruby face paint, his auburn locks tinted a more vibrant orange. He was a little taller, his forehead strangely elongated. Pompoms akin to the ones on his boots sat along the front of his off-white suit. As he moved, she heard bells jingling.

Nothing was familiar about this being until he did a drop and somersault across the ground, leaping up to stand right in front of her and she got a look at the eyes thickly outlined in black. That same liquid gold gazing down at her.

This is him. This is Robert.

"Say something?" he says in a voice much raspier, with a more pronounced lisp. The same inflection she'd only heard bits and pieces of in the marketplace. Heard only the smallest hint of last night. When she finally regained composure, her metal hand drops.

"You look like the doll." she says, her stunned voice low, eyes still huge.

He smiles in response, displaying a pair of buck teeth. "What do you think?"

"Why...do...you look like that?" she queries as she inspects him, flesh hand coming up to lightly touch his ruffled collar, pom-poms and the soft silk of the fabric of his suit. She fingers one of the small bells dangling from his wrists.

"I can take on any form, this is just one of them. I can shift."

"Yirg-a shapetaker?" she replies, barely a whisper. She'd heard legends that she never paid any attention to; stories about beings that could change their form at will, whether to be something appealing or terrifying.

But they didn't actually exist. They were myths. A story to be told to children around a fire to frighten them. Nothing more.

But there's one standing before her now. Of all the human-passing beings she'd met, there were always little things that revealed they weren't human; long lizard-like tongues, pupils like those of a reptile or pointed ears. But never had she encountered someone who could change their form at will right before your eyes. This is an ability associated with otherworldly creatures. The Gods and Goddesses.

It was almost like...magic. This is something on another level than his illusions and parlor tricks.

"This one is called Pennywise. It's my favorite, actually." he offers as he adjusts the ruffle.

"Why?"

"Because I just like clowns," he grins. "They always have popcorn." He begins to do cartwheels along the grass. He remains standing on his head in the middle of one to look up at her grinning, his long legs keeping their balance in the air.

"So, were you a performer?" she asks as he rises up to face her, the chiming of his bells breaking the silence encompassing them.

"You could say that."

Curiosity begins to smother whatever apprehension she was feeling and she boldly reaches her good hand up to touch his crimson nose, trickling her fingertips along the matching lines that stretch to his forehead, connecting to his mouth. He closes his lids as she traces along his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath.

"So, if I wanted you to be a fish, you could be a fish?" she asks,gesturing for him to tilt his head so she can brush her fingers through his orange tuft of hair.

He grins again. "I'm just getting started here."

He gets a running start before he does a cannonball into the water. The surface ripples and bubbles before a large white fish emerges, leaping up and down flapping its clear fins, displaying the red zebra-like pattern down its back. Mirasal slowly approaches, the faintest hint of a smile forming as the fish continues jumping up from the water before it finally lands on the grassy edge. Its body starts convulsing into a blob, its fins becoming elongated, stretching out from its sides, feathers bursting through the scales of its skin. The snub end of its face curving and developing a red pointed beak as it's stripes spread out along it's newly formed wings.

Mirasal's hands are pressed to her mouth as she watches this process. She finally inches closer, kneeling down, reaching her fingers forward to gently run them over the bird's soft head and down its long neck. She jumps as it suddenly squawks, expanding its wings. She sits back and watches as it takes off, gliding in a circle overhead, before diving down and in a rustle of leaves vanishes among the treetops. There's a cracking of branches and twigs as she sees the tall skinny tree trunks bending in response to something large moving in between them.

"Holy crousa..." she mutters as a large snowy white thyacosma with crimson vertical stripes down its back appears, stepping out into the clearing where she stood. It slowly saunters up, its mouth, however obscured by its saber-tooth teeth seems to be smiling. She stays frozen in place, mouth hanging open, taking in shaky breaths as it nuzzles her cheekbone with its snout. Closing her eyes, her hands eventually come up to stroke its long head, tracing the silky fur along the top, trailing her fingertips along the three rhinoceros -like horns protruding out the top above its nose. She takes its head between her palms to meet its golden pupils.

"It's you in there." she says, continuing to glide her fingers along the outline of it's snout. It suddenly steps back and begins to rise up on its hind legs, letting out a roar as it trembled, its face shrinking back down, horns retracting into its skull. The limbs becoming smaller, thinner as it shrank back into Robert. He gives a shake of his head as he steps forward towards her, a grin erupting as he adjusts his black vest and white dress shirt.

"So, what do you think?" he queries as he stands before her, looking somewhat nervous. She reaches up to cup his cheek, lips pulled in as she studies him.

"What...do you look like then?" she asks as she grips his chin gently, turning his head either way.

"I look like this," he replies, pointing down at his torso. "This...is my true form. I can just take on different ones. But this is what I look like."

She had glimpsed It last night. Its true form peeking through the barriers of Its material form. She can't handle it. She can barely handle seeing It shift. It cannot fully reveal Itself, but small revelations are acceptable. No harm in that.

"What you said about being able to grow out a new limb-ah!" she jumps back as his right hand jets up in front of her face, his pale skin taking on a grayish hue as it morphs into a knife. She hesitantly reaches up to touch it, but recoils back quickly.

"Yes," he holds out his left hand and carefully slices off a thin piece of the tip of his index finger as she audibly gasps. "I can." He holds it up to her as she comes closer, widened eyes focusing on the new skin starting to form in threads over the wound, like a tiny spider spinning a web. Slowly but surely growing back. "It will take awhile to grow back completely, just a few days." he says, wiggling the affected finger.

Mirasal stares at it until her gaze is drawn back down to his other hand, now normal again. She reaches down and takes it in her palms, massaging the skin. Before long however, she let's it drop to his side, sighing loudly, her breath visible in the chilled air.

Her face drops to her hands. "This, this is..." she shakes her head as she glances back up. "A lot to take in."

"I know, I know. I wanted to show you. For you to see," Robert touches her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "I didn't want you to be afraid."

"I'm not-"

"You are a little."

"It's just this is new. I've never seen this before. It shouldn't be possible," she continues to shake her head. "I don't know what to think."

"It's just something I can do. It's part of me. Who I am. There's nothing to be afraid of. You have things that are a part of you. And this is mine."

She remains silent. Robert gives her shoulders a gentle shake.

"Alright?" he peers down at her face.

Mirasal meets his pleading mien before she lowers herself onto the grass, sitting on her knees, sighing heavily. Robert kneels down by her. She's silent for a few minutes, staring off at the water before she replies, "Alright, I'll get used to it, I suppose."

Harold had told her there were things she may not be familiar with. Perhaps this is what he meant.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the sounds of Radaha cooking at the stove. Tomah, Kikara and Teora came and went from the dining room as the guests chatted among themselves. The unspoken agreement that was made the night before still hung over everyone, and very little was being said.

"Wonder where the Muncy family are?" Radaha asks no one in particular.

"Who cares, they're gone." Tomah mumbles as he heads back out the kitchen door, almost knocking into Kikara. Her dreams the night before were filled with images of that woman's mangled corpse and the sounds of it hitting the rocks as it fell below into the flow of the river. While the burden was gone, the thoughts still remained. The guilt. The terror of what exactly had happened the day before. Now, all she can do is preoccupy herself with work.

She continues taking plates of food out to the guests, pushing the ugliness from her mind.

Teora decides to take a fresh batch of towels to the room occupied by a teenager and her father. The girl had burst into tears the night before during dinner and had been escorted out by her father. The poor girl had been crying about her mother and it seems was not in the mood for breakfast today.

As she strolled down the hall of the second floor, Ellowyn O' Maille opened her door just as she passed. She'd only come out to get some wine from the kitchen, something that made Radaha slightly irritated.

"You, come in." Ellowyn commands standing in the threshold.

Teora stops mid-step, looking back. "I can't right now-"

"Now."

Teora glares, tightening her grip on the towels. Who is this bruga to think she can order people around?

Sighing, she places the towels on a chair near the door before she steps inside Ellowyn's room, now filled with a strange musky smell. Her hand came up to her mouth as Ellowyn shut the door behind her.

And the robot. It's beady eyes boring through Teora as she stood facing Ellowyn. A shudder rippled through her as she averted her pupils from it's blank expression.

"Sit." Ellowyn orders, nodding at the chair near the door. As Teora lowers herself down, Ellowyn takes a seat on the bed across from her with a wine glass and bottle in her hands, crossing her legs. There is a long silence while she sips her drink. Her eyes are still glued to Teora.

"You don't like Richie, do you?" she suddenly inquires, arching a brow. She reaches over to offer the bottle to Teora, who gives a gesture of refusal.

"Um, I'm not sure what you mean?" Teora replies, her attention switching between the strange woman and her creation. "I...don't understand."

"You can't be that obtuse," Ellowyn replies as she lifts her wine to her lips, steely gray pupils embedded into Teora's. "It's my belief that you clearly do not care for him."

"Well-I, um, I just don't think it's right," Teora manages, noting Ellowyn's blinking puzzlement at her response. "That's all. It's not something I approve of."

"Meaning you don't like artificials?"

"Meaning it goes against nature-false beings." That and it was just straight-up unsettling to look at. Something about the robot's demeanor made her feel uncomfortable.

And she wanted out of there now.

"Oh, so," Ellowyn puts her cup down on the nightstand, chuckling as she moves her leg to cross it over the other. "It's a moral stance I see."

"No, it's just-"

"You people make cybernetic limbs but take issue with-'

"Don't say that." Teora scowls, her inflection showing a tinge of anger.

"Say what?"

Now who's being obtuse. "Say 'you people.' It's disrespectful. We are not like you, alright? We have our own beliefs. Our own customs. Our ways are not yours," she rises from the chair and glances at Richie, electric blue static shivering through his clear dome head. "It's one thing to replace a limb, but that?" she points at the bot, managing to gain confidence despite her intense unease. "Is an abomination."

Ellowyn stands up, wearing an indiscernible expression. "Well you're entitled to feel that way. But I would be more than happy to help change your mind. There are plenty of advantages to robots. They can even do the jobs you don't want," she then takes a step forward, her eyes turning upwards as she gazes at Teora. "You can't possibly enjoy delivering towels and soap, not being thanked, appreciated. Being verbally accosted. Tired all the time. Putting up with bratty children running through the halls. It's exhausting, isn't it?"

As she spoke, Teora felt limp, her face fell. She felt that same tingling chill crawling through her veins again. Every part of her was screaming that she needed to get out of this room. That something about this woman isn't right. She sent her gaze to the floor as Ellowyn finished.

"You see Richie here, he wouldn't get tired. He would do the job, relieving you of the burden. That's the usefulness with androids. They will do the jobs you hate and not complain. They will be the servants," she narrows her eyes to slits. "He could replace you."

"Beep, beep!"

Teora jumps at the bot's sudden vocalization. She looks to Ellowyn again as she brushes past her to the door, keeping her head down. She exits and hurriedly makes her way down the corridor, ultimately forgetting the towels still resting on the chair.

Inside the room, as Ellowyn watches her leave, her pupils begin to flicker a light golden.