It was getting pretty late. Still, Bowser needed some fresh air. So, cloaked in the tattered brown rag she had left the castle with, she slipped out of the inn quietly, tucking her wand in her cloak pocket.
She had barely stepped outside the inn when the icy winds penetrated her skin even through the cloak she had wrapped tightly around her body. She would have to get a better one at some point. Nevertheless, she swiveled around, scanning the area for places to go, landing on west. Her legs calmly suggested not moving at all, but her will was stronger than her body.
Didn't help not nearly tripping and falling though. Nevermind. Just walk. Think at the same time. Her mind drifted among varied threads of thought, each one a long and winding path. It wasn't too long before she found herself having stopped, her feet nearly frozen to the ground as she looked around sluggishly. Her eyelids were heavy, but she couldn't sleep here.
Out of her peripheral vision, a pink birdo in a black dress hidden under a fur-lined coat walked out of the alleyway, shivering a little and smoothing out her feathers. She spoke in an uninterested, yet bemused tone, as if something about Bowser were irreconcilably strange.
"You looking to warm up? We can share a room for the night."
Bowser looked at her and sighed.
"No. I just needed a walk outside to figure myself out."
The birdo cocked an eyebrow, arms crossed, her posture swaying in the wind as she fights against the gusts, her large coat whipping audibly behind.
"I thought I was a guy until a few days ago, but now that I'm not, there are too many signs I never was," she continued, emptrying her thoughts out onto this unknown prostitute, stammerimg on her words and contemplating even disclosing any of this in the first place. "I think I'd be happier staying like this, but there were certain elements of being a man that I enjoyed. And my children, will they recognize me whenever it is I ever see them again?"
The birdo looked into Bowser's eyes for a moment, contemplating.
"I know what you're going through. I have had plenty of experience with, at least, the first problem of yours. I'm willing to help you if you need it, certainly more than I ever got."
Procuring a scrap of paper with a phone number on it out of her coat, she offered it and along with it the opportunity for clearing some things up.
"And," she finished, "if you change your mind, my room is often open. My name's Catherine, by the way." She leaned in close and gave Bowser a kiss on the cheek.
Bowser nodded uncomfortably, and took the paper, peeling her feet off the cold concrete and continuing on with the walk, now contemplating giving the number a call tomorrow. She nearly considered walking back and asking her to talk right then and there, but it would be rude, she wasn't a paying customer after all.
She got back to her room in about an hour, but not before looking out to the ocean and spotting a small sailboat with little more than a sail, a lockbox, and a wheel about an hour away, bobbing up and down along the black waves dotted with bright white and yellow specks, sloshing against the wooden poles of the docks. The passenger seemed familiar, but in her sleepless haze, she couldn't quite make anything out.
Back in her bed, she curled up in the warmth of the heavy blanket, shell and cloak resting on the wall. Her body was shut down, if a little sore. Yet her mind was not at ease, contemplating the last few days.
It was time to get some sleep.
Catherine's mind wandered. She was good enough at her job not to let it show, and as her client's hands gingerly got her out of her coat, her eyes locked onto them. But her thoughts remained on the koopa who bared something much more vulnerable than her body to her, even as the yoshi pressed his body to her back.
She really hoped she would call. She needed to give her the run-down.
As good an actor as she was, and she needed to be, she couldn't act flawlessly, so she allowed herself to return to the moment at hand, dimming the lights and getting to work.
Luigi didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up when the boat smashed against the docks, rattling his bones. The icy winds kept him up after the rude awakening, and he steered his boat to dock. It was barely moored to the bollard before he unfurled his ensign, clipped it and hoisted it, and gathered what he had to rest here.
He nearly lost his balance, the swaying in the choppy tide violent, but managed to keep steady on the dock and before long was in the middle of town. Only one place to stay made itself known, not too terribly far from the gallows. Rough place to have a family.
The door on closer inspection listed a price for a night -- 30 coins -- and had a vending machine mechanism in place that would accept a twenty-five piece and a five-piece, or any other arrangement of coins to make thirty, besides individual loose change, to unlock the door late at night. It listed three rooms, and two were vacant.
Easy payment for him, and he got in easily, getting instant relief from the freezing temperatures outside with only a sign-in sheet on the counter to his right to stop him from getting rest for the night. He did have some strong curiosity about the "Kooplisto" who was staying in room 1, though. It couldn't be too bad, he told himself, and peered in the room to see a familiar looking, yet not quite identical shell and a young woman with a lock of deep red hair, her mouth open and snoring. Yet, her eyebrows seemed furrowed, stressed out. Strange. The blanket had a vast red spot that seemed a lot like a bloodstain where her liver would be, since dried.
She seemed familiar, but he wouldn't press it. He just needed to rest for a couple days, and here seemed like the best place Door 2 was more fruitful, completely empty and more than enough room. Just in time for him to get changed and, like the koopa, sleep properly, in a bed.
Bowser felt terrible. She had got barely any sleep, and what she did get was marred by nightmares of her kids, some being abducted and others rejecting her for her gender. Hopefully she raised them to handle both better than she feared, but they were too young for the world she thrust them into, unthinkingly, assuming her wife would be with her always. That didn't turn out to be the case, just a year later she would die in a surprise assassination by a political discontent. That discontent had a far worse fate than she did.
And on top of that, Snifit came into her room to let her know he had another guest in the building. 'Someone special,' he said, that he was sure that she would enjoy meeting. In any case, he was going out to man his side-gig again. Don't burn anything, Bowser.
She had a lot on her mind, and pushed it all away.
She had to get back to work on a plan to get the kingdom back. Maybe she could install someone incompetent, and they'd have to want her back! That might work.
Or maybe she just wasn't that good at planning. Either way, she would still work tirelessly to regain her domain. She barely got dressed and stepped out to get the caffiene from a koopa tea before she saw those green overalls and shut the door back closed again. Just what she needed, one of those goody-two-shoes made more of carbohydrates than any other material.
Maybe he wouldn't recognize her? She had blue eyes and was easily 30 years younger, on top of the gender thing. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, open door. Her eyes threatened to bulge out in annoyance, but she fought that down in the event Luigi fell for the disguise. He studied her for a couple seconds, his hands starting to shake, but he pretended not to notice who she was.
Not that he was a great liar.
She caught on, and sighed. "Alright, we both know, Luigi. I'm not exactly in any position to do you any harm at the moment given your brother's utter destruction of everything I had. If we can stay under one roof for a couple of days without leveling the town, I'd be grateful."
His eyes narrowed for a second, but he let the issue go.
"Now, plunger boy, step aside so I can make myself some source of caffeine. I guess you can have some too if you need it.
"Better help me clean up if you do."
She set the pot to boil and grabbed two cups, dropping a bag of dried koopa leaves in each and setting them on the counter next to the stove. While that was going on, she sat down opposite Luigi, sitting in awkward silence waiting for either the water to steam or to face conversation.
"I imagine you didn't come to a place like this just to take in the shit in the air," she grunted in his general direction, where are you headed?"
Luigi sighed. "Well, I could say 'home,' but after six years, who knows anymore. I suppose I'm trying to go back to life as normal. After all, with you in no position to kidnap the Princess, I'm not needed here. Nor would I want to be here if I had the choice -- Mario and Pauline already made a home here, but I don't have much to get attached to. Not even something so much as a magikoopa to help me repair the pipes."
Bowser cocked an eyebrow, getting up to pour the now whistlng water into both cups before the sound got annoying. "I could get that arranged, but you've already decided to leave, I doubt a magikoopa would help you much out in your world."
Luigi stared at her for a few seconds, desperately trying not to mention Bowser's new female body. She could have some fun with this.
"On top of an accomplice to murder, you're a pervert too, huh?"
He blushed and looked away, not realizing he was apparently staring at an area he shouldn't have, mumbling out an apology. Bowser, for her part, was trying to contain laughter. She swung her hips around as she turned off the burner and sat the cups down on the table.
"Don't sweat it, pastaface. Even if you were looking, I'm not that much of a prude. Don't get too attached, though! I don't know if you ever met my wife but I vowed undying loyalty to her many years ago and I don't plan on ever changing that."
She downed the tea in a gulp or two, ruffled his hat, and cleaned up after herself.
"Now, if you don't mind, I have something to get to."
She walked over to her door and gave her hips one last teasing shake before she shut it behind her, rifling through her pockets for the number. Time to give that Catherine woman a call.
No answer. She was sent to the answering machine and left a message, setting the phone down disappointedly. A quick look in her coinpurse lead her to realize her desperate need for revenue to get her through this period of stasis, so with a sigh she tied her cloak to her body and walked out the building, turning to the east wing to look for that help wanted board.
The first task paid well, and wasn't too difficult. All it really called for was a fetch-quest, which she completed in a couple hours to recieve a rather generous 120 coins spread across most denominations. The next few were not quite so easy.
The first, she never once described to me. I can't imagine how vile the act was for a woman content to sent men to their deaths. However, with a pricetag attached of 225 coins, pragmatism won out over dignity.
The tone in her voice gave me reason to suspect it would raise the rating of this recount to an MA; that may not be true, but it was that ashamed.
The second was a frustrating exercize in freelance journalism , with a pay of 20 coins per hour to investigate the corruption of the local authorities. Naturally, as her legal identity was forged thanks to this corruption, she put much of her effort into not finding as much corruption as she would have expected among the rancid, spoilt ranks of the criminally wealthy, even for her, known as the town legislature.
She at least came to learn what caused the town's crippling poverty, and to whom her fire breath ought to be sent when she gets her kingdom back. Her every muscle strained to produce a smile in greeting an elderly mouser heavier than she was, and far too eager to let his hands wander. Her mind played images of his flesh charring over and over again to keep her even somewhat sated. Still, a puff-piece was a paycheck, and in total over her twelve non-consecutive hours of work she earned two hundred and forty coins.
Finally done with her work, she came back to a voicemail.
"Catherine. How does Los 3 Hermanos sound? Of course," she wryly suggested, the grin audible if not something she had any capacity to imagine, "you could always come back to my place and skip dinner. If you want."
She nearly threw the phone in horror and embarrassment, but held herself back, ringing to leave an affirmative reply and a couple good dates and times, hoping she had no, erm, "clinets" on at least one of them.
She looked out the window and saw the sun was nearly consumed totally by the horizon, and after her long day, she was asleep on her bed in nearly an instant, satisfied with her work.
Tomorrow would be the whole town's rest day, every business closed and all the schools out for break, how exciting. She wondered if she'd see those two children again, and if they might be decent new men for her kingdom. She'd have to see, and if she was lucky, Luigi would be nowhere close to her.
She was incredibly sore.