Interlude I: Reflections (Mirror Mirror)
Prologue: Oshiroi
\/-\/
A knot had been delivered to her table, and Missouri was not amused. The representatives of the Niñas de la Última Noche(1) were strenuously objecting against the accusation made by the Pure Souls Defense League and hurling accusations right back.
"Neither of which is a cult, so don't call them a cult in your own head Missouri. You'll slip up and cause a diplomatic incident. It's bending the truth for politeness. Pretending things aren't what they are. Like one isn't sprinkled with death cult cartel killers and mad enough to worship the Abyss and the other a fundamentalist hate group filled with self-righteous zealots murdering little girls in the name of God."
Missouri kept her poker face up, ever wary as the Ambassador from the Administration and her aids watched the wreck with smug politeness. On days like this, she sometimes regretted that video conferences were possible with the mainland. If they weren't she wouldn't have to sit through diplo talk for "see what happens when you try and go it alone?" as if somewhere at the bottom of this pool of blood and violence there wouldn't be a thread leading right back to them.
"Even if it was only through inaction."
• •
(1) Niñas de la Última Noche – Children(Female) of the Last Night.
• •/\/\-/\/\• •
She didn't like any of the masks offered. Sure there were cloth masks and veils, but her guide kept insisting that anyone with her kind of Weight would need total coverage, and that meant a full face mask.
"I just don't want one."
Something about the idea that she'd have to go out and be fully covered, separated from the island, the people she was trying to reach? It rubbed Taylor raw.
• •
Sakura watched as Charlotte went through the drawers one by one, pointedly refusing the masks. Sure, there were some other options, but they tended to be messy and unreliable. Then she started going through the cosmetics and slowed. Her hand lingered among the powder foundations before she turned and pinned Sakura in place with an intense gaze she didn't dare meet.
"Where do you keep the facial wax?" Charlotte asked in flawless Japanese.
Sakura blinked, before tentatively smiling back. "That could work."
"If she knows what she's doing. It would be really bad if it cracked at the wrong time."
• •\/\/-\/\/• •
The problem was that Missouri had accepted responsibility for everyone on Hawaii when she kicked out the federal government from the islands. More so that since the incident involved Witches, she was obligated to step in as guarantor of their sanctuary. Which was yet another reason why she had to be here in person, instead of dumping this whole thing on one of her wonderful assistants.
"Are you seriously both going to sit there and tell me "They started it?"" Missouri cut in, before the arguments could pick up steam again.
"Me? You know I can find out. I am going to find out. Would anyone like to adjust their statements?"
They'd been in session almost two hours now, and she was getting fed up with it. She didn't want to use her daily allotment of her sight for this, but she would if she had to. The evidence presented was decidedly inconclusive.
Neither party backed down.
Her eyes slid to the Administration delegation, wondering.
"If there isn't yet another angle for this whole thing. Another test to check my limits."
• •/\/\-/\/\• •
The final brushstrokes were being applied as her little project finished. It had occurred to Taylor, here in the quiet dark, that having no choice but to trust Sakura with some of her secrets didn't mean she had to be careless. While she was rushing this, she could take at least rushed measures to make sure nothing leaked. Who knows what kind of damage Sakura could do to her or her plans and prospects, even with this blood Oath to keep her secrets. Taylor wasn't sure how far she could trust it.
No, she had to get some extra insurance of her own. Sakura wasn't one of hers.
• •
Sakura watched as Charlotte finished her applying her layers. Even with the protection and the contacts, the girls Weight was too much. With a sigh, she said: "It's not much, but a bit is still leaking through. I think we'll need a second layer if you want that to fully work."
The Princess froze for a moment, a low hiss escaping, before her turned back to select more things. In the end, she settled for a partially see-through veil, covering her up to her eyes, which were in turn covered by a pair of shaded glasses, not fully opaque, but still helpful. In addition, she lowered the bangs of her wig and reinforced them with the veil wrapped around her head. Charlotte checked herself in a small hand mirror she'd taken from the makeup boxes, before turning to Sakura.
It was harder, but Sakura could still read her. The veil was mostly see-through, so "You'll have to be careful with expressions. Smiles in particular." It felt redundant, and as if reading her mind, Charlotte smiled widely, without so much as a hint of her lips parting. Her eyes would be hard to make up from a distance, but up close, Sakura could still track them. Reading them was harder, but: "It works. Your presence isn't leaking anymore."
It was unnerving. Sakura knew this was a Princess before her, but without actively looking for it, she couldn't tell. Well, apart from the height, but that wasn't something they could change. She expected for the Princess to insist that they move on immediately. She wasn't that lucky.
"Good" the masked woman softly said, "ready yourself" she ordered and Sakura went to her drawers to dress up for the surface.
When she was done, she turned around to find her charge with needle and thread in hand. She was holding a one-piece swimsuit, far too small for herself. Actually it seemed just about right for Sakura. Watching the Princess work, her chest slowly filled with awe.
The stitching of the white butterfly She was adding seemed a bit crude at first glance, but Sakura couldn't deny what she was seeing. The pretense, the mask was perfect. Charlotte looked like some amateur who'd practiced the craft for a few weeks, stumbling at it. The needle drawing blood when she accidentally poked herself while stitching.
But even here, now, in a safe room, it was all a performance. The blood was mopped up, sucked in by the thread following it, leaving not a single smudge on the bathing suit. Instead, every last drop "accidentally" spilled, Royal blood, was imbued into the clothing, reinforcing it, and its connection to the sea. Not a speck of power leaked, as the wards meant to conceal the position of the bunker didn't so much as flicker. The amount of control necessary to perform even so minor a Ritual like imbuing clothes without any leaks, without runes, or any real preparation boggled the mind.
"By the deeps and the heavens, I'm looking at the Apprentice of the Perfect Princess. She finally took one."
By the time she was done, Sakura was sure even the most careless Battleship would have had deliberately to try, to tear that suit. All without a speck of wasted power, like the effort and concentration needed was so beneath Her, She'd hardly even noticed. And Charlotte just handed it to her with a smile.
"For your troubles." She said, and even as Sakura was trying to figure out which part of her locker she'd replace with such a luxury gift, the ambush struck. In handing off the suit, strong hands closed around the cloth and her own hands, and slowly twisted, until her left hand wrist was pointed down and outward. There was a flutter and a flash of metal from beneath the robes, and a line of fire drawn across her wrist.
Horrified, but keeping her mask of a pleased smile, Sakura watched as her blood tricked into an empty beer bottle. The Princess closed it after a while, and even applied a bandage, but Sakura was far away, trapped in her head, frozen.
She was fucked. Yōko – Sakura, it didn't matter. Her faces, her stealth, her patrons, none of it mattered anymore. Because no matter how minor, imbuing clothing with the power of the Abyss was a Ritual, which made the other before her a true Witch. A Witch that had her blood. Even death and laying in the Abyss wouldn't protect her from the Witch's wrath, if she provoked it. And the wrath of a Witch was a terrible, terrible thing. Midway's wrath was the stuff of many a quiet whisper among the subs. You didn't talk about that where anyone who shouldn't could over hear, or you might end up one of those stories.
There were horror stories, least of which were the ones where girls were left disabled and slowly devoured alive. Then raised, and devoured again. And again. And again. Yōko knew them for a lie in this case, knew how the rumors had twisted the tragedies her Princess endured during the long siege. But there was a core truth to them. Midway didn't do that. Yet as one of the foremost Ritualists of the Abyss, she could.
Slowly, Sakura came out of her daze, unsure what they'd been talking about moments before. It was something, but she couldn't quite remember how part of her mind had kept the conversation going. Her mind was hazy. The quiet lingered, and after a moment, the Witch holding her blood lowered Her shades, giving her a frank look. Her other arm pushed the bathing suit into her chest and firmly repeated "For your troubles." It almost sounded apologetic, but Yōko knew better.
She'd been a fool. Yes, the Miss before her was an untapped vein of secrets and treasures. But they weren't hers. Sakura was here in her capacity as Midway's servant. She was privy to the secrets, but they weren't hers to speak, or sell. It was the worst feeling, knowing she was rich and totally unable to spend it. Because she knew better. No gain in reputation was worth the wrath of a Witch with that kind of leash on her.
Her conviction was only firmed when the bottle of blood was put away. In that moment, when her blood passed into the other, Yōko felt a massive wall of ice from that tiny connection. Looming over her, ready to crush her and play with the scrap that survived. She hugged the suit to herself, and tried to remind herself that clothing crafted by a Princess was a major find as well. But the feeling of a frozen behemoth hanging over her lingered.
• •
With the situation hopefully handled with a small bribe and some vague threats, they dove into the other pool. Taylor wasn't sure if she could do half the things mentioned as possible with the sample. Hopefully Sakura's imagination would fill in the blanks, as she'd certainly spilled enough horror stories for there to be no lack of material. That should keep her silent, while the gift took out the worst part of the sting from the threat. If the way the other girl had frozen was any sign, having her blood was quite the issue.
Taylor would have to talk to someone about that. She just hoped that conversation wouldn't give her any more nightmares. Then a cynical part of her reminded her she wouldn't mind it as much if it would give her more Nightmares. Especially better pilots. That thought reminded her, she did have one new crew rattling around her halls. Maybe she'd luck into it, and they were a pilot? It was a bit odd she felt the need to approve the recruitment. The rest of her crew simply was.
"This is the first really new one that's come up after we made a list. So maybe that's the issue."
It was like having a tiny grain of sand, or a speck of dust in her shirt. Not even irritating, just there. An awareness that something odd was there. Except inside her. Taylor shook her head, swimming after the sub. She'd have time for all that later.
They'd emerged into an underground cavern, right out of a fountain that kind of seemed to serve as the center of the low ceilinged room. The positioning of chairs all around it almost reminded her of theater, or maybe a pews in a church. Taylor wasn't a fan of the second option. Sakura had gone off the collect some locals, while Taylor fixed her face. She'd expected it, and brought supplies to repair or reapply it a number of times. She just had not expected the first time to be immediately after application. But while this batch of Oshiroi was good, it wasn't "survive underwater tunnel diving and a submarine's wake without smudging good."
With the room empty, Taylor allowed her embarrassment to show. She really should have thought of that as it seemed obvious in hindsight. Finally, when ready, Taylor-
"No, you're Charlotte now. Charlotte." Ta-Charlotte reminded herself. Taking a deep breath and ready for anything she opened the door and took her first steps away from the endless, empty cold of the Abyss.
• •\/\/-\/\/• •
Once she was sure this wasn't going anywhere, Missouri called a recess. She retired to her work room, plastered with post-it notes, books, papers, and notebooks. Her steward brought her in some soft and delicious grilled pork steaks, a guilty pleasure in a time when so many had to ration. But even so, Missouri didn't stop ordering them every time supplies came in. She hoped they wouldn't run out soon. The steak tasted like a homeport, and calmed her nerves, draining away anger and frustration. They didn't help, so Missouri let them go.
Now that she had their stories, it was time for the truth. As her steward packed away plates she couldn't help but issue the same old lament:
"This would all be so much easier if they all couldn't believe they were in the right, all at the same time."
A reassuring hand landed on her shoulder, a practiced response, as firm as the very steel she was made off, answered the complaint: "We are who we are. The world is what it is. We learn to accept it, or to lie to ourselves. I know which I prefer, Ma'am."
With a somewhat lighter heart, and a bit sleepy from lunch, Missouri shooed him away. As a final act of insubordination the steward planted an entirely unnecessary cup of solid black coffee on her table. She'd need it later, so she swallowed any objections.
It always felt weird, uncomfortable for someone to watch her while she did her work. Missouri was the Witness, not the subject. The world bent and thinned, her will pushing on physics and reason until they broke. Time and space, dancing before her closed eyes.
{WITNESS}
The old girl murmured. There was a feeble tremor, the power and strain not much for viewing something so close, in space and time. Missouri was carried away on the currents of her power, following, seeking. Trying to understand. She saw the Abysssal dump power, saw the iceberg, and she saw her disappear beneath the waves. For all her gifts, following an Abyssal that had submerged remained forever beyond her reach, no matter what she tried. Or she would have long since given Raven what she needed to end Leviathan.
She knew there was some kind of tunnel or drop of point or something hidden near the shore so close to the cult's main church on the island, but Missouri had given up on finding it. Trying to keep track of comings and goings and find all the exits proved challenge enough against Midway's wards.
The next time Missouri found her, she'd covered up and had just stepped out of the warded Sanctum of the cult. Even disguised, it was hard to mistake another for her 195 centimeters of height. She towered over the other bundled up witch. Few girls were that tall. It was one of the odd things about Abyssals: all of them were taller than their shipgirl counterparts. The issue was further exacerbated with Japanese shipgirls.
Missouri settled in to observe, feeling the soft paper of her notebook under her fingers. She'd need notes for the officials. Even skipping the boring parts, this might take a while. It wasn't what she wanted, or how she preferred to work. But with diplomats waiting on her verdict, it would have to be rushed.
Part of her wondered if that wasn't the point in provoking such an incident. It made all of Missouri long for the days when she thought she could trust her own government. But she knew better now. Only Ford Island had survived. Every day when she looked out her windows across the harbor to the dead island of O'ahu, she was reminded of the price of misplaced trust.
Missouri plunged into the vision of the past-
• •/\/\- {W} -/\/\• •
-leaving her concerns in the now.
Part 1: Cult
Alejandro threw the garbage into the sea. Hale o Kapuni was a useful excuse to dump anything the fish might like into the sea here and for sharks to hang around. Why the old Hawaiians built underwater temples to sharks wasn't important, its proximity to the church was. Nothing was in the bucket this time, as with the Mistress in house they had no need to send secret messages. The iceberg off shore had no doubt brought plenty of eyes their way, which made it all the more important that Alejandro play his part well. Just a crazy cultist out feeding the sharks at the edge of the Blight.
Their church was young. All the churches built for the Niñas de la Última Noche were. Few among the old faiths welcomed them, but they had their ways. More than a few old priests had been persuaded by men like him to cede some place for the new way. Alejandro would have preferred to do away with the local rector, but that was not his decision to make. A crackle in the radio on his belt held his attention. Interference happened, especially close to the Blight, but with that pattern and channel?
He needed to get back to the church.
"The Niña must have surfaced."
His team should be making their way back as well, if they were off site. He listened for the follow up, hearing a single longer tone. ¾ of a second. So they had a new guest. One important enough, his second had ordered immediate recall. Alejandro did not look back at the melting ice. But he had an inkling in his bones that this was going to be trouble. Not the incompetent, corrupt kind their rector got into to, but the type that made him want to dig their real weapons out of the practice range.
• • •
Alejandro went down the stairs into the basement, reassured that two of his were lingering near the entrance. The un-initiated would not interrupt them. It wasn't a long walk to the edge of the Blight and as he crossed the border, he could feel the slightly uncomfortable warmth on his chest, as the European amulet shielded him. Familiar thoughts about how the reliance on foreign imports kept the charms rare flashed through his mind, but he dismissed them. Now was not the time. His team had theirs, and that was what mattered. They wouldn't just drop dead from a bit of exposure, which was necessary if working with witches.
He reached the altar, an underground fountain carved into the volcanic stone. The lanterns light was dim, but a clear, wet trail led from the fountain to the arrivals rooms. Spotting it, the veteran froze. Much more carefully, he approached the wooden frame and knocked.
Niña Sakura almost pranced out of the room, showing him a writing board.
"Alejandro! I was just coming to see you. Have a look!"
He glanced down at the board and felt a wave of light nausea roll down his throat. Alexandro quickly looked away. "No good Sakura. I felt that."
The Niña frowned, heading back in. He stayed out of the doorway, leaning his back on the wall. It itched less with something solid behind him. The amulet had gone from noticeably warm, to uncomfortably hot. Several clacks came from inside, before Sakura came out again, holding a blackboard with white lines on it.
"How about now?" She asked.
The second glance was worse. His bowels were replaced by a rolling anaconda, his heart nearly tried to jump out of his skin. Memories of clouds of fire obliterating the village he'd just left played before him and he could smell the roasting, burning flesh. He came back to himself with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. A whiff of smoke was in the air, his shirt charred where the amulet touched it. Quickly, he took the shirt off before it could catch fire.
The amulet touched skin while he did, and he knew he'd have new burns to add to his collection. When he looked up, the Niña was gone. He overheard her say: "Well, I don't think writing is going to work for you Charlotte."
Alejandro swallowed bile and resigned himself to a long day. At least he got the second one's name. Then the two walked out and all other thought fled his mind. Charlotte was tall. Far too tall to be anything but a Royal. A visiting Royal. An unofficially visiting Royal.
"Fuck me, this is going to draw in every fucker with an agenda."
Then he reconsidered that in view of the covens currently scuffling on the island. As he followed the Niñas out of the basement, he pulled aside one of his men, quietly instructing him:
"There's a party in the making with our new guests. Make sure all the grills are ready. We might need them for fresh meat."
Alejandro hoped he was wrong. But in his line of work, he had to be ready.
• • •
Megan was miffed. Couldn't they have waited until after she'd gone on her rounds? Now the zealots and true believers were buzzing around the building like headless flies. Oh she knew it wasn't a reasonable complaint, but she could be unreasonable in her own head, couldn't she? Still, she bowed to the inevitable and put on an appropriately compassionate face, before stepping out to meet the new arrival, box in hand.
The Priestess was spilling her words all over the two witches, but Megan ignored it with the ease of long practice. Sakura was a familiar sight, the little layabout often mooching on the churches generosity. Megan focused on the newcomer. Her height was distinct, but that wasn't the most eye-catching thing about the other witch. Even with the sky blue veil, her almost shining white face makeup stood out like a lantern. The contrast with her dark blue robes really made it pop.
It matched beautifully with her cast. The white plaster reached above her elbow, and left not one finger free on her right arm. Megan remembered what that was like. An itch under the white stuff was an endless irritant you could do nothing about. A second look at the robes had her reassess. Even for fancy robes, the cut was all wrong. This was that Japanese thing, gi, qi, ki something. The waves depicted along the rim were a very nice touch.
Megan wondered what her story was. She certainly wasn't a talker, as Sakura was doing all her talking for her.
"With her height, she must have Scandinavian blood in her. So how'd Japan come into it?" She idly wondered.
Charlotte, as the new witch was introduced, refused the arrival stipend, Sakura speaking up for her that:
"She requires no financial aid, but would welcome a guide and interpreter. As is, Morse is the best she can do for now, though as I understand looking for a solution for that problem and a visit to the library are her first stops on the island once we free her from our clutches."
Jessie finally noticed Megan had joined them.
"Some days I wonder how they ever handled running this place without me. With Jessie in charge of finances. The woman is hopeless at budgeting, and too trusting by far. I'll bet when the place was going up, the workmen overcharged her for every stone. Then again, if not for her, my nest egg wouldn't be nearly as large as it is."
The Priestess reached into the Box and started pulling out emblems. Megan wasn't sure who'd started it, probably some Native. The bracer supported an underhung circle with a web of threads inside it. The item reminded her of dream catchers back home. The ones they gave out were woven wicker. Made them sturdier, easier to care for. A slightly higher price saved on cost in time. Replacements had gone way down after the switch.
It was sturdy, easy to put away and easy to present for inspection. Or as a warning. Those ones usually had bells. The tinkling of bells pulled her back to the task at hand. Emblem after emblem came out of the box and was attached to the new bracer. Multiple emblems had bells and little skull as part of them.
As the little wooden skulls multiplied, Megan's skin began to crawl. The emblems were small wooden rectangles, no bigger than a palm. An eye, with a pale, skull for a pupil. Blighted Visage. Involuntarily, she glanced at the witch and met her eyes. Megan could just about make out her eyes through the shaded glasses. A chill was taking her over, her hands shaking a bit. She lowered her eyes, unsure of what she'd seen. For but a moment, the woman looked sad.
The eyeskull was joined by an earskull and handbones, each symbol another curse. Blighted Visage, Blighted Voice, Blighted Skin, it was no wonder the girl was so covered up and silent. Megan felt some pity for her. These were the kind of people that really needed their help, not girls like Sakura that were perfectly able to get a job and earn their keep.
Still, she preferred that aid be given to them by her subordinates, with at least one wall between them. If the woman was careless and spoke? Megan had absolutely zero desire to test the limits of the amulets in person. So as soon as her part in this affair was done, the charms collected, she retreated to the safety of her study. If not for the business opportunities, this job would not be worth it. When the door closed behind her, she released a sigh of relief.
"And she's had months to get used to it. With protection and familiarity to help her along. Some days I wonder if we'll ever be able to fully make our peace with those affected." Missouri thought as her hand wrote down the emblems given. Yet with what was really beneath the disguise, she couldn't wonder but ask: If they'd given her more, stronger ones, could this all have been avoided? Or would the promise of more danger, more power have only made them desperate to act? That poor, deluded girl.
• • •
Felicia felt blessed. Another Bride was in her church! As much as she respected Sakura as a Bride to the Abyss, the woman was sometimes more childish than her little sisters back home. Felicia had little time to waste, not wanting to leave a bad impression she quickly packed a day bag and rushed out the front door. Her hair was a bit of a mess, but she wasn't going to take her time when such important people were waiting on her.
The pre-dawn light was good enough for Felicia to spot the Priestess and the Brides. Jessie had tried to convince Felicia to just call her Jessie, but she wasn't having it. It was a position of trust and authority, and Felicia would do her part to reinforce it. Too many non-believers mocked them already. If they didn't take their own faith seriously, how could they spread the Shadow of the Abyss to others?
Felicia rushed over, careful not to run herself. She was part of the Church herself and running would give off a bad impression.
"Priestess, I am here, willing and ready to serve!" Felicia reported in, bowing.
"Felicia." Jessie chided, but it was weak, resigned. Felicia was wearing her down!
"You know Sakura." Jessie began –
"Still running around without an amulet Lisa?" Sakura asked, smiling at her. Her voice sent a chill down Felicia's spine, spreading outwards. A chill she embraced, feeling the blessing flow through her. Felicia dropped the bow and smiled back. "Of course. I have at least two more years!" And she was in one of the places most touched by the Abyss, with plenty of Brides! Surely sooner or later she would join them?
"Huh. Sixteen already? Did I miss your birthday?" Sakura asked.
"It's fine." Felicia replied, shaking her head. "I know you are busy with your work." It wasn't completely fine, but Sakura was still a Bride. She wasn't going to say that. It wouldn't be fair.
"What is that?" Sakura asked, as her eyes dropped to her gift.
Felicia blushed. "Well, I heard there was some trouble with writing…" she said, raising her hand. Her clicker came up and she click-clacked: index to thumb for a short, sharp dot, middle finger to thumb for a longer, deeper line. Felicia took it off, presenting it as an offering to the other Bride from a half-bow.
"Oh wow. Abyss, she's tall! What happened to her arm?!"
Felicia felt mortified as the Bride picked up the clicker, but struggled to properly wear it with only one hand. Sakura was no help, giggling in place, but Jessie came to her rescue. With a little bit of help, the clicker slipped into place and the Bride gave Sakura a slow, bland look. The giggles died suddenly as Sakura gulped, taking a step back with her hands raised in front of her as if to ward off an attack.
"I'll be good, promise" she squeaked. Rapid clicking erupted from the injured Bride, too fast for Felicia to catch.
"Something funny?" Missouri wrote down.
"Still need more practice," she reminded herself. Felicia was good, but not professional good.
"Of course a Bride with her issues and age would be great at it."
"There. I have my guide. You're free to return to your duties. I'll be seeing a town about a library"
Sakura nodded several times, rapidly, before freezing. "Are you sur-" she cut herself off. Sakura's eyes danced between Felicia and Jessie before she swallowed what she was about to say.
She gave a perfunctory, mocking bow, before pulling Jessie away to "let them get to know one another. Think the Marshal is available to chaperone?"
"Her fingertips were shaking. Sakura more frightened of new model then expected. In favor with Court, Midway? Powerful?" Missouri wondered.
This left Felicia alone with the Bride who-
"Oh! Sorry, I'm Felicia, and I'm an Acolyte of the Church."
"Charlotte." The woman introduced herself, clicking slowly.
"You don't have to do that. I've been practicing in for when the Abyss blesses me too. I mean, I couldn't keep up with that fast, but you don't have to drag it out for me." Felicia explained, smiling. Smiles were how you made friends. And in this moment, she wanted to be liked.
"I just hope I'm not overdoing it."
"It's nice to meet you, Felicia." Charlotte replied politely, half-way turning. Felicia was quick to follow.
"Nice to meet you too, Charlotte. How are you finding our paradise?"
They climbed a small hill that overlooked the ocean. The sun was still low, but rising. The answer took a while. "Warm," she said eventually. "I think I like it."
"It's warm, but still rains quite a bit. It reminds me of the rainforests at home." Felicia reminisced.
"Where's home?" Charlotte asked.
"Venezuela," Felicia replied. "I miss the little tykes. Rodrigo can go jump off a bridge."
"What's it like?"
"Which one?" Felicia asked. "Venezuela itself, or being a client state to the Abyss?"
"Charlotte wasn't one of those Brides that didn't believe in the Abyss, was she?"
The bride didn't hesitate. Didn't look at her, still seeming to stare into the rising sun. Yet somehow, the answer felt hungry: "Either. Both."
"The Princess shows unusual interest in human matters."
Felicia was taken aback for a moment. Then glee bubbled up in her.
"Well, I don't know about the country at large, but my home town is Maracaibo. It's a big port town, the second largest in Venezuela! There's a lot of oil in the region, with refineries as well. A lot of it got wrecked, both during the War on Drugs, the civil wars it started and later in this one. But we've rebuilt some, and will build more to help the war effort!"
She stopped for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "The region has plentiful agriculture, like what my family does. We're cocoa farmers! So if you like chocolate, I'm sure I can arrange for some. The deliveries are somewhat limited at the moment, unfortunately." She said, smile dimming.
"They're always accusing us of something!" She huffed. "Like they're saints. The Abyss wouldn't just target a delivery plane. And if He did, surely He had His reasons for the storm! They were probably smuggling weapons. Or spy reports. Or spies!"
Felicia took a deep breath. "Sorry. It just makes me mad, how they keep lying to everyone. You're a Bride, you understand."
A small window of silence spread. Just as it was starting to feel awkward Charlotte click-clacked: "Civil wars?"
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. It got ugly for a while, but it never touched us much. Owners and taxes came and went, and sometimes we only ate rice and water, but no one wanted the cocoa to burn. It's better now. Between the occasional Niña, the Hound patrols and the Maneater, Maracaibo is as peaceful as it's ever been. Or so Mom tells me," she said, slumping.
"The biggest excitement was some Guerrillas sleeping in our beds for a few weeks. They made us sleep in the barn. That was it. I had to get out of there. See the world, make something of myself before I settled down. Mom and Papi didn't understand, but they came around to it."
"The acolyte kept talking, weaving stories of home and her own experience with the Cult."
"Things of little real import. So why then did she put up with it, listen? What does she get out of it?"
• •
Standing here, in the warm sun, with living earth beneath her soft shoes was a kind of relief. A river of words flowed out of Felicia, and Taylor encouraged it with a few words to show she was keeping up and paying attention. Hearing the girl speak? With no powers, no grand burden, about simple, ordinary matters, for all that great and terrible things were happening in the background of her story? It was normal, ordinary. So very human and by that very meter, refreshing like fresh water on a parched throat.
It was a different society. A different culture, a different world. With distant and terrible overlords. But they were just that: distant. As far as Taylor could tell, apart from these "hunts" and paying whatever price or "tax" was imposed, the Abyssals had very little to do with the day to day running of the town. Hells, from what she could gather? Maracaibo was in better state than even pre-Levihatan Brockton Bay.
"
And isn't that a sad comparison? That a town run over by multiple wars was still a better place to live than home?"
• •
Felicia was just talking about how the African traders were abusing their charters to under cut the cocoa trade when a soft gasp came from her right. It was like being plunged into solid ice. Worse, it was like the ice wall ran her over. Felicia came to on the ground, with no memory in between. Her right arm ached and when she managed to lift it into view pieces of ice stuck up from the sleeves. A few of which were slowly growing red.
She gasped as the rest of it caught up to her, aches and pains all over. As she managed to sit up, she found the ground all around her covered in frost. The day's warmth had fled, and Felicia felt like she'd been stuffed into a refrigerator. Or run over by one. She found the Bride hovering over her, looking distressed. That wasn't right.
"Sorry if I said something wrong, my Lady." Felicia apologized. Obviously, if the Bride had chosen, or been chosen, to chastise her with her holy powers, it was only right she apologizes. Even if a part of her wanted to keep provoking Charlotte for a chance at her dream: powers of her own.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one that slipped." Charlotte claimed. Felicia was glad she wasn't really mad. She struggled to her feet, finding the Bride still giving her a concerned look. She gave her best smile: "It's fine Charlotte. I'll be fine. "Suffering makes us stronger", remember?" Felicia quoted the holy texts.
She wasn't going to refuse treatment, but the doctor was in town. They were going anyway. "I'll go get first aid and be right back. Don't go anywhere without me!" Felicia said, giving a final smile before she headed for the church. Her knee told her that walking wasn't an option, so she settled for a power hobble.
"No way am I missing a duty this good over a few scratches." She could still feel that wave of frost that knocked her on her ass, settling in her bones. Oh, she'd have nightmares tonight. She couldn't wait.
Unfortunately, Jessie didn't let her go back out there without an amulet and some new emblems for Charlotte. Felicia was fine, she wasn't going to overdo it and kill herself, but she bowed to the Priestesses wishes. She trusted Jessie even if Felicia felt like she could take another dose.
As Jessie was going over precautions for town, Felicia heard the old truck coming up the road and rushed out to meet him. Marshal Hendrickson had arrived and with him, their ride to town.
She couldn't wait to show Charlotte around!
• • •
Unnoticed by any of the people below, or their trans-temporal witness(yet), in a birds nest above the parking for the Church, a technological glass eye looked out, watching the comings and goings. Out of a shard of shimmering, reflective air next to it, like a mirage in a desert, a translucent, phantom, floating eye slipped out, looking around. Its pupil narrowed as its gaze flickered between watching the scene below and the hi-tech camera above.
Extra stuff:
I've made a discord. I'm somewhat ambivalent about that, but we'll see how it goes. It's unfair to judge one server by another. Hopefully, this goes well. If you do decide to have a look around, be kind to one another.
h. ttps: / / dis cord . gg / / G2GdxcdX