1 Shattered Tapestry
2 By Makura Koneko
2.1 Chapter Two
"Where the hades are we going and what the double-hades happened?" Jovia was positively livid as she wrestled with her restrains, course rope securing her hands behind her back and her ankles out in front of her. She was leaning against the side of the spotlessly room that –from the rocking and jerking- Jovia guessed was the trunk of a truck. A single light in the ceiling swayed and swung, casing eerie, ever changing shadows over them all.
"If I knew that I would have told you," Rodica snapped.
"Guess, stop it!" Nenaphe said briskly. "Rodie, you know Jovia wasn't directing that at you. Don't take it as an insult to your foresight."
"But she's right," Amenea sighed. "Jovia, I mean," She added. "What happened, and where are we going?"
"I personally, would also like to know 'why." Nenaphe said, frowning, deep in thought. "And why us?"
"Guys…" Amenea bit her lip. "If this is connected to…to my…line of work, then… God, then I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay, Amenea," Jovia said, calm now. She tipped her head back and rested it against the metal side of the interior of…whatever it was they were in. It was barely seven feet long and five feet wide, and only four feet high.
"Hey, it's not her fault!" Rodica snapped, glaring at the brunette, whose head snapped up to glare Rodica with a snarl.
"While we appreciate your concerns and apologies Amenea," Nenaphe cut in. "I doubt this is at all your fault. If this is related to your…dealings, then why are we the only prisoners?"
"There might be others," Rodica pointed out. "In other transport vehicles."
"But then why were we grouped together?" Nenaphe raised an eyebrow. "That is a bit too much of a coincidence."
"Maybe they know we're the closest to Amenea," Jovia shrugged. Again Nenaphe shook her head.
"These are the Elite we're dealing with." Nenaphe stated the obvious. "While they may be a nuisance to our only means of survival in Alalia- under, they are not evil, and they are most certainly not stupid. If they do indeed know us as the closest ones to Amena, then they would most likely assume we are the ringleaders in whatever theft or smuggling operation they're arresting us for. They wouldn't put the leaders together in the same place, out of common sense. Think about it. If you had the leaders of a group you wanted to shut down, when you captured them, would you give them a chance to accumulate a plan of retreat or escape?"
"The mouse has a point," Rodica said after a moment. In typical gentle Nenaphe fashion, she was not offended by the comparison Rodica made of her and a rodent.
"Well, that rules out one speculation as to why we're here," Rodica said after a moment of thoughtful silence that was shared by all present. "But that still leaves the question of why we were taken in the first place."
Further speculation and conversation was prevented by the abrupt jerking and slamming and yanking around of the cargo area they were being kept in. Amena slammed into Nenaphe, and Jovia barely moved her head out of the way of Rodica's bound feet, which had flown up as she tipped over.
Just as suddenly as the chaos had been raised, it stopped. The doors, to Rodica's left and Nenaphe's–who was sitting across from Rodica- right, were rattled and the sounds of jangling chains was heard.
"Guys…" Amenea swallowed. "I don't know why we're here, but as for where we've been going… I think we're about to find out…."
Silvra swallowed hard and lifted her chin, clearly revealing the Monstrahl family Crystal in the hollow of her throat, shimmering in all its glory under the moonlight. Silvra, surrounded by eight guards –those eight guards not including Captain Arden Terrence- was escorted to her family's main landing pad that extended from the building she lived in near the top of their family's personal Sky Tower, the Monstrahl Tower.
Silvra felt for sure that her father, after seeing her beloved Arden and herself in such a compromising position (kneeling together on the floor, arms wrapped around each other, locked in a soul-searing kiss…), was shipping her off to some suitor to be married on the spot. Probably in hopes of preventing such 'outrageous' occurrences from happening again.
Faersilvria Monstrahl, youngest lady of the High House of Monstrahl, was met by her mother, her eldest sister, and Silvra's personal maid and best friend, Shinkana, at the foot of the boarding ramp that led into the underbelly of the grand cruise vessel, the Valiant.
Silvra's mother, the lovely Caressmiya, was stiff-backed, her face pale and drawn in what young, innocent Silvra was sure to be barely restrained rage. Silvra swallowed yet again, as if trying to wet her parched throat at the same time trying to swallow her fear. It didn't work.
"My lady mother," Silvra, her high, sweet voice shaky. She tightened her jaw to keep her lower lip from trembling. She bobbed a slight curtsey. When she rose, Caressmiya reached out and touched her daughter's cheek, gently. Her face softened slightly, then hardened again when she spotted the gleaming silver Crystal at her throat. She stiffened noticeably, and before Silvra could react, her mother snatched it from her throat. The chain, before snapping, sliced a deep gouge into the back of Silvra's neck, bringing tears to her eyes as her hand flew up to where her crystal had once lain.
"You may no longer bear the house Crystal," Caressmiya said stiffly. Did Silvra detect a hint of…regret in her mother's voice? She dared not hope…
"It is family law that the Crystal remain in possession of the family and stay here at the Monstrahl Tower. You, my child, will not be returning for quite some time, if ever. Therefore I strip you of it. It is no longer your responsibility nor privilege. I, mistress of the House of Monstrahl, deem this so." It was a harsher variation of the verbal part of the ceremony that was used when the crystal went to a new female member of the family.
Silvra's throat tightened again, and tears welled up in her eyes. She did not make any attempt to stopper them; she knew what was about to happen next.
Cordaylae, Silvra's eldest sister, smirked with pride and arrogance in all her dark colored beauty –raven hair, the deepest hazel eyes, porcelain skin- as Caressmiya turned to her firstborn and raised the Crystal up before her face. Cordaylae raised her palm, and Caressmiya set it in her hand. Cordaylae clasped her fist around it, smirking at her youngest sister all the while. Of all Silvra's family, Cordaylae was the most spiteful.
"I accept this honor and responsibility, my lady mother," Cordaylae said with great pomp, even though the only witnesses were her own sister and mother, a maid, and eight guards. She cupped the crystal on the broken chain in both hands and held it out slowly, so that the moonlight, high overhead, reflected off it's shimmering surface. Everyone held his or her breath for the breathtakingly brilliant shine that was to come, signaling the crystal's acceptance of its new bearer.
It never came.
Whatsmore, after the first few seconds of moonlight exposure, it seemed only to dull, until it looked to be no more than a simple, cheap glass stone.
Even Caressmiya could not ignore the meaning of not only the Crystal's refusal to glow in it's new mistress's hands, but also the meaning of it's continuing dulling to plainness. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, and exhaled slowly through her mouth.
"Give the Crystal back to your sister, Cordaylae," Caressmiya said, her voice tight and sharp. "It has deemed you unworthy."
"Worthless cobbler's junk!" Cordaylae, in her rage, flung the Crystal at Silvra's feet. Caressmiya cried out; surely it would shatter! She mourned the loss of her husband's mother's prized possession…
But the Crystal simply bounced to a tinkling stop at Silvra's feet. Silvra, her silver skirts of the same dress she'd worn to see Altus, pooled around her like liquid silver as she bent over and scooped it up, cradling it to her bosom protectively.
Everyone gasped as light flared from within Silvra's hands. Silvra abruptly pulled her hands away from her self, holding her hands out; the Crystal cupped in her palms. It flashed brightly, once, like a spiraling silver and cream and pale gold starburst.
Then it was done, and Cordaylae stormed off the landing pad, down the catwalk and back into the Tower.
"It seems tradition must be broken," Caressmiya said quietly. But the low volume of her words spoke multitudes, and Silvra trembled. She looked her youngest daughter in the eye.
"You shall return in one year, to attend the Monstrahl gala, and there you will relinquish what ever spell you have cast to keep the Crystal to yourself, do you hear?" Caressmiya's tone was harsh and sharp.
Translation: Find a way to make the Crystal glow in the hands of one of your sisters, so one of them can have it, or else!
Silvra swallowed.
"Yes, my lady mother," Silvra loved her mother too much to argue, plus it was simply not in her nature to do so, unless someone –someone other than herself- was truly being wronged.
"Shinkana, you will accompany your mistress, then upon her safe arrival to her destination you will to see to her comfort for one week, then return here where you will be put in the service of Lady Cordaylae, is that clear?"
"Yes, my lady mistress," Shinkana bowed low. Only ladies curtseyed, and by social status, Kana was not a lady.
"Behave yourself, and do not shame our family further." Caressmiya would have venomously hissed the statement, had she not been a lady of poise and raised among politicians. She very well aware that where her daughter was going, despite the purpose for her going and the reason, she may very well obtain a very influential husband. Should that happen, Caressmiya hoped to avoid future catastrophe for the Monstrahls should Silvra's imagined husband decide to take revenge. She loved her daughter, honest, she did. But for her to be so easily mislead as to consort with…with a common born…
It was only lucky that Captain Terrence was at least quite wealthy. If he had been poor and common, she and her husband would have surely disowned her!
But Caressmiya was saved from that, and she stroked the tear-wetted cheek of her youngest child before passing her, and, not looking back, returning to her rooms in the Tower.
"My lady," A servant had come out of the Valiant and was kneeling before her, the same way the servant that had notified her of Altus's presence had.
"Yes?" Silvra sniffed, wiping her eyes, acknowledging his presence and thus giving him permission to speak.
"My lady, the Captain of your father's vessel bid me inform you that we are ready to liftoff."
"Tell him I'm getting on now," Silvra sniffed.
"Tell your Pilot we are preparing to board presently," Kana gave the proper wording to the servant, knowing her mistress was too distraught to think up and say the right words. The servant, looking up long enough to nod at the handmaiden, murmured the proper phrase, and backed up the ramp.
Kana gave her friend a one armed hug around the shoulders, using the cuff of her sleeve to wipe Silvra's eyes. She then, squeezing Silvra's arm reassuringly, guided her up the ramp and onto the Valiant.
"Jovia, stop!" Nenaphe hissed. Jovia, still struggling against her bonds and her captor, who had his arms around her and was struggling to half drag half shove her down the corridor, paused only long enough to glare at Nenaphe.
"I can't believe your letting these oafs herd us!" Jovia lashed out again with one un-bound foot; they had been untied to allow them to walk. In front of Jovia, Nenaphe, Rodica, and Amenea walked obediently, though Jovia could see all three of them eyeing their surroundings, keeping an eye out for any possible escape that should present itself.
Jovia, on the other hand, was not content to simply keep watch for a blessed opportunity; she made her own opportunities.
"Jovia, you either calm down and quit making things worse before you end up unconscious and with a black eye, or I swear, once we get out of this I'll give you two black eyes and a broken arm to go with it!" Rodica snapped over her shoulder. Jovia, snarling –at Rodica or her sweating, panting captor, she didn't know- reluctantly saw the logic in this (the making things worse part, not the double black eye and broken bone). Stiff, growling, and watchful, she calmed down enough so that the young Elite that'd had her in a hurtlock only needed to keep a strong grip on her arm, the same grip that held the other three.
"I know it isn't my place to ask such things," Nenaphe began a moment later. "But may I inquire as to the reason for our abduction?"
"You speak well for a grundge." The officer who held Amenea said. Amenea's eyes flashed and she elbowed him soundly. In a flash the Elite holding Rodica and Nenaphe drew blasters and pointed them at the blonde, who retaliated by stick out her tongue and crossing her eyes.
"No one calls my friend a…a…that horrible word." Amenea settled when she couldn't bring herself to actually say it.
"Whatever, doll," The same officer sneered. Rodica's nostrils flared, and she took a firm step towards him. Nenaphe held out her arm to block Rodica's path even as Rodica's holder tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her back, her eyes wild and enraged.
"Be glad we're in a generous mood," Jovia growled. "Else you'd be nothing but a sticky mess under my foot." Jovia spat at the one who held Nenaphe, the one who'd used the offensive word and sneered at Amenea. He only laughed obnoxiously. The others remained silent, though the one holding Amenea seemed to have an amused twinkle in his eye…like he knew something that the younger, laughing officer did not.
It was then that Jovia realized that, unlike what she had expected, they were walking down a spotlessly clean, plush carpeted, art-covered-walled corridor, not some stone, gunk covered tunnel leading down to a nightmarish 'questing room' then eternal darkness in a tiny cell…
"She asked you a question, and you have yet to answer," Jovia said lowly, in a darkly dangerous tone. The oldest, clearly higher-ranking officer, as he had a gold hilted saber sword at his side, the one holding Amenea, glanced at her. There was something akin to respect for a fellow fighter in his glance, something that made Jovia make a mental note to just leave him unconscious and not a bloody pulp when she broke free.
"That she did, and t'would be rude of us to decline to provide an answer," The ranking officer nodded to Nenaphe. "But I'm afraid we're under orders to tell you nothing beyond that you are safe and will not be harmed."
Rodica couldn't help it; she laughed. A short, scorning, pitying laugh. "And we're supposed to believe that?" She sniffed. "Get a reality check. Just because we're 'grudges' and female doesn't mean we're idiots. If you didn't plan on doing something perverted or cruel or inhuman, you would have kidnapped us like criminals on the run."
"Watch your mouth, wench," Rodica's holder snapped. Rodica fixed him with a look that suddenly had him sweating…that was a look of someone who had seen more pain and suffering than even a god of suffering should see. It was the look of someone who could burn you alive just by thinking about you, someone who knew your deepest secrets, who could see right through your very flesh and blood to your soul.
Suffice to say, it was very unnerving.
Rodica, deciding to spare the man, looked away, her eyes flitting back to normal.
"Witch," The officer with a grip like a vice on Jovia's arm made the sign against evil. Jovia fixed him with a falsely sweet smile.
"What do you think that makes us?" She said in a mischievous voice. He swallowed. Hard. His grip on her arm became fearful, as if afraid by touching her he had contracted a painful curse. Amenea saw this exchange and giggled. She and Jovia exchanged winks.
All the while they had never stopped their quick pace down the seemingly endless corridor. They passed several '+' crossings, many turn off hallways, and countless double and single doors that doubtlessly led into conference rooms or offices.
After what seemed like forever, they came to one of the smaller turn off hallways, and turned off the main corridor and into it. It wasn't as well lit; the carpet wasn't as fine, but still soft and 'cushy' to the callused bare feet of the four women. Had they not been so stiff and cramped from being all bottled up in the transport vehicle, they would have been sore from all the walking by then.
"You, in there," The Elite officer that held Rodica's arm opened up a door that was on the right side of the hallway and motioned for her to enter. She glared at him.
"Maybe you didn't hear me when I said just because we're- ouch!" Nenaphe's captor gave Rodica a boot in the butt and Rodica went stumbling into the room, screeching obscenities and curses even as her former holder scrambled to close and lock the door.
"Bakayaro!" Jovia snarled, "Rei!" Her mind called after Rodica. Who knew what awaited her in there! All four Elite, including Nenaphe and Amenea, gave her odd looks as she lunged forward. Rodica's former captor hopped back, returning the glare; these men weren't called the 'Elite' for nothing.
When she was forced to calm down as a result of their moving again and pointed looks from Nenaphe, Jovia realized she'd done it again… She'd called Rodica 'Rei' and the Elite 'bakayaros…' whatever that word meant… Whatever it meant, she had the distinct feeling that not only was the meaning not all that flattering, but that she had used it many times before…
Jovia shook her head, causing her loosely tied back, dirty dark brown hair to come loose from the battered ribbon that had previously held her locks away from her face.
What was wrong with her?
She was prevented from pondering this question, however, when they came to a second door, not all that far down from the first, only on the left side of the hallway.
The Elite that had been Rodica's holder unlocked the door and opened it, and Amenea, before she knew what was happening, was shoved inside. She gave an indignant yowl as she tripped over her own feet and landed in a messy tangle. The Elite laughed and closed and locked the door just in time to prevent Amenea from barreling out. A whine of pain was heard as something big slammed into the door just as it closed.
Jovia and Nenaphe called out in surprise and concern.
"Don't worry, she'll be fine," The ranking Elite shook his head. "Come along. Your own suites await."
"Mina…" Jovia didn't bother to fight this time, only rage at herself…. Why was she calling her best friends by alien names???? And what's more, why did the names feel so…appropriate? Like she'd called them that before? She'd never heard those names in her life!
…Had she?
"My lord, they have been placed in their assigned suites with personal handmaidens to assist them in the conference." Had any one of the four girls been present, they would have recognized the speaker as the Elite Captain that had held Amenea. Now, the same man bowed low to another man standing at a window.
The man at the window turned. The light of the new dawn lit up his handsome features, making his shoulder length bright red hair shine. His dark red eyes smiled slightly.
"And Lady Monstrahl?" The man asked. "What news of her, Captain Trippar?"
"My Lady Faesilvria Monstrahl should be arriving momentarily, my lord." Captain Trippar informed him.
"Excellent," The red eyed man set down his glass of a brandy-like drink and regarded the rising sun with reverence.
"Beautiful, is it not?"
"Aye, it is, my lord Asinus," The Captain agreed with a small smile. "It is."
"Please, Trippar, let's not be so formal. Rubar, please." 'Rubar' said to Trippar. Captain Trippar nodded.
"Thank you, my lor- er, Rubar."
"Don't worry," Rubar was smiling. "I know it will take some getting used to. Now, did you have much trouble with the girls?"
"One of them, a brunette, made us fight to earn our bread today, Rubar, but the rest were cooperative enough, but they were as wary as suspicious cats and as fierce as the brown head when they wanted to be, no doubt."
"No doubt…" Rubar smiled and lifted his brandy glass again.
"Rubar, may I speak freely, old friend?" Trippar asked after a moment.
"Hm? Oh, yes, of course, go right ahead," Rubar told him sipping again.
"Rubar, I just have to warn you…if these girls aren't who we think they are…they'll be hell to pay." Trippar was blunt enough, and Rubar grinned wryly.
"'Tis true, Captain," Rubar set his glass down again and leaned against one of the pillars that separated two windows, crossing his arms over his chest casually. "But I am rarely wrong. These girls are the ones who will restore the Elite to their proper position."
"Sir, there is a reason the Elite have been going down in popularity," the Captain said. "The new ones are cocky, proud, spiteful. They are taught the Ways but they do not heed them. Their DNA similarity count to the Senshi is only twenty, at most. Time was it had to be at least forty for you to even be able to test for the Elite cadet academy."
"Times change, Trippar."
"Yes, they do, but the people count on us not to change with it! To always protect those in need, regardless of the danger!" Trippar scowled. "We have a bad name, now. Even with the rich folk. The youngest of us are too power hungry to be trusted, and everyone knows it. If we don't start to tighten the rein, it won't matter how many direct descendants of the Senshi themselves you find, Rubar, you will have a revolution on your hands."
"I know," Rubar surprised Trippar with his agreement. "I know and I have only recently been able to convince the council of what you've just told me. They've agreed to begin…relieving certain officers of their duties. Permanently. But not till we have a…spokesperson, a figurehead, and a powerful one, to back us up. If we don't, Trippar, we very might have, instead of a peasant protesting that would be potentially nasty, we would have an Elite civil war. My preference between the two is obvious, of course."
"Of course," Trippar grinned slightly. "And you think one of these girls might be that figurehead?"
"Oh, no, my friend," Rubar drowned the last of the brandy. "They'll simply be the personal guards of the figurehead."
Amenea whimpered in exaggerated pain as she cradled her bruised elbow, an angry pout on her face. She pulled herself to her feet from her slumped position against the door, wincing as she did so; throwing yourself at steel enforced doors was not fun.
Amenea whirled, forgetting the pain in her elbow, eyes wide and her entire body automatically going into the habitual defense mode essential for survival in Alalia-under. The cause of this reaction was a small, amused, slightly superior sounding giggle.
Amenea's eyes widened when she saw, across the –breathtakingly decorated- large room, apparently some sort of sitting/living room, a young girl of no more than thirteen versus Amenea's sixteen. Her hair was cropped short in the manner reserved for servants, though this servant wore a gold headband, signaling that she was a servant to a wealthy person/organization.
"Welcome to the Headquarters, Miss Harte," The girl said in an innocent voice and bowed slightly. Amenea blinked. They knew her last name? Hardly anyone in Alalia-under even had a last name…
"H-Headquarters?" Amenea swallowed, unconsciously rising up out of her fighter's stance. The girl smiled.
"You are in the West Tower, the tower that houses guests and extra rooms, of the Elite Headquarters in Alalia."
"Alalia-sky, you mean," Amenea translated silently. "Those that live in Alalia-sky consider it the only Alalia worth mentioning; they deny the existence of Alalia-below and even Alalia-between…"
"Why am I here?" Amenea asked, her voice gentle, but ever so slightly cautious. "Who are you? Why are my friends here? What are you doing here?" The girl fidgeted.
"I'm sorry, Miss Harte," She said apologetically. "But I'm not allowed to tell you anything other than-"
"I'm safe and I won't be harmed," Amenea sighed. "Yeah, they already said that."
"As for who I am, Miss, you may call me Yadima." The girl bowed again. Amenea discovered she liked the respectful attention. "And your friends have been escorted to their own suites similar to yours," she motioned to the room around her. "And have been assigned their own maids to help them wash and prepare."
"Wash and prepare? For what?"
"For meeting with the-" Yadima clapped a hand over her mouth. "I…I've said to much, miss…" She swallowed. "Please, I beg of you, do not tell anyone of the words I have just spoken. They will have my hide on the whipping block!"
"Don't worry, kiddo, your secret is safe with me," Amenea said kindly, putting on hand over her heart and raising her other hand as if making a promise, which, actually, she was. She winced as she lowered her arm once more, and, glancing at her elbow, grimaced at the large purple bruise that was forming.
"Let's get that fixed, shall we?" Yadima offered shyly. "A hot bath and some soap and antiseptics should do it. And I believe I have permission to use the Knitter to heal any wounds you may have."
"Knitter?" Amenea blinked, as did Yadima, only in surprise.
"You do not know what a Knitter is?" She asked, surprised. Again, she clasped a hand over her mouth, promptly bowing low. "Forgive me, miss, for my insolent comment."
"Hey, it's okay!" Amenea laughed. "I don't know what a Knitter is. Never heard of one. You want to show me?"
"Perhaps miss would like a bath, first?" She offered in an inoffensive way. Amenea looked at her unwashed self, dirty, speckled with bruises, wearing pants that were two sizes two big and torn off at mid shin, held up with a length of rope, and a length of sallow yellow cloth wrapped around her bosom.
"Yeah, perhaps," Amenea laughed, and let Yadima lead her into a separate room.
"Holy mother of the moon…" Rodica gave an oath she had never used before and had no idea where it came from as she looked in stunned awe at the massive room she now stood in the entrance of.
To her right, on a two foot high dais, with the head against the massive, arched window, was a bed seven feet across and at least eight feet long. It was made of intricately carved and polished deep red cherry wood, and the four posts at each corner of the bed rose twelve feet high to support a redwood lattice. The lattice was hung with red and white and purple crystals, transparent burgundy drapes looped and swung through and around the edge of the lattice.
Straight across from her was a huge mirror, reflecting her dirty and disheveled appearance; greasy, tangled raven hair, dark brown skin, skinny form clad in the tattered remains of a dark gray dress tied with a red ribbon under her bosom.
"Look up there, miss," Mansidi, the little serving girl that had greeted Rodica upon her, er, 'entrance' to the red and violet decorated sitting room, touched Rodica's wrist and pointed upwards.
"Sight beyond sights…" Rodica breathed a familiar oath this time at the sight she met when she tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. At least thirty feet high, surrounded by a thick dark crown molding, was a mural painted on the ceiling. It was of a red haired woman, with an immense sadness in her eyes, holding a sword and standing amidst the remains of a crumbling fortress, or castle. At her foot was a single blood red rose.
Rodica gave a cry and stumbled, falling to one knee.
"Miss? Miss Raptor? Miss?" Mansidi was beside herself with worry as Rodica clutched her temples, sweat dripping onto her closed eyelids, her jaw clenched. Out of her dress fell the gift Mina had given her…the symbol of Mars on a golden oval…
Wait a moment…who was Mina? Amenea had given her the amulet…
Before Rodica could contemplate this –for it was not the first time the name 'Mina' had come to mind- déjà vu so strong it made her nauseous overcame her… And the source, she knew, was the mural high above her…that scene…standing among the ruins of a home you'd fought to protect…the sword…the rose…even the hair…
It was all so familiar it scared Rodica. And Rodica was not easily scared.
But it passed quickly, and Rodica, hiding her shaking limbs, tucked the amulet back under her dress neckline, stood, swallowed harshly, and forced a smile for the panicked Mansidi.
"Low blood sugar," Rodica managed to fish out a suitable excuse for the girl. Mansidi's expression immediately turned to that of pathetic relief.
"Oh, is that all, miss?" Mansidi tried to sound adult. "I shall fetch you some sweets to remedy that once I have helped you with your bath."
"My bath?" Rodica blinked, the déjà vu already retreating to the back of her mind for later examination.
Mansidi, smiling, took Rodica's hand gently and guided her into yet another room that led off the bedroom. It was big, not as big as the bedroom, but bigger than Rodica and Amenea's entire living place in Alalia-under.
On the far side, taking up half the room, was what could only be described as a small pool. Against the wall, pouring scented water into the pool, was a fountain made to look like dancing fire. The water sprouted out of the tip of the rose quartz carved flames and arched to land in the pool halfway across.
Rodica's déjà vu was forgotten.
For the moment.
"Come, miss, in here," Kasanai, a small girl-child of no more than ten years old guided a fascinated, awe struck Nenaphe -who couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful 'bath' with the lovely mermaid fountain the center of the pool- to a place behind a changing screen. It was decorated with the scene of a setting sun on the ocean horizon. There, as directed, Nenaphe undressed and donned a silk, almost sheer pale blue robe.
Nenaphe, after slipping into the robe and tying it about her tiny waist, kneeled and fished around in her pockets for the little thing Amenea had slipped into her hands when they had been dragged out of the truck…
She found it, and her eyes widened. A small package wrapped in cloth and white twine. She untied the twine, and the folds of cloth fell away, revealing, in Nenaphe's palm, something that made her eyes widen and her mouth open in a small 'o' of surprise.
A pen, it was, and a fine pen at that, something the likes of which Nenaphe had only seen once, when Jovia had stolen gold fountain pen to trade with Mina- Nenaphe shook her head. Who was Mina? Jovia had sold the pen Amenea, whom in turn probably sold it to some skytowner.
But this pen…this one seemed to shine from within. It was a pale, pale ice silver blue. There was a ring of cobalt blue around the base of the point of the pen, around the middle, and around the top. But what really caught Nenaphe's eye was that at the top of the pen was a most peculiar emblem; a squat heart with a 't' underneath the heart, the top of the 't' attached to the bottom point of the heart. On the top of the heart, sunk into the dip of the heart was an upside down 'v.' It was on a background of a golden oval hoop.
Memory tickled Nenaphe's mind…and it took her a moment before she managed to grasp what was nagging her; it was the symbol of Hermes, God of the written arts, cleverness, ice, and speed.
Strung through a special hole at the top of the emblem was a string, which Nenaphe used to tie the pen on the inside of her robe, rather than put it back in her skirt pocket; she had a suspicion that if they planned to give her new clothing –which she suspected they did- that they (whoever 'they' was) would probably do away with her scraps of clothing.
Nenaphe stepped out from behind the changing screen, feeling the cold metal of her pen against her flat, hollow belly, and smiled shyly at Kasanai, who guided her to the edge of the pool, where there were steps leading down into the warm, rain scented water.
Without warning, Kasanai yanked the loose end of the cord that tied the robe to Nenaphe, unraveling it, and yanked the robe of Nenaphe, leaving her naked. The pen went with the robe, but, luckily, Kasanai didn't seen to notice as she laid it over a chair.
"Into the water, miss!" Kasanai urged, and Nenaphe needed no further prodding, practically leaping into the water in an effort to hide her nakedness.
"Over here, if you will, miss," Nenaphe hardly heard Kasanai, she was so enshrouded in bliss. Surely it wasn't healthy that simply being surrounded by water was this pleasurable… Nenaphe had always loved water, yes, but this…this was pure ecstasy as she felt the soap and scent and anti-germy stuff in the water begin to eat away at sixteen years of grime and dirt and sewer living.
But, hear Kasanai she did, and Nenaphe half water-hopped half swimmed to the end of the pool, where there was a water proof, cushioned seat that was high enough for Nenaphe to lean her head back into a special, smooth, arch indention in the edge of the pool. Nenaphe hopped up into it, and Kasanai guided her head back into the specially shaped impression; her head and neck fit perfectly into the cushioned surface. It all fell into place so that the top of Nenaphe's head was above a small basin in the floor, filled with more warm, scented water.
Nenaphe was surprised, but pleased when she felt Kasanai pour warm water over her head, wetting her filthy black locks thoroughly. Nenaphe sighed with relaxing bliss when Kasanai began to massage scented soaps and shampoos and conditioners into Nenaphe's scalp, soaking her hair in special treatment creams and working the soap in the hair into a lush lather.
Again Nenaphe's hair was rinsed, then again it was washed and scrubbed, this time with anti-insect and parasite formulas that smelled unpleasant, but the rinsing and third, lavender scented shampooing that came after was worth it.
When that was done and Nenaphe's hair was left to soak in the conditioning solution Kasanai had worked into her hair and scalp, Kasanai handed Nenaphe a bar of fragrant soap and a soft wash cloth. Nenaphe began to bathe herself, sitting up while she did so, scrubbing ever inch of her body. Had she been in a smaller tub, it was quite obvious that the water would have been murky and opaque before she'd even been half done.
As it was, Nenaphe used up half the bar of soap and permanently stained the cloth from white to pale brown before Kasanai had Nenaphe put her head back again for a final rinsing.
When that was done, Nenaphe accepted a new cloth, used up the other half of the soap bar, scrubbing till her skin was raw and pink. Then came some moisturizing body wash Kasanai insisted she use. After half the bottle was used to thoroughly cleanse and moisturize every pore in her body, Nenaphe swam laps from one end of the pool to the other, reveling in the sensation of being clean.
Only when Nenaphe's skin began to prune to the extent that she was beginning to loose decent feeling in her fingertips did she let Kasanai give her a hand up out of the pool. Nenaphe was, luckily, no longer embarrassed to the point of going completely red at being naked in front of the girl-child. Granted, her sense of modesty still rendered her uncomfortable, but she no longer wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
Kasanai helped Nenaphe get thoroughly towel dried before helping her slip on the pale blue robe. Again, Kasanai somehow didn't notice the ice blue pen as she tied the cord around Nenaphe's waist.
Nenaphe sat at Kasanai's insistence before a large vanity, and blinked in surprise at her reflection; this was the first time she had seen herself –all of herself, at least, more than half her face at a time- in the same glance. She touched her pale white skin, blinked deep cobalt blue eyes, and touched dripping wet black hair.
Kasanai, smiling in amusement, lifted a hair blow drier and scissors and set to trimming and blow drying Nenaphe's hair.
When it was done, it was seen, to both Nenaphe's and Kasanai's extreme surprise, that Nenaphe had blue, deep blue, natural blue highlights! Her hair was actually a blue so dark it was black!
As Nenaphe touched her satin soft, earlobe length locks in awe, she wondered what Lita was- Lita?
Nenaphe blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. Who was Lita?
Wait, hadn't that been what she had called Jovia in the sewer tunnel when the Elite had captured her? She hadn't realized, or at least hadn't had time to ponder the odd act at that time, but now…
Why had she called Jovia 'Lita?'
It didn't make sense…
Nenaphe shook her head again.
She hoped Jovia and Rodica and Amenea were all okay…
She also wondered in amusement, remembering the length of the other girls' tresses, how long it had taken, if they had been given the same treatment as her, for their hair to be dried!
"Ouch!" Jovia cried, scowling at the girl in the mirror, who was brushing out her hip length, wet, thoroughly washed and scrubbed hair.
"Sorry, miss," The girl audibly suppressed sigh. Jovia scowled. Why hadn't the kid thought to brush her hair before she washed it? They'd never get out all the tangles!
Despite yowls of exaggerated pain and curses and half-hearted apologies, Jovia's hair lay smoothly down her back. The edge sections that had already begun to dry into strands of spun chocolate were showing signs of soft curling waves.
The handmaiden girl, Geniva, picked up a hair blow drier and began to softly heat the wet strands. The water clinging to each hair evaporated under the heat, leaving Jovia's hair long and soft and fluffy until Geniva took a brush, the bristles coated with an anti-frizz compound, and brushed her hair again.
Geniva then set to styling it, picking up a hair curler and opening a drawer in the small mini, foot tall dresser that was on the right of the vanity/dresser that Jovia was sitting at. It was full of jeweled bobby pins and hair ties.
"Nu-uh, no way, I'm not sitting through that sort of torture," Jovia shook her head fiercely, then took the hair curler from Geniva's hands and put it down, then selected for herself a green hair elastic. Picking up a gold plated brush, she swept her hair up into a high, smooth ponytail, leaving her newly cut bangs free along with two thick tendrils, one in front of each ear, to wave down to her breasts.
She secured her hair with the hair elastic, and allowed Geniva to stick into two pins, the pins have one huge green marble on the end of each. Geniva brushed out the ponytail, which went to Jovia's mid back, before declaring it done, if under-fancy.
"Everybody has their own preferences," Jovia said, biting back the more stinging words she had wanted to use for the sake of Geniva only being a child.
Refreshed, her skin and scalp still tingling from the sensation of being free, Geniva led Jovia under a tall, arched doorway that proved to be the entrance to a huge dressing room. But despite its size, there weren't all that many things in there. At least, for a rich person. For Jovia, it was more clothing than she'd ever seen in one place in her whole life.
There was what could only be a ball gown, in the deepest hunter green, trimmed with cream lace. Some sort of uniform, casual, and another uniform, more formal. Next to those were a few shirts, skirts, shorts, pants, jackets, blouses, and a few casual dresses. There were shoes on the floor, and even a hat or two on a shelf. In the middle of the room was a round section of the floor that had been raised to about three feet high. There was a step or two next to for easier ascending.
Geniva motioned for Jovia to mount the mini-stage, which Jovia did with some caution. Once she stood, Geniva surprised her by snatching away her rose pink robe. Jovia cried out in surprise, snapping curses and oaths as she tried to cover herself with one hand and hide her amulet in her other. Geniva didn't notice either action, though, and proceeded to pull a pair of underwear and a bra out of a drawer. She handed them to Jovia –who discovered both garments to be silk- and quickly put them on, not thinking to check for poisonous creams or powders.
Geniva then selected a pair of fitting, hip-hugging pants in dark brown leather, well worked so that they were soft and malleable. Jovia slipped them on; they fit perfect, and they were wonderful for easy maneuvering, and low enough –an inch or two below her belly button- that they allowed her to bend over enough to touch her toes. Jovia leaned back up from testing this for herself when Geniva tapped her on the shoulder and silently handed her a dark forest green, sparkling shirt made out of a 'slinky' material. Jovia slipped it on and discovered the neckline to be that of a low 'v.'
The 'v' of the neckline was gathered and scrunched at the bottom of the 'v,' as if it had originally been a square neckline, then someone had grabbed it in the middle and pulled it down, gathering material as it did so. It was clipped with a disk that was covered in the same material as the shirt.
The sleeves were full, and took up enough material on their own to make a skirt. They flowed and swished with her movements, like a dancer's skirt, and went down to her elbows. They were slit on the outside of the sleeve, clear up to her shoulders.
Jovia sat down on the edge of dais, and Geniva mutely handed her warm socks and well made black boots, which Jovia quickly donned and laced up tight.
When that was done, Geniva had her sit still while she put a light, scented powder on her face, took a lip liner pencil to her lips, mascara to her eyelashes, and added apple flavored lip gloss.
For the final touch, something that Geniva said was a necessity, Jovia flung a deep hunter green, nearly black, full length, full cape/cloak behind her, clasping it to her shirt. The cloak was made of a light, gauzy material and hardly weighed a thing. A light gold chain ran from the cape's right clasp down across her torso to Jovia's left hip, where it was pinned to her pants, out of sight.
Gold pearl stud earrings, a simple gold ring with three gold pearls, one in the middle and two smaller on each side, and a matching gold pearl on a clear plastic string around her neck were the finishing touches. Jovia had argued against these things–except the ring, since rings were good for punching; they added pain- but Geniva had been relentless, and Jovia had eventually given up, simply tucking the Jupiter amulet under her low neckline, glad the cord was long.
At last, to Jovia's great joy and relief, Geniva deemed her ready, and led her out a second door that led out of the dressing room, and entered the bedchambers once more. On her way out, the weightless, flowing cloak floating out behind her slightly from the wind made by her brisk movements, Jovia glanced up at the high (understatement) ceiling once more. She smiled; it was a breathtaking scene of a lightning storm. If one were too look closely, one could barely make out the face of a beautiful woman in the clouds, illuminated by the lightning.
"Miss," Geniva said, opening the door of the bedchambers and bowing slightly. Jovia, suddenly feeling the part of the person who would typically wear and live among such grandeur, squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode out. Geniva moved ahead of her and opened the door that Jovia had originally been through in through, and again the girl bowed, giving Jovia a wink. Jovia, softening, smiled at her.
"Thanks for all your help," She said, slightly awkward; she didn't thank people very often. She did it more than Rodica, but not all that often nonetheless.
Jovia, suddenly nervous, stepped outside the suite of rooms and straight into the center of a square made by four armed Elite guards. Jovia swallowed, touched her amulet under her shirt briefly, before standing up straight once more, fixing her face with a blank mask, and let the troop lead her down the hall towards the main corridor once more…
Despite her preset blank expression, Jovia was unable to mask the expression or cry of delight that she released when they rounded the corner and she saw, ahead of her, three more sets of armed Elite guards around an expertly and expensively dressed girl, each in a different set of colors.
Right in front of Jovia, with a brilliant smile on her face, Amenea whirled surprisingly quickly and smoothly, considering the tight, short, bright golden yellow mini skirt she wore. It, too, was low riding, and her top was a bright orange red with metallic gold thread weaving through it, giving it a dazzling, sparkling look in the light. It was short enough to show her belly button when she moved, and it was long sleeved, the sleeves being snug and fitted down to her wrists. It was off the shoulders; her body, halfway down her breasts and on up, was completely bare, clear across her chest and shoulders, except for one orange ribbon around her neck which served as a choker, with a red gem in the center of the ribbon.
She also had a cape similar to Jovia's, hers made of pale gold. It was attached at the back of her choker, then it flared out into a multitude of folds of silky, flowing, almost transparent material. It was attached to her sleeves at half way down the upper arms, the elbows, and wrists.
But what was really breathtaking was Amenea's long, awe enticing hair. It fell to her knees in a luxurious cascade of spun white gold. Not a single split end, spec of dirt, blemish, or hair out of place. The top part of her hair was swept up into a perfect braided bun, held in place by a gold, ruby and sapphire studded domed cage. A few ringlets framed her shining face and bright blue eyes.
"Hey!" Amenea exclaimed as they continued their march down the corridor. "You look great!"
"So do you!" Jovia grinned. "You could pass for a princess!"
"That's what Yadima said!" Amenea giggled.
"Yadima?" Jovia asked.
"My 'maid," Amenea giggled. "Can you believe it? I had a handmaid!"
"Me too!" Jovia grinned. "Her name was Geniva."
"Oooh, how pretty!" Amenea gushed. Jovia laughed. It seemed a good washing and new clothes and done them both good…they hadn't laughed quite this freely for quite some time…and it seemed, up ahead, Nenaphe and Rodica were having an equally joyful chat…
"So you've got one, too? And Jovia sto- er, has 'acquired' one, as well?" Rodica inquired, ruby lips pursed, deep royal purple eyes –matching her newly revealed (via good washing) royal purple highlights in her otherwise pitch black hair- flashing in fascination. Nenaphe nodded her confirmation, sparkling sapphire eye shadow making her eyes seem like sparkling azure stones. Her petite, glossy pink lips in a small smile.
"Isn't that odd that we all have the exact same amulet? Only with different symbols?" Nenaphe said. "I find it very peculiar."
"It's even more odd that the each of our symbols is the rune of a god that fits each of us rather well," Rodica commented. Again, Nenaphe nodded.
"Quite…" Nenaphe agreed.
"I find it double weird that we both have natural highlights in such rare colors, too," Rodica said with a smile. "Isn't that, like, a sign or something, don't you think?"
"It is quite a coincidence," Nenaphe smiled. "And both of ours bring out our eyes quite well."
"'Course, the color coordinated outfits don't hurt!" Rodica laughed, and Nenaphe chuckled cutely. Indeed, they were both dressed to match their unique hair qualities. Nenaphe herself was in a black skirt that went to her knees. It was full and gathered and flared out completely vertical when she spun fast enough; she wore very short spandex shorts under the skirt because of it. The inch and a half wide waistband was just below her belly button, and it, and the hem, was intricately embroidered with silver thread and blue beads.
Her top was something Nenaphe was desperately hoping she'd be allowed to keep; cobalt blue and fitted, snug, made of a semi stretchy material that clung to every curve. It was long enough so that the hem barely touched the top of the waistband of her skirt. It had a low, square neckline edged in the same black ribbon, silver embroidery that was on the waistband.
But it was the sleeves that really made the outfit. They were snug and fitted till halfway down her arm, where a black band that matched her skirt's waistband and hem kept it snug against her elbow. Then it flared out, the soft, raw silk material gathered with enough material for a whole other outfit! The sleeves were long, going to her knees, swishing and flowing like the sleeves of an angel's gown.
Her hair had been curled, so that her tresses were temporarily a springy mass of soft ringlets, her bangs pinned back with silver, black pearl and blue crystal beaded clips. A ring that wrapped around her finger in a spiral from her knuckle to the base of her finger was in silver, with tiny pearls embedded in it. There was the most delicate silver chain strung loosely around the base of her throat, studded with black pearls that were an inch apart. The finishing touch was black pearl stud earrings, with a silver chain as thin as a thread hanging from it, with another pearl at the end of the silver chain/thread.
Last, but not least, she, like Jovia and Amenea, had a flowing, raw silk, pale blue cape that was clipped to her shoulders. A silver chain hung down across her chest, from one clasp to the other, loosely enough so that the chain tickled her occasionally bare belly button.
"Did you pick out your outfit?" Rodica wanted to know. Nenaphe blushed.
"Oh, goodness, no!" She plucked at the snug bodice of her top. "As much as I love this outfit now, I never would have picked it, let alone put it together… Little Kasanai has very good taste," Nenaphe smiled at the memory of the cute, very helpful little handmaiden.
"Poor Mansidi has very poor taste," Rodica laughed. "She told me so herself, so one of her friends had already pre-selected an outfit for me." She smoothed the black, shiny, hip hugging, low riding, belly-button revealing pleather pants with red and purple filigree on the flared bottom half of her pants and waistband.
Her shirt was snug, full sleeved with a high, boat neckline, edged in dark purple. But the top itself was short enough that it only came down to just under her bosom, where royal purple beads on threads dangled down to tickle her bare, tight, muscled midriff. She wore black ankle boots, dangling ruby earrings, and only a small section of her bangs pinned back with a ruby clip. Tiny round, purple gems on special magnets were scattered among her long, knee length raven hair.
Her cape was identical to Jovia's except the fact that it was full enough that when she stretched her arms out as far to the side, straight out, as they would go, the cape reached to and was attached to the gold rings on her middle fingers. It did this with enough excess material so that it was far from being pulled taut.
"I wonder what's with the capes…" Rodica mussed, fiddling with one of the rings that the cape was attached to.
"Probably some sort of status declaration," Nenaphe observed. "Or perhaps to show that we're all together."
"Or maybe whoever planned our wardrobes just likes to be frivolous?"
Nenaphe laughed. "I doubt it." She smiled.
"Look straight ahead, ladies, stop your chatter, and look presentable," A 'guard' that was ahead of Rodica and wasn't part of the square around Rodica, who was in front of Nenaphe, snapped.
When he turned away, Rodica stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her eyes. Nenaphe, while slightly fearful that the man would whirl around and slice off that tongue, couldn't help put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, lest she giggle.
Behind her, Amenea turned to face forward as well, and hers and Jovia's brief exchange ceased as well.
Presently they came to an arched doorway, with no doors, which lead into a lush, well kept and very well landscaped garden courtyard. They crossed the courtyard briefly, Elite officers watching them with interested looks, some a bit more interested than was proper. To those, Rodica and Jovia glared, Nenaphe blushed and adverted her gaze, and Amenea smirked or winked.
They crossed the courtyard quickly enough, Jovia, along with Nenaphe, Rodica, and Amenea, mourning the loss of the brief sunlight on the skin, as well as the intoxicating scent of wild flowers and jungle blooms, all in the same place thanks to controlled climate sections.
They crossed the courtyard and entered a building. From the brief, rough layout Kasanai had described to Nenaphe, she estimated that they were probably in the Main Tower of the Elite headquarters. The Elite headquarters were made of three towers; the East Tower, the barracks and the training courts and gyms, the Main Tower conference rooms, meeting rooms, ball rooms, offices, and the West Tower; guest suites, extra conference rooms, storage, power generators, ect.
The came to an air lift, and they each too turns on it, five at a time; four guards, one girl, still in the center.
When they were all on the fifth level, Nenaphe estimated, they resumed their trek down another, larger, more intricately decorated corridor to a pair of huge double doors. The doors were opened; the guards turned to face each other, and stepped away, forming two straight lines on either side of the door. The man that had been leading the whole procession, entered, bowed, and the turned and waved for Rodica to come forward. Nenaphe followed, Amenea and Jovia behind her. They quickly came together to form one group, not bothering to stay in the single file line as the man had obviously wished.
Now that Amenea was close enough to get a good look at him, she saw that it was the same man whom had been her captor when they had dragged them to the suites of rooms. She gave him a wink as she passed him.
"Ah, ladies," a voice greeted them upon entering the large room, with a long, wide, mahogany, polished table going down the center. At the far end was a small stage like dais and a large window behind it, and there were several arched, slender windows a few feet apart on both walls, but it was the young woman, not the man that rose to greet them, that caught all their eyes.
The woman, with a younger girl sitting beside her, obviously a handmaiden, drew in a sharp breath at the site of them, as did Rodica.
"I know her…" was all Rodica could think before their eyes met, all of them looking into the silver-blue orbs of the young woman, and her eyes somehow meeting theirs all at once…
Time seemed to stop, the sunlight itself froze its journey from the sun to earth, the stars paused their eternal song, fire ceased its dancing, the ocean's roar was silenced, and everything came crashing down…
To Be Continued….
Hiya, peeps! Thanks soooooo much for the feedback! It's been great!
You know, I had chapter one written the next day after I posted the prologue, but then there was that STUPID, ENRAGING 'we're partially down for maintenance and a major fixer-upper so you can't login' deal I couldn't load it. So now it's been loaded, along with this one. Yes, I deliberately posted this one two days after Chapter one even though I'd had it written long before I posted chapter one. Why? Because, in my experience, you get more reviews that way. *halo*
Okay, I'm almost done with chapter three, where they should at least begin to suspect who they really are/were. Are the new names confusing? I kept them semi-similar to their original names. Except Nenaphe…but it was such a cute and pretty name and it fit Ami so well…. *sigh*
If you find the new names confusing, let me know and if enough people find it just plain awkward then I will rewrite it and do away with the new names, kay?
Also, if you want a good good, well done, imagination inspiring, but short fantasy one shot fic, then 'Beauty's Rose' is purrrrrrrrfect! It's done by a wonderful author, Azhuaea Fluer. It's just a lil food for thought fic about the sorceress who cursed the beast in Beauty and the Beast. We're NOT talking Disney, people. Have any of you actually read the ORIGINAL Beauty and the Beast? Think Charles Dickens level. This is no little girl fairy tale.
Anyhoo, hope ya liked the fic, and remember; review. Button. Be. Friend. *halo* Ja ne!
Hope Makes the Universe Shine,
Makura Koneko
P.S. I know, I KNOW I wasted a lot of time and effort and space on the outfit decorations, but…hey, I'm a girl, okay? I've said it before and I shall say it again; I'm as girly girl as you can get and it shows! *sweatdrop* Tell me if you think I'm going into TOO much detail, and I'll try (note: I said 'try.') to cut back, kay? Kay. Ja! -Makura Koneko
ALL STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY
2 By Makura Koneko
2.1 Chapter Two
"Where the hades are we going and what the double-hades happened?" Jovia was positively livid as she wrestled with her restrains, course rope securing her hands behind her back and her ankles out in front of her. She was leaning against the side of the spotlessly room that –from the rocking and jerking- Jovia guessed was the trunk of a truck. A single light in the ceiling swayed and swung, casing eerie, ever changing shadows over them all.
"If I knew that I would have told you," Rodica snapped.
"Guess, stop it!" Nenaphe said briskly. "Rodie, you know Jovia wasn't directing that at you. Don't take it as an insult to your foresight."
"But she's right," Amenea sighed. "Jovia, I mean," She added. "What happened, and where are we going?"
"I personally, would also like to know 'why." Nenaphe said, frowning, deep in thought. "And why us?"
"Guys…" Amenea bit her lip. "If this is connected to…to my…line of work, then… God, then I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay, Amenea," Jovia said, calm now. She tipped her head back and rested it against the metal side of the interior of…whatever it was they were in. It was barely seven feet long and five feet wide, and only four feet high.
"Hey, it's not her fault!" Rodica snapped, glaring at the brunette, whose head snapped up to glare Rodica with a snarl.
"While we appreciate your concerns and apologies Amenea," Nenaphe cut in. "I doubt this is at all your fault. If this is related to your…dealings, then why are we the only prisoners?"
"There might be others," Rodica pointed out. "In other transport vehicles."
"But then why were we grouped together?" Nenaphe raised an eyebrow. "That is a bit too much of a coincidence."
"Maybe they know we're the closest to Amenea," Jovia shrugged. Again Nenaphe shook her head.
"These are the Elite we're dealing with." Nenaphe stated the obvious. "While they may be a nuisance to our only means of survival in Alalia- under, they are not evil, and they are most certainly not stupid. If they do indeed know us as the closest ones to Amena, then they would most likely assume we are the ringleaders in whatever theft or smuggling operation they're arresting us for. They wouldn't put the leaders together in the same place, out of common sense. Think about it. If you had the leaders of a group you wanted to shut down, when you captured them, would you give them a chance to accumulate a plan of retreat or escape?"
"The mouse has a point," Rodica said after a moment. In typical gentle Nenaphe fashion, she was not offended by the comparison Rodica made of her and a rodent.
"Well, that rules out one speculation as to why we're here," Rodica said after a moment of thoughtful silence that was shared by all present. "But that still leaves the question of why we were taken in the first place."
Further speculation and conversation was prevented by the abrupt jerking and slamming and yanking around of the cargo area they were being kept in. Amena slammed into Nenaphe, and Jovia barely moved her head out of the way of Rodica's bound feet, which had flown up as she tipped over.
Just as suddenly as the chaos had been raised, it stopped. The doors, to Rodica's left and Nenaphe's–who was sitting across from Rodica- right, were rattled and the sounds of jangling chains was heard.
"Guys…" Amenea swallowed. "I don't know why we're here, but as for where we've been going… I think we're about to find out…."
Silvra swallowed hard and lifted her chin, clearly revealing the Monstrahl family Crystal in the hollow of her throat, shimmering in all its glory under the moonlight. Silvra, surrounded by eight guards –those eight guards not including Captain Arden Terrence- was escorted to her family's main landing pad that extended from the building she lived in near the top of their family's personal Sky Tower, the Monstrahl Tower.
Silvra felt for sure that her father, after seeing her beloved Arden and herself in such a compromising position (kneeling together on the floor, arms wrapped around each other, locked in a soul-searing kiss…), was shipping her off to some suitor to be married on the spot. Probably in hopes of preventing such 'outrageous' occurrences from happening again.
Faersilvria Monstrahl, youngest lady of the High House of Monstrahl, was met by her mother, her eldest sister, and Silvra's personal maid and best friend, Shinkana, at the foot of the boarding ramp that led into the underbelly of the grand cruise vessel, the Valiant.
Silvra's mother, the lovely Caressmiya, was stiff-backed, her face pale and drawn in what young, innocent Silvra was sure to be barely restrained rage. Silvra swallowed yet again, as if trying to wet her parched throat at the same time trying to swallow her fear. It didn't work.
"My lady mother," Silvra, her high, sweet voice shaky. She tightened her jaw to keep her lower lip from trembling. She bobbed a slight curtsey. When she rose, Caressmiya reached out and touched her daughter's cheek, gently. Her face softened slightly, then hardened again when she spotted the gleaming silver Crystal at her throat. She stiffened noticeably, and before Silvra could react, her mother snatched it from her throat. The chain, before snapping, sliced a deep gouge into the back of Silvra's neck, bringing tears to her eyes as her hand flew up to where her crystal had once lain.
"You may no longer bear the house Crystal," Caressmiya said stiffly. Did Silvra detect a hint of…regret in her mother's voice? She dared not hope…
"It is family law that the Crystal remain in possession of the family and stay here at the Monstrahl Tower. You, my child, will not be returning for quite some time, if ever. Therefore I strip you of it. It is no longer your responsibility nor privilege. I, mistress of the House of Monstrahl, deem this so." It was a harsher variation of the verbal part of the ceremony that was used when the crystal went to a new female member of the family.
Silvra's throat tightened again, and tears welled up in her eyes. She did not make any attempt to stopper them; she knew what was about to happen next.
Cordaylae, Silvra's eldest sister, smirked with pride and arrogance in all her dark colored beauty –raven hair, the deepest hazel eyes, porcelain skin- as Caressmiya turned to her firstborn and raised the Crystal up before her face. Cordaylae raised her palm, and Caressmiya set it in her hand. Cordaylae clasped her fist around it, smirking at her youngest sister all the while. Of all Silvra's family, Cordaylae was the most spiteful.
"I accept this honor and responsibility, my lady mother," Cordaylae said with great pomp, even though the only witnesses were her own sister and mother, a maid, and eight guards. She cupped the crystal on the broken chain in both hands and held it out slowly, so that the moonlight, high overhead, reflected off it's shimmering surface. Everyone held his or her breath for the breathtakingly brilliant shine that was to come, signaling the crystal's acceptance of its new bearer.
It never came.
Whatsmore, after the first few seconds of moonlight exposure, it seemed only to dull, until it looked to be no more than a simple, cheap glass stone.
Even Caressmiya could not ignore the meaning of not only the Crystal's refusal to glow in it's new mistress's hands, but also the meaning of it's continuing dulling to plainness. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, and exhaled slowly through her mouth.
"Give the Crystal back to your sister, Cordaylae," Caressmiya said, her voice tight and sharp. "It has deemed you unworthy."
"Worthless cobbler's junk!" Cordaylae, in her rage, flung the Crystal at Silvra's feet. Caressmiya cried out; surely it would shatter! She mourned the loss of her husband's mother's prized possession…
But the Crystal simply bounced to a tinkling stop at Silvra's feet. Silvra, her silver skirts of the same dress she'd worn to see Altus, pooled around her like liquid silver as she bent over and scooped it up, cradling it to her bosom protectively.
Everyone gasped as light flared from within Silvra's hands. Silvra abruptly pulled her hands away from her self, holding her hands out; the Crystal cupped in her palms. It flashed brightly, once, like a spiraling silver and cream and pale gold starburst.
Then it was done, and Cordaylae stormed off the landing pad, down the catwalk and back into the Tower.
"It seems tradition must be broken," Caressmiya said quietly. But the low volume of her words spoke multitudes, and Silvra trembled. She looked her youngest daughter in the eye.
"You shall return in one year, to attend the Monstrahl gala, and there you will relinquish what ever spell you have cast to keep the Crystal to yourself, do you hear?" Caressmiya's tone was harsh and sharp.
Translation: Find a way to make the Crystal glow in the hands of one of your sisters, so one of them can have it, or else!
Silvra swallowed.
"Yes, my lady mother," Silvra loved her mother too much to argue, plus it was simply not in her nature to do so, unless someone –someone other than herself- was truly being wronged.
"Shinkana, you will accompany your mistress, then upon her safe arrival to her destination you will to see to her comfort for one week, then return here where you will be put in the service of Lady Cordaylae, is that clear?"
"Yes, my lady mistress," Shinkana bowed low. Only ladies curtseyed, and by social status, Kana was not a lady.
"Behave yourself, and do not shame our family further." Caressmiya would have venomously hissed the statement, had she not been a lady of poise and raised among politicians. She very well aware that where her daughter was going, despite the purpose for her going and the reason, she may very well obtain a very influential husband. Should that happen, Caressmiya hoped to avoid future catastrophe for the Monstrahls should Silvra's imagined husband decide to take revenge. She loved her daughter, honest, she did. But for her to be so easily mislead as to consort with…with a common born…
It was only lucky that Captain Terrence was at least quite wealthy. If he had been poor and common, she and her husband would have surely disowned her!
But Caressmiya was saved from that, and she stroked the tear-wetted cheek of her youngest child before passing her, and, not looking back, returning to her rooms in the Tower.
"My lady," A servant had come out of the Valiant and was kneeling before her, the same way the servant that had notified her of Altus's presence had.
"Yes?" Silvra sniffed, wiping her eyes, acknowledging his presence and thus giving him permission to speak.
"My lady, the Captain of your father's vessel bid me inform you that we are ready to liftoff."
"Tell him I'm getting on now," Silvra sniffed.
"Tell your Pilot we are preparing to board presently," Kana gave the proper wording to the servant, knowing her mistress was too distraught to think up and say the right words. The servant, looking up long enough to nod at the handmaiden, murmured the proper phrase, and backed up the ramp.
Kana gave her friend a one armed hug around the shoulders, using the cuff of her sleeve to wipe Silvra's eyes. She then, squeezing Silvra's arm reassuringly, guided her up the ramp and onto the Valiant.
"Jovia, stop!" Nenaphe hissed. Jovia, still struggling against her bonds and her captor, who had his arms around her and was struggling to half drag half shove her down the corridor, paused only long enough to glare at Nenaphe.
"I can't believe your letting these oafs herd us!" Jovia lashed out again with one un-bound foot; they had been untied to allow them to walk. In front of Jovia, Nenaphe, Rodica, and Amenea walked obediently, though Jovia could see all three of them eyeing their surroundings, keeping an eye out for any possible escape that should present itself.
Jovia, on the other hand, was not content to simply keep watch for a blessed opportunity; she made her own opportunities.
"Jovia, you either calm down and quit making things worse before you end up unconscious and with a black eye, or I swear, once we get out of this I'll give you two black eyes and a broken arm to go with it!" Rodica snapped over her shoulder. Jovia, snarling –at Rodica or her sweating, panting captor, she didn't know- reluctantly saw the logic in this (the making things worse part, not the double black eye and broken bone). Stiff, growling, and watchful, she calmed down enough so that the young Elite that'd had her in a hurtlock only needed to keep a strong grip on her arm, the same grip that held the other three.
"I know it isn't my place to ask such things," Nenaphe began a moment later. "But may I inquire as to the reason for our abduction?"
"You speak well for a grundge." The officer who held Amenea said. Amenea's eyes flashed and she elbowed him soundly. In a flash the Elite holding Rodica and Nenaphe drew blasters and pointed them at the blonde, who retaliated by stick out her tongue and crossing her eyes.
"No one calls my friend a…a…that horrible word." Amenea settled when she couldn't bring herself to actually say it.
"Whatever, doll," The same officer sneered. Rodica's nostrils flared, and she took a firm step towards him. Nenaphe held out her arm to block Rodica's path even as Rodica's holder tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her back, her eyes wild and enraged.
"Be glad we're in a generous mood," Jovia growled. "Else you'd be nothing but a sticky mess under my foot." Jovia spat at the one who held Nenaphe, the one who'd used the offensive word and sneered at Amenea. He only laughed obnoxiously. The others remained silent, though the one holding Amenea seemed to have an amused twinkle in his eye…like he knew something that the younger, laughing officer did not.
It was then that Jovia realized that, unlike what she had expected, they were walking down a spotlessly clean, plush carpeted, art-covered-walled corridor, not some stone, gunk covered tunnel leading down to a nightmarish 'questing room' then eternal darkness in a tiny cell…
"She asked you a question, and you have yet to answer," Jovia said lowly, in a darkly dangerous tone. The oldest, clearly higher-ranking officer, as he had a gold hilted saber sword at his side, the one holding Amenea, glanced at her. There was something akin to respect for a fellow fighter in his glance, something that made Jovia make a mental note to just leave him unconscious and not a bloody pulp when she broke free.
"That she did, and t'would be rude of us to decline to provide an answer," The ranking officer nodded to Nenaphe. "But I'm afraid we're under orders to tell you nothing beyond that you are safe and will not be harmed."
Rodica couldn't help it; she laughed. A short, scorning, pitying laugh. "And we're supposed to believe that?" She sniffed. "Get a reality check. Just because we're 'grudges' and female doesn't mean we're idiots. If you didn't plan on doing something perverted or cruel or inhuman, you would have kidnapped us like criminals on the run."
"Watch your mouth, wench," Rodica's holder snapped. Rodica fixed him with a look that suddenly had him sweating…that was a look of someone who had seen more pain and suffering than even a god of suffering should see. It was the look of someone who could burn you alive just by thinking about you, someone who knew your deepest secrets, who could see right through your very flesh and blood to your soul.
Suffice to say, it was very unnerving.
Rodica, deciding to spare the man, looked away, her eyes flitting back to normal.
"Witch," The officer with a grip like a vice on Jovia's arm made the sign against evil. Jovia fixed him with a falsely sweet smile.
"What do you think that makes us?" She said in a mischievous voice. He swallowed. Hard. His grip on her arm became fearful, as if afraid by touching her he had contracted a painful curse. Amenea saw this exchange and giggled. She and Jovia exchanged winks.
All the while they had never stopped their quick pace down the seemingly endless corridor. They passed several '+' crossings, many turn off hallways, and countless double and single doors that doubtlessly led into conference rooms or offices.
After what seemed like forever, they came to one of the smaller turn off hallways, and turned off the main corridor and into it. It wasn't as well lit; the carpet wasn't as fine, but still soft and 'cushy' to the callused bare feet of the four women. Had they not been so stiff and cramped from being all bottled up in the transport vehicle, they would have been sore from all the walking by then.
"You, in there," The Elite officer that held Rodica's arm opened up a door that was on the right side of the hallway and motioned for her to enter. She glared at him.
"Maybe you didn't hear me when I said just because we're- ouch!" Nenaphe's captor gave Rodica a boot in the butt and Rodica went stumbling into the room, screeching obscenities and curses even as her former holder scrambled to close and lock the door.
"Bakayaro!" Jovia snarled, "Rei!" Her mind called after Rodica. Who knew what awaited her in there! All four Elite, including Nenaphe and Amenea, gave her odd looks as she lunged forward. Rodica's former captor hopped back, returning the glare; these men weren't called the 'Elite' for nothing.
When she was forced to calm down as a result of their moving again and pointed looks from Nenaphe, Jovia realized she'd done it again… She'd called Rodica 'Rei' and the Elite 'bakayaros…' whatever that word meant… Whatever it meant, she had the distinct feeling that not only was the meaning not all that flattering, but that she had used it many times before…
Jovia shook her head, causing her loosely tied back, dirty dark brown hair to come loose from the battered ribbon that had previously held her locks away from her face.
What was wrong with her?
She was prevented from pondering this question, however, when they came to a second door, not all that far down from the first, only on the left side of the hallway.
The Elite that had been Rodica's holder unlocked the door and opened it, and Amenea, before she knew what was happening, was shoved inside. She gave an indignant yowl as she tripped over her own feet and landed in a messy tangle. The Elite laughed and closed and locked the door just in time to prevent Amenea from barreling out. A whine of pain was heard as something big slammed into the door just as it closed.
Jovia and Nenaphe called out in surprise and concern.
"Don't worry, she'll be fine," The ranking Elite shook his head. "Come along. Your own suites await."
"Mina…" Jovia didn't bother to fight this time, only rage at herself…. Why was she calling her best friends by alien names???? And what's more, why did the names feel so…appropriate? Like she'd called them that before? She'd never heard those names in her life!
…Had she?
"My lord, they have been placed in their assigned suites with personal handmaidens to assist them in the conference." Had any one of the four girls been present, they would have recognized the speaker as the Elite Captain that had held Amenea. Now, the same man bowed low to another man standing at a window.
The man at the window turned. The light of the new dawn lit up his handsome features, making his shoulder length bright red hair shine. His dark red eyes smiled slightly.
"And Lady Monstrahl?" The man asked. "What news of her, Captain Trippar?"
"My Lady Faesilvria Monstrahl should be arriving momentarily, my lord." Captain Trippar informed him.
"Excellent," The red eyed man set down his glass of a brandy-like drink and regarded the rising sun with reverence.
"Beautiful, is it not?"
"Aye, it is, my lord Asinus," The Captain agreed with a small smile. "It is."
"Please, Trippar, let's not be so formal. Rubar, please." 'Rubar' said to Trippar. Captain Trippar nodded.
"Thank you, my lor- er, Rubar."
"Don't worry," Rubar was smiling. "I know it will take some getting used to. Now, did you have much trouble with the girls?"
"One of them, a brunette, made us fight to earn our bread today, Rubar, but the rest were cooperative enough, but they were as wary as suspicious cats and as fierce as the brown head when they wanted to be, no doubt."
"No doubt…" Rubar smiled and lifted his brandy glass again.
"Rubar, may I speak freely, old friend?" Trippar asked after a moment.
"Hm? Oh, yes, of course, go right ahead," Rubar told him sipping again.
"Rubar, I just have to warn you…if these girls aren't who we think they are…they'll be hell to pay." Trippar was blunt enough, and Rubar grinned wryly.
"'Tis true, Captain," Rubar set his glass down again and leaned against one of the pillars that separated two windows, crossing his arms over his chest casually. "But I am rarely wrong. These girls are the ones who will restore the Elite to their proper position."
"Sir, there is a reason the Elite have been going down in popularity," the Captain said. "The new ones are cocky, proud, spiteful. They are taught the Ways but they do not heed them. Their DNA similarity count to the Senshi is only twenty, at most. Time was it had to be at least forty for you to even be able to test for the Elite cadet academy."
"Times change, Trippar."
"Yes, they do, but the people count on us not to change with it! To always protect those in need, regardless of the danger!" Trippar scowled. "We have a bad name, now. Even with the rich folk. The youngest of us are too power hungry to be trusted, and everyone knows it. If we don't start to tighten the rein, it won't matter how many direct descendants of the Senshi themselves you find, Rubar, you will have a revolution on your hands."
"I know," Rubar surprised Trippar with his agreement. "I know and I have only recently been able to convince the council of what you've just told me. They've agreed to begin…relieving certain officers of their duties. Permanently. But not till we have a…spokesperson, a figurehead, and a powerful one, to back us up. If we don't, Trippar, we very might have, instead of a peasant protesting that would be potentially nasty, we would have an Elite civil war. My preference between the two is obvious, of course."
"Of course," Trippar grinned slightly. "And you think one of these girls might be that figurehead?"
"Oh, no, my friend," Rubar drowned the last of the brandy. "They'll simply be the personal guards of the figurehead."
Amenea whimpered in exaggerated pain as she cradled her bruised elbow, an angry pout on her face. She pulled herself to her feet from her slumped position against the door, wincing as she did so; throwing yourself at steel enforced doors was not fun.
Amenea whirled, forgetting the pain in her elbow, eyes wide and her entire body automatically going into the habitual defense mode essential for survival in Alalia-under. The cause of this reaction was a small, amused, slightly superior sounding giggle.
Amenea's eyes widened when she saw, across the –breathtakingly decorated- large room, apparently some sort of sitting/living room, a young girl of no more than thirteen versus Amenea's sixteen. Her hair was cropped short in the manner reserved for servants, though this servant wore a gold headband, signaling that she was a servant to a wealthy person/organization.
"Welcome to the Headquarters, Miss Harte," The girl said in an innocent voice and bowed slightly. Amenea blinked. They knew her last name? Hardly anyone in Alalia-under even had a last name…
"H-Headquarters?" Amenea swallowed, unconsciously rising up out of her fighter's stance. The girl smiled.
"You are in the West Tower, the tower that houses guests and extra rooms, of the Elite Headquarters in Alalia."
"Alalia-sky, you mean," Amenea translated silently. "Those that live in Alalia-sky consider it the only Alalia worth mentioning; they deny the existence of Alalia-below and even Alalia-between…"
"Why am I here?" Amenea asked, her voice gentle, but ever so slightly cautious. "Who are you? Why are my friends here? What are you doing here?" The girl fidgeted.
"I'm sorry, Miss Harte," She said apologetically. "But I'm not allowed to tell you anything other than-"
"I'm safe and I won't be harmed," Amenea sighed. "Yeah, they already said that."
"As for who I am, Miss, you may call me Yadima." The girl bowed again. Amenea discovered she liked the respectful attention. "And your friends have been escorted to their own suites similar to yours," she motioned to the room around her. "And have been assigned their own maids to help them wash and prepare."
"Wash and prepare? For what?"
"For meeting with the-" Yadima clapped a hand over her mouth. "I…I've said to much, miss…" She swallowed. "Please, I beg of you, do not tell anyone of the words I have just spoken. They will have my hide on the whipping block!"
"Don't worry, kiddo, your secret is safe with me," Amenea said kindly, putting on hand over her heart and raising her other hand as if making a promise, which, actually, she was. She winced as she lowered her arm once more, and, glancing at her elbow, grimaced at the large purple bruise that was forming.
"Let's get that fixed, shall we?" Yadima offered shyly. "A hot bath and some soap and antiseptics should do it. And I believe I have permission to use the Knitter to heal any wounds you may have."
"Knitter?" Amenea blinked, as did Yadima, only in surprise.
"You do not know what a Knitter is?" She asked, surprised. Again, she clasped a hand over her mouth, promptly bowing low. "Forgive me, miss, for my insolent comment."
"Hey, it's okay!" Amenea laughed. "I don't know what a Knitter is. Never heard of one. You want to show me?"
"Perhaps miss would like a bath, first?" She offered in an inoffensive way. Amenea looked at her unwashed self, dirty, speckled with bruises, wearing pants that were two sizes two big and torn off at mid shin, held up with a length of rope, and a length of sallow yellow cloth wrapped around her bosom.
"Yeah, perhaps," Amenea laughed, and let Yadima lead her into a separate room.
"Holy mother of the moon…" Rodica gave an oath she had never used before and had no idea where it came from as she looked in stunned awe at the massive room she now stood in the entrance of.
To her right, on a two foot high dais, with the head against the massive, arched window, was a bed seven feet across and at least eight feet long. It was made of intricately carved and polished deep red cherry wood, and the four posts at each corner of the bed rose twelve feet high to support a redwood lattice. The lattice was hung with red and white and purple crystals, transparent burgundy drapes looped and swung through and around the edge of the lattice.
Straight across from her was a huge mirror, reflecting her dirty and disheveled appearance; greasy, tangled raven hair, dark brown skin, skinny form clad in the tattered remains of a dark gray dress tied with a red ribbon under her bosom.
"Look up there, miss," Mansidi, the little serving girl that had greeted Rodica upon her, er, 'entrance' to the red and violet decorated sitting room, touched Rodica's wrist and pointed upwards.
"Sight beyond sights…" Rodica breathed a familiar oath this time at the sight she met when she tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. At least thirty feet high, surrounded by a thick dark crown molding, was a mural painted on the ceiling. It was of a red haired woman, with an immense sadness in her eyes, holding a sword and standing amidst the remains of a crumbling fortress, or castle. At her foot was a single blood red rose.
Rodica gave a cry and stumbled, falling to one knee.
"Miss? Miss Raptor? Miss?" Mansidi was beside herself with worry as Rodica clutched her temples, sweat dripping onto her closed eyelids, her jaw clenched. Out of her dress fell the gift Mina had given her…the symbol of Mars on a golden oval…
Wait a moment…who was Mina? Amenea had given her the amulet…
Before Rodica could contemplate this –for it was not the first time the name 'Mina' had come to mind- déjà vu so strong it made her nauseous overcame her… And the source, she knew, was the mural high above her…that scene…standing among the ruins of a home you'd fought to protect…the sword…the rose…even the hair…
It was all so familiar it scared Rodica. And Rodica was not easily scared.
But it passed quickly, and Rodica, hiding her shaking limbs, tucked the amulet back under her dress neckline, stood, swallowed harshly, and forced a smile for the panicked Mansidi.
"Low blood sugar," Rodica managed to fish out a suitable excuse for the girl. Mansidi's expression immediately turned to that of pathetic relief.
"Oh, is that all, miss?" Mansidi tried to sound adult. "I shall fetch you some sweets to remedy that once I have helped you with your bath."
"My bath?" Rodica blinked, the déjà vu already retreating to the back of her mind for later examination.
Mansidi, smiling, took Rodica's hand gently and guided her into yet another room that led off the bedroom. It was big, not as big as the bedroom, but bigger than Rodica and Amenea's entire living place in Alalia-under.
On the far side, taking up half the room, was what could only be described as a small pool. Against the wall, pouring scented water into the pool, was a fountain made to look like dancing fire. The water sprouted out of the tip of the rose quartz carved flames and arched to land in the pool halfway across.
Rodica's déjà vu was forgotten.
For the moment.
"Come, miss, in here," Kasanai, a small girl-child of no more than ten years old guided a fascinated, awe struck Nenaphe -who couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful 'bath' with the lovely mermaid fountain the center of the pool- to a place behind a changing screen. It was decorated with the scene of a setting sun on the ocean horizon. There, as directed, Nenaphe undressed and donned a silk, almost sheer pale blue robe.
Nenaphe, after slipping into the robe and tying it about her tiny waist, kneeled and fished around in her pockets for the little thing Amenea had slipped into her hands when they had been dragged out of the truck…
She found it, and her eyes widened. A small package wrapped in cloth and white twine. She untied the twine, and the folds of cloth fell away, revealing, in Nenaphe's palm, something that made her eyes widen and her mouth open in a small 'o' of surprise.
A pen, it was, and a fine pen at that, something the likes of which Nenaphe had only seen once, when Jovia had stolen gold fountain pen to trade with Mina- Nenaphe shook her head. Who was Mina? Jovia had sold the pen Amenea, whom in turn probably sold it to some skytowner.
But this pen…this one seemed to shine from within. It was a pale, pale ice silver blue. There was a ring of cobalt blue around the base of the point of the pen, around the middle, and around the top. But what really caught Nenaphe's eye was that at the top of the pen was a most peculiar emblem; a squat heart with a 't' underneath the heart, the top of the 't' attached to the bottom point of the heart. On the top of the heart, sunk into the dip of the heart was an upside down 'v.' It was on a background of a golden oval hoop.
Memory tickled Nenaphe's mind…and it took her a moment before she managed to grasp what was nagging her; it was the symbol of Hermes, God of the written arts, cleverness, ice, and speed.
Strung through a special hole at the top of the emblem was a string, which Nenaphe used to tie the pen on the inside of her robe, rather than put it back in her skirt pocket; she had a suspicion that if they planned to give her new clothing –which she suspected they did- that they (whoever 'they' was) would probably do away with her scraps of clothing.
Nenaphe stepped out from behind the changing screen, feeling the cold metal of her pen against her flat, hollow belly, and smiled shyly at Kasanai, who guided her to the edge of the pool, where there were steps leading down into the warm, rain scented water.
Without warning, Kasanai yanked the loose end of the cord that tied the robe to Nenaphe, unraveling it, and yanked the robe of Nenaphe, leaving her naked. The pen went with the robe, but, luckily, Kasanai didn't seen to notice as she laid it over a chair.
"Into the water, miss!" Kasanai urged, and Nenaphe needed no further prodding, practically leaping into the water in an effort to hide her nakedness.
"Over here, if you will, miss," Nenaphe hardly heard Kasanai, she was so enshrouded in bliss. Surely it wasn't healthy that simply being surrounded by water was this pleasurable… Nenaphe had always loved water, yes, but this…this was pure ecstasy as she felt the soap and scent and anti-germy stuff in the water begin to eat away at sixteen years of grime and dirt and sewer living.
But, hear Kasanai she did, and Nenaphe half water-hopped half swimmed to the end of the pool, where there was a water proof, cushioned seat that was high enough for Nenaphe to lean her head back into a special, smooth, arch indention in the edge of the pool. Nenaphe hopped up into it, and Kasanai guided her head back into the specially shaped impression; her head and neck fit perfectly into the cushioned surface. It all fell into place so that the top of Nenaphe's head was above a small basin in the floor, filled with more warm, scented water.
Nenaphe was surprised, but pleased when she felt Kasanai pour warm water over her head, wetting her filthy black locks thoroughly. Nenaphe sighed with relaxing bliss when Kasanai began to massage scented soaps and shampoos and conditioners into Nenaphe's scalp, soaking her hair in special treatment creams and working the soap in the hair into a lush lather.
Again Nenaphe's hair was rinsed, then again it was washed and scrubbed, this time with anti-insect and parasite formulas that smelled unpleasant, but the rinsing and third, lavender scented shampooing that came after was worth it.
When that was done and Nenaphe's hair was left to soak in the conditioning solution Kasanai had worked into her hair and scalp, Kasanai handed Nenaphe a bar of fragrant soap and a soft wash cloth. Nenaphe began to bathe herself, sitting up while she did so, scrubbing ever inch of her body. Had she been in a smaller tub, it was quite obvious that the water would have been murky and opaque before she'd even been half done.
As it was, Nenaphe used up half the bar of soap and permanently stained the cloth from white to pale brown before Kasanai had Nenaphe put her head back again for a final rinsing.
When that was done, Nenaphe accepted a new cloth, used up the other half of the soap bar, scrubbing till her skin was raw and pink. Then came some moisturizing body wash Kasanai insisted she use. After half the bottle was used to thoroughly cleanse and moisturize every pore in her body, Nenaphe swam laps from one end of the pool to the other, reveling in the sensation of being clean.
Only when Nenaphe's skin began to prune to the extent that she was beginning to loose decent feeling in her fingertips did she let Kasanai give her a hand up out of the pool. Nenaphe was, luckily, no longer embarrassed to the point of going completely red at being naked in front of the girl-child. Granted, her sense of modesty still rendered her uncomfortable, but she no longer wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
Kasanai helped Nenaphe get thoroughly towel dried before helping her slip on the pale blue robe. Again, Kasanai somehow didn't notice the ice blue pen as she tied the cord around Nenaphe's waist.
Nenaphe sat at Kasanai's insistence before a large vanity, and blinked in surprise at her reflection; this was the first time she had seen herself –all of herself, at least, more than half her face at a time- in the same glance. She touched her pale white skin, blinked deep cobalt blue eyes, and touched dripping wet black hair.
Kasanai, smiling in amusement, lifted a hair blow drier and scissors and set to trimming and blow drying Nenaphe's hair.
When it was done, it was seen, to both Nenaphe's and Kasanai's extreme surprise, that Nenaphe had blue, deep blue, natural blue highlights! Her hair was actually a blue so dark it was black!
As Nenaphe touched her satin soft, earlobe length locks in awe, she wondered what Lita was- Lita?
Nenaphe blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. Who was Lita?
Wait, hadn't that been what she had called Jovia in the sewer tunnel when the Elite had captured her? She hadn't realized, or at least hadn't had time to ponder the odd act at that time, but now…
Why had she called Jovia 'Lita?'
It didn't make sense…
Nenaphe shook her head again.
She hoped Jovia and Rodica and Amenea were all okay…
She also wondered in amusement, remembering the length of the other girls' tresses, how long it had taken, if they had been given the same treatment as her, for their hair to be dried!
"Ouch!" Jovia cried, scowling at the girl in the mirror, who was brushing out her hip length, wet, thoroughly washed and scrubbed hair.
"Sorry, miss," The girl audibly suppressed sigh. Jovia scowled. Why hadn't the kid thought to brush her hair before she washed it? They'd never get out all the tangles!
Despite yowls of exaggerated pain and curses and half-hearted apologies, Jovia's hair lay smoothly down her back. The edge sections that had already begun to dry into strands of spun chocolate were showing signs of soft curling waves.
The handmaiden girl, Geniva, picked up a hair blow drier and began to softly heat the wet strands. The water clinging to each hair evaporated under the heat, leaving Jovia's hair long and soft and fluffy until Geniva took a brush, the bristles coated with an anti-frizz compound, and brushed her hair again.
Geniva then set to styling it, picking up a hair curler and opening a drawer in the small mini, foot tall dresser that was on the right of the vanity/dresser that Jovia was sitting at. It was full of jeweled bobby pins and hair ties.
"Nu-uh, no way, I'm not sitting through that sort of torture," Jovia shook her head fiercely, then took the hair curler from Geniva's hands and put it down, then selected for herself a green hair elastic. Picking up a gold plated brush, she swept her hair up into a high, smooth ponytail, leaving her newly cut bangs free along with two thick tendrils, one in front of each ear, to wave down to her breasts.
She secured her hair with the hair elastic, and allowed Geniva to stick into two pins, the pins have one huge green marble on the end of each. Geniva brushed out the ponytail, which went to Jovia's mid back, before declaring it done, if under-fancy.
"Everybody has their own preferences," Jovia said, biting back the more stinging words she had wanted to use for the sake of Geniva only being a child.
Refreshed, her skin and scalp still tingling from the sensation of being free, Geniva led Jovia under a tall, arched doorway that proved to be the entrance to a huge dressing room. But despite its size, there weren't all that many things in there. At least, for a rich person. For Jovia, it was more clothing than she'd ever seen in one place in her whole life.
There was what could only be a ball gown, in the deepest hunter green, trimmed with cream lace. Some sort of uniform, casual, and another uniform, more formal. Next to those were a few shirts, skirts, shorts, pants, jackets, blouses, and a few casual dresses. There were shoes on the floor, and even a hat or two on a shelf. In the middle of the room was a round section of the floor that had been raised to about three feet high. There was a step or two next to for easier ascending.
Geniva motioned for Jovia to mount the mini-stage, which Jovia did with some caution. Once she stood, Geniva surprised her by snatching away her rose pink robe. Jovia cried out in surprise, snapping curses and oaths as she tried to cover herself with one hand and hide her amulet in her other. Geniva didn't notice either action, though, and proceeded to pull a pair of underwear and a bra out of a drawer. She handed them to Jovia –who discovered both garments to be silk- and quickly put them on, not thinking to check for poisonous creams or powders.
Geniva then selected a pair of fitting, hip-hugging pants in dark brown leather, well worked so that they were soft and malleable. Jovia slipped them on; they fit perfect, and they were wonderful for easy maneuvering, and low enough –an inch or two below her belly button- that they allowed her to bend over enough to touch her toes. Jovia leaned back up from testing this for herself when Geniva tapped her on the shoulder and silently handed her a dark forest green, sparkling shirt made out of a 'slinky' material. Jovia slipped it on and discovered the neckline to be that of a low 'v.'
The 'v' of the neckline was gathered and scrunched at the bottom of the 'v,' as if it had originally been a square neckline, then someone had grabbed it in the middle and pulled it down, gathering material as it did so. It was clipped with a disk that was covered in the same material as the shirt.
The sleeves were full, and took up enough material on their own to make a skirt. They flowed and swished with her movements, like a dancer's skirt, and went down to her elbows. They were slit on the outside of the sleeve, clear up to her shoulders.
Jovia sat down on the edge of dais, and Geniva mutely handed her warm socks and well made black boots, which Jovia quickly donned and laced up tight.
When that was done, Geniva had her sit still while she put a light, scented powder on her face, took a lip liner pencil to her lips, mascara to her eyelashes, and added apple flavored lip gloss.
For the final touch, something that Geniva said was a necessity, Jovia flung a deep hunter green, nearly black, full length, full cape/cloak behind her, clasping it to her shirt. The cloak was made of a light, gauzy material and hardly weighed a thing. A light gold chain ran from the cape's right clasp down across her torso to Jovia's left hip, where it was pinned to her pants, out of sight.
Gold pearl stud earrings, a simple gold ring with three gold pearls, one in the middle and two smaller on each side, and a matching gold pearl on a clear plastic string around her neck were the finishing touches. Jovia had argued against these things–except the ring, since rings were good for punching; they added pain- but Geniva had been relentless, and Jovia had eventually given up, simply tucking the Jupiter amulet under her low neckline, glad the cord was long.
At last, to Jovia's great joy and relief, Geniva deemed her ready, and led her out a second door that led out of the dressing room, and entered the bedchambers once more. On her way out, the weightless, flowing cloak floating out behind her slightly from the wind made by her brisk movements, Jovia glanced up at the high (understatement) ceiling once more. She smiled; it was a breathtaking scene of a lightning storm. If one were too look closely, one could barely make out the face of a beautiful woman in the clouds, illuminated by the lightning.
"Miss," Geniva said, opening the door of the bedchambers and bowing slightly. Jovia, suddenly feeling the part of the person who would typically wear and live among such grandeur, squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode out. Geniva moved ahead of her and opened the door that Jovia had originally been through in through, and again the girl bowed, giving Jovia a wink. Jovia, softening, smiled at her.
"Thanks for all your help," She said, slightly awkward; she didn't thank people very often. She did it more than Rodica, but not all that often nonetheless.
Jovia, suddenly nervous, stepped outside the suite of rooms and straight into the center of a square made by four armed Elite guards. Jovia swallowed, touched her amulet under her shirt briefly, before standing up straight once more, fixing her face with a blank mask, and let the troop lead her down the hall towards the main corridor once more…
Despite her preset blank expression, Jovia was unable to mask the expression or cry of delight that she released when they rounded the corner and she saw, ahead of her, three more sets of armed Elite guards around an expertly and expensively dressed girl, each in a different set of colors.
Right in front of Jovia, with a brilliant smile on her face, Amenea whirled surprisingly quickly and smoothly, considering the tight, short, bright golden yellow mini skirt she wore. It, too, was low riding, and her top was a bright orange red with metallic gold thread weaving through it, giving it a dazzling, sparkling look in the light. It was short enough to show her belly button when she moved, and it was long sleeved, the sleeves being snug and fitted down to her wrists. It was off the shoulders; her body, halfway down her breasts and on up, was completely bare, clear across her chest and shoulders, except for one orange ribbon around her neck which served as a choker, with a red gem in the center of the ribbon.
She also had a cape similar to Jovia's, hers made of pale gold. It was attached at the back of her choker, then it flared out into a multitude of folds of silky, flowing, almost transparent material. It was attached to her sleeves at half way down the upper arms, the elbows, and wrists.
But what was really breathtaking was Amenea's long, awe enticing hair. It fell to her knees in a luxurious cascade of spun white gold. Not a single split end, spec of dirt, blemish, or hair out of place. The top part of her hair was swept up into a perfect braided bun, held in place by a gold, ruby and sapphire studded domed cage. A few ringlets framed her shining face and bright blue eyes.
"Hey!" Amenea exclaimed as they continued their march down the corridor. "You look great!"
"So do you!" Jovia grinned. "You could pass for a princess!"
"That's what Yadima said!" Amenea giggled.
"Yadima?" Jovia asked.
"My 'maid," Amenea giggled. "Can you believe it? I had a handmaid!"
"Me too!" Jovia grinned. "Her name was Geniva."
"Oooh, how pretty!" Amenea gushed. Jovia laughed. It seemed a good washing and new clothes and done them both good…they hadn't laughed quite this freely for quite some time…and it seemed, up ahead, Nenaphe and Rodica were having an equally joyful chat…
"So you've got one, too? And Jovia sto- er, has 'acquired' one, as well?" Rodica inquired, ruby lips pursed, deep royal purple eyes –matching her newly revealed (via good washing) royal purple highlights in her otherwise pitch black hair- flashing in fascination. Nenaphe nodded her confirmation, sparkling sapphire eye shadow making her eyes seem like sparkling azure stones. Her petite, glossy pink lips in a small smile.
"Isn't that odd that we all have the exact same amulet? Only with different symbols?" Nenaphe said. "I find it very peculiar."
"It's even more odd that the each of our symbols is the rune of a god that fits each of us rather well," Rodica commented. Again, Nenaphe nodded.
"Quite…" Nenaphe agreed.
"I find it double weird that we both have natural highlights in such rare colors, too," Rodica said with a smile. "Isn't that, like, a sign or something, don't you think?"
"It is quite a coincidence," Nenaphe smiled. "And both of ours bring out our eyes quite well."
"'Course, the color coordinated outfits don't hurt!" Rodica laughed, and Nenaphe chuckled cutely. Indeed, they were both dressed to match their unique hair qualities. Nenaphe herself was in a black skirt that went to her knees. It was full and gathered and flared out completely vertical when she spun fast enough; she wore very short spandex shorts under the skirt because of it. The inch and a half wide waistband was just below her belly button, and it, and the hem, was intricately embroidered with silver thread and blue beads.
Her top was something Nenaphe was desperately hoping she'd be allowed to keep; cobalt blue and fitted, snug, made of a semi stretchy material that clung to every curve. It was long enough so that the hem barely touched the top of the waistband of her skirt. It had a low, square neckline edged in the same black ribbon, silver embroidery that was on the waistband.
But it was the sleeves that really made the outfit. They were snug and fitted till halfway down her arm, where a black band that matched her skirt's waistband and hem kept it snug against her elbow. Then it flared out, the soft, raw silk material gathered with enough material for a whole other outfit! The sleeves were long, going to her knees, swishing and flowing like the sleeves of an angel's gown.
Her hair had been curled, so that her tresses were temporarily a springy mass of soft ringlets, her bangs pinned back with silver, black pearl and blue crystal beaded clips. A ring that wrapped around her finger in a spiral from her knuckle to the base of her finger was in silver, with tiny pearls embedded in it. There was the most delicate silver chain strung loosely around the base of her throat, studded with black pearls that were an inch apart. The finishing touch was black pearl stud earrings, with a silver chain as thin as a thread hanging from it, with another pearl at the end of the silver chain/thread.
Last, but not least, she, like Jovia and Amenea, had a flowing, raw silk, pale blue cape that was clipped to her shoulders. A silver chain hung down across her chest, from one clasp to the other, loosely enough so that the chain tickled her occasionally bare belly button.
"Did you pick out your outfit?" Rodica wanted to know. Nenaphe blushed.
"Oh, goodness, no!" She plucked at the snug bodice of her top. "As much as I love this outfit now, I never would have picked it, let alone put it together… Little Kasanai has very good taste," Nenaphe smiled at the memory of the cute, very helpful little handmaiden.
"Poor Mansidi has very poor taste," Rodica laughed. "She told me so herself, so one of her friends had already pre-selected an outfit for me." She smoothed the black, shiny, hip hugging, low riding, belly-button revealing pleather pants with red and purple filigree on the flared bottom half of her pants and waistband.
Her shirt was snug, full sleeved with a high, boat neckline, edged in dark purple. But the top itself was short enough that it only came down to just under her bosom, where royal purple beads on threads dangled down to tickle her bare, tight, muscled midriff. She wore black ankle boots, dangling ruby earrings, and only a small section of her bangs pinned back with a ruby clip. Tiny round, purple gems on special magnets were scattered among her long, knee length raven hair.
Her cape was identical to Jovia's except the fact that it was full enough that when she stretched her arms out as far to the side, straight out, as they would go, the cape reached to and was attached to the gold rings on her middle fingers. It did this with enough excess material so that it was far from being pulled taut.
"I wonder what's with the capes…" Rodica mussed, fiddling with one of the rings that the cape was attached to.
"Probably some sort of status declaration," Nenaphe observed. "Or perhaps to show that we're all together."
"Or maybe whoever planned our wardrobes just likes to be frivolous?"
Nenaphe laughed. "I doubt it." She smiled.
"Look straight ahead, ladies, stop your chatter, and look presentable," A 'guard' that was ahead of Rodica and wasn't part of the square around Rodica, who was in front of Nenaphe, snapped.
When he turned away, Rodica stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her eyes. Nenaphe, while slightly fearful that the man would whirl around and slice off that tongue, couldn't help put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, lest she giggle.
Behind her, Amenea turned to face forward as well, and hers and Jovia's brief exchange ceased as well.
Presently they came to an arched doorway, with no doors, which lead into a lush, well kept and very well landscaped garden courtyard. They crossed the courtyard briefly, Elite officers watching them with interested looks, some a bit more interested than was proper. To those, Rodica and Jovia glared, Nenaphe blushed and adverted her gaze, and Amenea smirked or winked.
They crossed the courtyard quickly enough, Jovia, along with Nenaphe, Rodica, and Amenea, mourning the loss of the brief sunlight on the skin, as well as the intoxicating scent of wild flowers and jungle blooms, all in the same place thanks to controlled climate sections.
They crossed the courtyard and entered a building. From the brief, rough layout Kasanai had described to Nenaphe, she estimated that they were probably in the Main Tower of the Elite headquarters. The Elite headquarters were made of three towers; the East Tower, the barracks and the training courts and gyms, the Main Tower conference rooms, meeting rooms, ball rooms, offices, and the West Tower; guest suites, extra conference rooms, storage, power generators, ect.
The came to an air lift, and they each too turns on it, five at a time; four guards, one girl, still in the center.
When they were all on the fifth level, Nenaphe estimated, they resumed their trek down another, larger, more intricately decorated corridor to a pair of huge double doors. The doors were opened; the guards turned to face each other, and stepped away, forming two straight lines on either side of the door. The man that had been leading the whole procession, entered, bowed, and the turned and waved for Rodica to come forward. Nenaphe followed, Amenea and Jovia behind her. They quickly came together to form one group, not bothering to stay in the single file line as the man had obviously wished.
Now that Amenea was close enough to get a good look at him, she saw that it was the same man whom had been her captor when they had dragged them to the suites of rooms. She gave him a wink as she passed him.
"Ah, ladies," a voice greeted them upon entering the large room, with a long, wide, mahogany, polished table going down the center. At the far end was a small stage like dais and a large window behind it, and there were several arched, slender windows a few feet apart on both walls, but it was the young woman, not the man that rose to greet them, that caught all their eyes.
The woman, with a younger girl sitting beside her, obviously a handmaiden, drew in a sharp breath at the site of them, as did Rodica.
"I know her…" was all Rodica could think before their eyes met, all of them looking into the silver-blue orbs of the young woman, and her eyes somehow meeting theirs all at once…
Time seemed to stop, the sunlight itself froze its journey from the sun to earth, the stars paused their eternal song, fire ceased its dancing, the ocean's roar was silenced, and everything came crashing down…
To Be Continued….
Hiya, peeps! Thanks soooooo much for the feedback! It's been great!
You know, I had chapter one written the next day after I posted the prologue, but then there was that STUPID, ENRAGING 'we're partially down for maintenance and a major fixer-upper so you can't login' deal I couldn't load it. So now it's been loaded, along with this one. Yes, I deliberately posted this one two days after Chapter one even though I'd had it written long before I posted chapter one. Why? Because, in my experience, you get more reviews that way. *halo*
Okay, I'm almost done with chapter three, where they should at least begin to suspect who they really are/were. Are the new names confusing? I kept them semi-similar to their original names. Except Nenaphe…but it was such a cute and pretty name and it fit Ami so well…. *sigh*
If you find the new names confusing, let me know and if enough people find it just plain awkward then I will rewrite it and do away with the new names, kay?
Also, if you want a good good, well done, imagination inspiring, but short fantasy one shot fic, then 'Beauty's Rose' is purrrrrrrrfect! It's done by a wonderful author, Azhuaea Fluer. It's just a lil food for thought fic about the sorceress who cursed the beast in Beauty and the Beast. We're NOT talking Disney, people. Have any of you actually read the ORIGINAL Beauty and the Beast? Think Charles Dickens level. This is no little girl fairy tale.
Anyhoo, hope ya liked the fic, and remember; review. Button. Be. Friend. *halo* Ja ne!
Hope Makes the Universe Shine,
Makura Koneko
P.S. I know, I KNOW I wasted a lot of time and effort and space on the outfit decorations, but…hey, I'm a girl, okay? I've said it before and I shall say it again; I'm as girly girl as you can get and it shows! *sweatdrop* Tell me if you think I'm going into TOO much detail, and I'll try (note: I said 'try.') to cut back, kay? Kay. Ja! -Makura Koneko
ALL STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY