Thank you's to these ridiculously gorgeous darlings: Perpetual Concern, Katharonie, 10th Squad 3rd Seat, butterflyfreak, Rumu, LostInTheSilence, MercuryCake, Munchkin, the everchanging, InkDragoness, LaraLuvKakashi, Mrs. Trafalgar Law, KITTY LOVES HAWKEYE, Shiningheart of Thunderclan, Girl-luvs-manga, Guest, Sheep, Guest, and Alkitty.
—
methyl nitrate pineapples
hypothesis #3
canary slim, sinkin' in swampland
—
The farther Sophie walked into Gator Town, the worse things looked.
She slugged it through the sticky heat, past clamoring pubs and worn-down houses. The fatigue hit just after she wobbled past the charred ruins of the Marine base. Romarin, the still-attached bike, was a surprise—but the same couldn't be said for any of her clothes, which were drenched in sweat. Sophie finally stumbled upon a rickety-looking inn with Nellie's flickering in neon pink. It was smack-dab between a rowdy gambling house and the swamp.
"Thank the glorious mother of pineapples," she cried, throwing her hands. Hallelujah for soap! And showers!
She stepped inside and the smell of smoke and baking bread furled over her. Books, dusty vials, weird plants, and an assortment of other curious trinkets were scattered around. Sophie glanced at a bowl filled with bird feathers and tiny, brittle bones. Very, very curious trinkets…
"Bonsoir, Mam'zelle," a low, husky voice crooned from the dark, "You have business here?"
A curvaceous brunette seemed to melt from the shadows, one elegant hand clutching a long, thin pipe. Her eyes were rimmed thick with kohl and her lips were stark red—she swayed calmly as she walked, as if conscious of but apathetic to her striking beauty. Sophie pushed her hair behind her ears, aware of her own inferiority.
"Hello. I'm Sophie. Strangways Sophie."
"More like Slim to me," the woman observed, taking a deep inhale of her pipe, "Blonde hair like a canary's, too. My name's Nellie, owner of this fine establishment." She nonchalantly waved her hands at the crystal balls and (what Sophie hoped was) fake skulls nailed to the wall.
"I was told the rent's cheap, but no one said anything about this being a… a…" What exactly would one call it? "A… magic occult shop thingy?" she finished weakly.
Nellie laughed. "Nothin' is for sale, darlin'. They're all mine." She smiled, showing a flash of sharp teeth. "But movin' on from that—you wanna stay the night, yes?"
Mildly startled from the abrupt turn to business, Sophie nodded fervently. "But… well, I'm kind of running out on money—"
"Come, come, let's get you some food. We'll negotiate later. You look like you're about to fall over dead any second, Canary-chan," Nellie said as she beckoned Sophie over.
"Thanks, I think," she mumbled, and suddenly remembered the mud on Romarin's tires. "Um—should I put my bike outside?"
Nellie turned around, just noticing the bike that was partly hidden behind Sophie. It was hard to tell with the faint light coming from the candles, but Sophie was pretty sure she turned about three times paler. Well crapsicle on a fudgestick, that was not a good sign—maybe she should've just left the bike outside before walking in.
"Is… that bicycle yours?" Her voice was wrangled.
Sophie shook her head. "No. Why? Is it cursed?"
"Perhaps," Nellie said faintly. "Did someone give it t' you?"
"Wow, that was right on the mark. A bartender called Sid back in Pantano Town."
"Is that so…" She froze. "Pantano Town? That's thirty miles away! You traveled all the way here on that crappy bike?"
"It wasn't too—"
"Leave that bike be an' get over here!" Nellie snapped. "You must be exhausted. Let's get somethin' warm for you t' eat."
Sophie considered. "Food. Okay. Food is good." Her stomach rumbled in agreement.
She leaned the Romarin against the wall and followed Nellie into the dining area. Decidedly less spooky, this place was well-lit and furnished with pale-eyed porcelain dolls and faded black-and-white photographs. There were some shriveled heads here and there, but she tried to think nothing of it. Nellie vanished behind a door and reappeared a moment later, tossing a towel at Sophie.
"Thank you," she said gratefully, and started wringing the sweat from her hair. "What's the cheapest, fattiest thing you have on the menu?"
"One shrimp gumbo, extra on the fat, comin' up! Anythin' t' drink, Canary-chan?"
"I… no, I'm good," Sophie forced herself to say, and stared at anything but the liquor cabinet behind Nellie. No, no, stop! She was already low on cash. Sophie slapped the rest of the beli on the counter, speaking louder than normal, "How many nights can I stay for this much?"
Nellie examined the money as she took a deep puff of her pipe. "With the cheapest room available, three."
"Two is fine," she said, shoving the rest back in the satchel. Then she'd have enough time to find a ship that'd let her hitch a ride back to the base.
Nellie tucked the rest of the beli somewhere down her striped shirt. She had eight black stripes and seven white stripes… fifteen stripes in all, that wasn't good. Maybe if Nellie turned around a little, Sophie could count the ones on her back… and then she realized what she was staring at and turned pink. She coughed into her fist and busied herself with her satchel.
Nellie held up a plush doll with pins stuck in it. "Canary-chan, what do you think?"
Sophie studied it. Four pins. Not bad. "…It's kind of cute."
"Ain't supposed to look cute," Nellie returned, but laughed slightly. She started to thread a black button on the doll's eyeless face. "You ever wanted to curse someone?"
Sophie cupped her hand around the lighter and lit a cigarette. "I think there are worse things you can do to people."
Nellie looked at her. Her violet gaze was unnerving. "You speak from experience?"
Sophie hadn't realized she was smiling until that smile dropped off her face. "What? Oh, no. No." Her palms turned sweaty."I don't… um, I mean, just, the whole voodoo thing, sticking needles in dolls, all fortune tell-y, I don't believe in that stuff. I'm more of a science-minded geek." She stuffed a spoonful of gumbo in her mouth. "Mmm! Zhis is gooh!"
"You're a scientist for the World Government, aren't you?"
The jumbo slipped off her spoon. "How did you…?" She frowned, wagging her spoon at the inn owner. "Don't you dare tell me you read my mind."
Nellie shrugged, starting to work on the doll's other button eye. "I suspected you were a marine at first. Vira's coup d'état is all over the newspapers."
Her heart jumped to her throat. She instinctively focused on steadying her breathing. Faraway screams echoed in Nellie's dining room, something only Sophie could hear.
"But I don't think you're bruised enough t' be a marine comin' back from the battlefield," Nellie continued. "You have very poor posture—that's also an indicator—an' you have an awful lot of burn scars on your hands. A girl with a knack for science an' self-inflicted injuries, who biked all this way to Gator Town from Pantano—why? 'Cause you heard we're the only place on this entire island that's still trying to connect t' the Marine line. You don't seem to be a marine, so most likely you work for 'em."
Sophie rubbed the splotches on her hands. They covered her fingers and stretched across her palms; she'd had gloves before, nice leather ones that hid the burns, but they had also been forgotten at… that place with the war.
"That was an impressive deduction," she said.
Nellie looked up. She had been sewing this entire time. "Am I wrong?"
"How'd you know about the scars?"
"'Cause I have my own set." Nellie swung her legs up on the counter and tugged up her dress. Blotchy red disfigurements ran up the sides of her legs, terrible things that shouldn't belong on a person so beautiful. "Twenty years ago, there was a fire. Not all of me managed to escape."
Sophie's brow creased. "I'm sorry," she said, and meant it.
She smiled. "You're a nice girl, Canary-chan. How 'bout you?"
Sophie didn't think it would break any of the Vice Admiral's rules if she told Nellie just a bit of the truth… "I really work as a chemist for the World Government." She straightened up from her slouch, smiling ruefully around her cigarette. "The poor posture, by the way, is from bending over looking into microscopes."
"That's some special job. Your family must be very proud of you."
It'd been so long since she'd spoken to Hippo about her work—probably around three years, at least. No surprise, considering they were in different divisions. Before the war, she'd been so busy with work she sometimes forgot a world existed out of her lab. But even so… Hippo would've known, right? He would've had some idea about the things she'd created for the Government…
"Yeah," Sophie mumbled, "I suppose he is."
—
Aside from the dead rat floating in the toilet (she disposed of it immediately), her room wasn't bad. It looked clean…ish. No rabid tarantulas anywh—
"HOLY PINEAPPLES," Sophie said in a very calm and rational manner, and proceeded to bash her boot against a poor spider that chose the wrong time to slink down from its web.
After thoroughly checking the room (and sweeping it with a spare broom she found outside, bless the gods for their invention of cleaning supplies), Sophie tossed her satchel on the bed and quickly undressed. She gave her clothes a furious scrub in the shower, wrung them out, and jumped into the shower herself for a scalding wash, maneuvering awkwardly to keep her bandaged foot dry. The droplets sizzled, decontaminating every part of her body. It was heaven. Finally, when patches of her skin started to turn a violent shade of pink, Sophie wrapped herself up in a fluffy bathrobe and flopped on the bed.
"Should buy more clothes tomorrow—ugh, no, I don't have enough money—I could steal… aghh! No, Sophie, you're not a pirate." Her clothes would hopefully appear dry and clean tomorrow. "Should ask the merchant ships about hitching a ride… but what if Traffle-waffle…"
The Heart pirates were all the way in Pantano Town. The chances were practically infinitesimal they would meet again, so there was no point thinking about it—but if she did see him…
Sophie shuddered.
Let's not think about that.
With a sigh, she plopped onto her pillow and immediately winced. "Oww…"
Rubbing her smarting head, Sophie pulled aside the pillow. A thin, yellow-crusted book poked out beneath her bedcovers. She frowned and dug it out. The Tale of Apolleon. The pages were softened with age and the threads that bound the book together were falling apart. Curious, Sophie flipped through the pages.
Once upon a time, an Alabastian mechanic traveled the world, seeking the secrets of metal and fire. In his journey, he chanced upon a swamp-covered island in West Blue, ruled by a stern king who had lost his wife many years earlier. His only treasure was his young daughter, the princess of the swamps. Unbeknownst to the king, the princess and the mechanic fell deeply in love.
Yes, that was all good and formulaic… but where were the action scenes? Sophie skimmed ahead.
Eventually, he discovered his daughter's affection for the lowborn foreigner. The king's might grew so much in his rage that he picked the island up and strode fearlessly into the Sea of Terrors.
But the Alabastian mechanic was not disheartened. For one thousand days and one thousand nights, he labored over a giant mechanical Sea Cat that could sail upon the waves of the sky. He searched and searched the world until he finally found the princess. When he proclaimed his love for her in front of all the villagers, they were awed by the honesty they saw in his eyes and were won over to his cause. The mechanic had built a large castle for the princess, and together they left the swamp island for their new home.
The king was furious. In the dead of night, he and his troops carved an opening in the belly of the cat. With their swords in hand, they quietly sneaked—
Naah, this was nothing new. Sophie shut the book, yawning. Stories could wait for another time; sleep could not.
Scratching her mosquito bites, she set the book on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. Moonlight shone in, cool and silver.
Sophie glanced out into the swamp. Perhaps the fairytale was modeled after Crawfish Island. It would be romantic if a princess really had lived here. She smiled a little. Sophie used to force Hippo into telling her bedtime stories… knights rescuing fair maidens, noble and true kings presiding over noble and true kingdoms… she liked those the best…
Something odd flashed in the corner of her eye.
A faint blue glow bobbed amidst the dark trees, like a flickering torch or an eerie lantern. Sophie blinked. One moment it disappeared and the next dipped back, as if beckoning her over. Leaves rustled as a sleepy, warm wind swept through the swamp.
Sophie gazed out for a few more minutes, but the glow didn't appear again. That was… odd. Phosphorus? Radium? They both emitted blueish light… Actinium, maybe? …Unless there was a uranium ore mine underneath the swamp, Sophie didn't know why she was considering that…
Jotting down a mental note to ask Nellie about it tomorrow, she sank back into bed.
Sophie breathed in the woody, after-the-rain smell, instead of the wet stench of soot and blood she was so used to. She listened to the flap of a heron's wings and the croak of frogs, instead of bombs thudding on the roof or low, amused laughter…
She forced herself to keep her eyes shut. You'll fall asleep eventually, you'll fall asleep eventually…
Chilly hands touched the sides of her face and frost appeared, icicles forming at the edge of her eyelashes. Fingertips trailed down her lips, turning them blue and bruised, down her jaw, and peeled off the blanket. Sophie shivered, goosebumps popping up on her arms, and curled into a ball.
His hand brushed over her bandaged foot. Sophie started to hyperventilate, but her voice wouldn't come out; her vocal chords had frozen solid. She tried to scream wake up wake up please. She felt him—it—the figment of her imagination—press over her, violently gripping her wrists, turning her as numb as death.
"Relax. I've told you before…" The whisper ghosted across her skin: "I'm not completely heartless."
Her eyes popped open.
She was sprawled across the bed, still under the covers, still with her bathrobe on. She dimly registered the sunlight on the floor as it poured in, bright and warm.
Very slowly, her brain put two and two together.
She rolled around and screamed into her pillow.
—
"Are you sure about this?" the hairdresser asked dubiously. "It's such a waste…"
"I want it off," she confirmed. "And stark black. Jet black. Dark as the night, you know the deal."
—
Half an hour later, Sophie hopped on her bike feeling like a new woman.
Her hair was just below her chin now, and a slick, shiny black. After having unruly blonde curls in her face since—well, forever, it was a nice change. Hippo would have the mother of all heart attacks once he saw her… maybe she should also get a lip piercing and a tattoo on her rear…
Not entirely abandoning the thought, Sophie pedaled into the town market. A tribal-print skirt with bird feathers braided to the ends swirled around her knees. She'd tentatively asked Nellie if she had any clothes to spare and in return offered to run down to the market for her. Hippo would be so pleased to hear all his etiquette interventions hadn't been for nothing.
As she entered the crowded market, Sophie slipped off the bike and pushed it along. The smell of fish and damp wood and spices invading the sweaty air. It was a breath of normalcy, a welcome change from everything that happened in past few weeks.
Sophie skimmed the list. Anise, Tipton's weed, balm of Gilead, a bushel of apples, a bottle of plum blossom sake…
Nellie told her there'd be a florist or a physician where she could get the herbs from, but she'd start by tackling the easy stuff first.
"Apples, apples, apples," Sophie hummed cheerfully as she passed by the numerous stalls. Glassy alligator eyes stared back at her, live crabs snapped their claws, and buckets of seaweed-covered oysters glinted in the sun. Her mouth watered as the perpetual ache of hunger started up in her stomach again.
"…staying back on the sub, this place is hell with all that fur."
Sophie whirled around. She frantically scanned the market for a spotted white hat or yellow-on-black, but there was nothing. She'd just heard wrong. It was understandable, given the clamor of the market…
Shaking her head at her irrational panic, Sophie turned around and accidentally bumped into a passerby. She stumbled against the bike, wincing.
"Sorry about that," the stranger apologized hastily, his face obscured by sunglasses. He and his friend wore white jumpsuits tied around their waists, showing a firm roping of strong muscle.
She waved it aside. "No, no, it's fine."
"Shachi," she heard the other guy mutter to his friend, before they were swallowed by the crowd. Something about them was strangely familiar, but she couldn't place it…
Eh, probably nothing.
Sophie approached a fruit vendor, digging out the beli Nellie gave her. "Exactly sixteen apples, please. No more, no less."
"Alrighty," the vendor said, and then did a double-take as he sized her up in Nellie's clothes, bird feathers and all. "Runnin' errands for Manette-san, are ya? 'Round these parts, no one but her wears those sorts of clothes. Stayin' at her inn?"
Sophie tilted her head. "Manette-san…?"
"Hele—ah, she prefers Nellie, right? Manette Nellie. Though I hear that woman doesn't like to be called that no more, what with her husband n' all. Here's your apples."
She took the bag but didn't move. "What happened to her husband?"
"Died durin' his siege, didn't he? Darnay's Siege, we call it. Five years ago, I think it was." The vendor shook his head. "Only eighty men strong an' they tried to storm down the Cat's Eye. Passionate fools, all lookin' t' die young. I still remember the burnin' horizon that mornin'… like all of heaven was on fire."
Sophie was strangely entranced. "They surrendered?"
"'Course they did, after Darnay was beheaded. Not many survived. Half of them that did were taken as prisoners. The other half was sent back here t' tell the tale. She started getting' into the mumbo-jumbo voodoo nonsense afterwards. Never quite the same, that woman. First her parents, then her husband, all taken by Khanwari. 'Cept that Sid guy, but what good was he for her, huh?"
That was a lot of information to take in… but what stood out the most was…
"Who's Khanwari?" Sophie asked.
"The current king of Cat's Eye Island. Twenty years ago, he burned down everythin' from Pantano Town to where the Marine base stood."
Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief—twenty years ago, there was a fire. Not all of me managed to escape. "A king did that? He killed Nellie's parents?" But it couldn't be true; kings were good and just and kind, everyone knew that…
"Might as well've," the vendor sighed. "They were at Cat's Eye just in time for the previous king's inauguration. But after Khanwari massacred the entire royal family, he didn't let any of the Crawfish folk leave. They've all been stuck there for the past twenty years, an' god knows if they're still alive or not. That's why all our nerves are stretchin' thin with the Heart Pirates stayin' here," the vendor continued. "Brings back bad memories."
Sophie chuckled uneasily. "At least they're not staying here here; they're back at Pantano…"
He shook his head. "Wish it were so. But that yellow submarine was sighted this mornin', off the shore a few miles from town."
—
The sun burned low in the sky when Sophie arrived back to Nellie's Inn.
It had taken longer than she expected to find all the herbs, and even longer to find a ship to take her back to G-13. The town hall was still trying to connect to the Marine line, but to no avail. After a few unproductive hours of lingering in the sweltering heat, Sophie had finally given up and went off to search for a ship.
She'd bumped into the captain of a large fishing vessel, whose siblings had perished four days ago in the scuffle against the Heart Pirates. "It'd be like doin' 'em one last good," she'd said. "Any marine is a friend of mine."
Sophie dumped the grocery bags beside the empty bar and hollered, "Nellie, I have the groceries! Nellie?"
There was no answer.
She tugged at the collar of her shirt, where beads of sweat appeared. "Can I help myself to a glass of water? Or, you know, ice would just be fine. Nice, solid chunks of ice that I can sit on and be happy."
Sophie waited. Nothing. Maybe Nellie went out to run some errands of her own. Well, she wouldn't miss a few pieces of ice…
Sophie crept quietly over the counter and leaned against the kitchen door.
"…the hell is wrong with your brain!" Nellie yelled.
She was about to scream her apologies for sneaking into the kitchen when Nellie continued, "How dare you send the girl over here with that? I told you, I never wanted to see anythin' of his again! No! Sid, do not—I don't care it's been five years! I don't care!"
Sophie pressed her face into the tiny crack of light. She saw Nellie pacing back and forth, speaking in a Den Den Mushi.
"I told you t' burn all of Darnay's things," she snapped. "I don't wanna remember."
Nellie paused and pressed a palm to her forehead. Only now did Sophie realize a silver wedding band glinted around her ring finger.
"Don't say that," her voice cracked, "Of course I wanted you to come back. You're my husband's best friend…"
Sophie started biting her fingernails. Ohhh this was bad, bad, bad territory…
Nellie broke off and stared at nothing for a long, long time. Finally, she shook her head. "Take the bike back. I'm not touchin' it. When Canary-chan leaves, I'll leave it outside the inn for you to pick up."
A brief silence.
"If you won't do it, then I'll just throw it into the ocean!"
Sophie scrambled away as Nellie slammed the receiver down. Well, so much for not violating anyone's private history…
Clearly Sid and Nellie had some sort of history together. And Sid, who had kept her husband's—his best friend's—bike all this time, gave it to Sophie… she looked at forlorn Roma-chan, leaning next to the bar. That's why Nellie looked so horrified when she saw Roma-chan in Sophie's possession. She rubbed her head. Augghh, what was she supposed to do now? Her chemistry books never taught her how to deal with human problems…
The curvaceous inn owner stepped into view, carrying a box of vintage wines, all smiles again. "Oh, Canary… chan…" She nearly dropped the box. "Your hair!"
Sophie twirled a choppy black strand around her fingers and forced a grin on her face. "Pretty?"
"It suits you," Nellie agreed, after some initial stunned blinking, "But now I gotta find another nickname."
"Or you could just call me by my real name…" Sophie suggested, whirling around on the bar stool.
Nellie didn't seem to hear as she sifted through the groceries and drew out the herbs. She laid them on the counter, the tiny seeds of anise, the bright yellow flowers of Tipton's weed, and the purple buds of the balm of Gilead. Sophie watched, resting her chin on her arms, tapping lightly on the bar counter. Should she say something? But what if Nellie started crying? Sophie was smart, but not that smart. She didn't think she had the intellectual expertise to comfort someone without completely screwing herself over in the process… besides, she had her own secrets and Nellie wasn't bothered. Not… from what she could tell, anyway…
Wait—what if Nellie already knew that she knew, and was waiting for her to ask? What if this was some social convention Sophie didn't know? No, that'd be too stupid. Pineapples, all social conventions were stupid! Arrgh, why was she so bad at acting normal? Why couldn't all problems be solved with some methyl nitrate and a fuse?
Confidence, Sophie, confidence! She took a deep, determined breath. "Nel—"
The bell on the inn's side door jangled. "Bonsoir, Messieurs!" Nellie greeted.
Sophie flopped over the counter.
"Good evening!" replied oddly familiar voices. It seemed they caught sight of Nellie in all of her flowing hair and violet eyes and bouncing bosom, because Sophie was treated to cries of, "Ahh, what a beauty! A true goddess on this forsaken planet! May we have the honor of your name, fair lady?"
"Fufufu… it'll be Nellie-san t' you boys," she said with a wink. "Take a seat wherever you like."
The new customers took a seat next to Sophie and her eyebrows rose. She sat up. "Hey, it's you!"
Sunglasses gasped. "What an absolute coincidence we bumped into each other again!"
Penguin Hat jabbed him in the ribs and muttered something like, "Nice subtlety, idiot." Sophie didn't quite catch it; she suddenly remembered how thirsty she was.
"A glass of ice, please, with water," she requested politely. "But really, just ice would also be okay."
"And two rums," Penguin Hat added with a dopey smile.
"I'll be right with ya." As Nellie turned to the liquor cabinet, she called over her shoulder, "Canary-chan, were you about to say somethin'?"
"Eh? Oh. Um… I-I was gonna tell you that I'm hitching a ride on a fishing vessel that's leaving tomorrow morning! I can finally go back home." Sophie stretched, cracking her back. "It's been a verylong time coming."
"Oh, what could've made your traveling experiences that bad?" Sunglass grinned at her, and then hissed at his friend, who whacked him on the shoulder.
"You guys aren't from around here either," Sophie observed. "You have no Crawfish accent. Sailors?"
Penguin Hat glowered at Sunglass, who sweated slightly. "We're… we're… uh…"
Deciding she really didn't care that much, Sophie turned to Nellie. "I forgot to tell you this morning, but there was something really, um, weird outside my window last night." She rubbed her chin. "I don't really know how to describe it. It was a strange blue light floating around the swamp… like a ghost!" She moved her arms in a wavy motion to demonstrate. "Like, whooo…"
"You mean the will-o'-the-wisps?" Nellie slid the mugs over to Sunglass and Penguin Hat and peered at Sophie.
"Willow the… what?"
"Will-o'-the-wisps. They're a common sight out here. People call 'em all sorts of things: trickster demons that mislead travelers, pixy-lights, corpse candles. We tell the little ones it's the ghost of a headless carriage driver." Nellie chuckled, lighting her pipe. "Makes 'em mind 'emselves whenever they're near the swamp."
That sounded nice and all, but supernatural-like occurrences could always be explained. Sophie rummaged through her generally substantial knowledge for any tidbits on swamps. She knew that there was an abundance of decomposing matter on swamp bottoms; plants and algae and dead fish and what-have-you. The anaerobic decaying process would lead to the creation of the highly flammable gas, methane, and probably phosphine or diphosphine, which, in contact with oxygen, would ignite.
According to Nellie, will-o'-the-wisps were extremely common occurrences. That meant there must be an abundance of those chemical compounds on the bottom of the swamp, creating these ghostly lights with methane. Hmmm…
It took her all of three seconds to arrive at this conclusion: she wanted to see it in action.
"What about you?" Sophie asked, mentally filing away her findings. "What do you think they are?"
It might've just been the light, but her eyes seemed to darken. "My ma used to tell me they were wayward souls. Hitodama. Lost spirits of those who've died on this island. Those who've drowned, those eatin' by the gators, those who were killed in the fire…"
"The fire caused by Khanwari?" Penguin Hat interrupted.
Sophie recalled the apple vendor. "Oh! He was the one that—"
"—burned down half the island, yeah," Nellie said shortly.
Meep. Stupid, stupid, stupid mouth. Sophie shrank back and nursed her glass of water.
Sunglasses whistled, leaning back on the stool. "We're gonna have a helluva time with this one."
Sophie frowned. Were they actually thinking about going to Cat's Eye Island? What sort of idiot would blatantly challenge someone as scary as this Khanwari guy? Fools, both of them.
"What about News Coos? Or Den Den Mushis?" Penguin Hat pressed on. "Don't they have any contact with the outside world?"
Nellie leaned over the counter so her breasts protruded right up at Sophie's face. She tried not to ogle. The other two had no such reservations. "The Sunflower Kingdom is under a dictatorship. They lock it's people in an' never let 'em leave. Take it or leave it, but that's all we know."
"There's absolutely no way to get in?" Sunglasses wheedled.
Tapping her fingers on the counter, Sophie decided it was definitely impossible for these two. If they even wanted to breach the Sunflower Kingdom, they would absolutely need the most high-grade explosives money could buy. Octanitrocubane, or RDX, or maybe some pentaerythritol tetranitrate… twelve, thirteen, fourteen, went her fingers.
Nellie took a long drag from her pipe. "Definitely none."
They'd also have to infiltrate the place, right? With their weird boiler costumes, there was no way… she was good at being inconspicuous, though… used to play hide-and-seek with the chemistry department—when they tried to ignore her, she'd just steal some extremely volatile explosive to get them in the mood… ah, the memories…
"All possible entrances checked?" Penguin Hat inquired.
"About a hundred times over."
Sophie's mouth was moving before she could register thinking it. "Even for a submarine?"
Sunglasses and Penguin Hat glanced over at her.
Nellie frowned. "Even for sub, it's impossible. What do you mean by that, anyway?"
Sophie stood, keeping her gaze trained on the floor. "Uh… nothing. Forget I ever… never mind. It's nothing. I'm going to go sleep now. Tired. Not thinking clearly."
She trudged up the stairs—sixteen steps even, thank pineapples for small mercies—and lumbered to her room, opened and closed the door exactly four times, and fell onto the bed. She didn't even take off her boots.
After nearly a minute of lying motionless, Sophie got up, grumbling, yanked off her boots, and set them in a perfect side-by-side arrangement beside the bed. She wiggled her toes experimentally; at least her foot didn't sting anymore. She rummaged through her satchel, glaring at the stupid scalpel she'd stolen from the stupid doctor—she'd personally blow that one into smithereens when she returned to G-13—and grabbed her lighter and smokes.
She needed to relax. She was going home. This was final. End of story.
After all, going home was what she wanted… right?
Sophie wanted to hit herself.
No question marks. No hesitation. It was what she wanted. It really, really, really was.
…Really.
Smoke lazily unfurled in the air. Sophie watched it dance around in swirly ribbons before floating out the window. The sky was blood red, spilling over the swamps and broken-hinged wooden houses. A lonely, broken moan of a harmonica drifted in the breeze. Gator Town was old. Old and dusty and filled with lost spirits and wildness. It was fascinating and haunting at the same time.
…And dirty. But for the sake of romanticism, she tried not to dwell on it.
Sophie leaned her head against the wall. She couldn't go to sleep tonight. Sleep was evil. Sleep was the detriment to humankind. Searching for something to do, she grabbed the old book from the nightstand and flipped over to the last page she'd read.
In the dead of night, he and his troops carved an opening in the belly of the cat. They found the mechanic in the castle's highest tower and raised their swords, ready to slay him where he stood.
Then hundreds of villagers leaped out of the dark, headed by the swamp princess herself. They defeated the king's men and he was left powerless. But to his surprise, the mechanic showed mercy to the king. Ashamed and defeated, he gave the two lovers his blessing.
Together, the mechanic and the swamp princess ruled on Apolleon, the Sea Cat island, leading their people into an era of prosperity.
And they lived happily ever after.
What a typical ending.
Sophie set the book aside and rested her head beside the window, one hand lingering against the cigarette. Flying cats… they could fly her back home, if only they were real. Flying ships maybe, or flying islands…
She was on her fifth—eighth? twelfth?—cigarette when her hand fumbled the lighter and it slipped somewhere off the bed. Sophie muttered 'pineapples' quietly under her breath, but before she could crawl over and grab it, a hand with the letters DEATH tattooed on it reached out and held the lighter for her.
"Mangoes, not you again," she said wearily.
He twirled the lighter around his long fingers. "What could you possibly gain from going to the Cat's Eye? Don't tell me I awakened a lust for danger in you?"
"The only thing you awakened in me is my strong desire to hit you with a frying pan," she muttered, looking away.
"Careful, Canary…" His voice was smooth, quiet, detached, but his eyes were a delighted sort of wicked. His breath fanned over her neck. "Aren't you the one dreaming of me?"
Her whole face burned. Pineapples, Subconscious Sophie! She was about to aggressively inform his face to go away, when Trafalgar Law shifted. He folded back in on himself and morphed into a ragged Viran soldier, covered with gore and soot. Blood pooled around where legs should've been, sinking and spreading into the dirt—
Hysteria overwhelmed her. She thrashed, trying to kick off the sweaty blanket so she could start running far, far away, but her feet got tangled in the sheets and she promptly crashed onto the floor.
Sophie lay there for several horrified minutes, hugging her stomach and inhaling rapidly.
They'd underestimated the casualties. The medic squad was short two dozen, so anyone who had good aim and a basic knowledge of medicine were pulled to the front lines. 'Learn it as you go,' they'd told her. 'You're the daughter of Charaka Hippo, aren't you?'
And they gave her a pistol—just in case, they'd said, you find a soldier you can't save.
"Stop it, stop it, this isn't real, you're not real, get out of my head!" She clutched her hair and screamed into her knees, "Get out!"
She didn't know how long she spent there, laying on the floor. But it was long enough for a familiar numbness to overtake her body, to coil around her like polished steel armor, ready for war. Vira was just a thing. Just a simple thing. People died there, but people died all the time. And the pirate, too—he was no one. His existence didn't matter in the least. They were nothing to her, for she was beyond them all, miles and miles beyond, flying for home.
Sophie opened her eyes. "Arsenate," she whispered. "Borate. Tetraborate. Bromate. Hypobromite…"
Something poked her back. She reached behind her and tugged out the empty cigarette packet.
She should've felt angry. Disappointed. Anything.
But Sophie felt nothing.
She rose to her feet and tossed the packet into the waste basket. The metal ping echoed in her eardrums.
Breathing normally once again, she glanced out the window, at the swamp that lingered just outside Gator Town. The moon shone over the canopy of trees, painting them the color of bone and pale shadows. She raked a hand through her black curls. Sleep was bad.
So she shucked off Nellie's clothes, changed into her faux-Criminal shirt and shorts, and stomped into her boots.
Seconds later, the door quietly swung shut.
—
"He already left? What was the point of spending the whole damn day keeping tabs on the woman?" Penguin groaned, leaning against the doorway. "Changed her hair, but not her eyes or her voice. Gone all black and short now."
"And she's still fine," Shachi commented with a thumbs-up. He was largely ignored.
"Captain said he was going to the swamp," Bepo said.
Penguin rubbed his face. "Ah, their meeting's gonna be messy." He paused. "What's with the brain?"
The polar bear was carrying a glass jar filled with a dissected grey mess floating listlessly in formaldehyde. "Captain told me to put this in his office."
"Doesn't he have other brains to play with?"
"He says this one is his favorite."
Shachi shrugged at Penguin. "Right," he said. "And why is he heading to the swamp again?"
"To find glow-in-the-dark mushrooms," Bepo said brightly. "Except he said it was bioluminescent fungi. But I think they're basically the same thing."
Penguin considered. "Well, I'm going to sleep. You guys rest up, too," he called over his shoulder. "The Log Pose already locked onto Cat's Eye, so we're setting sail tomorrow."
Shachi suddenly started. "I didn't have the chance to tell Captain something important!"
He swung around. "What? What is it?"
"I didn't ask him to save some of her hair for me!"
Penguin promptly whacked Shachi over the head.
to be continued
trivia
manette nellie: named after lucie manette from a tale of two cities.
gator town: aptly named for the large reptiles inhabiting the town's backyard swamps.
darnay: late husband of nellie. named after charles darnay from a tale of two cities.
sophie buying a bushel of apples: apples represent knowledge. the fruit vendor gives sophie her first glimpse of nellie's past and the island's history.
st. john's wort, aniseed, and balm of gilead: st. john's wort is a root that combats depression, aniseed is used to protect one from nightmares, and balm of gilead is thought to mend broken hearts.
canary slim: slim was nickname for lots of old-timey blues musicians.