Cathy wasn't certain what to do with this information. It just floated in the air between the two of them like a cloud of breath. But it didn't dissipate. It stayed, waiting for Cathy to absorb it. She felt an overwhelming surge of unease. Calliope's words did not bode well at all. They couldn't be true. There was now a roof over her head, and food. Just those points alone already sounded like a good deal.
"You don't know what it's like out there," said Cathy evenly, casting her gaze to the floor. She crossed her arms to warm a chill that wasn't really there.
"You think so, do you? Maybe you're not aware, but news travels and rumors spread insanely well here. On days when Hephaestus makes deliveries, he reports back with the condition of Arkham City."
"Deliveries? How-"
"We're wasting time. You have two options. Either you go back to your room and accept Maxie's hospitality until further notice, or you stay here, right in this hall, all alone with nobody to help you. Go ahead. See what happens to you if you try to wing it. I'm sure you'd be used to that by now."
Those last words stung like venom. But they were strategic, and Cathy could see right through them. It was Calliope's ploy to make any opposing decisions on Cathy's part look foolish in comparison. At the same time, however, she had to admit that Calliope was right. Pulling resources from the environment to survive had been the easy part, and it only took until landing in a madman's den make such a comparison. An exchange of evil for a lesser evil was what her experiences so far boiled down to.
Cathy didn't feel all that hungry anymore. Casting her gaze to the floor, the wilting vapours of pride she still had left in the tank were evaporating fast.
"Lead the way, then," she murmured.
Calliope did exactly that, neither motioning for Cathy to follow, or saying a word. Clearly she trusted enough that Cathy would obediently trail behind.
The hall of statues was beginning to become a little familiar. Cathy had passed it more times than she expected within the span of twenty-four hours.
"So," she started, making the sound to ease in, "What exactly is going on here?"
Calliope whirled around suddenly, effectively halting them both.
"Don't you get it?" she hissed.
Cathy clearly tripped another wire. She would have almost been insulted if there weren't more important things to worry about. She did get it. The thought crossed her mind before, but like all passive musings, she shot it down as soon as it surfaced. The insinuation was just too bizarre to take seriously. Maxie Zeus, believing himself to be the Greek god of the same name? She'd heard of people having a god complex, but a literal one?
"If it's so hard for you to figure out, why don't I put it this way. Why do you think he smiled at you when you sat down next to me?"
Cathy was dumbstruck more by the harsh tone than the actual question. She was about to motion a lost, genuinely clueless shrug when Calliope cut her off.
"The hearth, Hestia. It was right behind you. You sat exactly where he expected you to. I don't know if you know your stuff and planned that or not, but that easily made yourself more trustworthy in his eyes."
Luck! That's all it was, then. Sheer, dumb, stupid luck.
Calliope was silent the rest of the way, so by extension so was Cathy. The woman had no need to look around corners or watch out for certain people. She knew the maze of wings and corridors like the place was mapped in her mind.
Twilight arrived by the time the two women reached the bedroom. Entering the threshold, Cathy then faced Calliope like a prisoner waiting for instruction.
"Wait here," said Calliope. "A tub will be brought up to you."
That didn't sound very practical. Besides, one kind of got use to their own grime when having gone a month without water. It really didn't seem like a necessity to be clean at this point, no matter how matted her hair got. "Um, no thank you, that's not necessary."
"I am not asking for your permission."
Cathy hushed. Still, the hesitation would not leave her face.
"If it's privacy you're worried about, nobody's going to be here, you'll be left alone."
Privacy was exactly what Cathy was worried about. But even if the entire building could be evacuated specifically for this purpose, she still didn't feel all that comfortable with the idea. Dangerous places had a tendency to do that to one's mind.
Calliope left down the hall before Cathy could protest. Left to aimlessly pace in her room, she set a fire in the grate for some warmth. The temperature indoors dropped with the sun everytime, it would be prudent to keep a couple steps ahead.
Soon there was a knock on the door. Cathy swung it open to find Calliope standing there, holding a neatly folded square of piled beige fabric, and, to her dismay, Hephaestus. In his strong, thick arms, Hephaestus held a rounded, lightweight bathing tub. Given the nod by Calliope to enter, he carried it inside and set it down near the fire, exited back into the hallway and wheeled in a dolly carrying at least ten steaming buckets of water. Systematically, he overturned them all one by one into the tub.
Task complete, he nodded to Calliope and left the room, taking the dolly and empty buckets with him. Calliope's eyes followed him like a haunted portrait. Even when he was out of the room she leaned and continued watching down the hall for an extended time.
Seemingly satisfied after a long pause, she acknowledged Cathy again. "Someone will take the tub away later. Dinner will be soon. Make yourself presentable." She shoved the beige fabric into Cathy's arms and then closed the door behind her. The slap of her sandals echoed beyond the door and gradually disappeared.
A corner of the pile unfolded, dripping through Cathy's arms. Lifting one unattached flap to find out just what exactly it was, she found wide shoulder straps and a flat, modest neckline. It wasn't a towel like she thought at first. It was a dress. A Grecian inspired one, made of the same billowy material as Calliope's. An actual towel and a bar of soap tumbled from the folds when Cathy snapped out the dress to see it as a whole.
Setting them down on the floor next to the tub, Cathy trepidatiously dipped a finger into the water. The temptingly clear, warm, and inviting water.
Taking one last look over her shoulder at the door, she made certain the key was locked into it's proper place. Hurriedly, she struggled to untangle her many layers. Wiggling her hidden bag off her shoulders, she swept it far under the bed to hide in secrecy. Then, gripping the rim of the bathtub carefully, she hopped right in.
Even though a bath would be cause for celebration after her ordeal, she barely even felt the water during the first half minute, she was too busy watching the door and rubbing rapidly at her dirty skin. After a minute or so in which nothing telltale sounded in the hallway outside, she willed herself to relax. She marveled at the way her hands warped underneath the chaotic, clear water, which was gradually turning dingy from a month's worth of caked grime. The clarity was so hypnotizing, it was beautiful to see water again that wasn't an oily black puddle, or a vast, opaque harbour.
Cathy experimentally lifted her bicep to the firelight. What once was a healthy amount of meat on her bones had shrunk. She knew to stop herself, it wasn't her fault, but she couldn't help but feel alarmed. Her body had been gradually disappearing underneath the layers and layers she had put on to stay warm. She wondered how it was possible for many of the City's inmates to retain their buff physiques.
Normally she loved extended baths. They were relaxing, and they gave her time to just think peacefully in solitude. But this was different, and she wanted it to be quick. Massaging soap lather into her hair, just to get rid of the greasy coating, she quickly dunked again and scratched out every last bit of it.
Hopping out, taking little care to the mess she was making on the floor, she grabbed the towel and dried off before the cold air could chill her.
She stared down at the wrinkled pile of her trusty clothes versus the thin dress she was given. She wanted more than anything to pull on all her sweaters again, but there was no question, she was expected to wear the dress.
Sliding back into her underthings, she grudgingly slipped the dress over her head, found the arm holes, and then left gravity to do the rest. It tumbled down her body with little assistance, brushing the floor and covering her toes. The skirt did well to also hide her long-unshaven legs.
Wearing what they told her to would appease them for a little while, just until she was able to escape quietly, and she reminded herself to keep an eye out for something else buoyant to cross the harbour.
Her skin felt frighteningly exposed, raising goosebumps on her narrow upper arms. After many weeks of bundling herself up in layers, dressing this way made her feel near naked. The material absorbed so little warmth, as was its nature, leaving a breezy sensation that left her colder.
Standing nearer to the fire for warmth, again she found herself with the dilemma of whether or not she was supposed to be escorted downstairs to the dining room. Calliope had mentioned she visited earlier that day to do so, so it seemed logical that it would happen again. Surely they wouldn't be angry with her if she never showed up due to poor communication, would they? Or was their Hestia always expected to know?
Cathy spent the next few minutes grinding the towel into her hair so as not to blot her dress with wetspots. These people could be sticklers for presentability, she didn't want to risk any less-than-savoury opinions towards her, just for the sake of her safety.
After five seemingly long minutes, there was a knock at her door again. Cathy stared at the doorknob from her sitting position on her bed, dreading having to open it and interact with these people again. She was still mulling over whether or not she could truly trust Calliope. The woman had several reasons to lie, the most of which trying to entrap Cathy.
Standing up, she breathed deep through the nose and crossed the room, opening the door. In the hall stood Calliope as expected, but also Maxie himself. Cathy bit her bottom lip at Zeus' unexpected appearance.
"Excellent choice," he commended his Muse. "She looks much like her old self again."
"I thought it very fitting myself," answered Calliope, the picture of mild, suppressed pride.
Cathy found it disconcerting how the woman could easily switch from one temperament to another. It was so convincing that she couldn't tell which was the natural one.
"But there is just one thing missing," said Maxie ponderingly.
The two women stilled. Calliope's gaze raked over Cathy's appearance, scrolling her mental checklist for anything she could have possibly forgotten.
Maxie waltzed past the women. He gathered Phil's brown blanket lying on the bed.
"Musn't forget to don your cloak, Hestia," he said, returning. "I know of your fondness for it."
Cathy relaxed. Stopping short of her outstretched hand which was ready to accept it, Maxie instead draped the blanket over Cathy's shoulders personally, arranging and settling it into position.
"Perfection," he beamed once it fell over her evenly. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, then regarded Calliope. "Onward, then. Our feast waits for no one but us."
A/N: So "Bolt Out of the Blue" celebrated it's first year anniversary a little while ago on Sept. 18th. And I only managed to write 11 chapters within that time. That just sounds pitiful. I apologize :( Honestly, your patience astounds me. Thanks for putting up with me, guys.
I'm so excited for the new Gotham T.V show! I've been following it's promos since April and I've tuned in to every episode so far. I even started a new fanfiction on the show. Check it out through my profile if you're interested.
GerardDelusignan - Spectacular author?! Sir (madam?), I don't know who you are personally, but that is a compliment of the highest honor and I am saddened that I cannot thank you personally for using such generous words to describe my story!