So, this entire chapter is dedicated to my sole reviewer, Midnight72955. Honour on you, your family and your cow.
chapter warnings: none this chapter.
Previously: Upon her arrival at the House of Night, Neferet had pretty much given up. Too much had happened, and was still happening, and she didn't have the energy to fight anymore. This changed with an argument with her mentor that caused her to question Nyx, and to regain that fire she'd lost from recent events. Luna was informed that she was to have a roommate.
As expected, no sleep came to Neferet. She sat, starting at her journal, wanting to write something, to try to process the changes, the events, anything. Finally, she began, writing the date: May the fourth, 1893. She paused for a long time, before her pen grazed the paper with both a sense of finality and familiarity. She felt like an intruder in her own book.
"I do not know how to begin this entry. A person should not begin with an ending, after all. Such would make for a terrible story. There are a lot of facts right now, but not a lot of reasons. Arthur has abandoned me. Father has…" she stopped short, something welling in her, tying her stomach in knots and making her skin crawl. She couldn't write so damning a word. Not now. "Father has done unforgivable things. I have lost my humanity. I am becoming a vampyre. I am being told stories, facts. The goddess has chosen me. Revenge will destroy me. I am to be grateful to their goddess for delivering me from my situation too late. For weakening me with her plague when I could have run away. I am to be grateful. Revenge will destroy me." She could try to believe that was all she had to think, but couldn't lie to the journal.
"My father will not let me escape so easily. I am not safe." She shuddered, but knew the facts were not far off. "Emily Wheiler is dead. Her trusting nature, not revenge is what killed her. Revenge will destroy him, before he comes for me. Revenge will destroy me." She inked only one more sentence on the page of the journal, finally admitting some weakness to it. "perhaps, that is why I welcome it."
With that, she shut the book, the two hard covers slapping together with a noise like a gavel. It would only be a few days longer until she was sent into her dormitory, where she'd likely have to fend off another person. Someone else who either wanted to smother her in misplaced pity, or someone to irk her, or someone to be in her way, to see too much. Even before that night, Emily was a private person. Neferet, from her ashes, had become downright reclusive.
It wasn't long before her silence was broken by the entrance of her mentor, who sat at the foot of her bed. "I should not have argued with you yesterday," her tone sounded weary, and echoed bizarrely, though Neferet had never heard it do so before. "I recognize that this is difficult for you," she continued, but the second voice, the echo, had started to mumble something, out of synchronization with the first voice and the movement of her lips. Neferet's eyes widened, trying to focus on the second voice, the murmur, a voice that was distinctly Cordelia sighing, though her lips didn't move. 'This is hopeless, Cordelia,' that fainter voice reprimanded, 'she doesn't care what you say. she knows what she's going to know you can't really change that.'
Neferet paused for an instant, to hear the words, not seeing Cordelia's lips move, but hearing her voice all the same. 'This is nothing like your first fledgling. She's not Rebecca. She's not going to care, even if you could show her the kind of darkness revenge like hers would invoke.'
She decided not to tell the woman what she was hearing, hoping to hear more. "Neferet?" Cordelia asked, her louder real voice cutting through, "did you hear me?" she tried, looking a little uncertain.
Neferet had to tear herself away from that internal voice to figure out what she was supposed to say, what wouldn't arouse suspicion. Her mentor did not expect to convince her her desire, not for revenge bit for her own safety through it was wrong, though she seemed to think it was. "If that was, indeed an apology, I accept it." she tried, listening for the response the woman's internal voice made.
'Do you think that means maybe she'll trust you?'
She concealed her smile, realizing just how to get the woman to stop watching her so intently. "Perhaps, I was rash as well, not to consider what you were telling me." Lying was becoming natural. She had considered it, she readily accepted the sacrifice if protecting herself—protecting the world from her father would cost her own soul. It had done her no good before.
'Oh, thank Nyx,' came her mentor's thoughts, 'it wasn't too late. Perhaps she does have a chance.' Her words did not convey the elation in her thoughts, when she smiled an said, "even the best of us tend to take our suffering out on others, especially when it's so fresh. I understand, Neferet. I am here, if you need someone to talk to."
Neferet just wanted to be left alone to test her newfound ability. "Perhaps another night. I think I might finally find the rest that has eluded me." Her mentor bid her good night, the grown vampyre almost ludicrously happy that a mere fledgling trusted her. Neferet couldn't help but find it the slightest bit pathetic.
She tried reaching our to one of the nurses running the infirmary, picking up faint whispers. 'Once this shift is over, and Dante takes over, perhaps I can finish that novel… I wonder if she actually goes through with it… It's a shame the main character isn't a touch bolder, or…'
Neferet was not interested in the older woman's fantasy about the two characters, so she tried a little further, finding another injured fledgling. His thoughts were soft, almost a whimper, 'This is it, I suppose. I wonder if they'll feel bad for it, if they think I'm still me, or if they view it as the slaying of a demon… what does it matter? I'm going to die. What does any of it matter?'
She didn't realize how tightly her fists were balled until she released the thoughts, like letting out a deep sigh of air she hadn't realized was still in her lungs. Her nails had left little crescent moon impressions in her hands, which would fade. The fire in her eyes would not. What was the point of any of it, of keeping a soul, of keeping some moral high ground when they were all dying? Revenge, at least, would remove one more aggressor from the world. One more danger. A shiver ran down her spine at the idea that her father was not the only man of his ilk in the world.
With a slow sigh, she pushed it down, starting to probe for more thoughts, testing her range. She would never be caught off-guard again. Never again.
Her range did not extend to the other side of the school, where Luna was eating with her small group of friends. "So you don't know anything about her yet?" Ava asked, between spoonfuls of soup, "except that she's in the infirmary, and that Cordelia thinks you're the best choice of roommate for her, provided she can make it to the bed in your room," she chided.
Luna bit her lip, knowing there was more to it than just that they would be close friends. Luke spared her from making that distinction. "When she retold it for the third time, Cordelia had a decidedly melodramatic tone. Something about last chances, or saving grace, or… what did she say again?"
Luna wasn't sure she wanted them to assume her future roommate was in some kind of extreme situation, with Luke who fancied himself something of a detective, and Ava, who didn't intend to start rumours, but couldn't keep a secret to save her life. "That was a something of an…editorialization. Cordelia just said that I was her first choice for a roommate," she lied, hands running through her long hair, which was still in a mess of curls like it had been earlier.
"Either way," Oliver chimed in, "it's good being someone's first choice. I'm pretty sure I was randomly assigned to my roommate. Aurelio—uh, sorry, Aura only seems to like talking to Luna," Luna blushed and averted her eyes, focusing intently on her soup. She ought to like Aura the way he did her. He was sensitive. He enjoyed art, and music, and was rather handsome. He had long almost white blond hair, and steel grey eyes that softened whenever he looked upon something beautiful. Something was missing. Luna just didn't feel anything but friendship for the boy.
Oliver, however, was practically planning their wedding. "You know, he's going off campus to see the World Fair on Wednesday. That gives you six days to talk Cordelia into letting you go off campus as well, if you'd like to join him."
Luna thought for a moment about the lights, the sighs, the amount she could paint after seeing everything, and smiled. "Perhaps I will."
Pie Jesu this was late. I am so sorry. The muse is slow, I suppose. That or the work schedule is too much work schedule.
