Author's note: And with this third chapter everything is in achronological order. The chapters will be collected together and placed in chronological order from the Handmaid's perspective when the work is finished. For now however there will be quite a bit of jumping about.
Even with the passing of a few "nights" the Girl remains frustrated with her "name". She can't even think of it as being a name proper, or imagine why it's important. Yes, the Woman is earnest about damn near everything, but the "name" just seems so empty and useless a gesture. Insulting, really. Almost as empty was being declared a "friend". Really, the Girl had thought of visiting the Woman again. Job or no job. Just to chat with her about something stupid, but the whole prospect was just soured by that. "Friendship" was wearying.
Her plans to poke at the older jadeblood cancelled, the Girl sticks to idling about in her room during her free time. There's precious little downtime for her, but she'll be damned before she subjects herself to another boring lecture on her personal worth. Oh, but I like you. You don't have to be a good person, really, because trolls just aren't. Hah. What a bunch of bullshit. There were two types of people who didn't require names and who damn sure didn't warrant friendship: slaves and monsters. As chance would have it the Girl was both, and that overly sentimental woman was just an idiot.
This line of thought can't just leave her well enough alone, sadly. As the hours tick by the name keeps coming to mind. How the Woman said it, how overjoyed she looked at her decision. The Girl scowls and tries to ignore it, but poetry proves a worthless effort. Whether it's reading or writing or reciting she just can't put herself to it because the Maryam twit was the reason for her hobby. In some horrible twist of fate the Girl's one source of joy was indelibly tied together with that freak.
Where in childhood the Girl would throw her pens to the floor in upset she now simply glares at them. This does nothing and ultimately she sets them away, finally giving up on poetry for the "night". The rest of her free time she spends reading through one of the dry Alternian history books He's given her over the sweeps. Something about the tracking down of all the things she herself had caused is comforting. A coup she spurred on here, a murder or five there. Cold hard facts neatly lining up, and still so many more things for her to cause. There was work. Nothing more. As it should be.
Later in the "night" she heads off on yet another job. Just an assassination down in the brooding caverns. Something easy. God, there were a lot of killings down there that she needed to cause directly or otherwise. The jadebloods had not left a good impression on her with all their squabbling like burrowing farmbolgers. To say nothing of their fussing which birthed her. Heading back to the caverns does nothing but worsen her mood, as does her continued lack of rations. Names did nothing but cause problems and for no reason, and everything just keeps getting worse.
The job is clean and quick, however. She ends up in the caverns somewhere near the nesting patches. A short jog to the bell chamber and she is there. An ancient jadeblood who looks no older than ten sweeps at best opens the door to her block and the Girl strikes. There goes the elder Mother's head and there the Girl goes to pick it up. Safely stored away in her sylladex, it waits until she can burn it later.
Job done it's back to the mansion, so she thinks. The clicking of a disturbed rock catches her attention, though. Music box put away the Girl turns to spy the last person she wants to see at the moment. In front of her stands that damnable woman. She's young still, only about eleven sweeps and only recently turned. Still fearful of the Girl too, as she rightly should be. Keeping the times and ages all neatly sorted out no matter where she is is easy now. What isn't easy, though it damn well should be, is leaving to let the Woman go on with her business. The Girl glares, unwilling to just leave.
"Uh. Hi there," the Woman says, a stupid grin on her face. She's scared. That is somewhat pleasing, but only just barely. It can't kill the overall irritation.
The Girl stands stock still and continues to scowl at her. Her only response to the Woman is a curt "Hi."
"So I see that you're. Well," the Woman pauses and waves her hand a bit, looking for her words probably, "Having. A very productive day! Yeah. That."
"Master of the obvious there," the Girl says with a shrug. "Seems like I've crashed your productive day," she adds pointedly. Why, yes, we do remember that you're a pervert. It's hard not to and the Girl is in the exact sort of mood to remind her of that.
The Woman frowns at that comment. She seems bolstered by the insult though, and she stands straighter with defiance. "Yes, because all I do is run around fucking the timekeepers. Yeah. That's me. Porrim Maryam, fucker of timekeepers."
"There's the grub watchers too, and just about everyone down here," the Girl says back in a deadpan tone.
"You get my point, and the point is that I'm not happy with you reducing me to just a 'whore'. So how about you cut the crap!" the Woman shouts at her.
Which is just what they both do not need. The Girl rolls her eyes at her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and so childish. God, the Woman isn't going to stop either. As she's raring up to throw a tantrum the Girl says, "Yes, let's just wake up the whole joint. Great idea you have there, getting in trouble again. Also, whores get paid. You don't."
It's cruel and insulting, and it's meant to be. The words do shut the Woman up though. Good, good. Annoyed with her or not getting the Woman in trouble wasn't exactly her idea of fun at the moment. It might mean more work for her in the end, she knows. The name comes back to mind now. She tries to push it back, but to no avail. Fuck.
The Woman now quieter though no less pissed explains, "I was just going to deliver a note to the Mother here. That's not going to happen now though, because you went and murdered her like you do everyone else. I guess it means one less person to be gofer for, though, so, sure. Let's just thank you. Thank you for existing to fuck everything up. It means a lot."
Good God, does the Woman actually think she cares? A close look at her face says that, yes, she probably does expect the Girl to give a shit about her misgivings. The Girl shrugs and walks off without a word. She'll just go on a nice walk. Maybe scare a woman for no reason at all. Then she'll go back to the mansion and continue that trying to ignore her "name" thing.
The Woman is stubborn as always though and walks off after her. At the very least she has the sense to shut up. It's a pain to have her following like this either way, but there's silence so she can't be too upset with her. Instead the Girl makes up for it by being upset with herself, because she can't just up and leave right now because that stupid, dumb, useless name has come to mind again. It fits, doesn't it? I think it does. No, it really doesn't. It's not that the name is an unpleasant one. Has a nice sound to it and it feels nice in the mouth. The issue is that the Girl doesn't need a name, but this Woman following her insists that she does because she's a person.
And the brat just won't stop following her. The Girl stops and lets out an audible sigh. She knows the Woman isn't going to leave. No, she'll follow her to the ends of Alternia. Hounding her down and demanding that she answer for her crimes. An older her might leave her be, but at this age she's still so green and so convinced that being contrary is the secret to winning everything. That'll definitely get things fixed. "You're stupid, you know," the Girl says knowing that it won't deter her. It's more out of frustration than anything else.
"So you take the time to remind me pretty much every time we meet," the Woman says firmly. The Girl guesses that she's standing straight and tall, trying to make herself fearsome. Which is hilarious and brings at least something of a smirk to the Girl's face. The Woman is just too much of a bean pole. Too tall to be small, but too thin to be big.
"If you don't like it then why don't you prove me wrong? Go back to your block," the Girl says.
There is silence. It's the delightful silence of being right to the annoyance of another. She turns around to look at the Woman. Her face is screwed up in the same defiant frown she's seen before. The Girl says nothing more, she simply waits. Satisfaction. Good. She's curious too, just a bit. If there was anything intriguing about the Woman it was her gumption. Her tenacity seems to have died at the moment, though. A bit disappointing, but to be expected. Honestly, it's preferable in a way.
"Well. I don't know, honestly," the Woman admits.
"Do it anyway. I have work to do."
"If you're so busy then why haven't you left?"
"Maybe I have work here still."
"That's bullshit and you know it," the Woman says. She gives a huff of defiance. Thinks she has a point, probably.
She does, really. There's not a thing for the Girl to do down here, and she still hasn't left. Like hell she'll say that, though. She shrugs and answers, "Maybe I'm bored. How would you know?"
"But you're still here and you're still talking to me. So you've got the time and you're bored, but no, you're just going to stay here talking to a 'stupid girl'. If you're the smart one then why don't you leave?" the Woman asks, tone firm and confident.
Everything is such a pain, and really the Girl isn't sure why she hasn't left. There wasn't a sentimental bone in her body, but she was still here. "Do I need to give you an answer?" she asks.
"Not really."
"Good. You're not getting one, so run off," the Girl says while turning back around, "I've got the time. You don't." The Woman doesn't move, however. Whatever. The Girl isn't going to stick around any longer, and so she pulls out the music box and winds it.
She just wanted a nice walk. Just a nice walk to cool off and the Woman had to go and stick her nose in things, as was her wont. Back to the mansion the Girl goes and as the hideous lime green walls come into sight it comes back to her.
Samira. It's a nice name, she guesses. It's just not hers.