Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea
Chapter 13. A friendship is forged…
"Though I was not conscious during the direct aftermath of the Neo-Viking raid, I woke up to the end results. While damage to the ship was repaired easily enough, waking up next to a body covered with a white cloth was nothing less than a confrontation with my own mortality. Seagull was cruelly cut down in her prime and her loss was felt by the entire crew. Sadly, Seagull wouldn't be the only one we would lose during the expedition…"
- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006
It was late into the morning when Hermione finally woke up. Eagerly, she made her way to the sickbay, where she was elated to see Bellatrix already up and about. After at least fourteen hours of sleep, Hermione was in almost as good a spirit as Bellatrix seemed to be. The plucky curly-haired girl was sat on one of the stretchers with her legs kicking back and forth as she had hung them over the side, looking much like one of those energetic little girls at the playground. Bellatrix was scribbling in one of her journals and looked up from her work. Her smile lit up the room when she laid eyes upon Hermione.
"Hermie!" she exclaimed, to which Hermione rushed forward to hug her tightly. Zipper, whom had been following Hermione, went mad with joy and started buzzing circles around the sickbay, teleporting mid-flight to both their heads back and forth until finally nestling himself in Bellatrix' arms.
"Someone is doing better," replied Hermione.
"I am," said Bellatrix, petting the happily buzzing wasp in her arms. "And I hear I have to thank you for saving me yet again. I'll have to work harder to even the score."
"You keep me sane," said Hermione, reaching out to touch Bellatrix' cheek with her good hand. "Well, most of the time. So we'll call it even, hm?"
The vampire doctor was mulling around his office area and gave the girls a grim look. "She's cleared for release," said Big-Mouth. "So you'll be taking her out of sickbay, correct?" he spoke gruffly. Obviously the vampire wanted his peace and quiet back. Bellatrix always was over-enthusiastic after a long night sleep and Hermione supposed the buzzing wasp wasn't helping. The vampire took a card from his desk and wrote something on it. "Right," he said and handed it to Bellatrix. "Give this to Haema. Like we discussed, you'll be put on an iron-rich diet for the next week."
"Fantastic!" grinned Bellatrix. "Hermie, I get double meat allowance for a whole week! Isn't that wonderful?!"
Hermione sighed. "Most of the meat we have on board is beef. You know what that does to your stomach, right? Back home, it's not much of a problem, but in a tiny room in a tiny bed I can very much tell you that flapping the duvet does little to help."
"I am not hearing this," the vampire muttered. "My enhanced sense of smell doesn't want to know this either."
"Meat!" Bellatrix grinned. "Meatymeatymeatymeat!"
Leaving the raving carnivore to her excitement over extra meat, Hermione took hold of Bellatrix' wrist to examine the wounds in her forearm. The wounds were closed, but still deep and ugly. The word 'pure' covered a much larger area of Bellatrix' arm than the wound on Hermione's did. Though she still did not know what to make of the weird readings and the mystery how the magical measuring on both their wounds indicated they were made by the same dagger, what Hermione did know was how the cursed wound could behave.
"Expect part of the wound to open spontaneously," Hermione said. "Healing magic won't always work to close it, so I always have a small pot of dittany-enhanced ointment on me. And I suppose you'll be wanting to wear more long-sleeved outfits in summer."
"Are you kidding?" Bellatrix smirked. "I'm going to be wearing less long-sleeved outfits from now on! Why would I hide this? Let people see it! I'll say that I got those scars from fighting a fierce battle with queen Ealdwynn herself!"
Hermione blinked. "Trix, you were completely done over! It wasn't even a fight!"
Bellatrix pouted. "I don't have to disclose that little detail," she winked. "I'm a writer, I can sort of… be creative with the truth. Next time I'm on Info-Wizards, I'll have an amazing yarn to spin and the scars to back it up!"
Hermione raised her eyebrow. "This is something which completely broke me six years ago. And the reaction you have to the same thing happening to you is 'oh hey, I have an ace scar now, come have look at it!'."
The lack of humour on Hermione voice caused Bellatrix' well of enthusiasm to run dry and her broad smile was turning into a pout.
"Don't," smiled Hermione, quickly reaching out to raise her girl's chin. "I'm glad. You have a good attitude and it'll spare you a whole lot of misery. Well, in either case, I'm glad you're so positive about this all," she said, rolling up her own sleeve. With the 'mudblood' scar on display now, she held her arm next to Bellatrix'. Though her own wound was now over six years old, it still looked to be somewhat fresh.
"At least Rodolphus had better handwriting than Ealdwynn did," Bellatrix said.
"It wasn't Rodolphus."
Hermione had said that without thinking about it and she had no idea why. She locked eyes with Bellatrix, who gave her a rather quizzical look. Why on Earth had she said that? Of course that wound had been inflicted upon her had been artfully applied by Rodolphus Lestrange, among with all the other violent horrors he had inflicted upon her. In the back of her skull, she felt a splitting headache start to take form, to a point that she closed her eyes and hissed until she thought about something else. "Never mind," said Hermione. "I'm being silly."
Hermione reached out to lay her hand… the silver one this time… on Bellatrix' cheek. Though the prosthetic hand had no feeling, Hermione could swear she could feel the softness and warmth of her girl's skin, especially when she lay her own hand on her silver one and rubbed slightly. She simply leaned in and kissed her Bellatrix on the lips. The girl she loved so much responded in kind, much to the vampire doctor's chagrin.
"I'm still here…" he muttered grumpily. "Remember, this is a sterile environment. The human mouth contains a myriad of harmful bacteria."
Both girls ignored the vampire. Hermione held onto Bellatrix and became angry. Angry at those who had hurt the girl she loved, certainly, but also at herself for failing to stop it. In her mind, she had run and rerun a thousand scenarios of the ways she could have acted, some of which ended with the violent and gruesome death of Queen Ealdwynn and… likely causing the death of everyone on board as a retaliation… Hermione had often been told that she could be cold and vindictive, to the point of being cruel. Marietta Edgecombe would bear the severe scars of Hermione's cruel side for the rest of her life and there were more than a few lives she had personally ended in the battles towards the end of the second wizarding war.
What worth had she if she could not protect the ones she loved most dearly?
"Ah, see I someone is doing better," sounded from the doorway. The girls broke their kiss and turned to see Eleanor stood there.
"Eleanor!" exclaimed Bellatrix with an eager voice. "You came to see me?"
It was endearing to see Bellatrix being so… bouncy. But then again, this was the childhood hero she had always looked up to. There were moments still that Bellatrix simply wouldn't shut up about her. But as Bellatrix pivoted around with a smile on her face, Hermione couldn't help but wonder. She had seen precious little of Eleanor during the trip, the woman having confined herself to either her cabin or her workspace and spending most of the trip behind closed doors so far. When asked, Eleanor would answer she had spend more of her time cataloguing artifacts, but to do that for weeks on end? For artifacts she had had for years already? Something simply didn't seem right here.
On top of that, Eleanor simply didn't look right either. Perhaps it was because the portholes were covered with blinds and the only lightsource were a few magical oil-lamps, but the older woman looked, for the lack of a better term, sickly. Her skin was ashen grey with a tint of green, her eyes were dull and somewhat lifeless while her hair lacked volume… and was there less of it? As Hermione observed her and Bellatrix chatting, she noted a lack of power behind Eleanor's voice too. Now, Eleanor was an old witch who'd been in her seventies when Bellatrix had followed her exploits as a child back in the fifties, but she had certainly looked a lot better during the ceremony on the day of them leaving NewCastle. And that had been only a few weeks ago.
Hermione turned her head to Big-Mouth and saw clearly she wasn't the only one scrutinizing Eleanor.
"I've actually been quite productive," said Bellatrix. "I've been spending my time sorting my notes and will start interviewing the crew so I can piece together the course of events of the raid. Maybe that Neo-Viking we captured could be willing to share some details too."
"My," said Eleanor with a smile. A somewhat unnatural looking smile. As if Hermione was looking at one of those Disney animatronics trying to smile. "It seems I have made the right choice for my chronicler."
Hermione almost chuckled when Bellatrix blushed brightly and gazed at the floor for a moment. "I, uhm, I… I have pages and pages full of notes and I should probably put a headstart on editing or our book will be 3000 pages long!"
"And don't forget your stories, hm?" Hermione pressed. "Remember you still have obligations to your publisher to write a new horror bundle. Not to mention that oncle Achille will never forgive you."
"Oh, I have!" smiled Bellatrix and produced another notebook. Of course, as monotonous as a trip weeks on sea could be, Bellatrix had spent her time being quite productive. "I have put the finishing touches to a new chapter in my anthology. Do you want to hear it?"
Definitely, those in the room were all willing to listen. The vampire doctor sat up a little straighter, while Eleanor rather politely sat down. Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the hull, waiting for Bellatrix to tell her tale.
"As I have experienced in the years living in his forsaken Woodchester manor, the winter months are definitely more… taxing than any other season of the year. Not only are the days shorter and the cursed nights longer, the creatures that roam outside in the dark tend to be far more active. I can spend less time doing oddjobs in the village as I need to be back at the manor on time to secure myself in the library.
Not to mention that the manor is situated on top of a hill and gets the full treatment of cold howling winds. It turns the entire manor into an absolute icebox.
It is on one of those early evenings that I am getting ready for the night. In my arms I hold a stack of burnable logs from the woodshed which the house allows me to partake from… provided I don't take too much, of course. Though the woodshed mysteriously replenishes everything taken by the next day, I have found out the hard way not to be too greedy with its produce and I still bear the scars to prove it. I walk into my library and place the logs in the crate next to the fireplace.
A few logs in the fireplace are set ablaze with a simple cantrip and I take a moment to warm my hands. Out of experience, I know that this small pile of wood is enough to keep me warm for the entire evening. Which is good, because I would rather not be forced to burn any of the books. Not only because I would lose my sole bit of entertainment and distraction from the creatures roaming the halls, but I am uncertain how exactly the manor will respond to that travesty.
I am about to lock and barricade the door when I hear noises coming from downstairs. It doesn't take long for three people, two men and one woman, to step into view.
I immediately conclude that they can't be locals. The locals know better than to enter this manor at this time of day. I turn to look out of the windows and see the sun starting to set. It would only be about a minute or ten before these halls become dangerous.
Well… more dangerous.
The two men are young, late twenties I would think. They are clad in clothing that looks oddly shiny in the dim light. Black and with white stripes with the word 'Adidas' written on the back. I am not sure what this strange word means, but from the look of things they are muggles. With them is a woman. The woman looks to be entirely wrongly dressed for cold weather, as she wears fishnet tights, a leopard-skin skirt and an obviously fake fur coat with a pink stole to top it off. The woman is blonde, a painted blonde with black roots showing, while the make-up has been caked on top her her face a tad too much. So looks to be emaciated in an unhealthy way, while sporting breasts that seem entirely too big for a woman of her slight frame.
"Eeww, creepy place," says the woman with a nasal whine.
"Aye, it's a bit of alright, innit?" says blonde Adidas.
"Saw this place on the web," replies brown Adidas. "It's even better in real life, mate!"
I cringe as blonde Adidas turns on a muggle device and awful music starts blasting through the halls. I feel the very house itself protest against this, groaning and cracking its wooden corridors in disgust. Not that I blame it. Brown Adidas is carrying a shopping bag filled with bottles. Alcohol, no doubt.
"Come on," says the woman, obviously and wisely wary of this manor and its many unseen dangers. "You won big at the horses, you lot can afford to bring me to a nice hotel."
Brown Adidas grins and fishes cartridge from his pocket. This cartridge contains what looks to be syringes. "Can't do this at a nice hotel, now can ya, luv?"
The woman freezes and looks at the cartridge with a desire in her eyes that would rival that of the dark lord's desire for immortality. The woman takes on step forward to make a grab for the cartridge, only to have it snatched from her grasp.
"Oi! Keep your mitts to yourself, Celeste," says brown Adidas. "Shag first. Skag after."
"You're such a fucking arseface," the woman named Celeste makes a face. She taps her foots impatiently. "Go on, then. And you'd better be using a rubber johnny this time, if you know what's good for you!"
"Aw!" grunts blonde Adidas. "With what we is paying you, you should be on your knees already and gagging it!"
I look back to the window. In five minutes, those three will be dead and I will be sweeping whatever bits will be left of them into a pail tomorrow. Especially now that the woman called Celeste is so eager to get her hands on with is in that syringe that she has completely thrown all caution into the wind. Such is life.
I am about to retreat to the safety of my library when the woman Celeste suddenly yells out. "Oi, what's that noise?!"
For a moment, I think I am discovered. Only to realize that she is looking at the attic above, where she has undoubtedly heard the creature stomping around. "Some door slamming," says blonde Adidas as he moves to the door of the flooded basement. "Come on then, let's have a look down here. Could be some swag to flog off at the bookies."
"I thought we were gonna do some shagging, mate!" protests brown Adidas.
They are headed down into the flooded basement. Correction. They would be dead in less than a minute.
I should go back to the safety of the library, I know this. Yet for some reason curiosity overcame me. I might have discovered the rule about not disturbing the creature in the water purely by accident, but I escaped said basement before I could even see what it actually was. Perhaps knowing what lurks beneath the surface could help me better prepare for any future horrors the manor will throw at me. Knowledge is power in a place such as this. So, once I am certain I will remain out of sight, I step closer, though being careful to remain within dashing distance of the door leading to the library.
I press my back against the wall next to the doorway leading down. Careful not to cross the threshold, I peek around the corner and see the doomed trio stood at the very edge of the water. Best I can discern is that this basement was once a wine cellar. It certainly has enough size for one. The dark waters look foreboding, however.
"Blimey, this is some shite," says brown Adidas. "Bollocks to this, mate! Let's go find a room upstairs to finally get some shagging done."
"I wonder how deep this is," says blonde Adidas, immediately sealing his fate by picking up a pebble and throwing it into the dark waters. I bite my lip and brace myself. There is an eerie silence as if the entire house itself is holding its breath when the ripples from the thrown stone race across the surface of the water.
With the speed of a striking thought, a plethora of grey slimy tentacles burst from under the water's surface. I gasp, almost falling down the stairs in my shock. The shrill scream of a woman breaks the silence, soon overtaken by a guttural moan. There are dozens of flailing tentacles, attached to some mass barely beneath the surface. Only a small part of a creature that is far larger than what this cellar should be able to hold. The tentacles swiftly descend upon blonde Adidas, raising him in the air. Before anyone could react, blonde Adidas explodes into a mist of blood as he is instantly shredded into a hundred pieces.
"Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!" yells brown Adidas as he comes rushing up the stairs, abandoning his dead friend and the woman Celeste. He bursts past me, into the large foyer and frantically looks for an escape. Next to me, the woman Celeste comes running and falls flat on her face. Who knew high-heeled kneeboots aren't suited for running up stairs? She cried out in pain and terror, reaching out for brown Adidas.
By now, tentacles burst from the doorway and start feeling around for prey.
What possessed brown Adidas to take his next action, I will never fathom. Instead of running for the front door and his obvious escape, his head cranes to one side as above on the mezzanine, the door to the upstairs bathroom opens invitingly. He takes off like a bat out of hell, up the stairs and straight towards the welcoming maw of that fiendish trickster of a room.
"DESI!" screams Celeste, who is scrambling to her feet to follow brown Adidas toward her own doom.
I honestly do not know what possesses me as I grab her arm firmly. She almost falls again, screaming until she sees it is me who has grabbed her and not one of the flailing tentacles. Our eyes lock. Mine cold and piercing, hers teary and full of terror.
But a new problem emerges. The sun has set. I am out of time.
Immediately I run up the stairs, dragging the woman behind me. I run past the gaping maw of the upstairs bathroom, so mesmerizingly inviting even to me who knows better.
The wood panels warp and twist around us, grasping arms with sharp claws pulling itself from as figures start to come forth.
So… the creatures who roam the halls emerge from the walls. Interesting.
Next to me, the woman named Celeste, screams again. Merlin, I wish she would stop doing that.
The tentacled monster lets out a guttural moan as it withdraws its tentacles and no doubt returns to his slumber. I see the door to the library, and safety, ahead. I pick up the pace just as claws swipe and grab at us. I practically throw the woman inside, wave my hand to close the door behind me and shove a heavy bookcase in front of the door with magic.
There is pounding and scratching at the door. But it will pass. It always does.
And now I am left here, in the library. Where my cozy spot by the warm fire has been taken up by a near-catatonic muggle prostitute while I am huddled near the window, shivering in the cold. Typical selfish muggle behaviour! Though I have gained interesting knowledge about the house, I fear I have also gained far more troubles than I would like.
With any luck, she'll bugger off in the morning."
"Ooof," Hermione chuckled. "Your ex-death eater is not a fan of that poor woman. Do I sense a love-interest there?"
"Maybe," winked Bellatrix.
Eleanor smiled briefly. "Properly horrible as usual, Bellatrix," said Eleanor. "Though I have come to tell you that the Captain will hold a burial at sea for Seagull in about an hour."
Bellatrix and Hermione shared a look. Neither of them had hoped to experience a burial at sea on this voyage.
It was rather late in the morning when the sun rose over the sea in the east. The light was sharper as the sun would remain low for most of the day, its light just barely skirting across the Earth at this time of year. Being anchored in a bay protected the Kingfisher from most of the biting cold, and the snow-covered hills of the barren Resolute Island provided a hauntingly beautiful, if lifeless, background. In the water around them there were only a few icefloes. The water was calm, almost welcoming, while the air had a sharp coldness to it. Most of the crew was clad in thicker jackets on deck even if the bay the ship lay anchored in shielded them from the colder winds. Meanwhile, Hermione had her camera out and was taking a lot of pictures.
If only the occasion had been more joyful.
The entire crew stood on deck in, gathered in remembrance. Captain Kirk stood next to a board raised over the side of the railing. On the board, wrapped in both a white cloth and what Hermione understood to be her favourite blanket over it. The bundle had been weighed down with stones, apparently. Next the body, the four remaining wasps hovered and flanking them was Copperhead. The sailor looked to be caught in grief, but more than willing to perform a last service to a dear friend.
All the expedition members were there as well, gathered together. Chandra and Eleanor stood behind Bellatrix, Hermione and Tahki, witnessing the proceedings.
"This doesn't feel right," Bellatrix whispered. "Seagull should be taken back to her home hive to be interred there."
"Sssh," Hermione shushed her as the captain was about to begin the ceremony. Everyone fell silent, the only sounds being the creaking wood of the ship and the water beyond the hull. A few moments later, Captain Kirk stepped forward and started to speak. "Fellow crew and gathered friends," said the captain. "The saddest duty of any captain is to hold the proceedings to say goodbye to one of our own. While death at sea is always something far from our minds, it is the sad reality of the life we have chosen. Today, we are here to pay our respects to Seagull, one of our own. A valued crewmember and a friend. Copperhead? I understand you would like to say a few words."
The sailor's cranium shone brightly, reflecting the light of the sun as he stepped forward. "Aye, that I do," he said. "I'm sure you can remember, cap'n, that we all called ye mad when you brought those buzzers on board. I mean, look at the size of those stingers they got. But Seagull… she was something else, cap'n. Fit right in, liked everyone, playful and kind. I'll never forget the day she was flying lunch-packets up to the wheelhouse and she teleported right inside, but the packet materialized still halfway inside the glass. We all had a good laugh about that. But Seagull, she done love the sea as much as any of us salty seadogs! And it weren't even the seas of her own planet she came to explore. It just makes me wink a tear when I think of all the sights she'll never get to see. All because of one twat with an axe. It ain't fair and I know it ain't fair. Most of all, Seagull was a friend when I needed one the most. Nobody's gonna miss her more than I will…"
To everyone's surprise, the Neo-Viking, who stood head and shoulders over everyone gathered, took a step forward. Still dressed in a simple smock rather than her imposing armour, the woman's long blonde hair blew slightly in the wind. "Good sailor," spoke the woman in her accented voice. "You mourn your friend, but fret not. For she died defending her ship. It is the death of a noble warrior. The Winged Women will come for her and carry her soul to the All-father's great hall, where she will sit at his table and feast for all eter…"
Hermione, rather stunned by this sudden turn, heard Tahki cursedunder her breath behind her. "Jesus," Tahki whispered. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. Read the goddamn room, girl…"
"ARE YOU TAKING THE PISS!?" roared Copperhead. "Shut yer cakehole about yer bloody fairy tales about winged women or any of that Valhalla shite! SEAGULL WOULDN'T HAVE DIED IN THE FIRST PLACE, IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR YOU LOT!"
The gathered crew was swiftly becoming restless, murmuring at first before starting to raise their voices more and more. Raised voices became angry shouts. Soon the Neo-Viking, stoic as she was, faced the ire of the entire crew.
"Cap'n!" Copperhead shouted. "You know I'd follow you to hell and back, but keeping this savage on board is dangerous, I say!"
"Yeah, locking her door isn't enough!" shouted Old Engrim from the back. "How do we know she won't escape and kill us in our sleep?!"
"How can we be safe on our own ship with her around?!" Irrena added.
"Seagull was one of us!" shouted Daelia. "Throw that bitch overboard!"
"We all know what these Neo-Vikings are like!"
"Murderous savages, the lot of them!"
"Throw her over the side!"
Hermione was startled to see the now angry crew advancing on the large Neo-Viking woman. Next to her, Bellatrix looked equally stricken at how quickly this whole situation was escalating. Hermione blinked: over the past few weeks she had gotten to know this crew quite well and had thought them good and decent people. Though she understood their anger, to see them turn upon this now helpless Viking woman with such dark intent still startled her.
"ENOUGH!" roared Kirk. This single shout, accompanied with a glare, was enough to silent the crew. "BEHAVE YOURSELVES!"
The captain stepped forward. "I understand your anger, I do. But we are here to put Seagull to rest and we will not sully her memory by putting this woman to death during her funeral. Because that's what throwing her overboard or even putting her in one of our longboats will mean in these waters and you all know it!"
More murmuring, but some heads were hanging low as the full implications of what they had been about to do sank in.
"First of all, this woman wasn't the one to end Seagull's life," said Kirk. "Second, I know many of you are not happy that she is on board, but that simply is the hand we were dealt. After this expedition is over, we will have to decide what we'll do with her, but this far out north there's no turning back until then. I understand your anger: I was the one who brought Seagull on board this ship and I loved her as much as any of you. But throwing this woman overboard won't bring Seagull back nor make you feel better. Remember that."
More murmurs, accompanied with quiet apologies, followed by the crew falling back in line.
"He's good," Bellatrix muttered, scribbling notes in her notebook. Behind her Chandra gave some glances to the crew.
"For now," whispered Chandra with a hushed tone. "But a dangerous situation is developing."
"If she becomes a threat to my expedition," Eleanor pressed. "I will certainly have no qualms against throwing her overboard."
Hermione decided to pretend she hadn't heard that.
"As for you," said Kirk, addressing the stoic Viking woman. "I really suggest you keep your mouth shut for the rest of the proceedings. Do I make myself clear?"
The Viking woman gave an ever so slight nod and gently withdrew. Afterwards, the captain gave Copperhead a sign to continue.
"Right, uhm," said Copperhead, taking a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfurled it. He cleared his throat and started to read.
"The full sea rolls and thunders
In glory and in glee.
O, bury me not in the senseless earth
But in the living sea!
Aye, bury me where it surges
A thousand miles from shore,
And in its brotherly unrest
I'll range for evermore."
The four wasps swooped down, landed on the plank and pressed their heads against the bundle. The four wasps then took to the air again, hovering right next to the board.
"We now commit Seagull to the depths," said the Captain. "To be forever part of the sea she loved so much."
The gathered crew and expedition members were silent and stood with bowed head, the only exception behind Hermione while she shot a few pictures of the ceremony, knowing that Bellatrix would likely want to have them for her book. The captain pulled a lever and the board dropped. The little white bundle holding Seagull's body fell into the water with a splash. Scant a few seconds later, the bundle sank beneath the waves and was seen no more. Copperhead stood by the railing, looking down at the water while Kirk stood next to him with a hand on his shoulder.
The crew stood there in respectful silence for a few minutes, before the ceremony ended and would return to their duties soon after. There would be an odd and melancholic atmosphere on board for the rest of the day.
Tahki was late for evening dinner. When she arrived at the mess-hall, the chow-line has almost completely dispersed and had, unfortunately, left small choice from Haema's buffet warming trays. The elf gave her an apologetic smile to which Tahki held her hand in swift forgiveness. During the trip, no food was to be wasted so Haema only made as much as there were mouths to feed. Still, there was enough left for a plate full of yellow rice, chicken wings and steamed vegetables. Still better than any high-school lunches back in Montana.
As usual, the messhall was packed. With the ship still anchored, more people than usual were enjoying their meals. All around her, folks were already enjoying their dinners and chatting, as they usually did. She spotted Hermione, Bellatrix and Nymph sat at a table at the far end, near the wasp trough. Nymph was already waving her over, but her eyes moved to the one person who'd been ahead of her at the chow-line.
The blonde Neo-Viking woman. Sunniva. There was a stark difference between the fierce warrior she had met during the raid and how she was now. Though she was still definitely imposing, she was dressed in a dirty smock from a long day of scrubbing instead of her impressive armour. She looked tired and filthy, and her braided blonde hair looked dishevelled. Tray in hand, she looked ready and eager to eat. Tahki could see her blue eyes roving about for a free seat and found one with a group of sailors: Irrena, Riggere and Oswald.
Perhaps it was because of her well-intentioned faux-pas earlier, or just the fact that she and her kinfolk had raided the ship two days before. But the moment Sunniva sat down, the three sailors picked up their trays in unison and went off to find seats and different tables.
That stung a little.
Both to herself and the Viking woman, it seemed. Sunniva's shoulders slumped… she tried to be stoic about it, but she had lost everything and was now trapped on board a ship with people who hated her guts and would rather see her gone. And yet she tried to hold her head up high, despite not knowing what the future would hold for her.
Again, Nymph waved her over. And again, she almost joined them.
But now stood next to Sunniva's now empty table, she stopped and sighed.
She knew better. She was supposed to know better. But she did it anyway.
Tahki put her tray on the table and saw down opposite to Sunniva. Hell, the Neo-Viking was just as surprised as she was.
Tahki sighed briefly. "You know," she started. "I never went to Ilvermony. When it comes to magic, our tribe homeschools. Our sentiments towards magic is a bit too… modern for those preppies at Ilvermony anyway. So I went to a regular no-maj schools to pick up useful things like math, biology, geography. Kinda shit they don't teach at Ilvermony."
She took a bite of chicken. "Met the best friend I ever had there. Steve, was his name. We did everything together. Went to each other's house to player super Nintendo, have endless debates on who the strongest Power Ranger was… which is totally Kimberly, by the way… or going through his dad's crappy old VHS collection. You know, kid shit like that. Though that one time we found an old porno stashed in the wrong box. That was a hoot."
She ate some rice and chewed. "We were inseparable for years. Literally heterosexual lifepartners and all that shit. Eventually went wrong when we were at my house, gramps was out on the range and we decide to dig a few beers out of the fridge. A few become a lot of beers. Next thing I know I wake up on the couch with a splitting headache. But Steve? That fucking dumbass decided to drive home. So he staggered back to his truck and drove right into a gorge on the way. Oh, they tried to choplift him to the nearest hospital, but it was just too late. Dead on arrival."
The Neo-Viking looked at her intently as Tahki straightened up a little. "Everything changed after that. His parents were looking for someone to blame and, here I was. I could have stopped him, they said at first. But it quickly turned into 'It's all your fault'. And so the two people who always treated me as family turned against me. Next day at school, well, rumours spread. Steve was very well-liked, you see, and I was that weird creepy gothy tattooed Indian chick with the attitude-problem. To them, I might as well have poured all those beers into his mouth with a funnel and sent him on his way to watch him die for my own amusement. For the rest of my days at that school, I was a complete pariah. A family which had always welcomed me, didn't even allow me to come to the funeral. And, let's not forget, I lost my best and only real friend."
Tahki looked the Neo-Viking in the eye. "I ran every single scenario through my mind, trying to figure out if there's something I could have done differently. I remember one day, I was sitting on my porch just looking out at the clear Montana skies. And gramps sat down next to me and just gave me a big ole hug and told me everything would be alright. And that Steve wouldn't want me to mope around, but remember all the good times we had instead."
She took a deep breath. "Thing is, the more I thought about it, the more I was certain that there was nothing I could have done and that I was not responsible. It was his idea to drink the beers, his choice to leave me passed out on the couch and his choice to step into the car while drunk. All the others? Well, they were hurting and they were mourning and they needed an outlet for their disbelief and anger."
Tahki leaned forward. "Same with them," she glanced at the crew. "They've lost a friend, all of them. They're hurting and are looking for someone to blame. You may not have killed Seagull, that other asshole did. But that simply doesn't matter and you're now bearing the brunt of it. I know it stinks. Trust me, I know all about just how bad it stinks. Just give it some time and a lot of people will come around when they think about it some more. But still, some never will. Remember that."
The Neo-Viking nodded and spoke with accented voice. "If you are concerned that I will end my own life, you need not be. The Winged Women scoff at those who die an honourless death and leave their hugr to haunt the living. I have no desire to become a foul draugr. But thank you for your words regardless."
Tahki nodded. It wasn't what she was worried about, but she didn't bother to correct the Neo-Viking. "Saw what happened just here at this table. Happened to me more times than I could count back at school. And, well, since there's no gramps on board to give you that big ole hug…"
"It is appreciated," replied the Viking.
"Now, don't get me wrong," said Tahki. "I haven't quite forgiven you for hogtying me. What did you do that, by the way?"
The Neo-Viking cocked her head as if it was an odd question. "You are a soothsayer," said the Neo-Viking. "You saw what happened before I did it."
"Eeehh," said Tahki. "I'm not a soothsayer. Not… exactly."
"But you see the future!"
"What I 'saw' was a powerful spell being cast and I sensed its coming trajectory," said Tahki. "I am a savant. I can sense magic in the air and feel the flow of magic around me. And across vast distances if the magic is strong enough."
The Neo-Viking furrowed her brow. "That still sounds much like a soothsayer. You would have been taken to Iceland and brought into the service of our queen. Soothsayers have a position of prestige, even those taken prisoner. You would have been granted a life of honourable service and would have wanted for nothing."
Tahki snorted. "My, my, you haven't… really… met many Americans before, have you?"
"You are the first," said the Neo-Viking matter-of-factly.
"Well, let me tell you something about us," Tahki replied. "We rather like our freedoms. We like owning shit. We like having guns. We like going where we please and doing what we want. Sounds a tad incompatible with your 'life of honourable service to the queen'."
"Regardless," said the Neo-Viking before she closed her eyes for a moment. "I made a mistake and I have paid the price for it." There was an underlying sadness in her words. Tahki focused for a moment until she could see the Neo-Viking's aura appear. Blue, bright blue. Steve's aura was bright blue. While the colour of the aura showed tendencies and was in no way indicative of a person's true personality, it did show possibilities. People with a bright blue aura had very few hidden depths; literally what you see is what you got. It made her feel oddly comfortable around the woman.
"I still don't get why you were punished harsher than that brute who actually killed someone," said Tahki. "Weren't your orders not to harm us?"
"There is always risk of combat," said the warrior woman. "My brother killed the wasp, Seagull, in combat. The creature died an honourable death and will sit at Odin's table after the Winged Women have gathered her soul. But when your friend Hermione invoked the treaty, she embarrassed the queen in front of her own people. She had no choice but to exile me."
While trying to wrap her head around that, the Native-American Black couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry to have played a part in your downfall. I… wait… did you say brother?! That brute was your brother?!"
"Ragnar. Twin. We have hated each other all our lives. It is said that when we were born, we came to this Earth with our hands wrapped around each other's necks," said the Neo-Viking. "Though I suppose he finally got his wish and has rid himself of me. Do you have any siblings?"
"One brother," replied Tahki. "Ahanu. Four years younger than me. He's an asshole, but then again so am I. We were always close. Mom and dad weren't exactly in the picture… long story… and we were raised by our gramps. Ahanu's a savant like I am, but just a lazy fuck who's fine with staying at the ranch on the reservation and sleeping till noon. Me, I wanted to go out and see the world. Find my roots… which happens to be a British aristocratic wizarding family. Ironically, our family is a lot bigger than they are even though our branch of the family is a lot younger."
The warrior woman looked her in the eye, those blue orbs peering into her soul. The Neo-Viking was still guarded and had not spoken all that much. "I can never return to Iceland," she sighed. "That stings the most. In the summer, our rugged hills turn green as far as the eye can see, set against beautiful mountain ranges. In winter, this pure land is covered in blankets of white, so cold that even the waterfalls freeze. Never again to see the molten stone come up from Nidavellir and flow through the lava tube like a river. Never again to warm oneself to the bone in a hotspring near one of the geysers. I have no idea where I will go."
The stoicism was started to crack now and Tahki could see that Sunniva's blue orbs were becoming watery. The Neo-Viking was far too proud to shed tears, but Tahki had already seen the subtle shift in her aura. Acute sadness was a disturbance in magic which was notoriously difficult to hide.
Almost instinctively, she reached out and lay a hand on Sunniva's. The Neo-Viking seemed startled and Tahki could feel she almost pulled her hand back. "Look, I get it. When I was living at gramps' ranch on the reservation, I wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there. And I did. Tell you what, the UK is amazing, but… as much as I wanted to leave, I would hate not being able to go back there. So I get it."
The warrior nodded in appreciation. Tahki bit her lip again. "You know," she started. "The way you described Iceland actually sounds a lot like Montana. We might not have lava tubes, but we've certainly got rolling green hills, rugged mountain ranges and sprawling forests. And you should see the pack of snow we get each winter. Tell you what: my gramps is always looking for good, strong ranch-hands and if you like, I could ask him to take you on. If you still want to after the trip, that is. Honest pay for honest work and room and board included. Now, do keep in mind that Montana doesn't have much ocean, though. But, we are an open-carry state, so you'd be able to lug your axe around no problem!"
She cocked her head in surprise, her long blonde braids falling to one side. "You would do that for me? You would take a dishonoured drengr into your home? You are a kind and honourable woman."
Tahki blinked. "Uhm, I'm not, I really am not."
"I do not even know your name."
"Tahki," she replied with a smile. "Tahki Black. I don't think I even mentioned that before tossing my life story in your lap."
She was starting to feel a bit awkward, looking into those blue eyes and that soft smile, so out of place for a woman warrior of her size. Tahki was still smiling when she suddenly realized she was still holding the warrior's hand. Her eyes grew wide and she gently yet quickly removed it.
"And you are Sunniva, right?"
"Indeed," said the Neo-Viking.
"Sunniva… and?"
Sunniva shook her head. "My family name doesn't matter anymore."
By now, most of the crew had left to go back to their duties while Haema was back in the kitchen cleaning up. Looking over her shoulder, she could see her friends were no longer at their table. So focused had she been on her conversation that Tahki had never even see them leave.
"Well," said Tahki. "If you ever want to talk, just come find me on the passenger deck. I have cabin 4. Or just visit me in the rec room on the crew deck."
"And to you," said Sunniva. "I have been given cabin 12 on the crew deck, though the captain has my door locked in the evening hours."
Ah, that was dreadful. Hopefully that would change in the near future. So far, this Sunniva seemed rather friendly. Perhaps all the stories about the Neo-Vikings were exaggerated. Then again, she remembered the stories about raids and other atrocities and what a brute her brother Ragnar had been. Perhaps Sunniva was rather the exception to the rule.
Regardless, the messhall had emptied out nicely by now and Tahki was left with nothing to do. Which was a occurrence happening depressingly often during this voyage. After spending some time helping up Haema clean up the kitchen and messhall, she once again was left standing. So, what do? Go to the library? Go to the crew lounge, maybe? She quickly changed her mind thinking that most of the crew would likely still be too dour from the funeral to play darts and the crew lounge being directly above the sanctum stone enclosure always made her feel a tad on edge. So, she decided to simply hang out at Nymph's crib for a bit.
After heading down to the orlop deck, she hitched the ride on the small cargo elevator next to the laundry-room and found herself right in front of Nymph's door. She reached out to open it… and found the door locked.
Odd.
"Hey!" shouted Tahki and started pounding on the door. "Why'd you lock your door, Nymph?! Let me in already!"
"Just a minute!" sounded the muffled voice of Nymphadora from the other side of the door. Tahki tapped her foot rather impatient while there were some odd sounds coming from the other side. She couldn't resist putting her ear to the door to listen and wondered just what the hell she was hearing. There was… rustling of… what, exactly? It sounded like fabric. And then some… banging on wood? What the hell?
The door finally opened and Tahki rushed inside. "Finally," she said, heading straight to the set of drawers where her cousin kept her stash. "You slickin' in here or something?"
She opened the drawer and invited herself to partake in some joyleaf, already rolled for convenience. She hopped into the hammock after fetching a lighter and let the first delicious fumes of Nymph's excellent blend seep into her lungs.
"Baby, you know it," Nymph answered with a grin after draping herself over her workstation chair, leg hooked over an armrest. She looked to be… a tad frazzled, really. Not as relaxed as she usually would be.
Tahki gave her a look. "If you want me to fuck off, Nymph, just let me know, okay?"
"Nah, it's fine," she replied. "It's good you're here, really. I… noticed you having a seat with our Neo-Viking guest."
Tahki took a deep inhale, letting the fumes settle further down her lungs and feeling the first signs of a very pleasant buzz come over her mind. "What about it?" she asked.
In that moment, the door opened again. Bellatrix came in, looking to be very energetic after spending two days in sickbay. On the ship, she had now mostly exchanged her dresses and robes with a more practical black pantsuit with a warm cloak thrown over her back. Zipper was happily buzzing along. Bellatrix looked around and found the only place to lounge to be Nymph's bed. She quickly hopped on top of it and lay down comfortably while Zipper teleported from head to head.
"Well, ladies," said Nymph. "The terrible trio together again. Feels like old times, hm? Now, as I was saying…"
"… why did you sit down with that big Viking and not us?" Bellatrix gave her cousin a playful yet accusing glare.
"Hah, you read my mind!" Nymph threw up her hands and quickly snatched a spliff of her own from the drawer. After lighting it, she gave her cousin another grin. "So Bella, know what I think?" she chuckled. "I think that, now that Riggere is off the menu, our little Sacajawea here is looking to expand into unknown territories."
"Certainly looked like it," winked Bellatrix.
"Oh, fuck you both!" Tahki pouted. "I felt sorry for her. That's all!"
"Hm," said Bellatrix with a rather sceptical tone. "There was some intense hand-holding happening."
"Hand-holding," Nymphadora nodded sagely. "That's how it always starts, yeah?"
Tahki almost swallowed her joint, coughing loudly as a result. After regaining her composure, she glared at both her cousins. "It was a very intense, private and personal moment. For the both of us!"
"Bobbins, go do one!" Nymph exclaimed. "What it is, right, Tahki? She has very large hands and you is a very small girl…"
"What are you even implying?!"
"I am implying, dear madam," said Nymph with a smug grin. "That you wish to partake in some scrumptious savage sapphic spelunking with a certain big busty blonde Viking woman in the comfort of your very own cabin."
Tahki sighed heavily. "Oh, fuck you both…"
"Wow," faux-gasped Bellatrix. "She's so barmy for the sapphic love that she's even willing to shag her own family! The scandal!"
Nymph snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time cousins end up shagging in this family," she grinned. "But I think that Viking woman has priority over us."
Tahki sighed. "You're both horrible, horrible people," she growled. "I'll have you know Sunniva is actually a very friendly lady to talk to."
"Oh, it's Sunniva now, is it?" Bellatrix smirked.
"Calling it," said Nymphadora. "You and Hermione'll be hearing bumping noises from the next door cabin before the week is out."
Tahki took another pull from her joint just as Bellatrix and Nymphadora were making a V-sign with their hands in front of their face and making licking motions. "Look!" she huffed. "I'm into men, alright? That should be obvious by now!"
"You can be into both, innit?" Nymphadora pressed.
"Well, how do you know you're only into men if you don't try a bird at least once?" Bellatrix asked.
"Because I'm not into birds…. Girls… women…" Tahki bit back, shaking so hard she almost dropped her joint. "Anyway, how do you know you're only into women when you've never even tried a man? Maybe you should."
"Eeeew, no!" Bellatrix exclaimed, disgust clearly written on her face.
"Exactly!" Tahki threw her hands up. "Now you get it! You don't need to try a man to figure out you prefer being thrown onto the bed and peeled out of your dress by Hermione because you already know! Just like I already know that I like men! Manly men with big muscles!"
Nymphadora and Bellatrix shared a look. "That Viking lady does has big muscles…"
"Urgh!"
"Methinks thou dost protest too much," Bellatrix added.
"SHUT UP!" Tahki groaned and shifted in the hammock. Then, she noticed something odd. Zipper had stopped teleporting through the room and was hovering rather close to the ground. She observed the wasp for a moment. He seemed to hover over a section of the floor right in front of Nymph's bed. Zipper landed on the large plank right underneath the bed and crawled over it from side to side, only to take off again and approach the plank from a different angle. He then landed on the floor to the side of the bed and seemed to push against the plank with his head. "Hey, what's Zipper doing over there?" Tahki asked.
"Don't change the subject!" Bellatrix challenged with a chuckle, obviously unaware of Zipper's antics since she wouldn't be able to see it lying down on the bed.
Tahki felt something magical in the air… something other than the three of them… and just as she was about to focus, Nymph jumped off the chair to swiftly scoop up Zipper and then plopped right back down again with the wasp in her arms. "Yeah…" Nymphadora spoke, her tone a tad higher than it had just been. "I, uhm, spilled a drink there and I guess I didn't clean the floor properly. Zipper's probably just smelling the sugary Pepsi."
Pepsi? Did she just say…
No.
"PEPSI?!" Tahki exploded, startling both other women. "I'VE TOLD YOU BEFORE NEVER TO MENTION THAT GUTROT IN MY PRESENCE, LET ALONE DRINK THAT BROWN PISSWATER! How can you say this to an American?! Coca Cola is our national drink. COCA FUCKING COLA!"
Nymph cringed. "Ooof, touched a nerve, I think."
"Isn't Pepsi American too?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.
"You've both Britbongs, so I don't expect you to understand," Tahki snarled, her arms firmly crossed. "But learn you some knowledge! Coca Cola is the only king of high-fructose corn syrup, which you don't even have in the UK because you're a bunch of pussies who keep whining about public health! Coca Cola is iconic Americana, while Pepsi is like a hotdog without the mustard!"
The door flew open and in stepped Hermione, looking to be a bit befuddled. "Ah, there you are, Trix," she said, smiling at the three women. "What is all the shouting about? I heard you from a deck above."
"Right, Mione, right," said Nymphadora. "Sit yourself down for this one. The next question will define the very course of your life. So listen carefully and consider your answer thoughtfully."
Finding herself sat down on the office chair, the rather confused Hermione gave a rather cautious 'alright', after which Nymphadora asked her devious question.
"Pepsi or Coca Cola?"
Hermione's answer would be the starting point of a fierce four hour long debate, after which Zipper's odd behaviour near the bottom of Nymphadora's bed was swiftly forgotten.