London, Day 5
Patchouli quietly watched as Remilia welcomed Flandre to the table in the dimly lit library.
It was a novelty, introducing Flandre to matters that seriously concerned the household. Patchouli didn't know why Remilia avoided involving Flandre; perhaps she didn't want to bother her, or trouble her with external affairs when she was struggling enough. The magician feared that such inactivity and isolation - however self-imposed it may have once been - had only stressed the little sister further.
"I was sent for by Patchouli?" Flandre asked flatly.
"Under my advisement. The request was sent by Remilia." Patchouli piped up, earning a subtle glance from Remilia.
"That's right," Remilia added, "It's important you hear what you need to, about Meiling."
"Will she be okay?" Flandre's voice was wooden. She already knew the answer.
"Yes, but-"
"Good. I'll be going now." Flandre interrupted her with a sigh, already turning.
"You can't." Remilia called after her.
The girl in the pyjamas glanced back over her shoulder at Remilia. "Why not, big sis?
Is your pet jailer gonna stop me?" Her eyes directed a challenge to Patchouli. "If she's gonna, I hope she's got new tricks.
The old ones aren't gonna work."
Remilia was lost for words. Patchouli herself simply stared back at Flandre.
The little sister dared to smile before she resumed her walk back to the staircase.
"I need you awake!" Remilia called loudly.
The raised voice got a flinch out of the little sister before she turned to face Remilia, a quizzical expression on her face.
"What." Flandre asked tartly.
Patchouli could see Remilia's fingers fidgeting with one another as she stared. "I need you awake.
Ready, I mean. For what comes next."
Flandre groaned. "Let me guess. You wanted to live here, you managed to upset this land's ruler, and we're going to run again."
Patchouli saw the change - however slight - in Remilia's manners. Her red eyes narrowed and her features grew more guarded.
But she didn't take the bait.
"I am here in London to learn. Once that's done, we'll plot a course for our new home. The creatures living here do not like us, and would've killed Meiling and Patchouli both if they could have." Remilia explained, looking to Patchouli.
Patchouli provided her support happily. "The mistress is quite correct - Meiling's life would have been forfeit if Sakuya had not placed herself at my side. I'm not so sure if I'd still be standing here without her help."
It wasn't strictly true; Patchouli was confident in her own power and had come to the maid's rescue, not the other way around, but the lie gave Sakuya more credit than saving Meiling's life.
In the end, it hadn't been necessary. Flandre's features softened at the mention of Meiling alone.
"I will not cast the first stone," Remilia started, "but if they want to fight, we will defend ourselves. Patchouli's magic can reach far, Meiling can withstand any intruder-"
"No she can't, she's hurt because of them!" Flandre interrupted.
Remilia was careful to keep her face and voice neutral as she gently pointed out, "Meiling managed to survive your power, Flan.
Now I'm not blaming you, I'm not." She raised a hand as she saw the change in Flandre. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and her wooden wings bristled.
Patchouli chimed in. "That illuminates Meiling's resilience as well as your control over your ability back then, miss Flandre."
The compliment took Flandre entirely off-guard. Her red eyes searched Patchouli's for any trace of irony, but the magician's typical matter-of-factness was all there was to read into.
Flustered, the little sister nodded her thanks.
Remilia got to her feet as she continued, "I need you ready, Flan. For as long as we sit here in London, I need you ready to help Patchy, Meiling and me.
Can you do that for me?"
Flandre observed her elder sister with narrowed eyes. "Then we talk?"
Remilia nodded. "After we arrive in Gensokyo, we talk."
Flandre's features remained cool as she shrugged. "Alright then.
Is that all?"
Patchouli spoke up now, "Will you accompany me to see Meiling? She should be awake now."
Flandre looked Patchouli up and down before giving her a non-committal shrug of the shoulder as she made for the top of the staircase.
Patchouli glanced back to Remilia as she pointed weakly at Flandre. "You may need more than words with her."
"Sweets?" Remilia suggested.
Patchouli shook her head. "No. Something more significant. A gesture, perhaps, something long lasting... I shall go and attend to Meiling. You have errands of your own, Remi." Patchouli bowed her head deferentially before following Flandre down the stairs. Remilia's gaze followed after the magician and quietly fretted behind her calm facade.
As the denizens of the Scarlet Devil Mansion tended to their wounds, the church of England's silver began to trickle into the coffers of the Chataeu Obscura. As that happened, houses overlooking the mansion were selected to be cleared, that sentries could install themselves in suitable vantage points to watch the streets as heavy, securely screwed cargo boxes were lifted through the doors of the dwellings.
The inhabitants were offered small fortunes to vacate, and almost all of them agreed to sell. The only resident who refused had been a widow who had lived her whole life in her house. She had refused to be moved, and passed not soon after from a convenient and fast-acting fever.
All of these movements went unnoticed as the gatekeeper's body fought that very same fever - and as Meiling fitfully recovered, she began to dream.
China, 432AD
She ran towards the camp as the embers rose to sear the night sky, her heart in her throat as she heard the nomads screaming over the crackling of burning tents. In her haste, she stormed into the center of the camp in time to see crested, visored soldiers emerge from the tents wiping red blades on cloaks and tent flaps. Some stepped forward to front her, their swords at the ready.
Oh, she's mine." The breathy voice turned all heads.
The man was a giant in leather, lace and shellscale armour, his bronze helmet designed to resemble a diving catfish, its demonic fangs curling around the flabby, flapping skin of his jowls. The ends of his moustache were oiled into tendrils of black hair that drooped past either side of his chins.
The fat warrior smiled, spreading out his arms.
Hong Meiling felt her blood run hot as she recognised the murderer not by his unfamiliar shape, but by the aura he projected.
"They banished me when they knew what I was, Namazu. You had no need to kill them." She tried to keep her voice from cracking.
"Ah! She recognises me," Namazu turned to his lapdogs before smiling smugly at Meiling, "Do know that it's not personal. I simply do as I'm told. How many times has it been now?"
They fought.
Every bout, Meiling came off worse in, and Namazu took pleasure in taunting her.
"I've lost count how many castles on the sand you've built, how many I've gotten to stamp out. I hope you didn't bother to learn their names this time. Mortal life is so fleeting." He rumbled without effort, effortlessly blocking, sometimes letting Meiling's blows slip through to slap weakly against the rolls of fat that spilled from his armour. Namazu was not accustomed to taking a human form, but he had the mass and the power gifted to him by his master. Meiling had the inhuman strength of a youkai and a steadfast heart, but her fighting was formless.
The difference was too great.
Her foot rebounded off of his belly. She withdrew her leg too slowly.
"It's like fighting a child!" Namazu whooped as he snatched her up. His minions laughed as he hoisted her bodily over his head and threw her through the canvas of a tent still ablaze, her back crashing through the support and sending the burning sheets down on her.
"Gods, why'd you even come back? To avenge the same humans that turned you from their tribe?
Look now, she stands!" Namazu declared.
The sheets raised up and wobbled there, coaxing another laugh out of Namazu before the tent charged in his direction. He threw a meaty fist out to crush it.
The burning canvas swung around his vambrace, concealing his vision as Meiling rushed him from below and threw a vicious punch into the avatar's midsection, the solidness stopping her dead.
The blow had done nothing.
Nothing.
Namazu grunted, annoyance drawing on his face as he brought his other hand in a tight hook, catching Meiling in the side of the head.
She crashed against the ground, the inhaled dirt making her cough as her head swam.
What little breath she could bring in rushed out violently as Namazu kicked her off the ground, her stomach spasming. She landed hard, trying to find the strength to rise.
But Namazu was already standing over her, and it was all she could do to cover herself as he kicked and kicked and kicked her again. He was shouting something down at her, but she couldn't hear him over the cheering of the soldiers, over the roaring fire, over the dull ringing in her own head.
Eventually, the fat warrior in the fish helmet stopped, his chest heaving.
He called out for a spear.
Hong Meiling blinked lazily, watching with a blunted sense of dread as he took the spear in two hands and held it above her, the point shining in the firelight.
"Why?" She managed, her voice numb.
Namazu grinned down at her, raising the spear a touch.
Then he stopped as though transfixed, his expression turning ashen, as though scolded by a parent. He continued to hold the spear over her as he seemed to address the smoke-smeared heavens.
"Your will be done, Taisui Xingjun."
Namazu's expression grew disgusted as he regarded Meiling again, his shoulders sagging. "Do you ask why the cat plays with the mouse?" He asked, his sneer turning into a grudging little grin, "Ill-starred whelp."
The spear reversed, and the solid wooden butt of the weapon knocked the light out of Meiling's head.
London, Day 5
"What're you doing here?"
The servant girl let Meiling's hand slip from her grip, the question startling her. Her silver eyes were wide open as she turned from the bed and regarded the intruder.
"I-I was tending to Meiling. Ensuring she's comfortable." The servant girl explained, clasping her hands around an object, bringing it to her middle.
Flandre stared her down with narrowed red eyes.
"Patchouli tells me you protected Meiling.
That true?" She asked sullenly, her red eyes sliding over to the slumbering gate guard.
Hesitantly, the servant girl nodded. "I... put myself between her and the spectre that was attacking her, though-"
Flandre interjected. "Thank you for protecting Meiling."
The servant girl bowed her head. "You are welcome, little miss."
Flandre stared at her awkwardly for a moment. "What're you holding?" Flandre asked.
The servant girl revealed the wet flannel, stepping neatly aside to show the bowl of water by the bedside table. "I... felt it would be prudent of me to keep Meiling's temperature down."
Patchouli's voice floated into the room. "Don't trust me to oversee her wellbeing, Sakuya?"
Flandre flinched at the sound as Sakuya looked past her shoulder. "I do, but I should like to do what I can regardless."
Patchouli moved past Flandre, a shudder passing through the little sister as the magician brushed the gems on her artificial wings with a wayward sleeve. She urged herself to remain calm as Patchouli addressed the maid.
"Do bear in mind that the mistress is leaving. Your attendance is expected."
Sakuya smiled - a pretty smile at that, Flandre thought - and once again bowed. "I leave Meiling in your hands, miss Patchouli..."
Before Flandre could wonder why she was suddenly angry again, Sakuya startled her by offering her the flannel.
"Miss Flandre."
Flustered, Flandre took the flannel, mutely mouthing, "Yeah."
Sakuya smiled again before she made her way past them. Flandre heard her footsteps outside, one, two, three-
And there was nothing.
"Sakuya's a time machine, huh?" Flandre asked sharply.
Patchouli was in the process of sitting down by the bedroom dresser when she paused. "Ah. Remi's oversimplified conclusion. Yes, I suppose she is. I don't know to what extent Sakuya can control the flow of time, but-"
Flandre's emotions were clearly showing on her face, because Patchouli stopped talking.
They sat together in awkward silence, Flandre's eyes shifting from the solitary sliver of mote-mottled sunlight that peeked between the room's curtains and the steady rise and fall of Meiling's chest.
Eventually, Patchouli tried to make conversation.
"Favourite animal?"
Flandre felt a twitch on the side of her temple. "Platypus."
"Interesting answer... I thought you might say bears." Patchouli ventured.
Flandre resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Favourite colour?"
Flandre wondered at that, thinking it might be red until her gaze came to rest on Meiling's serene features. "Green."
Patchouli followed the little sister's gaze and wordlessly nodded. "Favourite number?"
Flandre's chair legs pushed soundlessly across the carpet of the bedroom as she got to her feet. "Nine, these questions are stupid." She said unkindly as she approached the bowl of water with the flannel.
Patchouli furrowed her brow in response, lowering her chin as she thought about that. Absently, she murmured, "Be sure to wring it."
"I know." Flandre snarled, scolding herself for snapping like that, for snapping at that, for being like this. As she set to straining the flannel between her hands and tearing inwardly at herself, Patchouli asked another question.
"Why do you think you're so angry?"
Flandre glared over her shoulder at Patchouli. She saw no hate or fear on the magician's expression.
Only a curious frown.
"Maybe it's 'cuz of the magician's stupid questions." Flandre hissed.
"You're angry a lot of the time." Patchouli noted.
Flandre said nothing. She had nothing to say. It was true. Did she need to justify herself to her warden? She brushed the flannel over Meiling's forehead as Patchouli spoke again. "Once we are free of this place, I should like to try to help you."
Flandre looked around at the magician, eyes wide in frank disbelief. She shook her head. "You can't. You just lie. And don't say you don't, just because-"
Patchouli interrupted, "You're right. By omission. I... leave things out, so I can control things better. I do it out of expediency, and perhaps a little fear, but that doesn't make it any better, does it?"
"It... doesn't." Flandre agreed as she tumbled the word 'expediency' over and over in her head.
Patchouli inclined her head. "Know that I am sorry. I'm serious about helping you.
Serious as I was when I built those prosthetics of yours."
Flandre's wing tips lowered a fraction as she brought in their bejeweled arms, unpleasant memories once more bubbling to the surface. "'Kay." She mumbled before busying herself with Meiling.
Once more, an uncomfortable silence fell between them, until Patchouli chose to break it with another question. "I was not there, when you first met Meiling. May I hear what happened?" She asked with an unnatural airiness.
"Sure." Flandre murmured. Maybe when you hear it you'll stop asking me stupid questions.
China, Kingdom of Jisai, 1552AD
On a rocky road that paved the Rocky Mountain, an undead princess and a red-haired vagrant shouted at one another.
"Turn back! Stay away from me!" Meiling shouted in Mandarin, her starved body shrouded in rags and cloth.
"Well?! Are you a celestial, a spirit, a demon?" Remilia demanded in an old Romanian dialect, her slight frame clad in red riding clothes.
"I am cursed! Leave me!" Meiling bellowed as she tried to make herself appear large.
Remilia spread her arms as though to present herself as a target. "Perhaps my fate is not tied to some dragon king, but you? Do you suppose that's what brought us together?"
"I'll kill you! Do you not hear me?! I'll kill you!" Meiling screamed, raising the spear as though intent on using it.
Remilia's little smile turned wicked as she recognised one of the few phrases she'd bothered to learn. In flawed Mandarin she replied, "You're welcome to try."
For the first few bouts, Remilia toyed with Meiling, slipping the spear thrusts and dancing up the rocky road as the vagrant pursued her.
"You say you'll 'kill me'," Remilia pointed out between movements, "But you always seem to miss! Can't you hit me?
Won't you hit me?"
Her assailant snarled in response, her spear coming about in wild swings. Remilia let her catch up, seeming to freeze.
The spear punched over her shoulder, the blade ripping flesh and cloth with it. Remilia saw her enemy's eyes widen and heard her gasp hoarsely.
Remilia had seen such reactions on the battlefield before, when opponents had witnessed her unnatural regeneration, or her taking a mortal wound before dolling one out in kind.
They'd never been shocked at hurting their enemy.
"Let's be rid of this," She murmured coolly as she surged in, her talons raking through the spear shaft in a shower of splinters.
The motion startled Meiling into a retreat, still brandishing the decapitated weapon.
Remilia spread her arms wide once again. "Is that all you have?" the vampire asked. Meiling didn't speak the little girl's dialect, but the body language, the tone, it told her she was being goaded. She tossed the beheaded spear aside, the shaft clattering as it bounced down the road.
This stranger would have a taste of her misery and be warned.
"I am ill-fated. Leave, or you will share in my misfortune." She promised as she stopped pushing down the darkness flooding her centre. She brought her hands together, a dirty, shadowy light beginning at her wrists, revolving into a dark band.
Remilia's eyes lit up at one of the handful of words she'd bothered to learn for her stay in this country. "'Fate'? What do you know of fate, crazy woman?" She asked in her Wallachian tongue.
Frustrated at her opponent's persistence, Meiling's expression darkened as she thrusted forward, the spinning band blazing outwards. The black rainbow ripped the road open in a blast of shale and stone as it jetted towards the vampire.
Remilia stood still as the shadowy lance broke over her, the negative chi leaping out in arcing bolts and spiking across her body. She shivered as pain flashed across her face, her shoulder, her waist, feeling her flesh sizzle and her clothes burn away.
The blast of deadly light abated. Nothing else came. Remilia's eyes looked on in surprise, watching Meiling for her next move.
Again, Meiling looked uncertain.
Concerned, even.
"Come on!" Remilia declared loudly as she threw up her hands, a cloud of bats already forming a frenzied cloak of darkness about her, "That was what I was looking for! Why did you not press the attack?!"
Meiling's scowl returned, a dark nimbus gathering around her.
The bats had finished reforming around their master. Her clothing repaired and her body remade, Remilia spread her arms with flair, her expression bordering on annoyance. "Again, then - I am Remilia Scarlet, queen of the night, descendant of Vlad Dracula Tepes, and mistress of 'fate'! Who is it that faces me?!"
Meiling was sullen and silent. Remilia's arms fell to her sides before she took in an exasperated breath.
"REH-ME-LEE-AH SCAR-LET!" Remilia beat her chest before indicating Meiling do the same.
Meiling remained silent.
"Well!" Remilia folded her arms, an annoyed smile striking across her face. She lifted her chin as she shouted her next words in broken Mandarin. "If I win, your fate? Mine! Your name, as well!"
Meiling threw her a look of uncertainty. Remilia groaned, preparing to repeat herself-
Then she heard it. The strain of blood rushing through her ears. She saw Meiling wasn't looking at her, she was looking through her.
Remilia turned in time to see the distant shape. A familiar profile. Blonde locks and leathery wings.
"Flan, no!" She screeched, turning to push Meiling down.
But Meiling was already past her, shoving Remilia back and away from her. Remilia looked around in wide-eyed surprise in time to see Meiling's face buck and vanish behind an expanding film of blood.
Meiling felt her knees buckle, the shock reverberating through her body. She tried to stand, even as the strength drained from her.
Like a tree cut to the core, the Chinese youkai swayed and collapsed across the ruined road, her negative chi spreading off of her like fog as her consciousness faded.
Meiling tried to move her ruined lips, to tell the two girls to leave her alone.
Her one good eye saw Flandre's beleaguered look as Remilia berated her, and Meiling carried that pained expression with her into the darkness.
London, Day 5
"That is fascinating." Patchouli said at last.
Flan stirred. She'd expected condolences, condemnation, but not interest - and certainly not bordering on awe. "What?"
"Yours is the ability to destroy anything. You used this ability in that moment on Meiling, yes?" Patchouli asked.
Flandre felt her hackles rise, but she resisted the urge to snap back. "Yeah?"
Patchouli tucked a hand under her chin, her elbow resting on the book's page. "Is Meiling immune to your ability? Why do you suppose it didn't kill her?"
Wrongfooted, Flandre floundered. "It- maybe? It was dark, and she had Remilia in the way, and then she didn't? Then Remilia was yelling at me..."
Just like that other time.
Anger and confusion wormed its way into Flandre's heart. She didn't want to talk about this anymore.
"I think you held back." A third voice floated from the bed. Patchouli lifted her head, but Flandre's delighted gasp told her all she needed to know.
Meiling's blue eyes sleepily peeked over the brim of the sheets at them.
"Meiling!" Flandre cried as she tackled the bedridden gatekeeper. Patchouli smiled idly to herself as Meiling fearlessly brought Flandre in for a hug with a playful growl.
"Be gentle with each other," Patchouli murmured drearily and on cue as Meiling seemed to slump, "You reckon Flandre focused her power, then?"
"I think so! I put hands on your big sis, then I laid off. You gave me a little punch, didn't you Flan?" Meiling asked Flandre.
"Yuh." Flandre managed as she lay there, her enthusiasm suddenly sapped.
Patchouli saw the flicker of recognition in Meiling's eyes as she dealt with Flandre. "Wings in?" She prompted.
"Don't feel like 'Flanroll'." Flandre protested sullenly as she lay there.
"Well, I feel like 'Flanroll.'" Meiling replied matter-of-factly.
Flandre didn't respond, only staring up at the ceiling.
Meiling watched her expectantly before she fell back onto the bed with a bounce. "Uhhhh..." She groaned.
Flandre looked on in disbelief before she shot Patchouli a puzzled glance. Meiling answered her unsaid question. "Ohhh, you'd deny a wounded maiden her dying wish to play once more with her friend before the end?"
"She's dying after all?" Flandre asked, nonplussed.
"She's not dying." Patchouli sighed, her exhale accompanied by a huff from Meiling.
"You're not supposed to tell Flan that!" Meiling declared, staring over her own chest at the magician. Patchouli threw an amused smile back at her.
"I've no intention of lying to miss Flan. I'll honour her preference for honesty.
Though..." Patchouli regarded Flandre slyly, "Meiling has been working solidly as our sentinel - with distinction - and she has recently recovered from a serious injury.
If you indulged your friend, Koakuma and myself could handle perimeter watch for a little while?"
She could tell Flandre secretly liked being asked for permission. The vampire's little sister made a show of sighing condescendingly before finally relenting with a nod.
"Alright, alright, I suppose I could indulge her." Flandre agreed, clearly trying to sound like her elder sister.
"Yay!" Came the subdued squeal from Meiling before she busied herself with wrapping Flan up in the sheets, "Alright - wings around you? There you go!"
For a moment, Patchouli wanted to stay and play the straight man to their antics, but she knew she had promised to observe a vigil of her own - besides, she could observe social creatures, but emulating such behaviour was difficult and not a little taxing.
She smiled, closed her book and took her leave, feeling pleased and a little saddened all at once when she faintly heard Flandre's distant giggle.
Remilia looked on in starry-eyed awe.
"What do we think?" Sakuya ventured.
It didn't matter that it was still the dark of dawn. To Remilia's night-accustomed gaze, the soft, rose-pink shade the dress came in made it almost seem to glow with warmth. The ruffled trim gave it an air of refinement whilst the short sleeves and skirt made it equally suited for play and running around in, and the mob cap was cute - and of course, all of this was recommended by a bonafide servant of the wealthy.
"I love it! We'll come back later and purchase it when they're open!" Remilia declared.
Sakuya's smile emerged from behind the pensive mask. "I'm happy to hear that." She professed.
"If I had to say something bad about it... I would've liked it to not be so... plain!" Remilia's brow furrowed.
Sakuya contemplated her words, clicking her fingers as a thought struck her. "If you'd like, I could sew some accoutrements to it?"
"Accoutrements?" Remilia asked.
"Additions. Perhaps some ribbons in a deeper colour to compliment the overall tone?" Sakuya recommended, "Perhaps to reflect your namesake?"
Remilia's excited smile resurfaced. "Yeah. Yes! Let's do it!" She declared, clearly pleased with her servant's idea.
"And furthermore... follow me around?" Sakuya asked. Remilia indulged her happily, following her around the corner window onto the sunlit street, and Sakuya rewarded her trust by providing her shelter with her taller frame.
There was another dress and mob cap, much like the one they'd found, instead marked in red and white.
"Oh. Uh. I only need one." Remilia said awkwardly.
"That is true, little miss, you yourself only need one dress." Sakuya nodded her head sagely. Remilia stared up at her for several seconds.
Then the penny dropped.
"OH! We can- she'd love it!" Remilia shouted with a grin.
"I'm glad to hear that!" Sakuya repeated, more lively now. She hurried forward to cover Remilia as the vampire approached the window and shoved her face against the glass, her red-eyes scanning the dress.
"It's made of silk!" Remilia said.
"Really?" Sakuya asked.
"Yuh-huh! Excellent under-armour! I've good eyes for these things. I'm a vampire, don't you know," Remilia explained haughtily, "but I don't blame you for not seeing it. There must've been countless humans who walked past this dress without seeing the true value of its fabric if a salesman didn't tell them.
Much like you, Sakuya."
The compliment burnt its way into Sakuya's core, letting her smile widen for just a little longer before she stowed the emotion away. "You're very kind, mistress."
Remilia pointed her grin up at Sakuya. "The queen of the night is right, not kind.
Now, let us see mister Osbourne!"
Remilia's excitement at finding herself a new dress and a gift for her sister in the same morning was short lived.
"You want me to forgive her." She repeated, her hollow tone bouncing through mister Osbourne's empty classroom.
"Glad to hear those pointed ears of yours work." Mister Osbourne said airily.
Remilia's nose wrinkled.
"Come now, you look like you've swallowed a spoonful of mustard." Mister Osbourne pointed out with a smirk.
"There's really no other option?" Remilia asked.
Sakuya chimed in. "We could instead revenge ourselves on her? Set her hair on fire?" She asked, causing mister Osbourne to point his resting scowl her way.
Before he could speak, Remilia seemingly came to his rescue, raising a hand to object. "Ahh, but we are civilised nobility. We must demonstrate the correct way to resolve such conflicts.
A duel at dawn, say?"
Mister Osbourne rolled his eyes, struggling to get a word in as Sakuya smoothly cut in, "An apt course of action, milady. Pistols or swords?"
Remilia would shrug. "I will allow her the choice, to show my generosity-"
Mister Osbourne made a show of losing his patience, coughing energetically. "Girls, you'll not conspire to murder Olivia De Vere within earshot of me."
Remilia sighed. "Sorry mister Osbourne."
Sakuya bowed lightly. "We will be more discreet in our conspiring, mister Osbourne."
That earnt an evil eye from the tutor and a sly, satisfied grin from her mistress.
"Then it's settled," Remilia moaned, relenting, "Olivia De Vere will be made my chuckaboo."
"You don't need to be friends, Remilia," Mister Osbourne replied gently, "You merely need to make peace with her. Show me - and yourself - that you're capable of building bridges."
Remilia grimaced. "It's not going to work. I don't do well with humans."
Mister Osbourne began to speak, but Sakuya was quicker. After they both apologised and fussed at one another, Sakuya ploughed on ahead. "Miss Remilia, myself and mister Osbourne are both human. You get along well with us, don't you?"
Remilia glanced between them, remembering the bumps in the road, how she'd screamed at Sakuya and how she'd frightened her tutor. "Well... yes, but it was awkward. I was nervous."
Mister Osbourne threw her an encouraging smile. "Nervousness is perfectly natural when we're trying new things, Remilia. Nothing wrong with it."
Remilia's fingers fidgetted as she wrestled with the impulse to find more excuses. "Right. So I'm to invite Olivia back to my estate... and then what?"
It was mister Osbourne and Sakuya's turn to share a smile. "Well, we'll have to go over the rules of ettiquette with you when it comes to hosting, my dear." The tutor decided with clear relish.
Remilia's eyes narrowed, but mister Osbourne was already turning to Sakuya. "Will you be able to escort miss De Vere to Remilia's place of residence?"
Sakuya bowed her head. "Consider it done. Mistress Remilia." She confirmed, bowing again to the vampire before she made to leave the classroom.
"So, what am I to learn first?" Remilia asked.
Mister Osbourne's cocksure smile softened. "Before that, I'd ask a favour of you, miss Scarlet. My girl's got a habit. A bad one. Keeps her problems to herself, you know? Proud, you might say."
Remilia smiled slightly. "Like someone I know." She remarked as she lifted her brows.
Mister Osbourne's mood didn't lighten, his eyes weighing hers. "I'd appreciate it if you kept an eye on her. I feel she's involved with dangerous folk."
Remilia blinked, her eyebrows rising as she put on a smile. "Dangerous? Mister Osbourne, I wouldn't hurt a fly."
Mister Osbourne simply stared at her. "I'm not stupid, darling. You won't treat me like I'm stupid, will you?" He raised his voice to emphasise the question.
The facade fell from Remilia's face. "No sir."
Mister Osbourne inclined his head in thanks. "She fainted in my study a few days ago. I don't believe it's simply the stress of the job."
Remilia remained silent.
"I don't suppose it's connected to that man who walked into my home, that you... negotiated with?" Mister Osbourne asked quietly.
Remilia's expression hardened. "It might be."
Mister Osbourne held her gaze before he nodded his understanding. "I won't ask you for an explanation. I've served long enough in her Majesty's armies to muddle on without.
I only ask that you promise that you'll look after her. That you'll protect what counts to be my daughter," His hand found her shoulder, gripping it gently, "Countess Remilia Scarlet."
Remilia straightened, feeling oddly proud and a little afraid as she searched mister Osbourne's eyes, finding only honest concern.
"No-one will touch her." Remilia assured him, her red eyes aglow.
That seemed to be enough for the tutor. He gifted Remilia with a smile, his hand slipping from her sleeve. "My thanks. Now, I suppose we need to hurry if we're to educate you in regards to-"
"Actually, mister Osbourne," Remilia stepped after him, "Might I trouble you for a story?"
Remilia could see the irritable old monster in mister Osbourne start to emerge as his lip curled and his eyelids narrow, but she was grateful to see him rein it in a second later. "A story? What're you on about, girl?"
Remilia gauged how best to ask. "There is a date that has been brought to my attention... December 5th, 1888.
Does that date mean anything to you?"
She could see the ghost of something on mister Osbourne's features as she finished her sentence, the reluctance clear in his tired eyes.
"I'd really rather not recount such a night. How did you get that date?" He asked.
Remilia's mouth became a thin line. "It might serve you better not to know how I discovered it." Remilia sounded.
There was hesitation, but Mister Osbourne nodded his understanding, making his way to one of the chairs he'd pushed to the back of the room for the sake of space. He sat himself down with a drawn out sigh.
"Annie Baker." The name drifted from his lips, a secret smile pulling at his mouth. "As the name implies, not one of gentle stock, but she was fond of me, and I of her.
No, I loved her. Fondness does it no justice." There was a splash of harshess in his words.
As mister Osbourne reminisced, Remilia watched him closely, seeing the depth of the lines that age and pain had carved into his aged face.
"I took her to the theatre that night. Open-air affair. She spent most of it loudly asking me what the actors meant by this line and that phrase, pestering me with questions about the characters, 'why doesn't she just tell him she's a woman', that sort. I was short with her.
Took me some years to realise she didn't care that we stood at the back, she didn't care that it was raining down on us, and certainly didn't care about the show. She only had eyes for me."
Despite her inclination to rush him, Remilia felt obliged to let him have his time, to at least comment on it. "It sounds like she had a fun night." She said evenly.
"Bloody hope so." Mister Osbourne breathed softly, his voice graduating into a laugh as he saw Remilia's shocked smile.
"Mister Osbourne... what language am I going to pick up from you?" Remilia chuckled, her eyebrows raised in mock horror. Mister Osbourne only laughed harder.
"Ahh... that was the highlight of it all..."
Remilia smiled sadly. "I'd hear all of what happened that night."
Mister Osbourne waned. "You'd... hear about my run-in with the copycat..."
"I would." Remilia prompted, not entirely sure where this would go.
The old man shrugged. "Well, I perceive it as such, his handiwork, if anything... I was walking Annie home. We were walking past a side passage between... I can scarcely remember the buildings, but I heard Annie cry out. My gaze followed hers when I saw it. Two shapes in the shadows coming undone. For a second, I thought it some romantic tryst, a pair of lovers we'd perhaps startled.
Wasn't the case, though. Saw the convulsions, the desperate way the girl pushed off of him. I saw the blade, as dark as midnight-"
"You saw a black blade at night in a shadowy alleyway?" Remilia asked sharply.
"With the way he held it, I could think of nothing else he might hold like that!" Mister Osbourne protested. "You can dull a blade's sheen with soot, but- there was a wrongness about it all..."
"It's alright, I believe you." Remilia murmured.
Mister Osbourne sighed at that. "Annie's scream startled him badly, I think, seeing as he slunk away into the alleys. I can't imagine he feared us - if we'd been standing in the shade with him, he might've taken his frustrations out on us, but-"
"Hey, why do you call him the copycat?" Remilia asked suddenly.
Mister Osbourne, startled, replied, "The police assured me that it was not the Ripper himself, rather an imitator. They checked the body of the girl, apparently his work was shoddy. Rushed. So they told me he's just a man with a knife, unaffiliated-"
"Your opinion?" Remilia interrupted once more.
Mister Osbourne looked apologetic as he turned in his seat, finding Remilia's gaze uncomfortable to sit beneath. "It could well have been the man himself."
Remilia's ears twitched at the sound of Sakuya returning.
"Ah, my servant returns! Is miss De Vere en route to my mansion?" Remilia asked loudly. Mister Osbourne took the hint, straightening up in his chair.
"She is, milady." Sakuya said smoothly, the vampire's parasol wrapped and held at her waist.
"You'd best get on to meet her then," Mister Osbourne threw on a smile as he rised from his chair, "Take your parasol and be underway, countess."
Remilia frowned, opening her mouth to clarify, but mister Osbourne went on, "I shall have to borrow the girl for some time. I'll send her along once she's finished with her chores."
"You've not told me how to host," Remilia blurted out, "You've not-"
"I told you what you wanted to know. Now go.
And remember parroting! Interesting people are interested." Mister Osbourne said firmly.
Remilia searched mister Osbourne's inscrutable face before relenting. "If you'd please." She said to Sakuya, taking the parasol when proffered before she made her way towards the door and braved the sunlight.
The walk back to the Scarlet Devil Mansion was an uncomfortable one. The smell of waste was heavy in the air, made worse by the brilliant sun's burning rays, and the marketplace she walked through was crowded enough for her to hold the parasol's stick rigidly against her shoulder as taller men and women from all classes inadvertently bumped and cajoled their way past her.
There were pedlars in patchwork, threadbare clothing hawking their wares, often overlooking the workmen in their denim vests to instead pester the ladies whose bodies - save their faces - were covered from head to toe. They wore hats that sported ribbons and feathers and eyecatching promenade dresses made out of bright satin, lace and silk. Their height was augmented by the pronounced heels on their boots and their shapely figures were subtly emphasised by the corsets beneath the fabrics.
Remilia felt her lip curl as she passed them, her hand closing into a fist around the parasol's throat.
Of course, most of the women were accompanied by men who wore suits, waistcoats and jackets in sombre, earthen tones, and almost every head topped by hats of many styles. There were rounded bowler hats, flat-topped gambler hats, the none too subtle top hat...
Somewhere in the press, she saw a pocket watch. Her eyes narrowed, a momentary unease pulsing through her as she scrutinised the hands of those she passed for that pocketwatch. She saw the occasional umbrella in hand, rattan canes tipped with brass and - in the case of the wealthier gentlemen - topped with embellished handles of silver and ivory, a pocket square's brilliant flash of colour being used to clean dusted eyeglasses-
She staggered as she was struck.
"Watch it!" Remilia barked as the sun flashed on an elbow, her skin hissing at the harsh light.
The flaxen-haired, sky-eyed beauty that was Olivia De Vere blinked, her fair features turning as pale as the dress she wore. "M-miss Scarlet! I'm terribly sorry..." Olivia managed, ashen-faced. Remilia's snarl deepened for a second, her lips opening to shout-
But she could see the startled looks their collision had earnt from the people around them. Some of them were a touch too slow in looking in her direction.
Some failed to react at all. Some were using their peripheral vision to monitor her.
"You received my invitation, then?" Remilia asked primly, forcing herself to regard her fellow student. She'd get them away from here before anything else.
"Y-yes, I did, miss Scarlet." Olivia murmured.
"Very good. If you'd accompany me to the main gate - do not mistake that as a call to engage me in small talk." Remilia tossed over her shoulder as she led Olivia through the press. She told herself it had just been another pocketwatch. A typical accessory. It wouldn't be Barnes, here to test her.
That did not mean that Barnes' men weren't shadowing her. She strained her senses, the nails on her off-hand already sharpening should she need to discreetly disembowl someone.
Luckily, no-one died. No fight broke out. She brought Olivia De Vere to the outside of the gate of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Remilia turned about, her gaze reaching far over Olivia's shoulder to regard the entrance to the road.
She saw a woman with intense eyes duck out of sight.
Remilia smiled briefly before she regarded Olivia, noting that the Scarlet Devil Mansion was still attracting tourists from the inner city.
"So begins our day together, miss Olivia. Sharpened your tongue?" Remilia asked.
"I'm sorry?" Olivia asked.
"Are you?" Remilia countered caustically. "Is this the apology that I'm due after you tore me down when we first met? Huh? Or-"
Remilia faltered, her eyebrows twitching upwards when she saw the effect of her words.
Olivia's blue eyes were shining like oceans, her bottom lip wobbling.
"I'm s-sorry." Olivia managed, her voice a low whale-song sound.
Remilia was lost for words. She could see that as Olivia threatened to break down, the two of them were once more drawing a crowd.
Remilia would look as though she'd just said something mean.
She'd be the one to look bad.
She'd fail the test.
She frowned, feeling tears of frustration start up as her fangs pricked her bottom lip. It wasn't fair. This wasn't fair! Why should my fate be tied to this-
"Ahh! Mistress Olivia de Vere, welcome!" A sing-song voice declared from behind her.
Remilia turned about at the squeal of the iron gate, watching as Hong Meiling walked up to Olivia, whose distress was overwhelmed by her astonishment. Olivia gathered herself as Meiling dared to put a hand to her shoulder.
"Come along inside - miss Remilia, is there a particular place I should escort the young miss to?" Meiling asked before she threw Remilia a gentle-but-firm look that said 'play along, please'.
So prompted, the mistress of the mansion spoke. "The study- my study. Tea and cakes for Olivia and myself." Remilia said haltingly.
Meiling nodded, making to escort Olivia to the arranged place. Remilia felt she had to say something.
"As my guest," Remilia spoke aloud, "Know that I guarentee your safety."
Meiling leant back a little to allow Olivia's glassy eyes to look back at Remilia.
"Thank you." Olivia said, a small, brave smile on her face.
Remilia gave her an awkward smile back, watching Meiling walk off with the troublesome Olivia - but not before the Chinese Gatekeeper credited the vampire princess with a punch of the air.
Wudang Mountain Temple Complex, 1603AD
The nun in blue robes led the two vampires up the stone staircase towards the great red gates and the forest-flanked temple complex beyond, the setting sun nestled behind the buildings, leaving the three figures in cool shade. The two vampires wore simple linen gowns, despite Flandre's protests.
Remilia had sympathised, but she had reckoned it better to dress like the monks. If their pursuers did come calling, she wouldn't advertise their position... besides, she didn't want to offend or frame herself as some lofty, disconnected aristocrat to this ascetic nun in the blue and black.
The nun spoke at last. "We've met before, you know."
"Have we?" Remilia asked with a frown.
The nun's lined face turned to look her in the eye, a wrinkled hand going to her own chest. "Lihua? You spoke to me about giving Meiling to the temple."
Remilia's eyebrows rose, trying to find the cold but pretty girl from fifty years ago in that creased, tanned and friendly face.
The nun grinned at her consternation.
"You thought I'd still be young as the day you first met me, hmm?" The nun grinned.
"What- I wasn't aware of any such change, you don't look a day over thirty." Remilia cooed. She'd recalled the nun being aloof, even hostile towards them.
"Why're you so wrinkly?" Flandre asked, to Remilia's horror. The nun, noticing, looked to Remilia, who haltingly - and apologetically - translated. In response, the nun chuckled so deeply Remilia feared she may have to catch her lest she fall down the steps.
Lihua exhaled happily, returning Flandre's bashful smile with one of her own. "Ahh... you wished to see Hong Meiling?"
Remilia nodded eagerly. "Yes, the crazy woman. My sister is anxious to see her."
"Oh? Are they friends?" The nun asked.
"Well, Flandre tore her face off." Remilia explained in Mandarin.
"Oh." The nun said, before laughing again.
Remilia smiled, bemused. It seemed nothing phased this human.
They found Meiling on a concourse of white flagstones, dressed in a green tunic and pants in a pose Remilia had not seen before.
"What is she doing?" Remilia found herself asking, "It looks like she's waving an invisible blanket."
"Tai Chi. Meiling is training." Lihua explained.
Flandre watched in mute fascination as Meiling flowed through her katas, her lovely face the picture of serenity.
Remilia looked up to the nun in blue. "Training? To fight what? She moves too slowly to hit anything." Remilia pointed out. Lihua simply laughed.
"She trains to pacify the self." Lihua replied, "Though not for much longer, you two have distracted her."
Meiling raised a hand. "Ahhh! Hello, miss Scarlet sisters!" She called out, striding across the flagstones to them.
Remilia waved back. "Hello, crazy woman!"
"Hey?" Meiling asked, her smile disappearing. Remilia followed her gaze, realising Flandre had sidled behind Lihua, her little hands clutching the nun's skirts, tensing as Meiling spoke up. "Hey, what's wrong?
Oh! You're the one who- I remember you! Listen, I'm not mad. Here." Meiling reached her hand down for Flandre's.
After several seconds, Flandre reached up and squeezed Meiling's palm.
"Gosh, your hand is chilly!" Meiling declared with good cheer, glancing Remilia's way as the elder vampire translated. Not to be outdone, Flandre shouted her own observation in Meiling's face.
"Yours is warm, I like it!" Flandre declared, her keenness to be heard earning a chuckle from Lihua and Remilia both.
"You want me to show you around the complex?" Meiling asked.
Remilia translated, leaving Flandre staring expectantly at her.
"Can I?" Flandre asked at last.
"Yes, of course, go on." Remilia waved her off, but Flandre was already running after Meiling, her little leather wings bobbing up and down as she went.
"She's so different." Remilia noted.
"Meiling? No, she's still very much the same." Lihua said back to her.
Remilia watched Meiling and Flandre play, trying not to let Lihua's contradiction irritate her. "Will you let her leave the temple with me?"
Lihua continued to watch as she answered. "Meiling will not leave until she is ready to."
Remilia allowed the lightest frown to mar her features as she glanced up at Lihua. "You would stop me?" She asked, curious.
Lihua exhaled. "I've asked Meiling. She doesn't feel ready yet."
Remilia's red eyes returned to the playing girls. "She seems healthy to me. Her face is recovered."
"The thing that matters most hasn't healed yet." Lihua responded.
"Is she wounded still? Beneath the surface?" Remilia asked, imagining a horse's broken leg or ruptured internals, all literal and physical.
Lihua seemed to see that, smiling sadly down at the little vampire. "Hurt. An old hurt has not healed yet."
She saw a flash of understanding in Remilia's eyes.
"'Kay." Remilia murmured as she watched Meiling and Flandre 'talk' - with neither of them knowing the other's language, they were loudly yelling nonsense at each other, and judging by Flandre's giggles, it was a good conversation.
"Will you inform your students of our arrangement, then?" Remilia asked. She watched Meiling wave an arm, her eyes widening when she saw that a soft stream of light followed her fingertips.
Lihua tilted her head. "I will tell my successors what they need to know. That a good friend of the complex would like us to take care of their red-headed friend, for a time." Lihua asked.
"Good." Remilia purred, feeling quietly vindicated as Meiling demonstrated the same technique she'd seen on that rocky road, but it was cleaner, colourful. Controlled.
She heard Flandre coo softly as Meiling started to turn, the tips of her fingers ablaze with an inner light. They began to trace outlines in the air, the first shapes as blotchy as ink in water. But they sharpened quickly, filled out fully, her artful creations leaving Flandre mesmerized.
"Miss Scarlet?
Why did you help her?" Lihua asked.
Remilia's chin pouted, herself unsure, thinking back to their first meeting, how Meiling had shied away from hurting her, how she had rushed to shield her.
"She is strange to me.
I do not understand her, but I should like to, if she is to be my friend." Remilia decided.
Lihua said nothing, her hand warmly grasping Remilia's shoulder. "I think she would enjoy your friendship." Lihua said knowingly, the two of them watching as Meiling unfurled an aurora of colour that filled the temple courtyard with light.