Complex thought returned soft and slow, a trickle as syrupy as grenadine and twice as red. She was in the convent infirmary. Her name was Esper James Price-Wynnfield, the James a mere vestige of a former life that she could never really bring herself to do away with. Her girlfriends, whom she adored beyond a shadow of a doubt, were here with her - in the sense that they were within the building, though perhaps not insofar as to be beside her at the moment.

But where were they? She had been shot. She had been, momentarily, slain. She had, for that most brief moment, seen what it was like to die... known what it was to be nothing, to be forgotten - drifting about the void without care or direction, left without a sense of self, only a vague approximation of what had been. She had been left with dreams of love, at the very least. Love, and very little else.

Was that what it was like? To die, for real? To truly meet one's end? When her time eventually came - when Esper James went to the crematorium and told them her intent, and they laid her down in those great downy beds, and fed her the pills that made her sleep... Would she awaken to nothingness? That infinite black had been warm, she couldn't deny... and yet, being here, among the living and semi-dead, was far more important. It was a more pressing matter than allowing herself to linger on the other side of the veil.

She had two girlfriends she had to try and keep safe, after all.

Try being the objective term here, of course. So far? All she had ever managed to do was get them in trouble; all she could muster was a luckless aura which sapped their fortunes, and allowed the three of them to venture forth as a singular unit into an awful, horrible fucking world. That was another thing, too, wasn't it? She was tired of denying it, or dancing around it. Vitus was horrible. It was terrible and awful and mean and evil, so much as a city can be.

And who's to say it wasn't sentient, in some twisted, cruel way? Who's to say that the city of the dead wasn't sapient in its own right, able to manipulate the lives of those who walked its streets and slept in its beds? Who was truly to say that a city couldn't be alive? A hundred years ago, they would've said a corpse couldn't be alive, either. They would say death was final. They would say that all that muck about vampires and ghouls and zombies was just superstition, that the sign of the cross and the holy silver of the hunters of old were mere paranoia.

And yet, nowadays? It went without saying that silver prices had skyrocketed, if only because it was a globally-demanded commodity in munitions production. If war ever broke out again, the side without silver bullets would sure find the UNAC a bitch to match up against, at the end of the day.

Esper James snapped from her dissociative hyperfixation to the sound of a knock on the door. Hardwood, just like the others... maybe she wasn't in the lab, then? She hoped she wasn't in the lab. Her teeth had only begun to re-grow, and the pain and itching soreness which came from new teeth coming in made her yearn to teeth... but it also reminded her of the bullet's kiss, and what came before. She couldn't help but laugh to herself, softly, as a bit of gallows humour came to mind.

That bullet was the second time an older woman had penetrated her while she begged for it, heheh. Hah. Ha. EJ's chest rose and shook, shoulders jostling about, mirth making her whole body quiver with guilty, grim delight. Oh, fuck. She wished Purity or Est were here to have heard that one; maybe they'd have thought it was funny. She'd tell them later...

Oh, fuck. They didn't know any of this. They didn't know the mother abbess had shot her; they didn't know that EJ had even gone out for more testing without their permission, did they?! Ohhhhhh fuck. A chill ran down EJ's body, her head a sudden snowcap, and the meltwater which trickled down her neck and chest to the bottoms of her feet did her no favors. She was gonna have to face them, of course; no weaseling her way out of this, not that she would have even wanted to. What a fucking slap in the face that would be, for her to avoid them and try to hide from telling them.

Blech. The knock came again, tearing her once again away from an overthought and overwrought mental avenue. Esper James fumbled with her own mouth to make the words - her tongue and jaw fought with tooth-remnants and unaligned joints to process her request, like a call center with far too much attention. Awkwardly, stumbling like a drunk, the syllables were drawn up and out of her mind's mire. "Cohm en-n-n! Aihm awayke 'n stufhh!"

The door was pushed open slowly, solemnly. Clean black for pant and tunic, with slippers of the same matte shadow... all of it laid overtop of caramel skin, with locks the same ebon tone as the cloth hanging from his head. Luca Esippardi, doge of Venice, pushed the door open with a single powerful arm; his other held a woman's hand. The grip was tight, but not restrictive; it was offered for her benefit, not his.

Behind the doge's elegant, strapping physique walked a woman who wasn't quite so tall, but was still sizeable in her own right, in all manners of the word. Her habit had been adjusted to better fit her luxurious curves, from bosom to hip to ass to thigh, all outlined in a way so tight as to be enticing but still modest enough to toe the line of 'pornographic'. Her eyes had been graciously, though perhaps disrespectfully given their current state, given some attendance with styluses of dark mascara and eyeliner. These, of course, had begun to run in such a way as to paint her cheeks.

Purity held herself back from tears at the moment, yes, but it was obvious - even had the run-lines of inky sorrow which marred her cheeks not been present - that she had been crying. Quite a lot, it seemed. Her eyes were puffy and red in those places the makeup didn't hide, though thankfully the ocular implants she had received kept the whites of her eyes from being the same hue of pinkish-red.

She smiled when she saw Esper James laying in the infirmary bed, but it was a smile which had been laden with so much weight yet left unsaid. It hurt more than if she had just been crying, Esper James thought - if Purity had been crying, then yes, Esper James would have been deserving of it. It would have been every bit of punishment the blonde deserved for going off on her own and trying to spare them the pain they had knowingly signed up for. She had tried to save them from the whole of it; and yet, she had condemned them to something even worse.

Behind Purity, holding her other hand, was Esthrielle. Contrary to Purity's own sadness, Est looked caught between two different emotions: complete and utter exasperation, the kind that wears one down to the absolute nub of their patience, and a sort of fury which was passed through a thick padded mute so as not to lash out towards the object of said ire. EJ knew damn well just who Est was mad at, or so she figured; the Italian's expression barely changed when she saw EJ, though she did put on her best attempt at a smile. That, too, drove a knife into EJ's tender little heart.

Est made damn well sure that the door closed behind the three of them as they entered. The trio approached EJ's bed slowly and steadily, making sure not to startle or rush her - until, of course, they were about halfway there. Then, Esthrielle broke formation to rush the bed-bound ghoulette. Luca's eyes flashed and Purity went to say something, mouth opening in a gentle O but never finding the words to make; neither of them stopped Est as she stomped to the laid-up ghoul.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Esper fucking James, I-...!" Est put one hand around EJ's throat as she reached the bed, her other hand balled into a fist - one that saw itself raised like a spiteful comet, glorious and avenging, aimed to crash down and send EJ back to the dream-sleep she had just escaped. When it came down, however, it landed ineffectually into the wide downy pillow that the blonde's head was rested upon. Est's white-knuckle grip on EJ's windpipe collapsed immediately, and Esthrielle did too - falling about herself and all about EJ, her seething, bubbling rage pouring out of the floodgates and dripping to the floor.

The duo whom yet remained in the center of the room rushed over as well, Purity leading Luca, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her face to ruin her makeup just that much more. Est sobbed and howled and grit her teeth and punched the side of the bed EJ was lain within, letting out a flow of emotional debris so tumultuous it could've been the dregs left in a tsunami's wake. It was brutal, sharp, and full of shards of broken glass.

EJ couldn't say anything, just smile at the others because that's all she could fucking bring herself to do. If she cried now? She'd let them down that much more, she figured. If she cried, and begged, and pled for forgiveness or amnesty or even lenience, she wouldn't learn anything. She wouldn't have changed at all. She'd just be a leech, a fucking blight on the women she loved, just doing whatever she felt like or wanted and not being able to own up to the consequences when they inevitably came.

Fuck. It was hard not to cry, you know? But the best she could offer without breaking down was an arm around both of them, gathering Purity in to lean down and form a little clump of sapphic sadness on that soft infirmary bed. EJ's head was the only woman's which was free from the pile of pity which the ménage au trois had formed; she looked up to Luca, who had not, who could not, join in on the hug.

He offered her a tight, reluctant smile in response. There were so many things he wished he could say to her in that moment, really; so very many, both with his voice and with his heart, body and soul. EJ's actions had been... well, there were multiple interpretations, really. For one? It was sacrificial. Martyrdom, in a sense. She had seen how Purity and Est had suffered from earlier testing, and... well, she had decided to take matters into her own hands. She had returned of her own bravery, and her own volition, in an ill-conceived attempt to save them some pain.

But. Of course, there was another way to see it all. Instead of being some sort of sacrificial offering, some lamb to the slaughter given to save them from the agony of it all? It had been some distorted sense of selfishness and pride, really. A greedy emotion, a self-important way of doing and seeing things, in some twisted attempt at saving herself from the heartbreak. She had seen Purity and Est struggling with their emotions in the wake of her near-drowning, and so, unable to deal with it herself?

She had fled. She had opted to continue testing, without notifying them or even giving them a say in the matter, if only so that she herself didn't need to deal with their opinions and reactions to it. They had agreed to accompany her, knowing full well the sort of grief it may cause... they were her lovers, whom trusted her implicitly, and whom loved her without question. Or, well, Luca wasn't so sure on that last part, but it was the most likely case, wasn't it?

And so, Esper James had broken their trust. She had completely ruined their faith in her, in a self serving bid for comfort wherein her only goal was to avoid needing to deal with their grief. She knew she would be fine regardless of what happened; she was a second-living, and while death was scary, it was far from the first time she had died. It had to be, Luca figured - she was literally a dead girl walking, right? She had to have died at least once.

Luca sighed, breaking his shared glance with Esper James; Esper James then looked down at her lap and torso, where two sobbing women let their internal turmoil roil and bob and simmer and boil until it started to steam off. In the meantime, she did the only thing she could think to: no longer smiling, because there were none to see such a fake smile, she leaned down to rest her head between her lovers'.

The response wasn't instant, but it was forceful when it came. Est's spare hand, the one which had been putting marks on the side of the wooden bed where Esper James was placed, went up to throw itself about EJ's blonde head to pull her in tightly. Purity's opposite hand, too, went up and around to Esper James's back, holding her as best the weeping pinkette could manage given their position. The three of them stayed like this for seconds which grew into minutes, which blossomed into a full hour by time they really moved from their entanglement.

Est's head raised first - her eyes, similarly saved from the wake of sorrow by their mechanical nature, locked dead upon Esper James's own. Her lips twitched as she struggled to form words, but they did start to roll forth after some brief delay so that their utterance was not hindered by any sort of doubt.

"Esper fucking James, Price-God-Damn-Wynnfield. I... You... You have really fucked up this time, you know? I'm sorry there's no kinder way for me to say it, but... EJ. We love you. We signed up for this. We signed up to be with you through all the bullshit. You and I have been through some awful shit, right? And yet..." Est's stern expression broke for a moment as she struggled against a new wave of tears, but she blinked it away and steeled herself to continue anew. EJ couldn't help but feel the tears gathering at the corners of her own eyes, blinking them away as best she could.

"We...! We are here for you, you dumb little bitch, and yet you...! You can't leave us out in the cold! Y-You can't just...! You can't just, s-say 'fuck what Est and Puri think', and just go put yourself in danger like that. I shouldn't... I shouldn't even have to tell you this. You got shot in the fucking head. They had to kill you. Do you know what that's like for us? The women you say you love?" Est couldn't fight the tears any further, but she could grimace and keep her eyes mostly focused on the ghoulette as she continued her scolding.

"It's awful! It's fucking awful! Imagine that I had gone out and got my ass kicked and came back in the same shape as when we... When we met in the factory. You'd feel like shit, right?! You'd wish you could've done something, anything, to be there and prevent it! A-A-And... And... I, we, w-we..." And that was right where the locomotive of righteous indignance ran all the fucking way out of steam, and just spun its wheels upon the rails. Esthrielle collapsed anew, face burying itself hard into EJ's chest, dampening the comforter and sheets almost immediately with a rain of hot, passionate tears.

EJ knew damn well what Est was saying, beneath it all. It was a scolding, and one she deserved... though, it was also an admission of emotion, of a great many emotions at that. When Est spoke of what EJ would have felt? It didn't take a psychoanalyst to know what she meant. Est had been... broken by it, broken in a new and awful way. There was nothing that could compare, having a new love and joy introduced into her life after so many years of grief and plight, and then having them die practically off-screen?

Fuck.

It drove a solid iron stake into Esper James's sternum to consider, even briefly. She couldn't say anything, but she could keep herself from bawling outright, if only for the benefit of Purity and Esthrielle. She turned, then, to Purity.. Sweet, loving Purity. Esper James felt her heart swell with both sorrow and adoration as she regarded the dancefloor darling, wishing she could bury herself away within Puri's arms and breasts and just fall asleep, and hopefully when she awoke, the three of them would be happy again. It was an idle fantasy, sure, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

Oh, what she wouldn't have given just to be at peace with them - especially now, when they were both rightfully very broken up with her. God, how she had fucked up. Everything was worse - because of her, because of Esper James. Everything was worse. Her eyes flashed to Purity's chest, the longing renewed instantly, just to get to snuggle at all now...

Well, it would have to remain a dream. Purity slowly lifted her head to look at EJ, and when they locked eyes, the pinkette's irises flashed and flickered - LEDs forming the pink heart iris they often did when making love. However, the image wavered visibly as if it was taking great effort to hold onto; and after a moment of struggle, a crack formed down the center of each. Purity's soft lips moved gently, but despite gentle motion, they could very well have been EJ's third death as the words formed.

"Esper J-James... E-EJ... I thought we were, uh, g-gonna be honest with each other from n-now on, right? I... I thought..."