All at once, several highly diverging paths opened up to Momo the Handkerchief.

If Vivienne was here giving an interview, that meant that she could be spinning the outcome of the Deadly Dance Recital in any which way, potentially accusing Momo of cheating or any manner of uncouth behavior, ransacking the Approval winnings she was due from that event. On top of that, if Kelly was easily manipulated, Vivienne could have convinced her to write a puff piece about the Holy Resistance, further eating away at Momo’s Approval and Control.

On the other hand – Momo had zero idea what they had been talking about. All that Momo heard Kelly say was that Vivienne gave her a really interesting angle. Until now, Kelly had been strongly affiliated with the Queendom, and a close friend of Devola Wraith’s to boot. Either this angle had swayed her away from that loyalty, or Vivienne had somehow said something to bolster Momo’s side. Unlikely, but possible.

Either way, it was best to play it safe.

So, while she could relinquish all semblance of discreteness and chase Vivienne out, somehow take her hostage, and interrogate her until she gives up the secrets of the Wraith Box, Momo was keen on a very different strategic play, one that achieved success on both ends.

Momo gave the strategy a very tactical name—the yell at her and see what happens.

As Vivienne turned on her heel to leave, Momo called out to her.

“Ms. Bellafor!” she squealed, her voice coming out higher than anticipated.

Vivienne stopped in her tracks, freezing at the top of the stairwell.

Kelly Kraken’s mouth fell agape.

“Did your handkerchief just speak, guardsman?” Kelly said, her snakes hissing wildly.

“My – huh?” the guard said, face painted pink. He pulled at Momo, waving her around and giving her motion sickness. “This is just a piece of cloth, madam.”

“No I’m not – urgh – [Demorph],” Momo mumbled, slurring her words nauseously.

With a dramatic woosh of Nether, Momo regained her physical form, emerging from the handkerchief and stumbling onto the wood floor. The overwhelming spinning feeling continued to plague her as she got to feet.

“Hello,” she mumbled, wobbling upwards and regaining her balance. “I’mMomo. Nicemeetya.”

Kelly screamed, stepping back and nearly tripping over her six-inch heel. Vivienne finally turned her head, her entire face turning the color of a ripe tomato when she laid her eyes on just what had emerged from that chattering piece of cloth.

“Momo –” Vivienne said, then stopped herself, freezing in place. “I mean, who are you?”

“Wait,” Kelly said, her eyes enlarging comically. “Queen Momo? As in, the new necromantic tyrant of Aloysius? Emerging from a napkin?”

“I realize the circumstances of my entrance aren’t ideal,” Momo said politically, finally able to form words again. “But the guards at the gate wouldn’t let me in, so I had to make do. They didn’t believe I was the queen — something about my footwear and general appearance.”

Kelly gave her a onceover. While she didn’t say anything, it was clear she agreed.

“I’ll have them fired this afternoon, your highness,” she said, instantly turning on her journalistic courtesy. She even went as far as taking a small bow, the hissing snakes on her head darting their tongues out towards Momo. “What timing you have – I was just chatting to Ms. Bellafor here about you.”

“Oh really?” Momo said, lifting her eyebrows as she turned to Vivienne. The Holy Knight looked intensely stressed, an actress caught between two conflicting roles. “All good things, I hope?”

The logic of plan three went something like this – Momo knew that if Vivienne and Nia were after the same thing Momo was, (aka: nationwide approval for their cause) then Vivienne had the same incentive to remain cool and collected in front of Kelly. With all the acclaim the journalist had been gaining in the months since Momo’s rise, the snake-haired woman could crush a political campaign in a single headline.

And telling from the aggravated look on Vivienne’s face, she knew that very well.

“Yes, actually,” Kelly said with a note of surprise. “She was just regaling me with the most fascinating tale. You don’t mind if I enlighten the queen with it, do you? A little snippet of the story before it hits the presses.”

“Actually…” Vivienne began, then trailed off. “Not at all, Kelly. But I really should be leaving. I have some important affairs to conduct out of town, you know how it goes…”

“Oh, of course,” Kelly said.

“No,” Momo squeaked, getting ahead of herself. The two women eyed her, one looking considerably more alarmed than the other. “No, I… if you wouldn’t mind, Ms. Bellafor, I’d really love a chance to talk to you before you go. I just bumped into your sister Nia at my last stop on the campaign trail. She’s really trying on a new style these days, isn’t she? The hat, the masks…”

Vivienne’s lip twitched.

There goes my trump card, Momo thought. This better work.

“Oh, Ms. Bellafor, I had no clue you had a sister. Nia – was it?” Kelly said, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Is she also part of the Holy Resistance? Err – sorry. Freudian slip. Got ahead of myself there.”

Vivienne looked like a pot that might boil over.

She let out a slow, balancing breath.

“Momo must be confused,” Vivienne said. “Let me have a word with her before you two begin?”

“Oh, what a shame to have it off the record,” Kelly said, frowning politely. “Why don’t you have it on air?”

“I’d rather not,” both Vivienne and Momo said in unison, then looked at eachother and frowned.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Kelly’s eyebrows raised, her eyes lighting up. “Well aren’t you two cozy? Finishing each other’s sentences, not to mention that thick tension in there, ooh la la…”

“Oh it’s not like that –” Momo stuttered.

“You’re completely wrong –” Vivienne insisted.

“No worries, ladies. You’re welcome to use my breakroom to sort out your issues,” Kelly said, the heads of one of her snakes gesturing towards a small room at the end of the hallway. “But Momo, dear, I really am looking forward to our interview. So don’t take too long, hm?”

Before Momo could respond, Kelly harrumphed, pivoted on her stiletto, and slammed the door to her office, leaving Momo and Vivienne in a sea of unsaid words.

Momo expected Vivienne to run – but she didn’t. With an exasperated sigh, she stalked in front of Momo and walked herself like a prisoner to the breakroom. With a squeaky apology to the guardsman for inhabiting his handkerchief without permission, Momo rushed after her.

—

“What’s with the horns?”

Momo flushed.

“That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?” she stuttered.

Vivienne shrugged, leaning back in her uncomfortable, coffee-break chair. She winced.

“God, for all the money this woman has, you’d think she’d have better office furniture,” she said, massaging her hip. “There’s no way she uses this breakroom. It’s definitely where she sends subjects she’s annoyed with. Like a journalist’s penitentiary.”

“I could believe that,” Momo mumbled.

It was a dingy, prison cell of a break room. All the furniture had sharp edges and exposed nails; the two vending machines were just slabs of brick with soda cans painted onto them, as if they were prehistoric concept art of the real thing. There were two chairs which sat around a small coffee table, where a musty mug of cappuccino had been standing for weeks.

“Yuck.”

Momo took the mug and tried to put it in the rubbish can, but the bin was already pouring over with identically old cappuccinos. She sighed, and placed it on the floor.

“Alright. Let’s get to the point,” Vivienne said, taking off her hood and placing it aside. “Clearly you know the truth about the Holy Resistance.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Momo grumbled. “Your sister made it abundantly clear while trying to kill me. Are you working with her? What did you tell Kelly?”

Vivienne sighed.

“It’s complicated.”

She looked down at the hood, which was nearly identical to Nia’s, with several fabric tentacles shooting out of it. She ran her fingers over the material contemplatively, her lips stuck in a permanent frown. It wasn’t how Momo remembered Vivienne. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, just like her sister; proud, strong, collected.

Collected—that was the best word for it. Put together. Sure of herself. And how could she not be? She had spent years pretending to be someone else. Worked with people who completely went against her ideals. Kept her head down. Remained loyal to only her sister and her goddess, day in and day out.

Momo couldn’t even imagine the internal turmoil that would have caused someone more weak willed than Vivienne. Momo would have given up on Day 2.

But the Holy Knight didn’t look collected now. She just looked… sad. Distraught. Conflicted.

After a moment, her hand stilled on the fabric. She took it back, holding it tightly in her lap.

“I was working with Nia. But I…” she said, her voice strained. “I quit. I just quit.”

“You quit? As in, you quit the Holy Resistance?”

It was like an anvil of thick, silent tension fell on the room. After several seconds, Vivienne swallowed hard, then nodded.

“Originally, I wanted to do it for Nia’s sake. I thought, what’s the harm – it’s the same mission we started out with. Be Sera’s puppets. Take over the country. Bring pride to Morgana’s name. You know the drill,” Vivienne said, refusing to look Momo in the eye as she spoke. She kept her gaze pinned on the overflowing garbage bin. “But after a while, I don’t know… my heart wasn’t in it anymore. It was just – I couldn’t stomach the way Sera treated Nia. The way she plays with her emotions, promising her things but never delivering them. Always berating her. Always telling her do better, like she’s not spending every waking moment following her bidding…”

Momo’s heart sank as tears collected under Vivienne’s eyelashes. Angry tears. Indignant ones.

“It’s one thing if someone is terrible to you,” Vivienne said. “But it’s a whole other thing if it’s your sister.”

“I understand,” Momo said. And she did. “So that’s what you told Kelly? That you quit?”

“Yes,” Vivienne said. “I told her the truth behind the scheme. How it’s just Sera trying to hatch a plan against you, against Valerica. She’s going to run the interview in three days – and by then I’ll be on a whole different continent. I’m buying a one-way ticket to the Dunes.”

“Wait,” Momo said instinctively, reaching into her pocket.

Should I show her it?

There was the off chance that Vivienne was lying, and that showing her the Wraith Box would be a huge mistake. But I’m stronger now. If Vivienne tried to steal it, Momo would simply steal it back. They were on more equal footing than they used to be back in Nam’Dal.

To hell with it. Before she could think better of it, Momo removed the Wraith Box and placed it on the coffee table, right on top of the cappuccino mug’s water stain.

Vivienne’s eyes enlarged with terror; she shot up in her seat, backing up towards the wall like a prey animal.

“What – how did you –” she hissed. “Get that thing away from me.”

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Momo squeaked, waving her hands around in apology. She slipped the device back into her pocket and saw Vivienne visibly relax. “I just… I thought you might know what to do with it. How to turn it off.”

“Is that actually what I think it is?” Vivienne said, her fingers still gripping the wall. “Is that Sera’s Kill Everything Cube?”

“I think so.”

“Shit.”

After a moment, her shoulders fell, and she peeled herself off the wall, finding her seat across Momo yet again. She put her head in her hands, massaging her temple.

“She talked about it, but I thought she was crazy,” she said lowly, shaking her head. “Sera says a lot of crazy shit. Especially about building stuff like that – devices that could create mass-undead events. Soul grenades. Chain vacuums. Wraith boxes. She’s named more psychopathic devices than people have named children.”

“Mass… undead events?” Momo squinted. “I know it basically sucks out your soul, but…”

“Yes. From what I understand, it captures it. Or, rather, lots of them. And then Sera can empty its contents into a soulless body, and create a giant undead freak,” she said, speaking with absolute revulsion. “Look, I used to be a necromancer, and I still think it’s fucked up.”

Momo paled. The more I hear about this thing, the worse it gets.

“Is there a way for me to disable it? To stop it from working?”

Vivienne raised her head, shrugging. “I have no idea. And I’ll have even less of a clue once the Gazette goes live. I’ll be lucky if Sera doesn’t try smiting me on the spot.”

Momo frowned. “Is there no way for you to contact her beforehand? Ask her about her plans before she realizes you betrayed her?”

Vivienne looked down towards the golden bracelet attached to her wrist. The dwarven contraption, Momo remembered Grimli calling it. Vivienne unbuttoned the bottom of the bracelet’s chain and let it slink down onto the coffee table.

“Sera gave us this thing just before she ascended,” she said, tapping the bracelet with her fingernail. “It’s some kind of Nether-altering device that allows messages to pass long distances. Nia and I used it to communicate with each other across Aloysius, and Sera used it to send us messages discreetly, without having to rely on Nether couriers.”

“So that Morgana doesn’t have a chance to intercept the communications?” Momo deduced.

“Exactly,” Vivienne said. “But the one thing we can’t do is send messages to Sera. It isn’t wired that way. Probably for some precautionary reasons. There’s a chance it could be re-wired, but I have zero idea how. I’m a knight, not a technician.”

She pushed the bracelet across the desk to Momo.

“It’s yours, if you want it,” she shrugged. “Nia won’t talk to me anymore, so it’s useless to me.”

Momo nodded, eagerly taking it between her fingers.

Maybe Grimli will know how to rewire it, she thought. Maybe I could even use it to get into contact with Valerica.

“Well…” Vivienne trailed off, wiping at her eyes. “That’s it. That’s all I got.”

She stood. Just as she was about to reach for the door handle, Momo shot out of her seat, grabbing her by the arm.

“Wait,” Momo said, a hopeful glint in her eye. “If you’re looking for a boat to the Vagrant Dunes, I’m looking for a crew member who isn’t an annoying dwarf. I can keep you updated on your sister, and you can get the hell off this continent. What do you say?”