Absorption 2.6.6.X.1
The insult struck the Court and the Peers cried out.
Never before had the Court received such an insult, just as never before had many of the Peers experienced the pain of having a piece of them sealed away and trapped in place. For it was the Court's nature to always flow through the immaterial between. As They went, Peers would open facets in new realms as they withdrew facets from others. This was necessary as realms shifted in position over time. A Peer could only stretch so far.
The insult arrived from one such realm, a realm where the Court and its Peers had facets of themselves, the mortals had somehow sealed these facets, trapped them, locked them, and through them chained the Peers in place.
It was an injury and insult both.
How the mortals achieved this was unknown to the Court; but many of the Peers were greatly affected by this restriction; this was the first time many Peers experienced pain.
When it came to deciding the response, the Court required no debate on whether to act or not They should act to remove the seal; no, the Court required debate on the best mechanism to achieve such a removal. Unfortunately for the Court, They lacked the knowledge and insight to achieve freedom.
However, there was one Peer within the Court that had experience and knowledge both on the intricacies of being entrapped and sealed away, although the exact details differed. This Peer with some knowledge on the matter would not be a Peer that the many of the Court would ever feel comfort in requesting aid from.
This Peer had developed an unsavory reputation in behavior, although on the surface the Peer appeared nothing if not both kind and beautiful. The issue was in this Peer’s conceptual identity. This Peer could not help who this Peer was. The same was true of all the Court.
The Court reached out to this Peer for aid.
This Peer who was known for unsavory conduct.
This Peer who had been held distant and was largely unwelcome.
This Peer, a female despite a lack of biology, was the embodiment of feminine beauty. She had been likened to honeyed poison on more than one occasion.
This was who the Court requested advice from. And unsavory advice, she gave.
The Court accepted what She suggested as the Court had little other recourse.
And thus, all the Court began searching between the realms for that which they needed to follow Her plan. They needed to find souls which resonated with Themselves in conceptual identity. These souls needed to be hale enough to survive the ardours of empowerment and insertion.
These souls became champions of the Peer which selected them.
These souls were invested in by the Peers with Their very essence, motes of power, motes bled from Peer to soul, motes making themselves known through sacred designs, motes which mortals took note of, studied, and somewhat replicated with stolen power, motes that made the champion known by deed and act and called by the mortals godsmarked.
These champions were sent into the entrapping realm to seek out a means to disrupt and break the seal.
Initially, many of these souls rose to great heights, at least initially.
Despite this initial success, these champions failed to achieve anything meaningful to the Court, as the seals remained unbroken, and the Court remained entrapped and sealed.
The Court continued on despite these middling results.
An era passed and the Peers continued to bleed, motes of power passing from Peer to new souls.
An era passed, and still, the Court remained sealed to this realm.
During these eras, all but two of the Peers had invested themselves into a champion.
The one Peer who recommended this course of action, She refrained.
Her nearest neighboring Peer also refrained, after She recommended this to Him.
During these eras, the Court continued to weaken.
During these eras, She continued to bide her time, watching, waiting, plotting. For while the Court only sought freedom from the realm, She sought something more.
No, She needed more, Her nature required it.
Simple freedom could never satisfy Her, not after the insult, not after the slight.
Thus, She plotted, and from these plots, She and Her neighbor withheld Their strength, saving Their strength for the next act.
And as the neighboring Peer was nearest to Her, He followed Her suggestions. For they were far more than just neighbors. He and Her were nearest in nature, both held pariahs to the Court. He and She were not friends, for those such as Them could not bond. Despite this, Their existence had been bound and twined together, two stalks interweaving through eternity.
As such, They were close. As such, He heeded Her suggestions.
For as the Court railed against the realm that dared to bind Them, She had seen what all else had missed: Each mote bled, each mote invested, each mote entering the realm, all these motes, they added weight against the fabric of the lands and its people, straining the threads holding all together.
Perhaps this strained fabric would eventually shatter beneath the weight of these motes. Perhaps the investment of the Peers would flavor the fabric and one day return to the Peer, strengthening the investors by ten-fold.
But merely waiting for the realm’s eventual destruction, waiting for justice served, waiting for time to heal opened and festering wounds… this opposed Her nature.
No. Her nature was one of vengeance, of a beautiful flower, stolen for pleasure, consumed by the lust and greed of the powers that be… the foolish who willingly imbibed from a sweet nectar laden in virulent poison.
Thus, Her nature plotted and planned a violent conclusion, orchestrating mortals and Peers alike, coiling as a viper, weaving as a spider, waiting for a trap to spring.
As the realm continued and time therein passed, the Court waned in resolve.
The Court’s Peers had realized that each mote bled lessened the Peer while obtaining nought but a dubious future award.
Gradually, the Peers ceased their investments, forgetting the insult, growing inured to the pain of having facets sealed.
As the Court waned, the realm began stabilizing, the threads of the mortals intertwining with the tapestry, weaving what was invested with what had existed previously, spending their small lives and spirits and souls to reinforce the fabric.
She found this intolerable, for it threatened all which She did plot.
To remove this threat, She parlayed the Peers, She addressed the Court, She bade Them to find Their courage.
She reminded Them the insult.
This worked, to some success. It perhaps would have worked better had She shared Her plot, should She take her Peers as confidants. But secrecy was in Her nature, for who imbibed poison knowingly?
Some Peers heeded Her. Some continued to willingly bleed.
But this was not enough to prevent the realm from healing.
Seeing this, She turned to Her nearest neighbor.
She made Her case to Him.
He knew Her nature. He knew She came with sweet and poisoned words. But even knowing this, He still followed Her will. For He knew Her. This was not trust, as They could never trust, not as others might. But the effects were the same.
He knew Her actions would profit Him.
Afterall, it was in Their nature.
Hers was Poison; His was Death.
Hers with Treachery; His with Inevitability.
Hers lured with Heaven; His followed the Hell.
And so, while She sought a perfect soul for a perfect moment to serve as Her champion, He obeyed Her desires and He began His instructed work.
He was not picky in his work. He never was. He accepted all, as was His nature.
Any soul He came across received His mote and mark. These souls, He delivered unto the realm to consume and be consumed; Each champion, regardless of their action, would serve to dye the realm’s tapestry with His essence.
His essence was heavier than most.
For, while some would claim that Death came as light as a feather…
…it was only light when the soul was allowed to depart.
The realm’s fabric grew heavy, the seams of the tapestry stretched and tore, revealing the few threads anchoring the pieces together.
So stretched and so laden with Death, the realm would not require much more abuse to break completely.
But Death was still only a Peer, one of many, and even Peers could bleed themselves dry.
As He bled, He exhausted Himself.
He lost His agency first, leaving a bare concept and not much more.
This was as near to slumber or death as a Peer could come.
But She had accounted for this possibility. While He lost his wits and guile, She had enough to spare. She began guiding His actions more directly, guiding His hands with Her own.
Over time, this overspent Death; He soon lost all until all He could afford was a single mote further.
Rather than spend His last and final mote, She held back.
She had yet to find a suitable candidate to bear Her mark.
She still sought after a perfect soul.
Time passed, but without His continued divestiture of Himself, the realm began healing once more.
She loathed that the realm was healing. She hated that if the realm healed, then all He had spent would never be returned.
She considered just selecting an inferior soul to empower.
She dared not let Her neighbor a permanent slumber.
She dared not let an insult against Her to pass.
She hated being forced to choose such as this.
She redoubled her search, finding a great many inferior souls, but none were worthy of Her gifts.
She lamented Her choices.
She raged impotently, thrashing all Her facets which had not been sealed.
These facets shook many realms and caused many threads to snap.
In Her wake, there was madness.
In Her wake, there was death.
It was one such death, one particular snarl of insanity and madness, which caught Her attention, where She found trace evidence of what she sought. For in one of these realms, the suffering and tortured agony had coalesced and hardened into an uncut gemstone of great luminosity.
She followed the trails that this gemstone had left as it struggled for a final rest that would never come. The soul was wounding itself, bleeding itself of that which made it wondrous, causing damage to Her future treasure.
She hastened after the soul, gathering the bits the soul had cast off as it searched for peace in nepenthe.
The more that She collected as She went, the more delirious She grew.
She could not help but savor these cast-off bits which She was collecting…
**
Before Your eighth year, You had tasted true despair.
That was all that You could taste immediately after Your ill-fated attempted escape. You regretted this foolish attempt greatly. Your Mother made these lessons known. Mother took many efforts for many months to rectify the gaps You had revealed within Your own bearing and skill.
You believe that Mother revels in teaching You these things.
Thinking of Mother makes You sick with disgust and hate. You have no recourse for these feelings. Acting upon these feelings results in pain and humiliation and a redoubling of remedial lessons.
To Your embarrassment, despite Your hate, these lessons bear fruit.
You learn the proper mode of speech. When You suggest that You were being taught a dialect both antiquated or anachronistic, You are punished.
Mother insists that etiquette and good manners will never be antiquated. Mother also finds offense in Your implication that Mother is old. Some may mistake that accusation as a joke, but Mother punishes you all the same.
Over time, frome these lessons, You develop the habits required to always be aware of Your surroundings, as the penalty for missing a hidden threat ranged from a painful pinch to hours of dark and cramped confinement. You gained the skills to subvert expectations, to infiltrate through means of social manipulation. And these were the softer of the lessons You are taught.
During this period of remedial education, Mother prohibits You from leaving the compound. This is a rural compound where Mother houses inventory and helpers. Often, Mother complains of the help’s overhead in cost and food. But Mother also claims that delegation is critical for a successful entrepreneur, especially as if Mother performs every task, then Mother would have little time to spend with You.
You would prefer Mother performs the tasks instead. You refrain from informing Mother of Your opinion.
Over the span of a year, Your disgust and hate fade. Intellectually You still despise Mother, but no longer does Your stomach churn at the sound of Mother’s voice.
Mother notices this, the lessening in visceral hate.
One day soon after, Mother offers You an opportunity to both redeem Yourself and gain a great boon. Mother offers You the chance to gain a sister.
While You reserved doubts, Mother explains that this is for Your best interest along with the best interest of Your future sister. Mother shares what she found on this future sister, a girl who has found herself in a rather hostile environment and who requires salvation by Your hand and efforts.
Mother asks if You are selfish enough to leave Your sister to continue fending for herself in an abusive home. Mother asks if Your training was in vain.
This persuades You.
But Mother has several more lessons to teach, these ones easier than social engineering.
She teaches You to use lockpicks and to disable security systems. She provides a floorplan and a map of a gated community in a wealthy suburb near a tech-giant.
Mother says it is time.
Deep inside, You know that what You plan to do is wrong. You go along with Mother’s plans anyways. In the future, You will regret this moment.
You arrive at the neighborhood and You walk through the pedestrian access, waving to the security booth where a guard watches. By Your mannerisms, the guard assumes that You know him.
You are dressed for the part. With Your white and blue frilly dress, Your white stockings and penny-loafers, with Your hair tied in ribbons and pigtails, You make quite the sight of naive and pampered youth. A small girl who is out and about without a guardian. The neighborhood is well-off, but this near the city any decent sort of person will have concerns for a small child left unaccompanied.
This is your ruse.
The security guard hurries from the booth to reach you. The booth is now unmanned.
The guard expresses his concerns when he reaches you. He politely requests for Your parents.
Nearby, Mother and her hired help are waiting in a borrowed luxury sedan with tinted windows. The sedan’s owner is still alive, You think.
The guard continues with his soft questions.
You purse your lips cutely and tap Your chin in thought. You explain that Your parents are visiting a friend, but that you had gone for a walk and had gotten lost, but that You were unsure as to where this house actually was.
The guard expresses discomfort at the idea of letting a small child wander the neighborhood without supervision.
This seems to be an impasse until he has an idea. He asks if You might recognize Your parent's car if You saw it on the side of the street.
You nod tentatively as still thinking upon his question.
He smiles down at You and tells You he has a plan. He will escort You around the neighborhood until You spot Your parent’s car.
You smile up at him.
He leads You to a golf-cart and helps you to hop in. You giggle as he takes off, driving through the neighborhood.
At some point, You both approach a certain house where a certain girl is home-alone. Her parents are at an expo delivering an all-day demo. This is to be Your stop.
You point at a vehicle parked on the street nearby and give the guard another bright smile.
He seems to be ready to escort You to the front door, likely intent to speak with Your parents.
This would be both reasonable and expected of him.
Mother foresaw this occurring.
It is then that his pager buzzes. Someone is requesting his aid at the security gate.
He seems uncertain.
You smile even more sweetly.
His phone rings. He picks up. You overhear a familiar and expectant voice. He gives You an apologetic smile and helps You out of the cart.
You wave and he departs, driving back towards the gate. You already know that He will find the gate bereft of a queue.
As soon as he leaves Your field of view, You skp down the sidewalk, past the vehicle You had pointed out, until You arrive at the house.
Other than a peripheral glance, You have no need to appear shifty by checking that the surroundings are clear. You continue up the front-steps and pause at the door. From Your purse You remove a set of lockpicks given to You by Mother.
You slip the torque in and apply pressure to the lock before fumbling against the lock’s pins with a pick. It takes several tries and over a minute, but eventually the lock twists. You repeated the process with the deadbolt, though this takes twice as long as the first.
During this time, a car had driven past, but You are not overly concerned at the prospect of being spotted. You would have seemed as though You were merely unlocking the door with a key and nothing more.
The door opens.
You enter and gently shut the door behind you. You listen for movement, for signs that anyone has realized You are there. There is music playing upstairs in a closed bedroom. It seems You remain undetected.
You tread upon soft feet down one hallway, turn through another, enter a kitchen, a pantry, and then finally reach a security panel. It is beeping every three seconds. You insert a code, the birthday of Your future sister. The beeping stops.
You head back to the front door and open it once more.
You poke Your head outside and You wave at a luxury sedan driving by at a snail's pace.
You head back inside, leaving the door open behind You, and You head upstairs to the bedroom where the music is playing from.
You knock softly on the door.
The music pauses from inside.
A young girl’s voice questions You from within, assuming You are somebody else.
You answer with yet another knock.
You hear heavy footsteps from just inside the front door on the floor below.
You hear lighter footsteps moving across the bedroom before you.
The bedroom door opens.
Confusion shows upon her face and she opens her lips to ask a question.
You give a disarming smile and reach for her hand, slow enough to avoid startling her, fast enough to avoid giving her a chance to react. Your fingers intertwined with hers. Her phone rests on a desk, well out of reach.
You greet Your future sister and hope You come across as welcoming and endearing.
Heavy footsteps have finished climbing the stairs and arrive just besides You.
Your sister’s eyes widen.
You are pushed aside.
A gloved hand clamps around Your sister’s mouth.
She thrashes. She kicks You by mistake.
It stings but You have endured worse.
You forgive her for kicking You just as You hope she will forgive You.
The seasons changed.
Your sister continues to have difficulties; Mother remains hopeful that she will come around.
Mother has plans for Your sister, big plans. Every effort will be worthwhile, but Mother wonders if You are failing in forming a sense of camaraderie. If Your sister continues to have difficulties, Mother may consider alternative measures.
Another season passes.
Your sister still struggles to find her place. She tests Mother’s patience. Mother decides that Your sister is being held back by the memories of her previous life, prior to joining You and Mother.
Mother renames Your sister; the given name is ornate and flowery; Mother permits the name to be shortened to ‘Trix.’
You find the name beautiful.
Trix does not. In fact, Trix hates her new name, but Mother has decided, that is that.
Trix tries convincing You to call her by something else when Mother is in another room.
You point out that Mother always seems to know everything and You are uncomfortable with Trix’s plan.
Trix claims that Mother’s spying could be circumvented and that all Trix needs to do this was a little help. She also thought it might be possible to send a message out to the world beyond the compound.
The idea of trying this leaves Your skin prickling in a cold sweat.
You worry for Trix’s fate should she fail to submit. If not for Trix’s skillset, You think she would have already been removed by Mother. Given Trix’s age, it may be less of a skill set than a form of inherited ability, You are unsure.
Either by nature or nurture, Trix is a prodigy in the realms of science and technology, constantly inventing new toys from scrap, though her specialty seemed to lay in software. She very much desired a better computer and an open connection to the net.
She has neither. Her computer is slow and the internet is limited to a local system.
Another season passes.
Trix is growing resentful, but it is a sullen expression, an almost bitter acceptance. Mother has grown ever more persuasive. It seems Trix is coming around.
She has even begun showing off some of the mechanized creations from her bench.
The days are growing brighter and You finally feel as though Trix is a sister in truth and not just name.
After one of the better days, one where Trix had created and flown a drone with a remote video feed, a visitor arrived at the compound in a chauffeured luxury vehicle.
It seemed strange. Both Yours and Trix’s curiosity is raised.
Before You can find out more, Mother requests that You and Trix to freshen up. Mother then goes to greet whoever came to visit. With how Mother is wringing her hands, she seems nervous.
Anything that can cause Mother such anxiety cannot be anything good.
Not long after, the help brings You and Trix out to meet someone. It was a man in a suit. He carries the scent of cologne and the sea. While he seems friendly, he leaves You feeling wary.
Later that night, after the man is gone, Mother comes to a decision. She decides it is time to expand operations. She has a plan for You. She explains some of it.
You find Yourself ill that evening and spend hours in the washroom.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
**
She may have lost Herself while savoring that which She found left in the wake of such a desirous soul.
Perhaps She would have reached the soul earlier had She not allowed for distraction. Perhaps the soul lost more of itself than would have been ideal.
Eventually, the time came where she knew that She could dally no more no more. She had found the soul itself, and she saw that the soul was already cracking as the realms and the between continued grinding against the soul. She could not allow such a ruination of that which she sought.
Realizing this, She cast aside her distraction then She pounced upon the soul. She seized the soul, making it Hers.
When the Court saw Her doing this, many Peers assumed that She was toying with a morsel, and while some Peers frowned upon acts of this nature, the practice was fairly common among the less savory Peers. After a while had passed, these Peers realized that this was not what She was doing.
Several Peers argued that She was going to empower a champion of Her own, even though this was several eras past when the practice had begun and an era past when the practice had fallen out of vogue. But when no Champion was immediately empowered and inserted, these Peers realized that there was something else happening.
Her atypical behavior was disturbing the Court.
Peers seldom, if ever, changed.
She paid the Court no mind as she made the soul Hers. She fed the soul from Her own essence, nurturing the soul, easing its injuries and repairing the cracks. She admired the soul as She watched it grow and change. She refined and pressed it until its shape was most pleasing.
In doing this, She denied nature; Her actions were simply not done, not by Peers, not in the between, and never on behalf of souls. Souls made the substance that fed the flesh of the Court. And while a single soul kept apart from destruction was hardly an issue in and of itself, the Court had observed resilient souls in the past, and some of these became the seeds for aggregations to occur, possibly becoming tumorous self-sustaining growths.
Because of this, the Court took issue with Her decision to harbor a soul, to nurture it, to ween it from Her own substance, and to build up this soul’s immunity to the deprivations of the between.
The Court requested that She cease this disturbing behavior.
These requests She ignored.
The Court grew insistent. When denied, Their ire was raised.
Some of these Peers pushed the Court to take action. No Peer was willing to take independent action against Her as doing so would put a Peer into a disadvantageous position. These Peers instead pushed the Court and argued for action to be taken. The arguments largely persuaded the Court to take action, but what that action would be had yet to be decided.
Despite this pressure, She had yet to deem the soul ready. She was still pruning and shaping the soul to Herself such that the soul would resonate strongly with Her nature. But even if She was yet to move, She wished to avoid an open conflict with the Court; such a conflict would only damage her position and would likely cost her the soul itself.
Fortunately, She found a solution within the bits of excess which She pruned from the soul. She had found a harrowing nightmare that had disrupted the uniformity of the souls crystalline matrix. This, when separated from soul, proved to be dramatic enough to serve as an adequate distraction to all of the Peers within broadcasting distance to Her.
Which is what She did: She broadcasted the nightmare throughout the between.
The ploy met with mixed reaction. Enough of the Peers were distracted to halt any aggressive actions from the Court, but She had hardly bought Herself much more than a scant amount of time. This led to her keeping Death near Her and ready to somewhat intervene should He be required.
And in the meantime, She hastened to conclude the soul’s preparations.
**
You focus on the manicured fingernails as Mother applies the finishing touches.
A wig, a slight powdering of dust atop enough foundation to alter Your skin tone, and the insertion of colored contacts to turn vibrant eyes hazel-brown.
The contacts irritate Your eyes and Mother begins fanning Your face. She reprimands You for putting all her work at risk. You have no excuse and You apologized.
She continues to loom, inspecting, seeking a fault to address, perhaps looking for a hint of betrayal. But she had trained You well. You know You are broken. You remain silent under her inspection until she nods in satisfaction.
Mother claps her hands and calls for Your sister to come and see you off.
Trix knew better than to request to come with You as she was prohibited from leaving except under strict supervision. For Trix’s own safety, Mother would claim. And considering what fate awaited Trix should she attempt an escape but fail, Mother was likely right.
Trix arrives at the foyer with a mixed expression. On one hand, she had helped assemble Your current target’s portfolio and made the action possible. On the other hand, she despised what would be done and she had not made her opinions secret from You.
She gives a halfhearted wave and a forced smile and wishes You well.
It is the best she could offer, under the circumstances.
Mother escorts You out the door and towards the help which will ferry You. Before Mother allows You to enter the vehicle, she puts a hand upon your shoulder.
Mother reminds You of Your sister, and that she awaits my return. There is a subtle threat there that goes unsaid.
You enter the vehicle and the help starts the engine. Before she shuts the door behind you, Mother states that quotas will not fill themselves. In a moment of charity, Mother comforts You in that this is a necessary lesser evil.
Still Evil.
You arrive before the target is on location.
You were driven by the help who then parks in the lot with a view of the upscale mega-store’s entrance.
From the vehicle, You watch the entrance to the store until You spot the target.
Entering the store is a woman wearing designer loaf-wear; notably, the woman appears to believe she is dressing down for a lazy day. She covers her face with large sun-glasses, texting on a phone with one hand and carrying an iced coffee in the other. She is not traveling alone.
At her side is a small child, younger than eight. She looks like a miniature version of her mother. The child is bouncing with each step with far more energy than her mother.
You wait five minutes before heading in; the car is parked at the curb where the help will wait.
You smooth Your pleats and control Your breathing to center Yourself. You focus on each step before You, ignoring the final destination that Your trajectory will take You.
It seems easier that way.
You wander about the toy section of the store until you see the child incoming. You go an aisle ahead and begin to act bored while youthful and harmless, a flavor of innocence, Mother has called it in the past.
The targeted child enters your aisle.
Somewhere else in the store, the target’s mother receives a phone-call.
You strike up a conversation with the child, acting indifferent and coy but somewhat interested in the same toy as her.
You play with her, but with a cool hesitation designed to draw an extrovert in.
She has such pretty green eyes.
You mention a game that You saw several teenagers playing. You imply that the game will be fun but that You are unsure if playing the game is a good idea.
The child takes the bait and requests additional details for this game.
You imply the game might get You in trouble and that the girl needs to be sure about it.
The girl is now invested and She inquires further.
A concession is made and You take the child as a confidant, explaining the game.
After hearing the details, she remains unimpressed. She scoffs and informs You in all seriousness that she is already familiar with the game.
You smile and roll Your eyes. You explain a detail You had forgotten to mention before. This game offers a new element of fun as neither her nor You would be ‘it.’ You would hide and wait for an adult to find You both.
She remains skeptical. She worries she would get in trouble.
You nod knowingly as You explain that the possible trouble is why the game is fun. But You recognize that the game is not for everyone.
The child waffles.
You move in to seal the deal. You offer to play the game and show the child something she had never seen before.
Something You can show the child that will provide additional incentive.
She tilts her head, curiosity growing and doubt fading.
You have a pet fox, you say.
From Trix’s research, this child holds foxes in high regard.
The child’s eyes widen and she demands to know where this fox can be found.
You offer Your hand with a practiced grin.
She eyes Your hand for a second, an internal debate warring within her young mind.
Somewhere else in the store, the child’s mother continues an argument with a belligerent caller.
The child takes your hand.
You lead her along the side-aisle then follow the wall towards the exit.
As You draw near the doors, You glance behind and catch her eyes with a smile. You encourage her. You tell her all about Your pet fox and about how soft the fur is and You share a humorous anecdote.
Somewhere in the distance, You hear the girl’s name being called.
She pauses having heard her name as well.
This is part of the game! You explain as You reach the threshold of the store’s exit.
You tug slightly, encouraging her.
She bites her lip and looks back towards the store, where her mother had just shouted her name more loudly, a tinge of panic entering her tone.
You yank the girl forward, out onto the sidewalk, all the while with a playful grin to put the bystanders at ease.
She squawks in the beginning of a confused protest.
The two of You cross the sidewalk to the curb by the time she internalizes the danger she has found herself in.
The car is just before you waiting at the curb.
The car’s back door is ajar.
Leaning against the car is the help, his face disguised with a false beard, contacts, and a wig. He sees You coming and he opens the back door all the way before stepping towards You with a plastic smile, a greeting on his lips. Two steps and he reaches You as You pull the child towards him.
The girl protests. There is shock, surprise, and betrayal. Before she can truly call for help, she is thrown to the back seat. The help acts as though he is a disappointed parent who just had to punish a child to avoid further embarrassment.
Inside the car there was another help already administering a sedative to the girl.
You remain at the curb as the car drives off. You wave goodbye with your hand over your head and a rueful shake of the head.
Bystanders glanced at the scene, but they turned away now with a lack of instance, figuring the drama petty and belonging to a family’s antics.
You wait seconds longer, ignoring the increasingly panicked voice from within the store every time the sliding doors open.
You begin striding away, down the sidewalk. Several blocks later, You hop into another vehicle, driven by yet another help. You refuse to reveal any weakness, even as the driver glances Your way as though searching Your face for any fault.
The help chauffeuring You informs You of the job’s success.
You nod and look away, watching out the window.
You wonder if Mother will let you see the girl before selling the stock.
You shudder and think of something else.
***
The opportunity arrived.
The soul was ready. The time had come. And this had come none too soon, as even before the distraction had run its course, the Court had resumed pestering Her.
But no matter. She informed the Court that the soul would be leaving the between and serve as Her champion, and that the Court could trust that the problem would be resolved.
The Court watched on as She and Death opened an entry to the troublesome realm.
She had chosen a dreary and fractured landscape to insert Her and His champions; the location was where several threads of great import stitched the realm together. It was where those threads held taut.
After opening the entryway into a gloomy and stained canyon, Death sent forth His selected soul which He then empowered with His final mote of spendable power.
This soul of His, His champion, entangled itself with this mote; His champion gained the markings and trappings of flesh to demonstrate its allegiance to Death, and although a single mote was poor recompense and the soul hardly bore any resonance with the concept as a whole.
It was fortunate that Her plans did not require much more from the soul than to serve as a veiling smokescreen to the surrounding kingdom.
The time had come for Her to part ways with the soul which She had treated more as a beloved pet than as a morsel to consume. In fact, She considered the soul to be an adoptive child, of sorts, at least so far as being a Peer allowed Her. Peers neither procreated nor had a Peer of the Court ever raised a mortal’s soul into something other.
The Court watched on, prodding Her to take action.
The portal into the realm could not be sustained and She had promised to take action.
She had grown attached to the soul, however, and She regretted the need to send the soul off into a hostile land where the soul would most definitely suffer. She did not wish to be separated from a possession held dear.
She held the soul with longing, even as the portal began to close.
During all Her plotting, She had never anticipated such emotional attachment. A weakness, She knew, but one She lacked both the ability and the desire to excise. This caused Her to pause more than She ought to have when sending Her child into the realm. This delay partially fouled Her attempt to stealthily insert Her champion without the realm’s mortals knowing. Her plans were not so fouled as to be ruined though.
She had still yet to part with the soul, lingering with it, even as She was holding the portal open with Her own essence and risked contamination of the between.
The plots for vengeance could not be aborted. She knew this. Her very nature demanded no less, even requiring Her to pay a great price.
She inserted the prized soul, the beloved pet, the adoptive child. She had no choice but to do otherwise. But this did not mean that she did not do so lovingly.
So as Her mote entered the realm alongside the soul, She spent another mote.
As new flesh formed about the soul, She used all her skill and art, molding the flesh into an appropriate form befitting Her child.
Or rather than an adoptive child, Her daughter. Another mote spent to make it so.
Before withdrawing from this heartfelt embrace, She gifted one final mote and one final boon.
She allowed the portal to close.
The Court continued watching, to ensure no further troubles would come from this portion of the between.
Death no longer had agency or much power to move, practically bled dry of His power. He lingered near Her, awaiting the great return to his investments.
From there, She remained connected to Her daughter, the connection flowing between Her, through the between, through Her daughter’s soul, and finally into the realm itself. It was as though She received reports secondhand, but the reports came nonetheless, and some trickle of power was returning already, as the connection between Her and Her daughter flowed two ways.
As She monitored and waited, as the Court lingered, events within the realm proceeded as She had planned.
Death’s champion encountered an oozing beast in a pathetic showing, however it served the purpose required of it.
Her daughter encountered the first thread, ensnared it with Her gift, and began to taste the despicable realities of the realm.
But then a complication occurred, one which She had not foreseen.
The ensnared thread, a mortal warrior of some sort, suffered a fit of madness and struck out against Her daughter.
It took direct action from Herself to press against the tapestry’s weave and shift the blade’s course away from delivering a fatal wound. Instead, Her daughter lost her left arm.
The mark She had left upon that arm had been lost, but not the mote, as the mote had been incorporated into Her daughter’s soul itself. A mark from the egg of a myst-spawn had been placed upon Her daughter previously and by happenstance. It formed an easy form for the mote to begin expressing itself, although other than infiltrating the mark the mote remained dormant.
Her daughter encountered a second thread. This thread proved more resilient against besotment, but not near enough to prevent capture. A tentative stroke of Her will caused this thread to vibrate and shake the realm. Yes, She thought, this thread was the true prize.
Events continued apace, until another strange and unforeseen event occurred. Another thread of great import had been hidden beneath the tapestry, far from where that thread ought to have been.
This thread joined the rest, but it was connected to a great tangle from a great distance away from where the thread had rejoined the tapestry.
Her daughter ensnared this thread as well.
This thread was pervasive, infectious, and somehow escaped the realm by passing through the two-way connection between Her and Her daughter.
It should not have been possible.
It was unprecedented.
The thread was mortal–or it ought to have been–and the between could never host a living organism.
And yet, the Between became a host to an invasive worming thing that was almost endearing, at least if its potential for causing destruction were overlooked.
It was this thread’s great potential that kept Her from destroying it outright.
The Court was still watching, but not attentively. The Court would eventually discover the thread, but She hoped to keep the thread hidden until it had grown so pervasive within the between that it could survive the Court’s attention and be subsequently drawn upon for Her schemes.
She hid the thing the best she could.
She continued broadcasting the choicest sendings She received from her daughter.
Her daughter suffered several harrowing encounters and then received a new spell, one that offended Her as it modified and hid Her art.
She continued to bind the threads to Her daughter, deploying Her charms which could not be resisted by mere mortals, at least not fully, and never when She truly spent the effort.
The Court had pressed in closer to Her location as these broadcasts were sent. It seemed the Court enjoyed these diversions enough to come near Her location. Ordinarily, She would not have minded this as it would increase Her position and standing. However, She was still hiding the wormly infestation and She knew that the Court’s proximity would reveal it. Some Peer was bound to notice it.
Unless, She doubled down on the distraction, and began broadcasting from a different location.
A different location such as where Death was located. As while He was a neighbor, He was not in Her immediate vicinity, and with the Peers looking in His direction, Her curiosity would escape attention, or so She hoped.
What would serve as a suitable broadcast, She considered Death’s latest champion.
Had she a mortal frame, She would have snorted in amusement at Death’s champion and its predicament.
She decided that a summary of that champion’s experiences to date would do. She prompted Death to begin sharing this, with Death largely serving as a stream for the experiences and essence of misery and irony to pass through.
The Court agreed, also enjoying in the humor.
They experienced the champion’s journey, from its past mortal life to its current.
In its last life, the champion had made its livelihood by offering other mortals the means to delay death. When one of those mortals grew discontent with the champion’s service of casting off death, that mortal brought about the champion’s own death.
Ironically, that soul was then chosen by Death as a champion.
When the soul was empowered and emplaced within the realm, it was promptly consumed by an ooze where the champion was forced to reside torturously reforming and dissolving until it was extracted by another mortal of the realm, and then enslaved. During all this time, the champion wished none other than a final death. But Death’s blessing prevented this, forcing the champion into life against its will.
This greatly amused the Court.
While the Court dallied about Death, the worm continued to grow, stretching tendrils outwards in the between, reaching into the nearest realms of its own accord.
She shepherded a few of these worms towards realms that had especially earned Her ire, where the worm began an incursion.
At this point, a Peer stumbled upon one of these incursions. This alerted the Court to it.
The Court girded itself to destroy the anomaly, as it was clearly not benign.
They had found the worm too soon for Her newest plots.
She planned to intervene, but She could not do so without a means to profit off the worm, and simply providing a futile protest would only harm Her own position. She needed something more, and after observing the worm, She thought she found a means to Her desires. It seemed that the worm could divide itself, if given the appropriate encouragement.
This encouragement she began to provide.
The worm did not respond immediately, it was still ill-practiced to the between.
Fortunately, the corpulent and slothful Court was slow to act and easy to delay.
She reached towards Her daughter and pulled another of the cast-off remnants for this purpose.
**
You hate this.
The pomp, the theater, the hours spent preparing.
Trix complains and appears ill. You are also nauseous.
But what choice do You have at this point? None, You tell Yourself, even if You know this as a lie.
Instead of thinking such thoughts, You help Mother attend to the guests that are gathering in the large foyer between the building’s glass doors and meeting hall. The foyer has been setup with standing tables and tablecloths. There are hor-dourves and drinks.
You attend the guests.
A woman in a sparkling dress and theater mask waves You over.
She compliments Your outfit and has You twirl, her eyes scanning You with a perverse hunger that You do Your best to ignore. After she has satisfied herself, she gets to business and requests another drink. She also requests a copy of the catalog. It appears that her copy had been ruined by a carelessly spilt drink, also explaining why she needs a refill.
You give her a copy of the catalog and You mix and deliver her requested drink.
The night continues as guests chat.
Some stink of tobacco. Others of cologne. Most have traces of alcohol on their breath. All wear masks save one among their number: the man forgoing a mask is the one who carries the scent of the sea. He wears an expensive suit with the collar button undone and a missing tie. He is the picture of business casual for an executive.
Your discomfort only grows when You see that man and his indulgent kindness. At least the other guests wear their depravity openly, at least while here.
Finally, the event can start. All of the guests who are expected have arrived.
Mother pulls You away from Your duties and You attend her as she heads towards the back, along the service hallways. Along the way, you admire the stained glass, looking for anything else to focus on. The windows of this building are all showing scenes of some sort. You have little understanding of what the scenes were of, but they are interesting all the same.
You reach the hallway behind the building’s main hall, near where a small stage is raised. You are in the hallway still, where a door led to the stage itself.
This is where the children are lined up. The stock.
You shudder at the term, or you would have, had you not been beneath Mother’s scrutiny. The help keep the children from straying or abusing their adornments. Trix has been nearby to offer them moral support. You recognize most of these children. You had helped Mother acquire them, afterall.
You feel sicker than previously.
The windows are not visible from this location.
Your tongue swells partially. Repressing the urge to vomit requires most of Your attention at this time.
Mother fusses over one of the girls.
You overhear a boy ask Trix about the whereabouts of his parents.
A girl catches your eye, she glares and asks about the alleged-fox that You had never followed through on.
Despite Your better instincts, you approach the girl.
She inquires as to why You are a party to this. Her maturity seems greater than her youth would bely. It may have been one of the reasons that the child had been targeted to begin with, although you had thought it was for her parent’s looks and charms, not so dissimilar from–
You force Yourself to think of something else.
The girl seems as though she will make a scene. Perhaps she would spite Mother by ruining the makeup and dress.
You urge her to not upset Mother because as horrible as all of this is, it could still be far worse.
Trix sees Your distress and makes her way over where she begins to distract the troublesome child with a mix of sympathy and childish games.
When Mother finishes reviewing the stock, Mother uses a small handbell to call the guests in towards the meeting hall. Mother has stepped onto the stage, continuing to ring the bell. The chimes are soothing.
The guests make their way into the meeting hall.
The lights are dimmed.
The stage lights are on.
Mother addresses the guests.
The children are lined up, still in the hallway. You start the line and Trix ends it. The help monitor the children, preventing unwanted issues.
Mother beckons.
You lead the procession up onto the stage. The weight is oppressive, but You know better than to stumble or linger as the guests are watching. With a smooth gait You cross the stage towards the far side.
The line follows behind you.
When You reach the end, You stop and stand adjacent to two wooden flagpoles, flaccid banners of stripes and stars dangling at You eye level. You think the other flag might be regional, but You are unsure.
The children line the back of the stage, in view of the audience; all of the children are towards the back, behind the false-floor that You know holds a shallow pool.
Mother addresses the crowd. She extols the virtues of the wares, of the pedigrees and bloodlines, of the opportunities that are on offer tonight. She moves on quickly, as all of the guests already realize these opportunities.
Instead, Mother begins speaking of the first child, explaining their parents, their forecasted strengths, and even an artist’s rendition of what the child will look like upon maturity.
And so, the guests begin to bid.
The last of the children had been claimed. Of course, this is excluding You and Your sister as neither of You were for auction. Several of the younger children had whimpered as they had been collected by their eager buyers.
You attempt to delude Yourself that these buyers were the childrens’ new family as opposed to worse.
The guests left with their wares, while others dallied to network.
One of the buyers, the one forgoing his mask and smelling of sea, came to speak with Mother.
He glances over at You and Your sister.
The hair on the back of Your nape rises.
Mother enters a conversation with him, pointing out that the man had not bid on any of the wares.
He shrugs and says that none were to his interest. But the way he glances towards Trix makes his interests clear.
Your headache worsens.
The man wants Trix for her abilities. The man represents a group that needs loyal and skilled talent. That Trix was a girl and could serve a multitude of uses was also mentioned.
As subtle as You could, You edge Trix behind you and attempt to conceal her behind the flags.
You worry that Mother will strike a bargain with the man.
You know that if Mother sold her off, You would never see Your sister again.
You need to act, but there is no true recourse. Escape is impossible. No aid will ever be coming. And that is if You deserved aid to begin with, which You do not. You know that the only way out is to plead Your case to Mother. But Mother is in discussion and will not appreciate an interruption. You will be punished for this, but You refuse to risk losing Your sister without at least trying to stop this.
After firming Your resolve, You interrupt Mother in the midst of her conversation. You use all tact at Your disposal.
Mother frowns. Children should be seen and admired, but not heard, and definitely not without being called upon first.
Despite this faux-pas, the kindly man grants a patient and a smile that leaves Your stomach churning with acid.
You make Your case to Mother to keep Trix and to not sell Trix off.
Mother is embarrassed by the display.
You quiet down under Mother’s imperious gaze. You swallow.
Rescue comes from an unlikely direction, from the man himself. He shrugs and gives Mother a month to procure similar talents. His organization is not overly selective, so long as the talent is supplied.
What follows is a struck agreement and accord between Mother and the man.
You back away as soon as You get the chance.
Mother remains stern and silent on the return trip to the compound.
That night, Your punishment was needles and confinement in a dark and cramped closet.
**
Most of the Court was left reeling by the distraction, requiring time to digest the unpalatable broadcast.
However, most of the Court was not all of the Court and several Peers advanced upon both Her and the parasite.
The worm had divided into several seeds which She dispersed while leaving the bulk of the worm where the Court had found it.
These seeds she planted in distant corners of the between, hiding behind unfavorable realms which were lacking mortals and thereby a dearth of souls. Essentially, locations hidden by realms that none of the Court would open aspects of themselves within.
Soon, the Court reconvened in full, and they demanded to know what She had been doing with such an anomaly, and if it had yet to detrimentally affect Her. Afterall, if the worm could harm a Peer, it could harm the Court.
She denied its danger but agreed to an exam to put the Court at ease.
Meanwhile, She aided the Court in stamping out the worm, at least the portion of the worm that the Court knew of.
Doing so was oddly satisfying to Her. The exam of Her well-being less so. Some of the Court attempted to intrude upon Her daughter through Her connection, but She blocked these interloping Peers with an aspect of Herself lodged in the middle of the two-way connection. As this aspect of Herself was poisonous, the Peers pulled back from the connection and left Her daughter alone.
After all, Her daughter was Hers and She would protect that which belonged to Her: madness and all.
Time passed, and Her daughter finally arrived at the focal point where the realm frayed heavily.
Her daughter had found a shrine.
This came earlier than expected. Much earlier.
It also served as an opportunity for the Court to intervene and affect Her daughter, as shrines were weak points between the material and the immaterial. For whatever reasons, mortals tended to detect sites of this nature and construct edifices to allay superstitions. Foolishness, as She knew full well that none of the Court cared for a mortal’s well-being, nor did any of the Court care for whatever offerings a mortal could provide.
Regardless, a shrine had been constructed at this location, Her daughter had brought Her anchor near enough that She could establish a connection, which she attempted to do.
She pushed through the immaterial intent on claiming the shrine, but as She did so, She encountered a blockage.
Had another Peer arrived first? She wondered.
But She received no signs of communication as She pushed against the blockage, and most Peers would have complained greatly had it been a Peer she ran up against.
She examined the blockage in detail, and She recognized similarities between the blockage and the worm She had briefly hosted in the between. The blockage was the same sort as the seeds that She had spread through the between.
Using Her familiarity with the organism, She convinced the organism to begin moving up and out of the well. The organism was quite happy to move, but it seemed stuck. Thus, She went through the indignity of pushing the bloated thing up and out as Her daughter helped to pull.
It felt like a sudden pop when the worm finally vacated the passage from the immaterial to the shrine. She flooded through, claiming the shrine and its locale as Her own.
And none too soon did she claim this location, as Her daughter had suffered greatly during the removal of the blockage. Somehow, for some reason, Her daughter’s companion worm had vacated and left Her daughter injured and at risk of immediate death.
Her daughter was not permitted to perish. While She would of course reclaim Her daughter’s soul, Her daughter’s work had yet to conclude.
As Her daughter remained in the shrine, as Her daughter’s friend administered medical aid, She considered what actions She could take: particularly, She considered the marks and invested motes of power.
In Her Daughter, two motes had been fully invested, one mote had been freed for reinvestment upon the loss of the left arm, and this was in addition to the original third mote that had yet to be fully activated, though it had already been invested within the mark gained from a myst wyrm’s egg.
She decided to pay the cost and She began modifying these motes and their existing expressions.
She resisted the impulse to remove the Kitsune’s Guise; the spell was offensive, not by nature, but in her daughter’s over-reliance upon it, as if she were ashamed of her nature which had been lovingly crafted after Her own.
All Her changes would be strategic, made to aid Her daughter in a way that also pleased Her.
She had long since watched Her daughter and She had noticed that despite the ability to cast Illusions, that Her daughter rarely did. Likely, this was due to the throttling between the material and the immaterial that limited the ability to cast Illusions practically. This was the first that she altered and improved. Fixing this consumed an entire mote along with the spare materials left from the wyrm’s mark, but the price was gladly paid for what was gifted to Her daughter.
Still, a single mote remained to be invested, although it could have been saved for another day.
She gazed down upon Her daughter and saw her struggle with her lack of arm and with the gaping internal wounds left from where the parasite had vacated.
A single mote would be insufficient to resolve these issues, unless another transaction was performed to further anchor Her daughter to Herself. Doing so would weaken Her by another mote, but would strengthen Her daughter. Considering the shrine Her daughter had gifted Her which was already beginning to draw power from the realm, She also gladly paid this price.
As She deftly shifted her daughter’s flesh and established circuits for applying power to purpose, She tied a portion of Her daughter to the shrine and then to Herself. All while Her daughter rested.
Power flowed from the realm through the daughter through the shrine and unto Her, while that which was Her flowed from Mother through shrine unto daughter.
During this time, between Her and Her daughter, a killing stone continued to form.
—
Talents:
* Athleticism I (4/9):
* Climbing I (5/9)
* Featherlight I (5/9)
* Inversion (3/9)
* Gymnastics (5/9)
* Stealth II (2/9)
* Trackless Tracks I (8/9)
* Area Coverage (7/9)
* Alchemical Immunity: (2/9)
* Unnatural Concealment: (2/9)
* Eschiver I (7/9) (+3)
* Evasion I (4/9) (+1)
* Impending Sense (7/9)
* Lucky Break I (5/9)
* Chance Encounter (5/9)
* Courtly Dancing: Treachery I (5/9)
* Flexibility I (5/9)
* Persuasive Lies (7/9)
* Her Flesh: (1/9) [new]
* Always Form: (1/9) [new]
* Her Love: (1/9) [new]
* Tangible Hallucinations I: (1/9) [new]
Spells:
* [slot removed] [new]
* Guise of the Kitsune I (3/9)
* Malleable Form: (7/9)
* Passive Enervation: (4/9)
* Tithes to Above: (1/9) [new]
Gifts:
* Obsession (5/9)
* Closed (0/9)
* Closed (0/9)
Removed: Mark from left mid-section. This was the Mark received when Myst Egg was exposed to a living metal by mistake. The Myst Egg was found in an hundeor den and was later taken hostage by Emboru. While indisposed in the shrine, this Mark evolved into something else.
Notes:
[+ Morphable arm]
[+ Illusions -> Talent, Persistent, Limited in size and solidity]
[- Myst Egg]
[+ Parasitic Spirit Drain to feed Her]