“Talking to myself? You said something about bonding a spirit being a common thing? Shouldn’t he, you know, know what I’m talking to?” Karen, after stomping away for some distance, had stopped in the road. This was equal parts asking questions of her lightbulb and having no idea where she was going.
Listen here, you little shit-
The tiny bit of ego stroking at the end helped to contain her silent fuming to a reasonable length. After a moment she was able to calm herself with a visible effort and began taking stock of her situation. Ok, well, what now?
The building across the street looked just like any other to Karen, with the exception of the sign above the door. It depicted a cartoon wolf drinking from a frothy mug. She’d expect a sign like that to read ‘The drunken wolf,’ or ‘wolf’s rest,’ or even ‘Howly’s best beds.’ Instead, it was marked ‘Conveniently located old-timey inn,’ which Karen considered to be a bit on the nose.
She did. The interior was empty of people. It looked odd for how many chairs it had. Though she had no idea what time of day it was, so maybe it wasn’t weird. Realizing she was paying a magic servant to tell her things, she voiced the question.
How do you not use clocks? How does anything get scheduled?
The closest table to the entrance seemed as a good a place to have a breakdown as any. She enjoyed the silence, numbly trying to forget all that had happened that morning, running dead eyes over the interior. All the furniture was a light-colored wood which matched the floorboards, and the red bricks on the interior walls and ceiling had all been painted a light blue. It gave her the feeling of sitting at the top of a tree in a cloudless sky. Maybe if she started crying those tears would flow down the side and water that giant stump. Tears, it’s what plants crave.
A handful of seconds passed before someone came out to break her reverie. The proprietor of the self-proclaimed conveniently placed business was both bare chested and had a large scar running across his jaw and through his beard, which Karen considered to be the third and fourth most interesting things about him. His skin, from his bald scalp to the skirt at his waist, looked to be painted the same color as the walls. Most of that blue real estate was taken by tattoos or paintings, she couldn’t tell which, depicting people in combat.
“Watcha need?” He asked in a polite rote.
“I’ll just be sitting here a bit, thank you.”
What was ostensibly a reasonable request prompted two very quick reactions. One was ‘Don’t tell him that! Say you’re waiting for your master and it would be improper to order before him. I swear I have to babysit every little thing you do,’ and the second was ‘Got too much work to keep an eye on a stranger not payin, you’ll have to order or be off.’ All Karen heard was a jumbled mess of two people talking over each other, so she responded as tactfully as she knew how.
“Will you shut up so I can listen?” This was directed mostly at the spirit. Unfortunately, the only other person in the room didn’t see it that way. His face registered surprise which very quickly turned to irritation.
“Get on then, I don’t have time for ya.” One arm lifted to point to the door.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Being both afraid of walking back out into the village freakshow and unwilling to put up with the blueman group’s insult, Karen set into her best-looking scowl. “Now listen here. I am going to sit right here for a bit, quietly, so get back in your fucking-“
---
Her face hurt. And her ears were ringing. She’d been sleeping on the floor. Why was she sleeping on the floor? It took some effort to open her eye. Just the one eye, the other wasn’t working quite right.
“You’re okay, you’re okay. Let me get a proper look.” Karen didn’t recognize the feminine voice.
Her vision came into something shy of focus as she was helped to a sitting position, one firm hand on her shoulder and a second hand gently cupping her face. The shock of the blue woman’s appearance was a little kick for her memory. She looked much like the man, though she had hair and her markings were different. The boob tattoos were, in Karen’s opinion, a tad gauche.
“Conall’s a hothead, the great oaf. Didn’t expect ya to be so weak. I’ll have to apologize for him, gods know he never will. Come on now, let’s get ya off the boards.” Shifting from the floor to a chair left Karen feeling lightheaded, yet she couldn’t help from noticing the incredible strength the woman had, even with her slight build. “There, that’s better. Call me Ethne. Sit for a while until you’re feelin more yourself, I’ll bring ya out something hot and something cold to wash it down.”
She wasn’t hungry, but it sounded like a comfort she could use at the moment. Everything was so confusing, she just wanted to go home. She missed her couch. She wanted to lie down and call her mother to complain. An incredibly isolating thought hit her. She no longer had any of those things. No, home, no phone, no couch, and no mother. The woman was in her seventies, she could barely scoot around her kitchen, much less make it from her assisted living community to a magical lava lamp space gate. She let out a sigh from very tender lips.
Ethne still had a hand on her shoulder and took the sigh as a good signal to make her way back to the kitchen. She’d almost stepped away when a sharp gasp stopped her.
Her tooth! Her molar was loose. She’d never even had a cavity and this asshole just slapped a tooth loose.
Rage welled up from her gut. Not the fake outrage she carried around almost everywhere she went, but real rage. She could strangle the man to death right here.
“My fucking TOOTH! That dickhead knocked my fucking-“
---
Her face hurt. And her ears were ringing. She’d been sleeping on the grass. Why was she sleeping on the grass? It took some effort to open her eye. Just the one eye, the other wasn’t working quite right. Trying to focus her vision hurt too much. Trying to move her head was worse.
What happened?
Lightly?
Her head was swimming like it could win twenty three gold medals. I… am I going to be okay?
She closed her eye again. Her vision was blurry and nausea was starting to churn up her stomach. This place just plain sucks. Everyone she’d met was an asshole and she’d been slapped cold twice in the first ten minutes.
The spirit was absolutely right; she didn’t like hearing it. Things she liked hearing were more ‘your pizza is amazing, how do you do it,’ or ‘we’ve upgraded you to first class for free.’ Receiving harsh lessons in an uncaring and strange world would take some adjusting.
Yes. That sounded good. No use for nipple rings, but an abundance of unearned respect was high on the list of a few of her favorite things. Between ‘raindrops on roses’ and ‘money invested making even more money.’
I don’t know how, clearly. And I’m not some fucking kid so spare me the join the Navy speech. Get on with it. When enough people try to sell you something you can smell a sales pitch from a mile off, and the spirit reeked of it.
Business. Business she could do. She’d spent a decade taking risks and watching them pay off over and over again. But the hardest part by far was starting out. Those first steps, running on the razor’s edge of losing everything and taking off into orbit.
But what is ever both hugely rewarding and easy? Still has to be easier than getting your teeth knocked out by every dickhead you come across. Easier than getting eaten alive by a giant, laughing cat. Shit, it wasn’t like she would be making it to her dinner reservation that night.
What do I need to do?