The Cask of Trayzontillado
The Professor: What about your parents, then?
Annabelle: I don't have parents. Just an aunt.
The Professor: Your aunt, then, where's she?
Annabelle: Out.
The Professor: So you're alone.
Annabelle: I'm not scared!
The Professor: [Scoffs] Scared? 'Course not! You're not scared of anything! Madwoman in a red phone box crashes into your yard in the middle of the night, commandeers your kitchen to make jammie dodger soup, and lookit you! Just sitting there! [Beat] And you know what that tells me?
Annabelle: [Suspiciously] What?
The Professor: Those noises from inside your bedroom wall must be terrifying.
—Professor Whom (2005), Series 5, Episode 1, "The Cask of Trayzontillado"
You are
Sarah Esperanza Trujillo aka
Gemstone Scout Temperate Amethyst, and this is probably a stupid idea.
Bit late for second thoughts though.
You gotta admit, you did sort of picture some kinda world-ending void goddess - that's how Pyuurin described her, and you can't remember her ever outright
lying to you - living in a
slightly nicer place. You were even holding onto hope after this morning.
For instance, there only seems to be one chair in the entire apartment. Miss Void Goddess is sitting on a creaky, slightly wobbly stool, staring at you. You think. It's … hard to tell where she's looking because she doesn't have sclera? Or irises. Just, like, solid black eyes with little dots of light in 'em, like stars. You read about that once - humans evolved white sclera so it was easy for other humans to tell where they were looking, some kinda social thing. It's weird and unsettling that she doesn't.
Cultist-chan is leaning against the wall, She seems angry, which, like, fair? The Gemstone Scouts have spent literal years harassing her and her peeps at this point. Her arms are folded, her foot's tapping in annoyance, and that red zappy cult magic sparks between her fingers.
She's … also not what you were expecting, beneath the hooded robes and the raven-feather cowls and the whole "being a Seer of the Empty Throne" thing. Dayglow and a band t-shirt and multicolored extensions is not 100% playing to type?
And there's a big bowl on a rickety stand, and some kind of … water-girl is poking her head out? Which, like, cool and all. She hasn't done anything but look curiously back and forth between you and the apartment's inhabitants. She's real cute, actually. Is she like a pet or something? Like a little bound water spirit they keep around? Do you feed undines ice cubes, or, like, those little packets of water flavoring as treats?
…If she actually can talk and is a person this is gonna be
real awkward.
Assuming you survive to feel mortified about this later seems like the play. If Miss Void Goddess decides to destroy you, you're pretty sure that there's really not much you can do about it. Best to think positive.
The world-ending death goddess of the endless void beyond and before the world stares at you (you think) in silence. The Seer of the Empty Throne glares at you suspiciously. The little water-girl splashes down a bit, resting her chin on the lip of her bowl.
The silence stretches out.
This is starting to get real awkward.
You're gonna have to break this, aren't you?
Your fingers, you realize, are going numb, where they've clenched around the lid of your lifeline. Of that tea-tin Liz got you for your birthday.
When was your last cup? Three hours ago? Four?
You probably shouldn't, not if you don't need it; not if the tin explicitly says no more than one cup every six hours; but -
Another cup couldn't hurt, right?
"um, do you have a kettle i could borrow?" You hold up your tea-tin, by way of explanation.
"Claire, do you mind?" The void goddess jerks her head in the direction of the kitchenette.
Cultist-chan - Claire, apparently -flicks her gaze back and forth between the two of you a couple times; before, reluctantly, letting the red light fade from her fingertips and stomping off to the kitchen.
"Which blend is it?" your host asks, her empty eyes not leaving yours, her head still slightly tilted. Your gaze doesn't quite want to focus on her eyes, sliding off to one side or the other rather than fixate on the faint stars in those holes in the world.
You look down at the tin in your hands. It's easier. "um. 'Carnation Clarity?'"
A call comes from the kitchen, Claire raising her voice to be heard over the sound of an electric kettle. "I named that one! Ei wanted to call it 'Memory Blend no. 17!"
"That is a
perfectly reasonable name," Eilind fires back.
You, um, you're sort of with Claire here, to be honest.
"um, why seventeen?" you ask, which you realize is kind of a silly question as it's already busy leaving your mouth.
Eilind shrugs, the motion weirdly jerky and slightly unnatural, like she learned it from a book. "There wasn't anything wrong with the first sixteen,
per se. I simply felt that they could be improved upon."
…
There's still a couple minutes for the kettle, and you're getting real tired of silence and being stared at, so you ask, "and, um, why carnation then?"
Another weird, stilted shrug. "Pink carnations are the flower of enduring memorial, and apparently there wasn't a catchy name to be found for periwinkle." She must be able to read some of your confusion on your face, because she continues, "Swapping the white carnation for periwinkle was the major change to the seventeenth blend. Similar effects, but periwinkle works more harmoniously with the chrysanthemum, and there's no need to worry about differentiating the white and pink carnations from one another."
"is this, like - flower language?" If floriography is somehow a real thing and not just Victorian bullshit, Liz is going to
flip.
"Angels have always used flowers to encode miracles," your host says, casually dropping that like it's fucking nothing.
Angels? Angels are things? "Alchemists picking through the Brightest Realm's castoffs took up the practice; and some of their literature, by accident or design, filtered out into the hands of mortals." She sighs, a look of … distaste? It's hard to read her expressions because she
doesn't have eyes … flashing across her face. "The Emerald Art - Heaven's floral alchemy - is contaminated by this ruined world, and rather crude besides; but it seemed the most prudent choice when making teas for mortal consumption."
…
Angels are real. Flowers are magic. Alchemists might have deliberately started the whole Victorian flower nonsense. Void-people apparently have better kinds of alchemy than
Heaven, which is also something that is apparently real.
Okay.
Cool cool cool.
Keep it together, Sarah.
You proooobably shouldn't ask another question if you're gonna get earth-shattering lore bombs like this every time but heck it it's better than having her just
stare at you.
"and, um, what's a phoenix posey? i looked up the other ingredients, but i couldn't find anything online about phoenix posey."
You'd say that Eilind's eyes brighten, but, well, they're still pitch-black holes in the world dusted with stars. But she leans forward a bit, and her voice is more lively, as she starts … lecturing.
"Phoenix poseys - or rather,
the phoenix posey - grows only in the Not. Each individual flower is, in truth, part of a single organism, which exploits the acausal and fluid nature of time outside of the iron Law-shackles of Creation to simply exist in every place it is ever found as part of a massive and complex temporal loop…"
Eilind scrawls more incomprehensible symbols on a chalkboard she pulled from nowhere. The rather nice freehand drawing of, you assume, a phoenix posey, is now surrounded on all sides and in one or two places has been written over with weird alchemical notation.
"Obviously as a flower of the Lands Beyond Creation, phoenix posey doesn't have a, shall we say, traditional association in Emerald Alchemy; but I spent several decades investigating its interactions with Creational flowers during my tenure in Nix."
This was a mistake. This was a mistake. What have you done?
"Actually!" There's, like, actual excitement in her voice now, oh no. She turns away from the board to face you, and a pair of falling stars cross her eyes. "It occurs to me that I wrote several papers on the subject, which I submitted to the Cleave of the Botanists - under a pseudonym, obviously. I do hope the Cleave managed to keep their copies: the Inquisitorial Powers audited the Botanists for treason a few years after I wrote those papers - nothing to do with me, as far as I know; Aurica Scaugade was subverting some of the Nobles there in service to some flower rite or another - and I don't know if my papers got caught in a general purge." She sighs, sadly.
How long does it take to boil some water.
Claire, please. Claire is your only hope.
Mostly on autopilot, you say, "i hope so too?"
Eilind doesn't seem to notice the way that that was a question instead of a statement, though you hear a wet snicker from the basin to the side. Well, you're glad
someone is finding this funny.
Also if she's taking amusement from your pain you guess that means the water-girl probably is a person and not a pet and now this is awkward.
Eilind shakes her head, though, smiling slightly. "Oh, no, it's alright. I kept copies of my own, you know!"
Oh god.
"Hmm…ah, I think they're back at the atelier, though, so I don't have them on hand." She slumps a little, defeated. You try very hard to not let your feeling of elated relief show on your face.
You were just trying to make conversation and where is this dang kettle.
Like, it's not that you're not, like, interested in her alchemy papers, sort of? Magic is cool. It sucks how casual Jenny and Morgan and Taylor are about it. At least Daisy is willing to listen to you when you talk to her about magic experiments, though you sort of think she's just doing that thing where she nods along and lets you talk rather than, like, actually caring.
But you really, um, didn't sign up for -
…
Look, it is
painfully obvious that Eilind is crushingly lonely, which is apparently something that happens to world-ending death goddesses of the endless void, who knew?
… that's not, like -
That's not your job? To deal with?
…except you did, um, camp outside her door to beg her help and are hopefully gonna have to, like, hang out so she can help
you and oh god are you going to have to be her Daisy? Is that what's happening?
Claire walks back in, carrying a bubbling glass kettle. You're … you're not 100% on whether it's glowing blue because of LEDs or because of, like, apocalyptic death magic. Hopefully just LEDs though.
She sets it down on the table, harder than she maybe should; and goes back to leaning against the wall and glaring at you.
Miss Salmydessa seems content to stare at you, and you kinda feel like the water-girl-thing is smirking at you. It's hard to tell, she's see-through.
Thankfully the kettle gives you an excuse not to talk. Pop the tin, scoop out some leaves, plonk 'em in your cup. Pour water, let it steep for, like, five seconds - you're probably supposed to do it for longer but whatever, who cares, you don't drink this stuff for the flavor -
Eilind interrupts you before you can try to swallow a cup of near-boiling tea by sort of, like, leaning her head sideways a bit, like a bird, and asking, "what should I call you?"
Which is, um, sort of a weird phrasing?
Maybe it's a magic thing? Pyuurin never explicitly warned you against, like, giving out true names or anything; but there's a lot Pyuurin never told you.
…
well, heck with it.
"my name is sarah esperanza trujillo," you say, putting your cup down and miming a curtsy as best you can while sitting down and wearing pants.
If she wanted you dead you're pretty sure a world-ending death goddess from before time could manage it even without your name; and the whole secret identity thing always annoyed you. Plus, maybe it'll be, like, a trust thing?
Look you don't know, she seems sorta old-fashioned. Maybe going for, like, some kind of honor-slash-hospitality thing is the play.
"Sarah. Esperanza. Trujillo." She says, again in just a real weird way? Sounding out each word, one at a time, like they're each new and weird and important. "Awaited princess of the Turgallī. Hmm."
Is -
Is that what it means, or something? Esperanza definitely isn't, like, "awaited," though you guess there's, like, a connection from awaited-ness to hope?
Wtf is a turgalli?
Eilind, who you're reasonably sure just straight-up doesn't blink, "hmms" to herself again, then asks, "Tell me, Sarah Esperanza Trujillo, how many cups of that tea have you inhaled today?"
Welp. Busted.
"um," you say, and that's as far as you get before she sighs, and asks, "has it at least been six hours since your last one? No?" She rolls her eyes, which is … kind of dizzying, actually? All those stars cartwheeling, you have to look away.
You open your mouth to … start making some kinda excuse? But she just waves her hand back and forth a few times, stands up, and snatches a notepad from the table.
"Have you experienced any dizzy spells, episodes of confusion, long stretches of lost time?"
"i-" is she a doctor now? Or does she just, like, feel like she'd be responsible if you poisoned yourself?
Hopefully you haven't poisoned yourself.
"No dizziness," you reply. "no confusion. i, um, have a bad sense of time in general but i don't think that's tea-related?"
She scrawls something on her pad. "A sensation of being watched, even while alone?"
…
You nod, even though, like, there's totally normal explanations for that, right? You read about it. Scopophobia. Super-common. Probably nothing.
"A sudden certainty that inanimate objects are alive?"
…well, okay, clearly things could be worse, because no, nothing like that. Yay! You clearly haven't poisoned yourself as badly as you could have! You shake your head.
"Unintentional time travel? Abruptly coming into existence without clear cause?"
Miss Salmydessa just drops those two in the same tone of voice, like it's nothing; and sits there with her pen on her pad, waiting for an answer, like you're not having to reboot your brain.
You glance down at the tea-tin you're holding, which, um, you're starting to think might not be the best thing to be, like, mainlining the way you've been.
"...are these actual side-effects i should be worried about?"
She sighs. "Not in most cases, but overdosing is bad for a
reason."
"okay but … how could overdosing on something cause you to have … come into existence … after overdosing on it?"
That … really makes no sense?
"With some difficulty." She huffs, annoyed. "I repeat myself: unintentional time travel? Abruptly coming into existence without clear cause?"
That's -
You're …
You're
pretty sure there's no time travel involved. Like, 95, 96%.
You're.
You're, um.
You're a little less sure about the second thing.
But …
No.
No, like … that's not what's happening. No.
You shake your head. "i don't think so? Definitely no to the time travel, and i, um,
really don't think so on the, like, suddenly existing thing?"
Eilind scrawls what looks suspiciously like a "maybe" on her pad. She taps her pen against the pad once or twice, thinking; then asks, "Have you noticed an unusual number of tattered or rotting flowers in your environs?"
"i don't think so? i don't really keep track of … rotting … flowers?"
That's a real weird side effect for a
tea, also.
Though probably not as weird as, like, suddenly existing, so.
"Same question, but for bloody feathers?"
"no."
"Same question, but for blood in general?"
"no."
"Have any strangers come to you and expressed their unconditional love for you, despite any flaws you possess; or any crimes or blasphemies you may have committed?"
"i'm really starting to wonder whether these teas are safe to drink," you say. Almost on reflex, you reach out, to put the tin on the table, but -
But no. You pull it back, and hold on tighter. It's all you've got. You can worry about the side effects later.
You take a deep breath, and shake your head. "no."
"Hmm." Eilind … doesn't say anything? She just "hmms," and looks at her notepad for a few seconds, then puts it aside and goes back to staring at you.
…
Um.
…
Thankfully Claire speaks up, to ask, "What was that all about, Ei?"
Oh thank god.
Eilind sniffs, annoyed. "Despite her
flagrant disregard for the dosage instructions," she shoots what you think is a glare at you? You, um, kind of fidget a bit under her attention. "It would appear that our guest has managed to not fatally poison herself. Furthermore, Hell's recent interest in her is either fleeting, or mild, or both."
"That's … good?" Claire says.
"wait what was that about hell?" you ask.
Eilind ignores your question, studies you for another couple seconds, then gives another stilted shrug. "It is
probably safe for her to have another cup."
…
You appreciate the honesty you guess? It's not super reassuring, tbh.
Another long, long pause.
"God fucking damnit Ei, stop just
staring at her, you're freaking me out." Cultist-chan pushes off of the wall and starts pacing.
Eilind starts to say something, but Claire goes "ah ah ah! No.
You've just been staring at her for like twenty minutes except for the bit where you did like a fucking diagnostic. You had your chance."
Honestly you're sort of with Claire here. The staring was getting real old.
"You. Sarah or whatever. What the hell are you doing here? How'd you even find this place?" Claire's fingers are sparking again, that red zappy magic that the Seers like so much. You … well, can't really blame her? Again, Gemstone Scouts have been harassing her cult for years.
Also, yeah, being interrogated is a refreshing change of pace from being stared at by someone with no eyes.
"i, um, i didn't come here for
you?" you point out. "or to pick a fight?" You gesture toward Eilind. "i was looking for her? if that makes you feel better?"
"So you're not, like,
trying to hunt me down, you're just succeeding by dumb luck or something. Cool cool cool. Cool beans."
You're, um, starting to feel a bit bad for Claire? Like, um, she seems … kinda afraid? Like you and Jenny and Morgan are trying to like, chase her down and hurt her?
Which, um -
Like okay you guess you could sorta see how she could get that impression but also, like, she is an apocalyptic doom cultist so, like, it is
kind of your job. Or ex-job or whatever.
Claire snatches a pillow off the sofa and screams into it.
Okay yeah wow you are definitely the baddy here. Woops.
She drops the pillow. "Okay. Okay okay okay. Complete coincidence, wacky hijinx, it's all good." She pauses. "It is all good, right? Like, the insane redhead doesn't know where I live, right?"
You feel both like you should probably defend Jenny against that insult, and also that, um, yeah it is 100% for the best that Jenny does not know where these two live. You settle for shaking your head. "no, i didn't, like, tell them that i was jumping ship? none of them know about," you wave your hand, vaguely sort of pointing at, like, everything, "this."
"Cool! Great!! Whatever!" Claire takes a few deep breaths, and does, um, seem to calm down a little bit. She paces for a minute, muttering under her breath, but eventually snaps out, "You never answered my first question. What are you even doing here?"
You -
It's -
It's hard. There's a part of you that, even here, doesn't want to say. That just wants to pretend it isn't happening. To go running back to Jenny, to Morgan, to Taylor and Daisy; to Liz and Mom and Dad; to Pyuurin, to being Temperate Amethyst. To hide from it, to hope it'll go away if you don't talk about it.
But it's never going to stop, is it? Not unless you do something drastic.
But it's so hard. You don't want to talk, but you
need to talk, and those two wants are all coiled in your throat, strangling your words before you can say them, you
need to talk and you
can't, you
can't say anything at all, and -
Eilind speaks up.
"Sarah. Esperanza. Trujillo," she says, with that weird emphasis. "Do you know who I am?"
"yes." The word spills out of your mouth without bothering to file the usual paperwork with your brain. Then, inspired by its jailbreak, several others follow suit, sneaking out past the block in your throat. "i mean, sort of? pyuurin wasn't, like, super-clear about, you know, specifics? but the general idea that, um, you're some kind of world-ending death goddess came across?"
"And you believed that?" Eilind's eyes, or eye-like starry voids, make you uncomfortable; but the idea of looking away right now just seems kinda unthinkable?
"none of the others do, really? they think pyuurin is exaggerating or wrong; or that just because the pretty pretty card guardians always beat their cataclysmic evil gods, there's no reason to be afraid. but … pyuurin never lies. she never lies. she'll twist the truth into knots to make you think what she wants you to, but she never, ever lies. not in all my memories of her." The waterfall of words just spills out, drawn to fill the expectant silence left after Eilind's question, to fill the empty space left by the rhythm of her speech.
Claire says something, and you can't listen. Eilind stands, and you can't look away.
"
I am the claw that ends the world;
an all-embracing gentleness. I am the doom of Salmydessus, of Kimiata, of Locus Mianden. I was old before your universe was a glint in Cneph's accurséd eye. I have dueled angels, slain gods, and sundered the very laws of your diseased world."
It's probably a good thing that you're sitting, because there's a crushing
depth to those starry eyes, like the entire sky is pressing down on you through them. It's honestly getting a little hard to breathe. Nothing exists outside of this moment, and the terrible, awful weight of Eilind Salmydessa's regard.
It's not, like, scary? Just crazy-intense. Which is weird? But, like -
What's the worst that can happen? She decides to crush you like the insect, like the
less than an insect that you pretty clearly are before her terrible power? She decides to do some awful, horrible magic thing to you?
She doesn't need to crush you, any more than a mountain needs to crush gophers. Awful, horrible magic things are
already happening to you.
Maybe it's just your brain being silly. Maybe it's just that you only have so much being-afraid-ness to go around.
The weight of endless, starry skies is crushing you into the sofa, but you hold Eilind's gaze and don't look away.
And suddenly, everything snaps back. She's just a weirdo in slightly tattered clothes with creepy eyes. You're just sitting on a sofa. Claire is looking back and forth between you and Eilind, confused, while the water-girl snickers at her.
You blink, suddenly aware that you hadn't been doing that for the past couple minutes.
Eilind tilts her head to the side, in that bird-like way she has. "You walk into the very den of your enemies, offer up your name without hesitation, and neither show nor feel fear in the presence of a goddess," she says, musingly. "You don't fret when I list off a vast assemblage of strange side effects, or shrink from the mention of Hell."
"But you seek me out, clinging desperately to a tin of my tea, terrified beyond words at the idea of letting it out of your grasp."
"So, Sarah Esperanza Trujillo," she pauses, possibly for effect?
"What are you so afraid of forgetting?"
There it is. It's out in the open. You don't have to push yourself over the edge, don't have to push words over the dam, the block in your throat, not if someone's already said it.
It's out there. It's real. There's no running from it or hiding or shoving your head in the sand, it's out, someone
knows, someone
believes you and -
You hadn't entirely realized you were crying again until Claire drops a box of tissues in your lap. You hadn't entirely realized that you'd just sort of - collapsed into the sofa, until Eilind comes back into the living room - when did she leave, anyway? - and puts a plate on the table, and you have to sit up to reach it.
Plain bagel, toasted, with cream cheese. Not exactly what you were expecting from the Big Bad Evil Goddess, but that's been, like, all of today, so.
Eilind seems content to watch you eat. Unhurried, mildly expectant but not, like, frustrated by waiting. Even Claire seems to have calmed down a little - maybe breaking down into a sobbing wreck made you, like, less scary to her?
Still it's like three in the morning and -
And it's already out there -
And nothing will ever get better unless you do
something drastic, like throw in with the apocalyptic doom people -
And you're really tired and don't actually want to, like, fall asleep here.
"um, claire?" you ask, not looking right at her. Too awkward right now. "how long have we - the gemstone scouts, i mean - how long have we been fighting the seers?"
Claire looks up at the ceiling, thinking. "I've been with the Seers of the Empty Throne for eight years," she says, "and you've been attacking us that entire time. And apparently for at least a few years before that. I don't know how long, exactly, but I think at least twelve years, from what some of the others say?"
"and, like, i've been part of the scouts that entire time?" You pause, then add, "sorry for, like, attacking you a bunch, by the way."
Claire nods. "Yeah."
Okay. Okay. This part hasn't historically gone well, but here goes. You sit up as straight as you can, and ask, "and how old do you think i am?"
Water-girl splashes slightly as she bolts upright, staring at you with an expression you can't read because she's see-through.
Claire shrugs. "Ten? Maybe eleven? Not much older than that." Her brow furrows, and she makes a face like she's eaten something sour, as she turns those facts over in her head and can feel the weird edge where they don't match up quite right.
"if -" you swallow, your throat suddenly dry, "if i'm ten or eleven years old, how is it possible that i've been fighting the seers of the empty throne for twelve years?"
Claire freezes. "I - that -" the weird sour look on her face intensifies. You've seen this before, when you tried to explain things to Daisy, or Liz, or Mom and Dad. The almost visible turning of gears as they try to connect dots that don't match -
Eilind stands up, eyes wide - but not looking at you. She swipes a hand through the air between you and Claire, and - with a sudden
wrenching yank that you can
feel in the weird internal sense of your own magic - rips a handful of softly glowing white strands out of nothing.
Claire blink-blink-blinks, and the weird confusion on her face clears. "What. The fuck."
"Glamour," Eilind says, lifting the weird white … stuff … to examine it more closely. "Faery magic." She sniffs it, then, pulls out a strand to … bite it? "Some sort of Forgetting. Sloppy, but quite strong."
You start babbling immediately, waving your hands in denial. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i swear i had no ide-"
Eilind cuts you off with a sharp wave of her hand. "No. This is
on you, but not
of you. Your faery-friend's work, I should imagine."
Claire paces in a quick circle, massaging her temples. "Okay so what the fuck." She shoots a glance over at you, confusion and renewed fear in her eyes. "What the hell? How -" she stops, and takes a few breaths. "I remember, about a year ago. We had a meeting about how you all had just shown up out of nowhere, and we needed to be careful because you'd probably come after us. And I remember?" She trails off a little, unsure, but rallies, "maybe five years ago? We had a meeting about how a bunch of mahous had shown up and we needed to be careful. And I -"
"don't - don't force it?" you suggest. "i got real bad migraines for a while when i tried to, like,
make the memories fit together nicely."
"What the actual fuck," Claire says, not even really to you, as she leans against a wall and starts massaging her temples again.
Eilind does something to the glowing white magic-stuff in her hand, and it dissolves into a mist of little gold lights that quickly fade away. She picks up your teacup and peers into it, for some reason; then, without looking up, says, "please explain."
"um, so," you take a couple deep breaths to steady yourself. "about a year ago, like -" you stop, since something's occurred to you. "do, um, do you actually, like,
know what a magical girl is?"
Like, Eilind seems more than a little out of touch. Might be good to check.
It's the water-girl who replies, though, piping up in a voice that sounds … like flowing water, just, with words, somehow, "she doesn't, but Claire and I can fill her in later. No worries."
Right, it's
really awkward that you were thinking she was a pet, now.
"um, anyway, so about a year ago, like, pyuurin showed up and told all of us - me and the other gemstone scouts - that we were magical girls, you know? and she, like, guided us to fight you all-" you nod over at Claire -"and these, like, evil fairies. and, like, it was fun at first; and then once it sort of settled in that it was, like, real? it got a little scary; but we drove off the evil fairies and saved the day, and diamond even confessed to the boy she likes. you know. standard mahou anime stuff. super formulaic."
Claire and the water-girl nod; Eilind is … still staring into your teacup.
"and i guess things'd have kept on like that, except liz got me some tea for my birthday." You shake the tin for emphasis.
Words just keep falling out of you, now that the dam's broken. You're not sure you could stop if you wanted to.
"and, like, at first i thought they were just dreams, or just my imagination, but i kept remembering things that didn't make sense. the same, like, same thing with pyuurin coming and telling me i was a magical girl, but, years ago. all sorts of magical adventures all through middle school, and being friends with the other scouts, and finally
winning and looking forward to, like, not having to juggle the end of the world during high school. like, four whole
years of a life i don't remember living."
"and then i started remembering being nine, liz being my little sister, not older than me. and pyuurin coming and telling me i was magic, and making friends with the other scouts and saving the world and years of magic adventures and looking forward to high school without having to worry about magical doom crises.
"and maybe four or five years before that, being named sarah esperanza ortiz, and living with my parents and my little brothers."
"and before that, with the smith family - adopted, those couple times - and before that, with … i don't know. It gets - no, it's always hazy, but it gets fuzzier the further back i try to go."
"and, and," wetness is streaming down your face again, but if you stop talking now you're not sure you'll ever be able to start again, so you keep barrelling forward. "and i tried to tell people, and the thing that was happening with claire happens, where they can almost piece it together but can't quite see what's wrong. no one can remember what actually happened, even when the bits that don't match up are right there in front of them."
"and i don't know how far back this goes, how long my life's been - been in, in, in seasons, in reboots. second, third, fifth verse, same as the first."
"and if it were just - freaky dreams, or whatever, i could handle it, you know? but the ortiz house exists. my swing set is there. i remember that neighborhood, and like, stuff is different because it's been like nine years but it's still the same
place. i remember secrets that the other girls told me, in the past, when we were better friends after years of fighting together; and i accidentally let one slip and ruby freaked the fuck out because there's no way i could have known that. i remember
math class, of all things." You chuckle a little, through the tears. "only upside is that school is real easy now, 'cuz i've repeated all of middle school at least six times. maybe more."
"i - all i can think is that it's all real, somehow; and, and -"
"and everyone forgot. and i forgot. and it all happened. over. and over. and over again."
Long silence.
Eilind speaks up, after, like, a couple minutes of everyone just, um, processing that.
"You never actually answered Claire's question, regarding how you found us?"
"oh!" The weird normalness of that question is honestly kinda comforting. "um, well, i tried tracking the tea down, actually? but that just led to a p.o. box and i didn't want to, um, stake out the post office? that seemed like a bad idea?"
"so, um… this is gonna sound really weird, but … i figured, since, like, my entire
life is, like, a story? is literally repeating the same narrative arcs over and over, like a show being rebooted. different fluff, but same bones. um, anyway, i figured that maybe i could lean into that."
"Why would that be weird?" Eilind seems … genuinely confused by this. "That's just … how things work."
Claire sighs, in a way that makes you think she's had to have this conversation many, many times before. "It's not how things usually work for people who aren't weird void god monsters, Ei. Humans can't usually, like, lean on narrative causality and expect it to work."
Eilind scoffs, but motions for you to continue.
Okay, yeah, never mind, no way was this crew of weirdos gonna think that was weird. Moving on.
"so, um, i just … i decided that … like …" you wave a hand vaguely, trying to find a way to say this that makes sense to anyone other than you. "like, i've clearly been trying to just … go with the flow, follow the script, for literal decades and it's not getting anywhere. so i just … decided that, like, clearly it was time for drastic measures."
"and, like, i figured … defecting to join the baddies for complicated personal reasons is a super, like, appropriate move? it's something that
makes sense in genre; and after you've started to realize that, like, your school has cherry blossom trees in completely the wrong climate
just so your friend has appropriate scenery to confess to her crush, you, um, start to think that genre conventions are maybe the tools to try to work with."
You shrug, helplessly, because … you can't explain it, how sometimes you can
feel the hand of the author, practically crushing your world into the shape of an anime. How you're afraid that there's maybe something wrong with you, that this has
done something to you, where you don't even want to consider options that would break the story open; and is that really real, or are you just like psychoanalyzing yourself into a rabbit hole of paranoia and how do you tell?
"and, um, i told myself i was going to defect, and just …started walking, because it would be … it would be super-boring if i tried to defect and
couldn't find anyone to defect to, see?"
"and i just sort of wandered into this building, and there was - there was an 'e. salymdessa' on the directory. the name on the tea. and when i came up here and saw you,"you nod to Eilind, "like, there you go, right? went looking for the forces of evil to defect, and found them. hooray for creepy manipulative story forces controlling my entire life, i guess."
Claire is looking at you weird, but both Eilind and the water-girl are nodding like this is a completely sane thing to think or do. You appreciate the vote of confidence.
"Then why me?" Eilind asks.
You don't entirely follow.
"um, what do you mean? I didn't pick, i just-"
She interrupts you with a sharp wave of your hand. "Yes, I understand that. What I'm asking is why your aimless wanderings led you
here. Why here, to me, instead of to, to Reccilda, or Sallarchos, or even Sagadé?"
You guess those are the other night-eye people?
You … still don't know how to answer her question, but it's fine because she keeps talking.
"If you wanted a friend, why aren't you at the Coopers'? If you needed a place to stay, why didn't you arrive at the gates of Eschaton House? If you needed a
miracle, why didn't the story direct you to Sagadé? I don't … I don't have anything to off-"
Your heart is busy falling, when that, and Eilind, are both interrupted by the water-girl sighing in disgust, rearing back, and flinging an ice cube at Eilind's head.
"Stop. Enough. I am so sick of your shit."
The water-girl turns to glare at you. "You. Girl."
You swallow involuntarily. "y-yes?"
"What do you want? When you set out to defect to the dark generals or whatever, what was your goal? Did you want them to solve your problems for you; or did you want to do something,
anything, to change your circumstances, so that you could try something new to solve your problems yourself?"
"i-"
You -
What do you want?
…
You want your life to stop being a dumpster fire, obviously, but that's not what she's asking.
Would it be okay if someone just … snapped their fingers and fixed everything for you?
,,,
That's what Diamond, what Morgan would do. Get everything she wanted without trying, and without ever questioning.
…
You're not sure you'd be okay with that. Especially with regards to … to all of this
this-ness.
"i - no," you say, tentatively, but with growing confidence as you go on, "no, i don't want someone to, to just fix everything for me. because …" you nod to yourself, "because then … if anything went wrong again, all i'd be able to do is run back and beg for help again, and i am sick and tired of being helpless and afraid."
Water-girl nods; and even though you can't really read her face cuz she's, again, made out of water, when she turns back to Eilind - still rubbing her forehead from the ice cube strike - you can just
feel the smugness on her face.
"Well, there you go. Does that answer your question,
magistrix?"
You … don't know what that word means, but apparently Eilind does, because she involuntarily sits up straighter, and … again, hard to tell with her weird night eyes, but you think it's a glare? And glares back at water-girl.
There is a long, tense moment. You, um, meet Claire's eyes, and she just shrugs, clearly just as confused as you are.
Eilind is the one who blinks. She turns away from the water-girl, sighs, rubs her eyes - then stands.
"Very well. Sarah Esperanza Trujillo. You have some experience with faery magic, so this shouldn't be too difficult."
Okay?
"Hold your hands out , as if cupping water."
You do. There's a tone to her voice which reminds you of a teacher - one of the cranky ones who won't put up with students being lazy or not paying attention - and you sort of just do what she says without even thinking about it, on reflex.
"A wooden chair."
"um, what?"
"Do nothing but hold your hands in place and picture the images I tell you to. A bubbling flask. A symbol sacred to a religion you've never heard of. Erasing a map and writing your own corrections in. The interior of a clock. The color blue."
"um, can i ask why we're doing this?"
"It is an important first step. A banner and shield with an unfamiliar device. Graduating from school. A pack of playing cards. A mask. The color orange. The color green. The color orange again. Old-fashioned formal wear. A passing grade. Being called back for a curtain call. A sneeze. A fever."
You do your best to do as you're told, you guess? You're still not sure why you're doing this, but at this point, you might as well follow along, right?
"How do you feel?"
"confused."
"Close your eyes and pay attention to your emotional state as we continue. The waning moon. The sound of waves. A coffin. A shooting star. The night sky, far away from a city. The color black? The color silver. A kiss on the cheek. People-watching in a crowded cafe. Raindrops on glass. The color silver. The color blue. The color orange. Silver. Orange. Blue. Orange. Blue. Silver."
You close your eyes, and let the images wash over you. Loneliness. Calm. Serenity. Anxiety. Conviction. Guilt. Expectation. The feeling of being counted on.
You're starting to … to feel a little tug, in that same weird sense you can't describe that lets you feel your own magic.
"A bright flame. A golden medal. Your first day at a new school. The color red? Lightning. Sharing stories by a fire. A torch. Burning muscles and shortness of breath after a long run. Triumph. The dawn. The color gold. The color blue. Blue. Gold. Gold. Blue. Gold. Orange."
You still have no idea what's going on, but the pull on your magic is growing stronger. You keep your eyes closed and keep focusing because now you're doing a magic thing you don't understand so you're just gonna sort of have to trust Eilind here a bit.
"Blue gold orange. Orange blue gold. Orange silver blue gold. Blue silver orange gold. Blue gold orange silver. Blue gold silver orange, and the aforementioned wooden chair. Blue gold silver orange, and a sapphire cabochon."
"Now, hold that feeling in your mind, and answer truthfully."
Okay, this is getting a bit ominous.
"I am an enemy of the world and all that dwell within. Once, I sought to bring about the very ending of the world; and though I may have retired from the business of War, the world has neither forgotten nor forgiven me, nor should it have. And, so, you who come to me seeking knowledge, seeking power, seeking to change your unjust fate with your own hands, I ask you: are you prepared to accept the cost? To be known as an associate of the enemies of all Creation?"
Um.
She's retired, right? So, um, not actually trying to, like, destroy the world anymore?
Honestly you probably should have thought to check that earlier but, like … well, whatever. Because, well, the honest answer is pretty easy.
"being on the side of the defenders of love and justice has gotten me nothing but pain. and if having magic weirdos judge me for turning to the only people who offered to help is the price i've gotta pay in order to make my life not be trash, then … then fine."
"Press your palms together."
You do, and the pull on your magic sharpens into a fierce tug, momentarily, before fading away - as your hands close around something hard.
Startled, you open your eyes. In your hands, there's a … some sort of glass or clear crystal, tear-drop shaped and maybe an inch tall. A spark of bright blue light is suspended inside it, drifting lazily in the confines of its crystal shell.
"what."
"That," Eilind says, "is what the alchemists of Nix termed an alchemical sapphire, rendered into physical form. We will go into more detail about the colored jewels, their nature, and their properties later, as part of your introductory lessons. But as for that, I've found that students often like to keep their first work of alchemy, no matter how rudimentary, as a keepsake."
Neat? You're still kind of processing here, but EIlind just steamrolls on.
"I am given to understand that 'mistress' carries unwanted cultural baggage, so you will instead refer to me as 'Magistrix' or 'Magistrix Salmydessa' in public. I don't especially care to set a strict schedule for lessons - you will arrive when you wish to learn; and you will either learn, or not, based on the effort you are willing to put in."
"please hold up," you say, waving your hands frantically. "you're just saying stuff without explaining it and i can't keep up. so, um, just to confirm, you're talking about an apprenticeship or something?"
"Was that not obvious?" She seems, again, genuinely confused by this. "You came to my door and expressed a desire to change the circumstances of your fate through your own efforts. Obviously, for that to happen, you'd need to learn how to do that; thus, an apprenticeship."
"and this alchemy stuff-"
"Nictian alchemy, specifically."
"okay i don't know what that means but sure, this can help me?"
She nods. "I can think of several potential projects we could work towards which seem like they would be viable solutions to your situation, yes."
"okay. that's - that's a relief. okay."
You're … honestly kind of numb, at this point. It's after 3 in the morning, you're exhausted from multiple crying breakdowns, apparently a death goddess of the endless void wants to teach you magic science so you can break whatever the heck magical girl curse you're under, cool cool cool
You need to go … not be here. This is all kinda overwhelming and you are just
done with all of this for today. Get up, catch the bus to Liz's place, and crash and sleep for like a whole day.
There is one, like, really important thing you gotta do first though.
"um, so, you're like, retired from destroying the world, right? magistrix?" Might as well call her that. Never hurts to be on a teacher's good side.
She sighs. "Yes." She sort of looks like she's gonna continue, so you rush to cut her off.
"so, um, just to check,
do you actually do anything, like, evil?"
She tilts her head up a bit, as if she's looking at the ceiling, thinking. "I suppose that depends," she says, "on how you feel about destroying Christmas."
…
You know what? Sure. You'll take it. All the Whoms down in Whomville can cry you a darned river.
"um, in that case, i'm happy to accept your offer of apprenticeship, magistrix."
You are
Eilind Salmydessa, Magistrix. You have just acquired an apprentice, sort of by accident - you didn't entirely
mean to, it just … what else were you supposed to do?
Anyway.
Claire offered to walk her to the bus stop; and Kaisia has elected to hide somewhere rather than engage with you about the appropriateness of throwing ice cubes; and so you are left alone, with your thoughts, and the colored jewel of experience sitting in your heart.
You haven't recognized a colored jewel in years. Not since you were driven from Nix, and your plans for Anti-Christmas dashed.
Nictian alchemy. You invented it for the people of Nix, spent eleven centuries teaching it and watching it grow as your students made discoveries of their own -
And then you had to flee, and it became too painful to touch; and you resorted to debasing yourself with Heaven's cast-offs and rooting around in flowers rather than continue to practice the art you had made.
And yet here you are again.
Perhaps things will be different this time. Perhaps not. Only time will tell.
Eilind has recognized a 'colored jewel' - the crucial ingredients of Nictian alchemy, crystalized from moments of profound experience. Which, though, has she discovered within herself? What does it mean to her that she has taken on this new student?
[ ] [Jewel] An Alchemical Sapphire 👁️🗨️
Much like her new student, Eilind's experience is 'blue' - a moment of profound decision, of choosing to cast aside the way that events were supposed to proceed in favor of charting a new course.
[ ] [Jewel] An Alchemical Amethyst 🌺
Eilind's experience is 'purple' - a moment of togetherness and responsibility, of assuming a new burden that cannot be shirked.
[ ] [Jewel] An Alchemical Moonstone 🔥
Eilind's experience is 'silver' - a moment of melancholy and fascination, as she is drawn back once again, mothlike, to something that has burned her so badly before.
Now, Eilind being Eilind, her life will inevitably burst into spectacular flames in relatively short order. Where will we pick back up with her story?
[ ] [Scene] Picking Teja Heimerich up from the airport: a task which really seems like it should not involve either fire or car chases; and yet! 👁️🗨️🔥
[ ] [Scene] Frantically attempting to clean your apartment before your student arrives despite the fact that she has already seen what a mess your entire life is. 🌺🥄
[ ] [Scene] Checking in on the horrific chaos inflicted on your garden by the Hero you yourself sent there. 👁️🗨️🎭