Chapter 1: Season 1, Episode 1
Chapter Text
Strange tales come crawling out the west-but so do stories that ignite a traveler's dreams.
What's a tall tale of otherworldly critters told around the fire, when the west promises riches, romance, and adventures?
People ride westward to find a new life-or to run from the life they've been living.
For most people, Sono Territory is the end of the line, but legend has it there's a whole Otherworld out there on the frontier.
They say an eerie beauty stalks those plains, her gaze hitting just as quick and deadly as her bullets.
Best keep a righteous path and take those stories to heart—otherwise she might decide you'd make worthy prey.
My back thuds against the wall of this sleepy town's saloon, and I finally allow myself to catch my breath.
I check the loot is still safe in my bosom.
(That'll teach those bandit brothers not to try and double cross me on a job.)
MC
“Some People just haven't a loyal bone in their body, these days!”
Inside, every head in the place whips towards my entrance, as though a piano had struck a sinister tune.
(Etiquette dictates that I should remove my hat when entering an establishment.)
(I may be a thief, but let no one say I don't have manners.)
MC
“Ahem. Good morning. As you were.”
Eventually, everybody goes back to their drinks.
Except for the intense beauty at the end of the bar, whose eyes burn into me.
I tip her a nod and she returns it, tension weaving between us from the moment I stepped into the room.
(It's refreshing to see such a striking lady after running around town with those brothers for nearly two weeks.)
The heavy-eyed redhead would look just as at home in some lofty castle-especially if it was haunted.
I'm hit with a sudden and peculiar chill.
(Hm. I normally wouldn't mind having the attention of a beautiful woman, but something feels off about her.)
(Is it possible to feel both too warm and too cold from a person's gaze?)
I feel her gaze still lingering on me.
(I'm afraid I'll be caught staring.)
Outside, I can hear my former compatriots thunder down the streets, shouting for me.
Witless Bandit
“We know you're hiding somewhere! Come out and we'll go easy on you!”
As the bandits pass by outside, no one indoors even lifts their heads to acknowledge that someone might be in trouble.
(Well, the less attention I draw to myself, the better. Let's see if I can fence these jewels, before they burn a hole through my shirt.)
MC
“Miss Ada! Might you know of anyone in the jewelry business?”
“As a lady traveling alone, I'm fearful of bandits!”
I bat my eyelashes as punctuation.
(A little white lie never hurt no one.)
Ada
“None come to mind right now, Snowdrop, but I can offer you a bottle in the meantime?”
MC
“It's a bit early, for my blood.”
A solid presence saunters up behind me—the hairs on my neck lift.
Wine-haired Looker
“I couldn't help overhearing mentions of banditry, Are you in distress, Miss...?”
The faintest accent in a voice as wine-dark as her hair…
(I should be able to tell where she's from, but I can't.)
MC
“MC. New in town?”
(Didn't hightail all this way from home to not make sure pretty women know my name.)
Cecelia
“ Newly returned, you might say. Call me Cecelia.”
Ada rests her chin on both fists, eyes gleaming.
Ada
“Didn't I promise I'd find you quality goods from far off places, Cecelia... Shall I negotiate my finder's fee?”
Cecelia's eyebrow rises into a brief flourish.
Cecelia
“I think Ada means a necklace you spoke of.”
MC
“Of course. Am I to take it you're interested?”
Cecelia
“Very.”
My gut is tingling with a wild mix of warning and want.
(I guess I'm willing to play this out. Good company and a pocket of money.)
Choice C: May I buy you a drink?
MC
“May I buy you a drink?”
In answer, she produces a glittering flask—I get the strangest feeling it's colder than it should be, having rested so close to her chest.
Cecelia
“Thank you kindly, but I only drink a certain vintage.”
(She doesn't sound too sorry.)
MC
“A woman of taste.”
Cecelia
“I see we are similar in that aspect.”
MC
“Well, would you like to have a seat, Miss Cecelia?”
With a puff of magnolia and smiling eyes, Cecelia sits... very close.
Slop-For-Brains Bandit
“There you are! You think you can steal from us and we'd just let you walk? Hand over that necklace!”
(I only took the necklace because they tried to get rid of me without pay, fair is fair!)
MC
“Oh, hell.”
(I was having such a nice chat too.)
Ada
“Oh, no—every time you boys have a deal go sour, y'all come wreck my honest living!”
“Shoo! Go on, git!”
The two no-good brothers I used to run with push past her—and not another soul stands to help.
(Solo as usual.)
Ozzie
“Think we'd let you just waltz away?”
My fingers tickle my ivory-handled Colt, and I start looking for weak spots.
MC
“I don't think I remember inviting you boys to this party.”
Then a shadow crosses me, redolent of magnolia with a voice of silken steel.
(Speaking of steel…)
The smooth barrel of a gun traces my cheek and caresses my shoulder as Cecelia slips an arm around me.
She flashes the bandits a calculated smile.
Cecelia
“As the lady says. We were engaged in private conversation—one we care to continue without an audience.”
(Well, I'll be!)
MC
“I wasn't aware we had an upstanding citizen ready to defend the helpless around here.”
Ozzie
“Don't stand between us and our just desserts! Who do you think you are?”
(Oh, now I remember their names...)
Reggie
“Shush Ozzie, that redhead is the Desert Rose! Our master warned us about her!”
Cecelia
“Indeed, some call me that—though you'll find me mostly thorn.”
(Desert Rose, huh? I do adore flowers... Especially ones that bloom in unexpected places.)
Cecelia
“As for your just desserts—it happens I'm in a position to provide that to you.”
Ozzie
“Ha! We coulda drawn and killed ya before you finished that mouthful!”
Suddenly faster than my eyes could register, she raises her long pistol and aims right between his eyes.
Cecelia
“But you didn't.”
Ozzie
“Wha-!”
(Damned if I let someone out-slick me in my own fight!)
I draw and cock my Colt with relish.
Ada
“Outside! This is a saloon, not a shootin' gallery!”
Tables crash, the lily-livered flee for the high-ground, and the Desert Rose and I bump shoulders as we crouch behind the bar.
Shots pepper the bottles behind us, and we shake off the shattered glass.
(It's a shoot-out, alright. Sorry, Miss Ada!)
Choice B: How will Ada ever forgive us?
MC
“How will Ada ever forgive us?”
Cecelia shoots Ozzie’s hat off, taking out a stuffed deer head on the wall behind him.
Cecelia
“I’ve forgiven her decor for years.”
Choice C: Sorry about my bad luck!
MC
“Nice of you to help out, but it's a shame you had to learn firsthand about my terrible luck.”
Cecelia fires a bullet right at 13 Red on the tipped roulette wheel. Ozzie squeals.
Cecelia
“I make my own luck.”
MC
“I'd applaud, but I'd have to put down my gun!”
Cecelia
“You're under my protection, Miss MC, and I take that seriously.”
Reggie
“You tomfool braggart, she's the deadliest gun hand in the Devil's Backbone!”
After seeing Cecelia exchange some shots, I have no trouble believing that reputation to be true.
MC
“Who would've thought they had a brain among them?”
Cecelia
“Yes, just the one—that they both have to share.”
Ozzie
“So what, we just gotta take them both down, right?”
I snap my fingers.
MC
“I think you two have already forgotten that I've bested both of you before.”
Ozzie
“If you think we're scared of some Ward lapdog, you're mistaken!”
“Otherwise why'd our esteemed benefactor grant us our uncanny powers , huh?”
Cecelia snorts, fires.
Cecelia
“You really think your esteemed benefactor would waste powers on you? Clod.”
(What are these three gabbing on about...?)
Cecelia
“You two are just lambs led to their own slaughter, believing themselves lions all the while.”
MC
“Well, then let's get out from behind this bar and shear 'em!”
Ozzie
“Toss me some o' them silver bullets, Reggie—it's the only way!”
Cecelia's eyes widen a fraction.
Cecelia
“Looks like they aren't as dumb as they look, probably best if I keep my distance.”
MC
“Fair enough! I wouldn't want to get any closer to those boys than I had to, either.”
(Especially after sharing a wagon with them for weeks.)
Ozzie
“Take this! Now who are the lambs?”
Reggie
“No wait-don't shoot at the prairie witch! We might get cursed like Old Man Flint!”
“I'm telling you, something about MC ain't right. We definitely need to tell the master about her.”
As the bandits grapple amongst themselves, a ricochet slices into my forearm.
(Guess my shitty luck strikes again.)
Cecelia extends a steady arm to cover me and fires once at the chandelier.
The support chain splits, and down crashes a couple tons of iron and candle-wax onto the bunched up brothers.
MC
“Hell, this is my favorite shirt!”
Cecelia's Gentler hands Brush mine aside, cradling my wounded arm.
Cecelia
“Hush, you'll be absolutely-!”
Her nostrils flare, and her irises thin to a knife-edge.
Cecelia
“...Oh. A fine vintage, indeed.”
Her eyelashes flutter, a raptor's wings at rest.
Cecelia
“I could just drink you up...”
Her eyes glaze over, the timbre of her voice plunges, sultry and sepulchral, piercing the heart of me.
Cecelia
“...You are Something special.”
Her tongue swipes over her painted bottom lip and I find myself pinned once more under her stare.
It sends a shiver up my spine, which I don't dislike.
With a creak and a crash, the bandits struggle out from under the mess and point their guns at us again.
Their shooting snaps some sense back into us.
(Hell, while we moon-eye each other, this has become a firing squad!)
One Of Cecelia's eyebrow lifts ever-so-slightly in self-aware surprise.
Reggie
“Fire!!”
After a furious flurry of clicks, I open my eyes.
MC
“The fools ran out of ammunition! Ha! It would seem you are my lucky copper-haired penny, Cecelia!”
Ozzie
“Oh, shoot!”
Reggie
“Let's get outta here.”
I make to follow the fleeing bandits but Cecelia's stubborn grip on my arm yanks me back.
MC
“We should chase those fleas off for sure—I don't want to worry-!”
Her staring eyes swallow me, and that voice of hers darkens even further.
Cecelia
“The only concern that matters... is you .”
(She stares at me like I'm some... delicious morsel.)
MC
“You can... Um... Let go of me now.”
(If I didn't know better, I'd say I'd put her in some sort of trance.)
Despite my body ringing like a bell, our drawn-out embrace is beginning to draw stares from the recovering crowd.
Choice A: Take her other hand.
Somewhat pointedly, I steal her free hand to mirror her grip on mine.
MC
“This how they say hello where you're from?”
Choice C: Poke her nose!
(Perhaps a touch of the ridiculous to shatter this heart-stopping tension?)
(...In a way that won’t get me thrown in jail for public indecency?)
I gently tap the tip of her leonine nose.
MC
“Beg pardon?”
Still, she won't relinquish her hold.
Not a single droplet of sweat mars her perfect brow, but I notice a more wood smokey scent wafting from her artful curls…
My heart hasn't slowed from the fight, and now I feel a familiar sense of strength surge inside of me.
(Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it!)
All the scattered bottles start to spin slowly, then faster and faster until they are whipping across the floors.
The saloon ladies had just begun to dust off—now, they gasp and shriek.
(They barely bat an eyelash at a shoot-out, but when I lose my grip on my... strangeness, they scream.)
(Alright, think MC, how am I going to hide this from Cecelia?)
Cecelia blinks slowly out of her daze.
Cecelia
“Oh. Still trying to learn the art of controlling your powers, are we?”
(Well, she definitely knows something that I don't.)
(When she was lookin' like she wanted to eat me it was less troubling than this... reverence.)
The bottles stop spinning and rattling.
Cecelia
“Is there something you'd like to tell me, MC, before I start making assumptions?”
(I don't... Was that... Uncertainty? Concern? Or a threat ?)
Whatever that was vanishes beneath an avid, professional demeanor.
(I should get out of here before the rumor mill starts churning.)
Still so close, those eyelashes flutter in time with my pattering pulses.
Cecelia
“Relax. You did well, MC. Calm your heart, I hear it kicking up quite the storm.”
(How in the hell did she hear my heart?!)
MC
“I am calm! Just—damned unlucky!”
Her shrewd gaze lands on each of my nervous tics—and each part tingles in turn.
Cecelia
“Don't worry. I'll handle the rubberneckers.”
“You had all better look to yourselves, before the next mayhem arrives.”
(...I'm not sure that'll calm anyone, per se.)
But it seems to suffice—attention disperses, and somehow I no longer feel like the strangest person in the room.
(Masterful, using her own oddity to such effect!)
MC
“Well, I—You-!”
A Penal-Code Sort of Voice
“Well now, just what ruckus led to this pitiful scene?”
(Sheriff!)
My chin sinks, putting on my hat so that it's shading my eyes.
(Just have to wait for the perfect moment to give him the slip.)
Cecelia turns an elegant heel to the newcomer.
Cecelia
“Sheriff McGann.”
Her lips thin nearly imperceptibly.
Sheriff
“Oh, it's you, uh, ma'am.”
Your 'Sheriff McGann' routine always has me looking over my shoulder for my daddy, Warden Visconti—Shane would do.”
Cecelia
“I believe in civility towards my colleagues, Sheriff.”
Sheriff
“Well, then, perhaps you'd clue me in on what happened to all of Ada's defenseless booze bottles?”
The oatmeal-faced Sheriff takes that turnabout to his joke on the chin, and so do I.
(First person to catch my fancy in far too long, and she's a woman of the law!)
(Pretty high up, too, if the Sheriff's sudden solicitousness is any measure.)
(Well, that's a shame! But since they are busy chatting, I guess it's time for me to look for a way out.)
Cecelia
“Also, Sheriff, I'll handle Miss MC the Proper Way.”
(Whelp, there's my cue to leave!)
A soft, soft hand brushes mine, freezing me in my tracks.
( I didn't even hear her move! And my land, she is so cold' how didn't I notice this before?)
Just as I'm drawn too deeply into a study of the marble skin resting on mine…
A stray ray of daylight falls across us and she snatches back her hand.
Cecelia
“MC, wait a moment.”
MC
“Would you look at the time.”
(Time to rabbit, that is.)
I step past and onto the street.
(I don't hear her following me... Looks like they're still talking in the doorway of the saloon.)
MC
“See you around, Miss Warden.”
As I make my escape, I catch a few last words between the lady Warden and the Sheriff.
Sheriff
“Shall I go fetch her?”
Cecelia
“Leave her to me.”
Chapter 2: Season 1, Episode 2
Chapter Text
A few days after the fiasco at the saloon, this town's gotten too hot for me.
(I better grab some supplies and make a proper escape before the brothers come up with another plan.)
(And before Cecelia finds out where I'm staying…)
(But these shelves are all empty.)
MC
“When was their last supply restock?”
As I turn to leave, I bump into a wall that I swear wasn't there before, and the wall exclaims and steadies my elbow.
Cowboy
“Whoa, pardon me, miss!”
Two people in very extravagant clothing have stepped into the store, shaking dust off their boots.
(Now, I would certainly remember seeing these two around town, before!)
MC
“Do you always make new acquaintances this way, or am I just magnetic?”
Shaggy Fellow
“Do you walk into people often? Because then I'd say yes, not that I mind—the name's Cayde. Nathan Cayde.
“This is Fiona.”
Fiona
“Ms. Eichen to my friends.”
A teasing lilt to her voice tells me she's one for jokes.
Cayde puts on a pout that says he's going to play along.
Cayde
“Aw, is that the way of it? You told me to call you Fiona. Does this mean we aren't friends?”
She pats his arm, and cracks a smile that invites me into the joke.
(They seem friendly, if not a bit strange.)
MC
“MC.”
Fiona
“Have we met somewhere before?”
MC
“I'm sure I'd remember.”
I smile wide and practiced like I do for all my marks, when Fiona draws a playing card from nowhere.
Cayde
“My, but she's the spitting image, isn't she?”
MC
“Of the card?”
Fiona
“Of the woman in the poster.”
With gut-churning clarity, I notice the Wanted poster pinned near the cash register; specifically, the one with my face on it.
(Ok, it looks like me a little, but they got my nose wrong.)
Usually, bounty hunters blend in a bit better than these two.
But they don't look like they came in here looking for a fight... Or a bounty.
Choice A: I’ve got one of those faces.
MC
“I've got one of those faces, I suppose. Beautiful, devil-may-care, et cetera.”
Cayde's smile stiffens.
Cayde
“Careful how you turn a pĥrase, ma'am. The Devil might just care a lot, indeed.”
(Here's a fellow who's found himself on the wrong side of something that isn't his fault.)
(I can relate.)
MC
“All jokes aside... Am I going to have to fight my way out of here? Because, I'd rather not hurt either of you.”
Fiona
“Hmm...”
A stiff flicker of cards shuffling meets my ears and I'm momentarily distracted.
Fiona
“Your fortune hasn't come in yet. But we have been asked to keep a look out for you, by the powers that be.”
I raise my brows at her.
Fiona
“As for supplies, haven't you heard? There's been bandits around town, you know? Makes it harder for supplies to come in.”
(Those damn Brothers again. Making it harder for me to get supplies to leave.)
MC
“Chasing those two dimwits is a full-time job then.”
Fiona shrugs and pulls a card and hands it to me, which unfolds... into my Wanted poster.
(She managed to swipe my poster without me noticing.)
(That's the best sleight-of-hand I've ever seen! Aside from my own, of course.)
MC
“Thank...You?”
(Maybe we are cut from the same cloth then, if they are helping me out...)
Cayde
“Maybe you should dye your hair. You know, for a change of pace.”
MC
“You know, I've tried that-it never sticks.”
Fiona
“I suggest wearing a hood.”
(Says the odd bird!)
MC
“Yeah, that'll be less conspicuous...”
(I just have to know where these two stand—are they lawless like me, or are they working with Cecelia? They certainly dress alike.)
(There's only one way to be sure...)
MC
“You folks ever travel by starlight, or do you just use a lantern?”
(Any thief would know to say starlight's the only way to get anything done.)
Cayde
“If it ain't a full moon, sweetheart, I just stay home.”
A card flickers between Fiona's fingers, and she ignores my question.
(It's not the correct response, so they can't be outlaws.)
Cayde
“Well, Fiona, you think you got what you came here for? Because I'm thinking it's time to grab a drink.”
Fiona
“Only if MC joins us, we were supposed to find her, were we not?”
(I knew this smelled suspicious from the beginning! This has Cecelia written all over it.)
MC
“Actually, friends—I'm trying to avoid the saloon right now.”
Cayde exchanges a glance with Fiona, and puts on his hat.
Fiona
“Ah well. Another time.”
“Give her our regards.”
(Please don't tell me she means who I think she means.)
It takes me an afternoon to pack up all my things and get ready to skip town.
(Almost time to shut the door behind me, mount up, and slink off into the sunset.)
A knock on my door shakes me to my bones.
Something familiar crawls up my spine, like the last time I had a set of heavy eyes on me.
(Aunt Rhoda always said I had a knack for making my own trouble.)
(Let's hope that having Cecelia on my mind hasn't summoned her to my door.)
Steadying myself, I take a deep breath and swing the door open. Even though I already know who is going to be standing there.
MC
“Cecelia!”
And, as I had guessed, she's standing there, beautiful and proud, and just as intimidating as I remember.
(I knew it! These feelings I get have never been wrong.)
But my heart still flutters at the sight of her, and I have to try hard to recover some poise.
MC
“Why, I knew you were talented; giving me days to get comfortable then striking all of a sudden like I'd feared you would.”
Cecelia
“Like you'd feared, Miss MC, or hoped?”
“Certainly nothing can seem truly sudden to one so attuned to the universe as yourself.”
(Ohh, she's smooth.)
(But dangerous too. She seems to know more about me than I would like.)
I casually lean against the door frame as I size Cecelia up.
MC
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Cecelia
“I had a proposition for you, however, I was told you turned down my invitation for a drink.”
MC
“Funny, I don't remember you asking. Unless you usually send other people as your messengers.”
Cecelia
“No matter, I'd rather we speak a little more privately anyway. Why not invite me in for a moment?”
(A beautiful stranger asking to be invited in? Where have I heard this before?)
(I certainly remember a couple penny dreadfuls that have started this way.)
A peculiar feeling trickles over me, soothing my tense shoulders.
(It feels like someone is scratching at my mind.)
I squeeze my hand around my bandaged bullet graze, wince at the dull throb—and the invading feeling is gone.
MC
“It's a bit messy in there.”
(There might be stuff in there that could incriminate me.)
MC
“If talking is all you're here to do, shall we talk downstairs? More room than this hallway...”
I sneak a deep breath and our chest brush.
Chills race along my skin, sparkle behind my eyes.
(Like petting a python. Goddess help me, I love it.)
Cecelia
“You are a curious thing, aren't you?”
MC
“Never met a girl like me, huh?”
“I've heard that line so often, I can sing the whole song myself.”
“As for you, well... I've seen your kind before.”
The atmosphere in the hallway sharpens, cools.
Cecelia gives me a predatory tilt of her head.
Cecelia
“And just what kind am I?”
I swear, her hair looks wilder and her eyes ought to glow they're so intent—seems I've hit a nerve, so I decide to tease her a little.
MC
“A low-down, ice-veined, bloodsuckin'...”
“Officer of the law.”
Her shoulders lift, and her eyes widen.
Cecelia
“...?!”
Then the tension shatters as she tosses her head back and laughs.
She's not the kind to truly lose her cool, so the sound is rich and mellow.
But there's a slight delighted edge on a peal or two that makes my own lips twitch.
Cecelia
“I might surprise you, Miss MC.”
Choice A: Let’s hear your best line, then.
MC
“Really? Let's hear your best line, then.”
Cecelia
“Why would I use my best line on you, when you seem immune to my charms?”
MC
“Well, I don't know about that…”
Choice C: Not as much as I can surprise you!
MC
“Not as much as I can surprise you!”
Cecelia
“I concede the point; that may very well be the case.”
(Hell, I’m surprising myself right now!)
MC
“I suppose that depends on if you believe in fate…”
MC
“After all, you got to see me again!”
Cecelia
“I thought you attributed that to my skill-or were your compliments insincere?”
Anybody else would pull a pout, but she just arches a brow and lowers her eyelids.
She's prettier than a picture and as skilled as a demon—but I can't ease the tension in my shoulders.
MC
“Look, if your proposition was to come here to arrest me, make me see the error of my ways, I won't go quietly.”
Cecelia
“Ah. Yes. Business before pleasure.”
She glides a step or two away from me, and in spite of myself, I mourn the distance between us.
(Not to mention the distance that's entered her gaze, as well.)
My heart gives a dull pang.
Cecelia
“I do have a proposition for you.”
“But it's not what you think.”
(Hell. I hope it doesn't involve handcuffs.)
Cecelia
“While it appears your life so far has included less... legitimacy than I'd prefer, I'm not here to punish you.”
(In that case, maybe I do hope it involves handcuffs!)
MC
“Oh? Then why are you here?”
She draws herself up.
Cecelia
“I'm empowered to offer you a higher plan and a larger purpose—a glimpse of your place in the cosmos.”
“A passport through the dark.”
(Excuse me...? This sounds like a recruitment...)
Cecelia
“We're more alike than you know.”
I take a look at her, from head to toe.
MC
“You're too tidy to relate to me.”
Cecelia
“Our similarities run more than skin deep, I assure you.”
MC
“Enough that you'll let an alleged outlaw like me walk away free?”
She taps her lip thoughtfully.
Cecelia
“...I'd give you a week's head-start.”
(More than fair.)
Cecelia
“Though if you stop running from your true self, I won't need to chase you at all.”
MC
“Alright, I'm free for the evening. Let's hear this higher plan and larger purpose.”
(How in the hells does she know what I'm looking for?)
I oversell the unconcerned shrug as I brush past her to the stairs to head into the common room.
(Must have pulled on the bullet wound on my arm too hard.)
(I was too concerned with getting my horse decent feed to find a better bandage than my handkerchief.)
There's nobody in the common room to ease the tension between us.
(I wonder if the boarding house owner, Donna, stepped out for the night.)
(Damn, sitting here bleeding in an empty room isn't the strongest negotiating position.)
Cecelia
“A little dab of honey is all that wound needs. If you'd like, I could-?”
Her voice comes right beside my ear.
MC
“How did you-?!”
My sleeve is clean—no sign of blood.
Cecelia
“I have a... knack for sensing discomfort in this vein.”
“You could say it's in my nature.”
I imagine those cool fingers gliding over my sore skin, and can't help nibbling my lip.
Her gaze flickers to my mouth, and her brow briefly lifts.
Slowly she closes the distance between us and holds out her hand, expecting me to let her see my wound.
(Well, I may as well get a little something for myself out of this song and dance!)
Heart Choice: Allow Cecelia to treat your wound.
MC
“I suppose that would be alright.”
Cecelia
“Excellent.”
“Clean cotton and fresh air was a good start, but you're only a day or so from bad blood without some extra help.”
(The wound is tucked beneath my sleeve—how did she know that I used a handkerchief?)
Cecelia
“I can smell it—I would hate for an infection to reach your heart when I could do something about it.”
MC
“Mighty wise of you, to carry a kit with you.”
Cecelia
“Oh no, I never need one, myself—but actually, that's not a terrible idea.”
“Donna keeps a tin of supplies in the cabinet here for—ah ha, here it is—for unfortunate mishaps.”
With another magnolia-scented breeze, she once again takes a seat very close to me.
(She's teasing me...)
Cecelia
“May I?”
Her fingers close delicately around my hand.
(It's like a snow-maiden has me by the hand.)
Goosebumps rush across me—then the chill of her skin becomes soothing.
(And I thought this would be easy...)
It's a simple touch, but it's somehow anything but impersonal...
(I guess it's a good thing Donna isn't around at the moment, so I have this all to myself.)
Cecelia
“Does it hurt, still?”
MC
“...”
With careful twists of her fingers, she unbuttons my cuff and rolls up my sleeve.
Cecelia
“I'll be gentle.”
She strokes my inner elbow once, a reminder to hold still.
(Oh no. I'm not sure how much more of this I can sit still for.)
MC
“I don't often laze around like this.”
The fine skin around her eyes has drawn tense, and her movements, while deft, seem hesitant.
Cecelia
“Move as you like—you won't disturb me.”
(I doubt she means twine a strand of her wine-red hair around my free hand, so I'll just have to resist.)
She unknots the handkerchief, and it feels like she's undoing a few of my buttons, exposing my throat instead of my wrist.
Cecelia
“You have very delicate skin...”
MC
“Thank you?”
She clears her throat.
Her hand cups my elbow, then slides up the back of my arm to draw me a little forward—my entire torso follows.
MC
“This is a very elaborate scheme to make sure I don't make a run for it?”
(“This” has now become an extremely ill-advised flirtation. But what else am I to do, stuck sitting here?)
Cecelia
“Yes, right in my clutches.”
She distracts me with a quick flash of her straight pearly teeth.
Quick but careful, she peels the handkerchief away without disturbing the healing flesh beneath.
MC
“You've had some practice at this!”
Cecelia
“Sadly, yes. I...”
A few fresh drops of blood show very red against my old embroidered monogram, which she rubs absently with her thumb.
The hand on my upper arm squeezes softly, unconsciously, and she lifts the cloth, inspecting my initials.
MC
“Thinking of keeping my token, like the knights of olden times?”
With a faint smile, she drops the handkerchief and opens the jar.
Cecelia
“I would do so only if you accepted my suit, remember.”
MC
“A suit of armor could be handy!”
Another faint smirk; she knows that I know what she meant, but she still clarifies—or maybe emphasizes?
Cecelia
“My pursuit , that is.”
MC
“So you do mean to keep chasing me.”
“I've already introduced myself—checking to see if the initials match the name I told you?”
She flutters her fingers along the blood-stained handkerchief between us as though tracing a map.
Cecelia
“With this in my pocket, I could find you anywhere—but not the way you think.”
MC
“Then, I'd best not let you take it—fancy lady like you with a stained hanky, well, it won't do!”
Cecelia
“I think it's a lovely shade, now. We are all that color, underneath...”
For a moment it looks like she wears long, taloned gloves.
(How would those sharp tips feel, tracing my skin?)
She ribbons the bandage around my arm in a way that looks almost fashionable.
Each shift of her grasp both binds me up in her signature and seals me away from her touch.
Cecelia
“There, now. Good as new.”
“Let us speak plainly then”
“...The organization I work for is dedicated to seeking out disturbances that threaten the balance between the known and the unknown.”
“Protecting people from strange dangers and mysterious circumstances—and from themselves, if we must.”
(She's awfully tempting for someone who's supposed to save me from myself.)
MC
“Just how do you usually manage that feat?”
The corner of her mouth curls.
Cecelia
“We employ a rare kind of person—many kinds, in fact—and we negotiate. Failing that, we... corral.”
My misbehaving heart could use a little corralling, with her looking at me like that.
MC
“Sounds messy. If that fails, who's the maid service?”
Cecelia
“Me.”
Not a hitch in that smooth voice. A stone cold customer if I've ever seen one.
(Now why does that make something in me settle down and bask?)
Cecelia
“But our work is so much more than that.”
Remembering the cold brush of her hand…
The rock-steadiness of her arm as she aimed the pistol that seemed to come from thin air, a thought starts to turn in my mind.
MC
“I don't know—I can imagine quite a bit.”
She nods knowingly, pleased.
Cecelia
“Just as clever as I'd hoped. You would be a perfect addition to the organization.”
MC
“Can't exactly say I'm a team player...”
Cecelia
“Well, then I can't exactly say the Ward will let you operate as you have been.”
MC
“What are you on about?”
Cecelia
“Your family has never told you about... Yourself?”
MC
“We aren't on speaking terms at the moment.”
Cecelia
“But you know there is something more to this world, hidden just out of sight. Don't you?”
MC
“I can't say I've felt much of anything odd in this world besides me not fitting in as others wanted me to.”
Cecelia
“...Is that really all you think?”
“But you're so—the bottles, after the firefight. And then upstairs... Don't you know you're remarkable?”
(Just what is she getting at?)
MC
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
She shakes her head sadly.
MC
“Hey now, I don't want your pity.”
Cecelia
“It is not pity I offer you. You're saying you've had no contact with the Otherworld at all? At least now I know where to start...”
She leans across the table before I can blink, and takes my chin in hand.
(I can't hold back a gasp, and I can't break her deceptively gentle hold.)
Cecelia
“I know what it is to be cut off from everything, to become a stranger to yourself and a monster in your own skin.”
“But I also know what it feels like to come in out of the cold, and I assure you that you can too.”
I swallow, forcing myself not to back down.
MC
“Quit pulling my leg.”
The power in her eyes swamps my mistrust—she feels all this, so deeply.
She believes it.
(Goddess, what if she could believe in me like that?)
Cecelia
“Let's set aside my original proposition, and let me show you a place of belonging first.”
MC
“Alright. That was a hell of a pitch.”
(Show me there's another world.)
(And people like me...)
Chapter 3: Season 1, Episode 3
Chapter Text
Cecelia leads me out for a sundown stroll through a town—a novelty for me.
(Lately I've taken to scurrying along walls and lurking under my hat so as not to be noticed)
Townsfolk scatter from our path with hastily-tipped hats—no one looks us in the eyes.
Or rather, they seem to avoid Cecelia's.
I'm used to playing the edge between captivating folks and passing below notice, but this is something else.
MC
“Do they think you're a princess or a pariah?”
Cecelia
“As a matter of fact, that's a fair summary of my paradoxical position.”
MC
“This treatment never gives you the shivers?”
She shrugs an elegant shoulder, tipping her face to the moonlight.
Cecelia
“I don't particularly feel the cold.”
MC
“I suppose that must make some things easier...”
(That air of command, for instance.)
But the memory of her fervor as she described cast-outs' camaraderie— coming in from the cold ...
Tells me she's not immune to loneliness, at least.
Somehow that gives me the guts—or the hubris, if you ask my Aunt Rhoda—to say the unspeakable.
(That intense gaze, the impossible grace, her demon skill, marble skin, and ancient poise... I'm starting to piece it together.)
All that reminds me of the stories I used to devour late at night as a girl...
(Stories that featured monsters who could only walk under cover of night.)
(She wasn't lulling me into a false sense of security by letting those days pass. She literally could only search for me when it wasn't day.)
MC
“You know, a lot of people were telling stories about monsters when I was making my way out here…”
“And I've done my fair share of reading in the past…”
“You're telling me those stories are real?”
She barely blinks, still basking in moonlight.
Cecelia
“Hmm. Which penny dreadfuls did you purchase back east?”
“Not the moralizing ones, I hope.”
MC
“The salacious ones, mostly: heaving ivory bosoms, wilting damsels whisked away under scented cloaks for a drugging kiss to the neck...”
Cecelia
“Ah yes, the ones where witches danced naked under the full moon. There's a rare sight.”
Choice B: Too many men in those stories, though.
MC
“Of course, the seducers in those stories were always men.”
Cecelia
“Tsk. As if men could seduce as well as a woman of taste, let alone an ancient being of legend.”
(As well as she could, she means.)
I tug my collar.
Cecelia
“Ah! We've arrived.”
Her voice mulls in my belly, and I realize we've walked so far that full night descends around us.
MC
“Where have you brought me?”
(Silly—there's a sign on the cemetery gate.)
I breathe out slowly.
Cecelia
“Why, just where I promise to bring you, of course. I always keep my promises.”
MC
“Let me guess: you're about to hand me a shovel and tell me to dig my own grave?”
My eyes adjust to the lanterns and spot a very familiar hooded figure shuffling cards—and an argument meets my ears.
Cayde
“Can't you just take what's handed to you for once like a normal person?!”
Well-tailored Undertaker
“Don't you have unfinished business elsewhere, rude little geist?”
The air around Cayde's hunched shoulders... stutters.
Cayde
“Think I might just have some business to settle, right here, if you don't watch your words, demon.”
The undertaker glows like an ember—I skip backwards a step, but that flash didn't fluster Cecelia or Fiona...
(Beyond what I can imagine... Did she mean-?!)
Well-tailored Demon?
“Perhaps a sprinkle of salt would remind you to respect your allies, cowboy.”
Cayde
“Allies? That's rich! There's only one way to settle this, Mr. Ambassador!”
Well-tailored Demon
“Ah, but I have far less to prove than you, don't I?”
Smoke leaks from beneath Cayde's shirt, and I'm torn between prey urges—flee, or freeze and watch what's about to unfold?
Cecelia
“Enough bear-baiting, Sascha. We have a guest.”
Now, Fiona tucks away her cards, and places one hand on Cayde's shoulder.
He solidifies after taking a deep breath.
Fiona
“Cecelia! I hope you've had supper. You were gone for so long.”
Cayde salutes me with his hat.
Cayde
“Well, howdy again, Miss! Don't mind our fuss...”
Sascha interrupts, bowing low.
Sascha
“Apologies, Cecelia—I inadvertently nudged against a headstone, and tore my favorite, bespoke silk shirt.”
MC
“I feel your pain on that one, sir.”
Sascha
“'Sir!' You are very welcome indeed, Miss!”
Grinning, he gives me a bow as well, not quite as elaborate as the one he gave Cecelia.
But still more something a visiting dignitary would expect, and not little old me!
Cecelia
“Everyone, Miss MC comes to us in good faith, and estranged from her lineage... as a witch.”
MC
“Hey, now! There's no reason to resort to name-calling!”
Sascha raises both brows, eyes widening and flashing like cinders.
Sascha
“Fascinating. One of a kind, then.”
Cayde grunts like he just took a blow to the back of the head.
While he stands poleaxed, Fionna sits ramrod straight and fixes me with a gaze that seems three times stronger than any normal stare.
(Wait, Cecelia's brought up witches before, hasn't she?)
(Dancing naked under the full moon, a sight she'd like to see…)
(And now she thinks I'm one?!)
My face flames and my collar feels too tight.
(Well, now I'm just all tangled.)
MC
“It seems you-all have me at a disadvantage—and I'm afraid there's been some sort of mistake!”
Cecelia
“Now, the Otherworld comes as a surprise to Miss MC.”
She gives me a warm glance from beneath her lashes, and I swallow my protests.
Cecelia
“Though I'm sure it has felt that way, you have never been alone.”
She faces the others, voice steeling.
Cecelia
“And unfortunately for her, it's down to us to prove it.”
“That not only are we Others, but that we consider her one of us.”
Cayde clears his throat.
Cayde
“So we're putting on a little show, huh?”
Cecelia
“Yes, Warden Cayde, you could put it like that.”
(Oh hell's bells and saints alive—I just wandered right into an ambush.)
(The law has me surrounded.)
Cayde coughs into his fist again, modest in a way that calms my nervous feet.
Cayde
“Now I won't hold it against you if you wanna run to the hills, Miss MC, so I hope you won't hold this against me.”
Then he bursts into smoke and light, and I forcibly restrain myself from yelping.
(Oh Goddess—Ghost Riders really exist?!)
Cecelia's calm presence at my side helps me regain a grip on my wits.
(Fascinating—he appears almost gaseous!)
Cayde
“Pretty shocking, ain't it, sweetheart? I've only just kicked the bucket myself, so it's fresh to me, too.”
Sascha
“On the other hand, Madame...”
The undertaker removes his hat and sprouts horns .
Sascha
“...I am an old hand at this sort of thing. Sascha Orosco, Ambassador to the Ordo Daemonium .”
Cayde
“Just say you're a no good demon and be done with it.”
(A demon?! Ok, MC, don't let them know you're shook up.)
MC
“A demon, huh? Who's your lord, then?”
He gives me a knowing smile, then steals my hand for an ostentatious kiss.
Cayde
“Don't let it turn your head, Miss. For an incubus, romancing comes cheap.”
Sascha
“Nothing in this world is cost-free, Nathan.”
Cayde
“Quit agreeing with me.”
Sascha
“I'll make you a deal, Madame—I'll answer any questions you ask, if you answer just one of mine, honestly.”
(Oh no, every child alive has heard about demons and deals!)
MC
“This may not be a crossroads, sir, but I wasn't born yesterday.”
Instead of trying to deal with whatever cheeky malice gleams in Sascha's smile, I turn to Fiona instead.
MC
“Are you hiding a pair of horns under that hood as well?”
She produces her deck from thin air, flaring the cards so I can see they're of the fortune-telling variety.
Fiona
“Would you like to gaze into your future, MC?”
Before I can rein myself in, I turn to Cecelia like a kid on her birthday seeing the cake.
MC
“For real?”
Cecelia simply arches a brow, and I take heart from my own irritation.
(Some fun she is!)
MC
“I guess those are no good for poker, so. Sure.”
Fiona
“As sure as fate?”
MC
“As anything in this world, I suppose.”
Her eyes fly wide, and a glow spreads from her pupils to the edges of her eyelashes.
On her forehead a third eye blazes open as well.
Fiona
“We'll see.”
I grit my teeth, hackles rising. She draws a card, and when she speaks, her voice comes as if from far, far away.
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I am swearing up a storm.
Fiona
“Runaway coach stand the devil on his head—not you, no, you face the Moon because four branches are buried but five more wander…”
“You could be king!”
“No, you're right—best find a way to wear your sharper crown—the both of you…”
“We don't care for coins but the wine is spilled, spilled, spilled, spilled- oh, and yes, Death!”
I look towards Cecelia, whose face is mild and expressionless.
(I see this is just another day for her...)
Choice B: Death?!
MC
“Death?!”
Fiona
“Death is in the Tower.”
MC
“Ah.”
Fiona
“You are in the Tower.”
(Aahh…)
Choice C: …Thank you?
MC
“...Thank you, for that?”
Fiona
“Thank Death.”
Cecelia
“The messages a mystic receives require some... interpretation.”
MC
“So I see.”
Fiona
“Do you?”
She blinks out her glow easy as snuffing a candle.
(This is going to take some getting used to...)
Fiona
Cece, since we are in town, Nathan and I can patrol for those thralls you mentioned. I've been told they have yet to be turned.”
Cecelia
“That's certainly good news... Let's see that it stays that way.”
I dimly note that Fiona retains the use of all her limbs after using the nickname.
Cayde
“It would be nice if you'd ask me, before volunteering me.”
“I would have said yes, if you asked.”
He tips his hat to me, following where Fiona drags him into shadow.
Sascha
“Ladies, I fear my busy schedule awaits my attention.”
I take a look at the countless graves.
MC
“I can see that.”
Sascha
“Oh yes, it's always a lively evening, here at Emberlost Cemetery.”
(How odd—it sounds like he means it...)
Cecelia
“Shall I escort you back to your chambers?”
We head out towards town again, leaving the strangeness behind before it swallows me whole.
I take pride in the steadiness of my hand as I check my pocket watch and adjust my skirt.
No one would ever know I've lost all sense of reality.
(I wonder if I was wounded far worse in the shoot-out, and this is all just some fever dream.)
Cecelia
“MC, your heart—are you quite well?”
(Oh, yes—that thing thundering away in my chest.)
Her hand hovers near my elbow as she bends her head.
Cecelia
“Despite what I'm told is my chilly manner, I'm aware that this is all a shock to the system.”
“Even for an exceptional person like yourself.”
“We may have just met, but... I can tell that something is amiss.”
“You're being awfully quiet.”
It appears what I'd thought of as Cecelia throwing me in the ocean.
And cruelly waiting to see if I drowned was actually her way of allowing me room to breathe.
(How can I tell her that my way of seeking comfort is just the opposite without seeming like I'm begging her to take me in her arms?)
(Now that's all I want to do, and therefore all I can think of, damn it!)
She takes my hands, turning them tenderly wrist-up, then closes her eyes.
Cecelia
“Faster still. I'm only making it worse—tell me what I can do to help you, MC.”
MC
“Are you just... Listening to my heart?!”
Her gaze flows up my chest to my no-doubt flaming cheeks—instinctively tracing the race of my blood.
Cecelia
“Forgive the intrusion. I don't mean to pry, or to embarrass you.”
(Of course, you can't turn off instinct.)
(This must be a part of who she is—and here I am treating her like a freak for caring.)
Tonight, I've learned so much that my head spins—yet barely a thing about her.
Cecelia
“Don't look so sad. I understand it takes getting used to. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will keep it to myself.”
(But, I want to learn more. I need to, if I'm to survive this!)
Heart Choice: Ask Cecelia what your heart sounds like.
MC
“I suppose I wouldn't blame the sun for burning me, or a horse for running fast.”
Her lips part, gratitude crossing her expressions. I'm too raw to be thanked, so I just blurt my first question.
MC
“What do you hear when you listen to a person's heart?”
What does she hear, in mine?
(And could she explain it to me, please?)
Cecelia
“... No one has ever asked me that, before. I'm not sure I have the words... I'll have to demonstrate.”
She searches my face for any hint of disquiet, then seems to steady herself—she closes her eyes. And she doesn't hold her breath, it just... stops. Her head sways as though to distant music, strands of her hair slipping like satin along her shoulders.
Cecelia
“A sound behind sound. I do not... hear it, as such, but something in me knows it. The rhythm is like a language I don't remember learning... It sings to me, and I understand.”
My mouth is dry, my eyes riveted to the movement of her throat that produces that low, halting murmur.
MC
“How does it feel? It seems... intimate.”
The edges of her lips curl in a pained, wistful smile.
Cecelia
“Yes. Both mine and not mine.”
Unconsciously, she draws her own fingernails from the hinge of her jaw to her collarbone... Lines of the faintest rose rise in their wake then fade into her snowy flesh. I suppress a shudder.
(Oh. So it feels like that...)
MC
“I think I see what you mean.”
Her hand slips between her breasts, then down her stomach as though smoothing out her coat. She chuckles.
Cecelia
“So yes, it is... intimate. And I rarely ask permission. There are parts of me that are not... polite. But they are . And they are...”
(Beautiful.)
Her eyelashes flutter open.
Cecelia
“Thank you. For asking.”
I swallow past a sudden rawness.
MC
“Is my heart... different from others?”
Cecelia
“Yes. Very.”
MC
“...Oh.”
(What's wrong with me? And can you make it right? Or do you like me that way...)
Cecelia
“Your heart is- !”
She shakes her head, frustrated with her words for the first time without me interrupting her.
(But I wouldn't put off hearing what she has to say about this for a lump of gold the size of my leg.)
Cecelia
“How to put it...”
Those slender arms rise and bow and invisible fiddle, long fingers pulsing in the air—my heart pulses with them, fluttering and dizzy
Cecelia
“Your heart beats fortissimo and pianissimo and pizzicato and andante, exquisitely attuned with every mood. Your heart is a symphony. It's a shame that only I get to hear it.”
MC
“Oh. So what you're saying is... I'm loud.”
Her arms lower, and her eyebrow arches.
Cecelia
“What I'm saying is you're unmistakable.”
On the way to the boarding house, we pass the saloon—all lit up and raucous, a carnival at peak hours.
(I remember what took place there.)
MC
“What did Fiona mean by saying they're chasing thralls?”
Cecelia
“Underlings of an old, twisted power.”
“Fiona and Cayde are hunting those brothers you ran with.”
“Humans that believe they've been awarded abilities.”
MC
“I only ran with them once!”
(And I regret every second wasted with them.)
Cecelia
“They're under the arcane influence of... a power I'd rather not see take root in these parts, if I can help it.”
“I was waiting for him to surface when we met at the saloon.”
MC
“I had a feeling I'd interrupted you in the middle of something.”
Cecelia
“Nothing I minded putting on hold.”
Her wry smile fades.
Cecelia
“Their master is a vampire.”
MC
“... A... Vampire.”
Cecelia
“The laws of the Ward dictate secrecy and balance, and he upholds neither. He must be stopped.”
MC
“And these humans, these thralls, want to become vampires?”
“So you're hunting other supernatural creatures, while being one yourself. You see how that sounds, right?”
Cecelia
“We are not the same.”
MC
“Stop dancing around it.”
“Was all that nonsense about camaraderie amongst Others just part of your pitch?”
Cecelia
“Not everyone wishes to live and keep the balance.”
“It is a shame, but we must police ourselves as much as humans.”
(Another line straight from the Warden's Playbook, I bet.)
(Well... After seeing Cayde and Sascha, it seems not all Others get along like peas in a pod, regardless of how close they have to stick.)
MC
“Hey, I never got to see your party trick.”
“I got to see everyone else's card hands.”
“Even I made bottles spin around, back at the saloon, which you seemed to find impressive.”
“Your turn to do something spooky and untoward.”
Cecelia arches a brow.
MC
“Come on—I'm ready.”
Beneath the shadow of that unbelievable hat, a winter-white grin spreads across her face. Just a little too wide. And sharp, like a shark.
Cecelia
“Ready for me, little witchling? Oh, no you're not...”
Chapter 4: Season 1, Episode 4
Chapter Text
Perfect white fangs glint between those lush lips I've avoided staring at.
(I can't look away.)
Cecelia
“You insist that you wish to see my true face...”
(All her smooth words and strange flirtations have had to pass between those razor-points first.)
Cecelia
“But I don't draw my pistol unless I intend to shoot it—in the same way, I will not drop my mask unless I must spill someone's blood.”
(So her vampire face is as serious as drawing her gun—and as deadly.)
(Does she kill every time she changes shape?... Does she have to?)
It's one thing to see folks I've just met burst into smoke or sprout extra eyes and horns…
But now I'm getting a real picture of just how keen an edge hides in the lady I've taken a fancy to.
I swallow a couple times, forcing spit back into my dry mouth.
MC
“Aw, shucks. And here I was hoping for a real show.”
Cecelia
“Well, if a show is what you want—a show, I can provide.”
I flinch as she reaches for my hand.
From what I've read, ghosts and mystics and demons all stay behind haunted gates and velvet curtains and scribbled sigils.
(But once you invite a vampire in, they can go anywhere.)
Cecelia
“Ah.”
Instantly, she retracts her hand.
(She could have forced me, or tricked me, but she didn't.)
Cecelia
“I see. Perhaps another time.”
(She may be a vampire, but she's—Cecelia.)
I grab those graceful fingers.
MC
“No, you heard right—I asked for a show!”
Her eyes turn avid, playful.
Cecelia
“Then don't let go.”
Her other palm squeezes the back of my neck.
MC
“What-?!”
But then we're hurtling through town like a comet and the rushing wind steals my breath.
(Saints alive! I've never felt so- !)
Without warning, we slam to a halt at the boarding house steps—her grip keeps my neck from straining.
(That only took one tick of my watch.)
Cecelia
“Your hat is crooked.”
MC
“Well, forgive me!”
She keeps her smirk in shadow as I trail after her straightening my clothes.
Cecelia
“Well, you're speechless...”
MC
“I'm thinking!”
Cecelia
“...So I suppose that is that.”
She primly flicks her hair, and I cannot stand to see her blithely lock away the secrets of the underworld!
( Her secrets!)
Choice B: Come on, just a little bank robbery?
MC
“You have to join my gang.”
Her eyes widen in alarm and reproach.
Cecelia
“I wasn't aware you were forming one!”
MC
“Me neither, but now—come on, just one little bank robbery?”
Cecelia
“Must everything lead to criminality with you?”
MC
“So show me some other options—what else are you hiding up your sleeve?”
Cecelia
“Extremely finely-crafted lace.”
(I will not be distracted by mention of under-things!)
MC
“What if I make it interesting for you?”
A smile tugs her lips.
Cecelia
“Are you suggesting a wager?”
MC
“With an officer of the law? Heavens, no! Just a friendly... game.”
Cecelia
“And when I win?”
(Which she will.)
MC
“ If you win, you carry on with whatever you'd planned for me before all this; whether that's turning me in to the Sheriff...”
(Which she won't.)
MC
“Or further educating me on all that... goes bump in the night.”
She outright smiles.
Cecelia
“I'm unfamiliar with illegal habits, but that sounds like a deck stacked in your favor.”
MC
“Worried I'm too crafty to take on?”
Cecelia
“Hmm! A challenge from a worthy opponent.”
She takes off her coat and circles me, but I keep facing her.
(That glitter in her eyes rouses something restless in my spirit.)
Cecelia
“You'll have to promise you won't summon the forces of chaos to turn me into a toad, of course.”
“That shade of green doesn't suit me.”
MC
“I could-?! You're joking.”
She shrugs
Cecelia
“I'd never dare to test your will...”
(Infuriating! What hoops must I jump through to find out all she could teach me?)
Cecelia
“What are your terms?”
(Of course she'd insist on laws to abide, even for a friendly sparring match—she's a Warden through and through.)
MC
“Not big on rules, myself...”
Cecelia
“As I've said, I only slip into my... other form when deadly force is required.”
“Without limits, I would defeat you too easily.”
She's measuring me with her eyes again, and I feel like the whole town should be able to hear my heart.
(I suppose I should wait to get her to let loose until after we're done wrestling.)
(I'm just a soft human!)
MC
“Is that so?”
“Alright, your basic bareknuckle rules, then: don't get caught—which means don't wake Donna—no pistols or blades...”
I swallow.
MC
“... And no biting.”
She eyes my teeth.
Cecelia
“Pity. It's been so long since anyone's bitten me.”
I cough.
MC
“And keep it above the belt.”
Cecelia
“One disappointment after another!”
But she smiles, excited, as I fluff a handkerchief out my back pocket.
MC
“How about a little capture the flag?”
Cecelia
“That's not above your belt.”
I tuck the hankie into my neckline instead.
She follows the movement, then traces her gaze up my neck to smile even sharper.
Then she produces a handkerchief of her own.
And gracefully tucks it into her corset, beneath her breasts...
(Red suits her.)
MC
“Are you trying to distract me?”
Cecelia
“Who me? Question is, can you claim it, without out-of-bounds witchery?”
MC
“Well, you already know I don't know what I don't know…”
“So I'll do my best not to do what you know I don't know I don't know I can do.”
She throws her head back and laughs.
Ink spills beneath her skin, trickling from her eyes, lips and fingers.
I'm a squirming soft thing pinned by night-sky eyes.
Cecelia
“You wanted to see... so what do you think?”
(I can't think. This must've been the last thing so many creatures saw...)
But she's kept my handkerchief folded more neatly than I ever bothered.
(Just like she's so careful about keeping me from harm.)
After a silent moment, her eyelashes flutter.
For all her power, she's made herself vulnerable by accepting my rules—my trust.
(I can't beat a vampire, but that already feels like a win.)
Choice A: Reassure her.
MC
“I think it's a bold nighttime look, but it suits you.”
The darkness around her eyes pulses , and her smile freezes my hind-brain solid.
Cecelia
“How... sweet.”
(She's saved my life. She's saved my life. Just keep telling yourself that, me.)
Choice C: Tease her and feint!
MC
“Spooky! How long did you practice that in the mirror?”
I feint to her right, but before I switch sides she twirls around my back and away.
Cecelia
“Some things come naturally.”
MC
“Supernaturally!”
All in all, our sparring match is fun but not much of a contest.
Mostly, I just chase the trail of her laughter through the air…
Several breathless moments of sparring later, she still has her flag... but I still have mine!
Without warning, a queasy sort of tingle runs down one side of my body.
(Strange... Am I going to faint for the first time in my life?)
(Or—is this my witch sense trying to tell me something?!)
I barely have time to wonder before Cecelia bursts into heightened speed towards my left.
Acting on that strange tingle without thinking, I manage to dodge her enough to slap her wrist and save my flag.
(It's like I knew where she was going to strike, even when her speed made her nearly invisible!)
She gasps brightly.
Cecelia
“Caught you witching!”
MC
“No, I wasn't!”
(Shoot, I can't prove that.)
I swipe for her flag outright just to be sassy.
Cecelia
“Just because we agreed no witching doesn't mean you shouldn't try .”
MC
“Be careful what you wish for, Warden!”
Then all joking subsides, and we fall into a long cat's-cradle kind of dance…
Weaving around each other with complicated parries and ripostes, our limbs sliding past each other and shirt-sleeves brushing.
Cecelia
“You're good at this kind of fighting, for a novice!”
Though I usually use my opponent's own inertia against them sort of like this…
The undulation of tendon and muscle as if we're choreographed is... new.
(But that doesn't mean I like her calling me out on it!)
MC
“I'm a quick study!”
Cecelia suddenly disengages, wooshing across the room.
I lose footing, but I catch my balance in a neat little flip—if I do say so myself.
Cecelia
“What are you doing over there? Come and get me...”
(I don't fall for taunts! But maybe she will...)
MC
“Let a lady who breathes catch her breath!”
I fan myself, stretching and closing my eyes.
A breeze swirls up my throat and I catch Cecelia's wrist just inches from my flag.
I open my eyes to her wide, startled gaze, then I shake my fingers towards Cecelia's flag!
(Oh my Goddess—Am I going to win?!)
Cecelia
“Brat.”
The world flips—I can't tell which way is up until she presses me flat along the stairs, wood slats digging into my shoulders and hips.
MC
“Where in hells did you learn how to—defy gravity?!”
She stands, pulling me effortlessly with her.
Cecelia
“The Ward has taught me many things about fighting in a civilized manner.”
“Before I became their Ranger, I was somewhat... ferocious. Beyond civility.”
MC
“So, they talked you into it, and now you're talking me into it, huh?”
She's so keen to teach me things, yet she'll dangle information out of reach—a very “civilized” trick to draw me in.
(To be trained, or to be trapped? Or both?)
With a musical sigh, Cecelia settles into a chair.
She doesn't respond to my compliment.
(Admire her prowess and she's quick to agree with you—tell her she's a half-decent person and she clams right up.)
She gracefully lifts a hand to cover a yawn—which must be fake—uncaps that fancy flask of hers.
MC
“Don't let me stop you from napping.”
(I might just snuggle up. I like to sleep cold.)
Cecelia
“The real me doesn't get to play so often—but I don't need rest.”
(So that vampire face is the “real” her, huh?)
MC
“You don't need rest, just a little... refreshment?”
* Insert CG*
Her shoulders square, and suddenly that old chair seems like a throne.
She lifts the flask close to her lips, and her hypnotic eyes turn heavy, taunting.
Cecelia
“Are you finally unnerved, little witchling?”
She wants me to back down, I won't.
(I won't look away.)
Tipping over the cliff, she finally drinks. Her eyes slide shut.
I swallow, imagining the taste of something like wine.
(I can feel each sip she takes in my veins.)
The most delicate blush blooms across her skin. I feel mine go paler.
(She has to stop for breath soon... doesn't she?)
When the flask parts from her lips, she drags her tongue across the dark red kiss it left behind.
Cecelia
“Hm. I can hear your fear now. How... expected.”
Ah- this whole performance was to distract me.
(I've worked for—and stolen from—enough stage magicians to recognize an attempt at misdirection.)
MC
“Caught my tempo change, huh. So what?”
She blinks, thrown off.
Cecelia
“...What?”
I step towards her, and her knees draw closer to her body, protective.
MC
“Plenty of things get my heart racing—doesn't stop my from doing them.”
Her eyes shutter—odd, considering how bold she just was, sipping blood in the parlor.
(Perhaps she expected me to clutch my pearls and flee?)
(What's it going to take for her to believe I want to know everything about her?)
MC
“Cecelia...”
Donna
“Well, raise my rent and I declare !”
I clear my throat, because I wasn't doing anything improper to be caught at.
And face the irate lady of the boarding house as she comes in off the street.
Cecelia
“What's wrong, Donna?”
Donna
“Those no-good What's-their-name Boys are at it again with a bunch of hired thugs!”
Icy heat flares in my throat.
My power rises with my temper, and the tables scoot away from me on their own.
MC
“Damn it, Reggie and Ozzie are like bad pennies!”
Donna
“I was down at the depot seeing to my shipment of sundries, when outta nowhere these scoundrels up and declare the whole load their property!”
Cecelia
“The town's latest water shipment is on that train.”
Donna
“Everybody's waiting on the Sheriff since there's guns involved—but we'll all be waiting til I'm a girl of 18 again for that!”
(Everything is scarce out here—won't take much loss to starve us all, quick.)
Donna
“Cecelia, if you let these boys go, there won't be much left in town for anybody to ransack next time!”
Cecelia stills one of the tables my power just set to rocking, and sighs, thinning her lips.
Cecelia
“Cayde and Fiona will catch wind of it soon enough—that's their duty.”
“I'm occupied with Miss MC—she's my main objective at this moment.”
I would be flattered, except for her tone—all that trust, gone.
(She put a challenge to me, drinking blood out in the open—now it's my turn to put a challenge to her.)
Choice B: Chicken?
MC
“What's the matter, Cecelia—you scared?”
Cecelia
“Not of them.”
MC
“Of me, then?”
Cecelia
“Quite the contrary.”
MC
“Hmph!”
Cecelia
“It goes against Ward protocol, Miss MC.”
MC
“Stuff protocol!”
(I'm sick of playing nice and waiting to be told things—I need to shake the dust off my boots and do something!)
But since I know I can't outrun Cecelia, I have to be crafty with convincing her.
MC
“...Only a real monster would do nothing to help these defenseless people when they could.”
Honestly, I barely believe what I'm saying—I enjoy cutting my losses as much as the next girl.
But Cecelia doesn't quite conceal a wince, so I'm betting she believes it.
Cecelia
“You seem to forget that even if the Ward's law liked your idea of running off half-cocked, there are also the laws of monsters to contend with.
“Those laws are far more real, as you put it. And their reach is as long as their temper is short.”
MC
“So stop me going, then.”
I straighten my hat and check my ammunition.
Cecelia
“How heroic your urges have suddenly become.”
(In truth, I'm less motivated by the Greater Good than Screw Those Fools That Tried To Shoot Me.)
MC
“Damn right. Isn't heroism one of your requirements for hire? Come and see how I shape up.”
I spin my pistol on my finger, and she squints at me.
Cecelia
“Hm.”
MC
“So what's it going to be Warden?”
Chapter 5: Season 1, Episode 5
Chapter Text
Five minutes later, I'm preening like a peacock as Cecelia and I slip through town to the train depot.
(Now I've got a sense of what it takes to convince her to let me have my way…)
(About time we got our hands dirty the good old fashioned way!)
(Plus, I hate these guys.)
Neither of us make a sound as we crouch-walk across the creaky wood of the platform.
Sheriff Shane
“...had your fun, so maybe just move along now.”
Ozzie
“Had our fun? Sheriff, we ain't even started!”
(Bold! Though I guess they've got the numbers to back up some sass, now.)
MC
“Those fools have sprouted some extra muscle-arms, lately.”
Cecelia
“Too bad they didn't sprout some extra heads as well.”
“But then, their master isn't keen on competing intellects…”
“Just about the only thing he cares about is increasing his influence by any means necessary.”
MC
“And their master is-?”
Cecelia
“Oh, don't get me started!”
“All you need to know is that those necessary means to starve out and subjugate more people are in those crates and on that train.”
(Fair enough.)
(Sounds like Mister Vampire Master plans to break the townsfolk down until they have no choice but to make him their lord.)
Cecelia
“Alright. Follow my lead.”
Cecelia stands up, and I yank her back.
Probably the only reason I seem to overpower her is that I surprise her.
(Speaking of which...)
MC
“Hasn't anyone told you about the element of surprise?”
Cecelia
“We are not here to a mbush , MC!”
MC
“You make it sound like a dirty word, instead of good tactics!”
Cecelia
“Our purpose is to prevent the situation from escalating! A brawl is not inevitable!”
MC
“Like hell, it isn't! I know these mule-headed bastards— they'll start something even if we don't.”
Cecelia
“Running about half-cocked is not how we do things!”
(She means it's not the way the Ward does things. But I'm not in the Ward, yet!)
MC
“Well, see, the way bandits do things is to steal stuff without waiting for your permission!”
“I can take care of this in a few shots-!”
Cecelia
“What if their talk is simply to lure us into a firefight they could then turn against us—now, or later in a court of law?”
MC
“Your kind of justice takes too long, Cecelia—by the time you've got all your forms signed, there's not much left to go around.”
Cecelia
“We do not catch criminals before their crimes are committed. Lucky for you!”
If I wasn't raised right, I would chuck my hat to the ground in frustration.
Choice B: Got a Rule Book on you?
MC
“Got a Rule Book on you? Apparently, I have some light reading to catch up on before you let me do any damn thing!”
Cecelia
“I shall recite it for you: Do What Cecelia Says. There—easy to remember, no?”
Choice C: That’s no fun!
MC
“Well, that’s no fun at all!”
The look she gives me could melt brass.
Cecelia
“Of course it isn’t fun ”
She claps her hand across my mouth.
I would fume, but I can sense her tension.
Cecelia
“Those eight thugs all just cocked their pistols.”
So I cock mine, shrugging off her hand.
MC
“Guess that makes for an easy decision!”
Cecelia
“No, wait, that's not-!”
I aim for the nearest thug's hat, and fire two rounds.
The crowd scatters, and Sheriff Shane ducks behind some crates.
MC
“Bull's-eyes! Can you still say that for two good shots?”
I whistle away the smoke from my pistol barrel. Cecelia heaves a sigh.
(Which is pretty petty, for someone who doesn't need to breathe.)
Reggie
“You again ! I told you we shoulda shot her, Ozzie!”
Ozzie
“We did shoot her, and see what came of it?”
I duck a punch.
MC
“No, you shot at me—and missed!”
(Mostly!)
Speaking of which, I move behind a crate before a couple of the bandits' bullets fly past.
(I don't need any more button-holes in my vest!)
Ozzie
“That right?!”
For a moment, my world turns into near-misses and flying splinters.
(I'd put on my goggles if I thought I could move my arms!)
Cecelia
“Stay down, MC!”
(Oh, I am!)
Reggie
“Well you keep sidestepping, witch—as for you Desert Rose, our master had a lot to say when we told him she was in town.”
(Oh, shit.)
Ozzie: “Yeah! Told us we better prune her down—and gave us some shiny new shears for trimming with, too!”
(What? A new weapon from Spooky Mystery Vampire, and it's meant specially for use against Cecelia?)
Cecelia billows towards my position, raining covering fire on all and sundry.
MC
“Don't worry about me, Cecelia, worry about them!”
Cecelia's nearly to me when Reggie looms up behind her.
A wicked-curved hunting knife glints in his grasp.
(That knife could gut a deer in a single stroke—could it harm a vampire?!)
Regardless, the scream bubbles up from deep in my gut as I watch that silver blade arc towards her neck.
MC
“ Cecelia !”
The blade nicks the edge of her throat, and her perfect skin sizzles.
Cecelia hisses in pain.
MC
“Shit!”
(It hurt Cecelia like I'd thought nothing could!)
I spring to my feet.
Bullets hail-storm at me from absolutely everywhere, and I have to crouch again.
(Damn!)
Cecelia kicks Reggie hard in the leg and rolls away.
Cecelia
“Ah—stay where you are, MC!”
I can only hear Cecelia's punches land on Reggie—she's holding her own, but the other thugs will be on her soon.
(And they've got that fancy, maybe magical knife!)
(Time to make a move.)
Weaving between shelters, I wing some good shots to keep Ozzie from helping his brother beat Cecelia.
Ozzie
“Damn it, you witch! You'll never get us!”
(Ugh, why can't they just give up?!)
Choice A: I oughta curse you!
MC
“I oughta curse you! Don't think I won't!”
Reggie
“You shut your mouth, talking that way at my brother!”
MC
“Good thing I don't need to talk to mark you—I'd have to use the smallest words in my vocabulary or you idiots would miss it!”
Choice C: Surrender, dumbass!
MC
“Surrender, dumbass!”
Ozzie
“Who’re you calling dumb?!”
MC
“Who do you think you’re messing with?”
MC
“You don't even know real power, boy—you are seriously out-gunned!”
Cecelia
“Damnation and hellsfire, MC, that kind of talk is not protocol !”
Is she seriously telling me to watch my mouth in a gunfight?!
(...I guess not that I think about it, I seem to recall Cecelia saying something about the Ward keeping itself and the Otherworld secret.)
MC
“Hey, I'm just striking fear in hearts! We need all the leverage we can get!”
Between punches, she insists on lecturing me.
Cecelia
“Not—protocol!”
MC
“Fine! I guess I'll just shoot at nothing then, for all the good it'll do us!”
I shoot at nothing, and my crazy luck bends the bullet through a heart-stopping series of arcs and into Ozzie's shoulder.
Ozzie
“Agh!”
Cecelia
“Goddess!”
She sounds annoyed as well as breathless—still, I can't resist calling out, if a little hoarsely.
MC
“Flatterer!”
Cecelia kicks the knife from Reggie's one hand, then kicks the elbow of Reggie's gun-hand.
Taken off-guard, Reggie fires into his own chest.
Blood flowers, and he falls.
Ozzie
“Reggie!!”
Cecelia flicks the stray blood from her face, then fires again into the air.
Everyone freezes.
Another set of gun clicks, and I tense.
Cayde
“Tick... Tock.”
(Whew. The cavalry's arrived.)
Cecelia
“Do you hear that sound, mouth-breather? It's the last seconds of your pitiful lives, ticking by.”
Ozzie
“You can't get all of us.”
Fiona
“Hmm.”
“One hired thug in plain sight, one hidden in the coal bin, three in the ticket booth, two still hiding beneath the train wheels.”
“Have I missed any?”
Something ugly crosses Ozzie's face that's neither fear nor defeat, and a dizzy chill rockets up from my feet.
Ozzie
“Do it!”
A creak and a splash from the train's water-barrel car distracts us long enough for the remaining bandits to wiggle free.
(They dumped who-knows-what into the new water shipment because they missed poisoning the water tower!)
Ozzie
“See you in hell, prairie witch!”
Ozzie draws a finger across his throat as they all vanish into the brush outside town.
MC
“Not if I see you first, you slop-brained son of a jackal-!”
I move to reload and chase after them, but Cecelia stops me.
Cecelia
“Leave it.”
MC
“Do you normally leave this many loose ends flapping in the wind?!”
“We've got them on the run!”
Cecelia
“Our duty is to these people—the bandits won't try this plan again, now that it's failed. We must survey the damage.”
MC
“... Fine. They're not worth the sweat.”
After about an hour of checking around, we figure the main water supply is clean.
(Though most of the water shipments on the train—and some of the food—is tainted with lye.)
Since they don't need to breathe, Cecelia and Cayde figure out how to dispose of all the ruined stuff now leaking poisonous lye fumes.
I sit with my chin in my hand.
(Didn't expect the aftermath of victory to be this... boring.)
MC
“What's next—paperwork?”
A hand pats my shoulder, and Fiona chuckles wryly.
Fiona
“That's what you get, going legitimate.”
Cecelia
“Fiona—follow the bandits.”
See if you can run down the stragglers before they go to ground.”
“Cayde, catch up with her once you've finished here.”
Cayde nods through toxic steam—and a little of his own smoke—and Fiona fades into the shadows.
MC
“Hey, what about me?”
Cecelia
“You get your first performance review.”
MC
“What an invitation! I'm afraid I have to decline.”
I dust off and march towards my own quiet bed, no doubt with a sour look on my face.
Cecelia
“MC, I know you're not used to playing by rules...”
(I'm not the one who folded on a flush hand!)
MC
“Maybe I just don't care for your particular game.”
Cecelia
“Then you'll be surprised to hear that you did well, apart from your impatience.”
MC
“Some might call me quick-thinking!”
Cecelia
“Oh, I could call you many things: effortless, whimsical, hotheaded, impetuous...”
I chuckle.
MC
“Miss Visconti, stop! You'll make me blush!”
Cecelia
“And when you do stop to think, you're masterful. A will to be reckoned with.”
MC
“Is this a dressing-down or an invitation for dinner?”
(Who's to say it couldn't be both?)
With a pang, I have to admit that that might be the problem.
(A thief and a Warden, a flint and tinder—good for a conflagration, but not much else.)
Cecelia
“MC, stop deflecting for one moment, Let me explain?”
(Why is she so convinced she can convince me? Plenty of others have tried!)
MC
“Explain what, exactly?”
Cecelia
“The benefits of a little... restraint.”
I bite my lip.
(There she goes, phrasing things in a way that could be flirtatious or menacing!)
Heart Choice: Let Cecelia explain what good restraint is.
MC
“Alright. Let's hear your best defense.”
Cecelia
“An explanation is not defensive!”
(Well, that last comment was!)
MC
“Ah-ah-ah! This isn't helping your case...”
She shoots me a look that threatens to boil over into frustration, but then simmers into amusement.
(And—fondness? Whatever she's about to say, she believes it, and wants me to...)
Cecelia
“I know how my behavior looks, from the outside.”
“Like I am some tight-wrapped government killjoy drunk on power and bent on smothering your every thought.”
MC
“Wow, that's...”
(Add some of my more lascivious leanings, and that's a fairly accurate representation of how I was starting to see her.)
Cecelia
“But I swear to you, I was not trying to capture your spark in a jar forever.”
“I'm in a position where I must take control of situations like the one at the depot... Where everything could spiral very quickly into chaos, death, and destruction.”
I'm about to protest that the situation was hardly that dire, but I force myself to settle.
(There were already guns out- was chaos and death really that far off at the start? They're never far off, out in this territory.)
Cecelia
“I'm sorry that that desire often leaves me sounding... imperious. Controlling.”
MC
“Well... your delivery could use a little work—but you weren't wrong.
“I couldn't tell you what I intended to actually do when I wanted to chase off those bandits, because I didn't know myself.”
“Still don't, now. So I probably would've made something worse.”
Cecelia
“Yes! I am so glad you start to see!”
MC
“You lot could do me some favors and teach me what in the hell I'm supposed to be looking for in myself, though!”
Cecelia
“Perhaps. Or perhaps some more commitment to control on your part would be all the danger requires.”
I can't help but bristle a little.
(This is sounding familiar.)
Look, if all you're gonna do is moralize-!”
Cecelia
“Can't you see that the slightest amount of discipline—oh, don't make that face, alright, the smallest amount of structure would change your life?”
Again, I bite my tongue.
Cecelia
“If you would only accept that you have a purpose, is all—a higher purpose.”
MC
“Oh, no you don't. Toeing the party line and spewing Ward propaganda is not the same thing as an explanation, honey!”
Cecelia
“You have already decided not to listen to me.”
MC
“Hey, no I—well, fine, I admit this conversation treads close to some old bones I'd rather stay buried. I've seen how the weak try and exert their control over others, and it all just looks like chains to me now.”
Cecelia
“You cannot brazen your way through life purely by whim—that's not following your heart, or your nature. That's reckless.”
MC
“What if that's my nature?”
Cecelia
“You've seen only a little of what's in my nature—as a vampire, I could never live like that without ruining many, many lives. Including my own.”
Her eyes grow distant, cold.
Cecelia
“... Until I was so far down that dark path that I wouldn't even care...”
Her gaze snaps back to mine, both harder and hotter than it was before.
MC
“I find I learn better by example, myself.”
Cecelia
“Then allow me to demonstrate.”
(A lifetime of the straight-and-narrow? Nobody has time for that! Except maybe a vampire. Goddess, is she... immortal?!)
A shadow blots out the moonlight, and magnolia fills my lungs—Cecelia draws close to me and leans in. I catch my breath. She draws a fingertip along my cheek, and I taste her cold breath on my lips.
Cecelia
“Restraint... Consideration... The measured approach... If you permit me?”
I barely swallow back blurting the word yes before I hear what I'm agreeing to.
Cecelia
“I can show you how those things needn't be capitulation, a trap—the dimming of your light.”
Her lips quirk, and I remind myself to breathe.
Cecelia
“Who knows? Perhaps even one day you'll be so good at mastering yourself and taking orders that I'll allow you to... master something else.”
(Or someone else?)
MC
“Hmm... I think I see some possibility there.”
Cecelia
“I thought you might.”
I clear my throat, and she eyes me with expectation.
MC
“Well... expand your vocabulary beyond the commands you'd give a misbehaving dog, and I guess we'll see how it goes.”
MC
“Cecelia, I... have no interest in perfection.”
“Being the way I am has kept me alive through some days that others didn't survive.”
(I'm not saying that's what I was looking for in my Western fresh start.)
(But I'm not sure a whole bunch of tangled up strings and regulations is, either.)
MC
“I just don't think it's going to work out. We're just too different.”
Her hand covers mine.
Cecelia
“I want you to survive, too—but not alone.”
“Being part of a team may change more about your ways than you think.”
“And believe me when I say, I'm not done with you yet.”
(What more could she have planned?)
Chapter 6: Season 1, Episode 6
Chapter Text
Days pass, and I don't catch so much as a glimpse of any Wardens.
(I guess they're all off chasing bandits.)
(But my tension barely eases as Cecelia's promise continues to loop in my head.)
A quick guard job lets me blow off a little steam.
(You'd think that would've been some fun, because I got the job after people witnessed my daring-do at the depot.)
(But interesting it was not .)
Ada
“Well, look who's back in town—the famed quickdraw Lady Luck of the Wisp Willow Depot herself!”
MC
“I couldn't stay away, Ada.”
“But to change the subject—what's our favorite red-headed lady of the law been up to lately?”
Ada
“Why, Snowdrop? Are you looking to settle an unfinished tussle or start a new one?”
I open my mouth, but find I'm lost for words.
MC
“I...”
Crisp, folded paper taps my shoulder.
Cayde
“Howdy, Miss MC—special delivery from the Horseback Fairy.”
(That can't be a real thing.)
I slide my finger beneath the letter's black was seal, already smelling magnolia and woodsmoke.
(Cecelia.)
MC
“To what do I owe the honor, Mr. Cayde?”
Rocking back on his heels, he winks.
MC
“Bit sunny for her to deliver her missives in person, I suppose.”
Cayde
“Yep.”
In flowing, slanted script, the letter reads simply: After sundown. I'll meet you.
(That's it? Nothing on the other side?)
I let my hands thunk to the bar-top, still holding the letter.
(She went through all this trouble and theatrics, just to order me around again?)
Choice B: What on earth is her problem?
MC
“Cayde?”
Cayde
“Yes, ma’am?”
MC
“What on earth is her problem?”
Cayde
“Now aint’t that the hundred dollar question. Her problems with the world are many.”
“With you? She doesn’t have one, since you’ve been staying put so nice.”
Choice C: Water is wet!
MC
“Water is wet!”
Cayde
“And Cece's imperious, right? I see. Ordering you around, and you haven't even signed up yet.
Cayde
“Guess she finally got tired of waiting around for us to give her more certain news about you.”
(So, she's got them all spying on me. Why bother in a town this small!)
(... I can't believe I didn't spot them!)
MC
“Well, if I took well to having somebody dogging my every step, I would've stayed in my mother's house, Mr. Cayde.”
Cayde
“So you'd rather we kindly back off, is that it?”
MC
“I don't mean it kindly at all, Mr. Cayde. And I can make it stick.”
The bastard smiles at me!
Cayde
“Well, you're gonna have to make that meeting—and tell her yourself, Miss.”
“That's news I don't want to bring to Cece.”
I think about telling Cecelia to her face that I'll never speak to her again, and I lose my breath.
(Goddess, that conversation would hurt.)
(But why? What's she to me, but a straight-and-narrow pain in my ass?)
He tips his hat, but I barely watch him go, staring dumbly at the letter in my hands and waiting for my chest to stop hurting.
If life has taught me anything, it's that when something hurts this much and this fast...
(I have to get the hell out.)
It's why I left New Amster, the only home I'd ever known.
It's why I have to leave Wisp Willow. Now.
Sun sets, and I'm nearly shivering astride Whisper in the dark desert.
(Left half my things behind in the rush...)
MC
“Don't tell me it's stupid to try to avoid a vampire at night—I know!”
Whisper gives me no response, but my heart thuds, and I drop one of the rein to press my hand to my chest.
MC
“Hush, now.”
“Think how you'd feel all picked open like a taxidermy rabbit under the light of that harsh Warden judgment.”
(The more roots I put down, the harder it is to dig them back up.)
My heartbeat doubles and I realize I'm hearing a horse riding nearer.
I know who it is, but I look behind me anyway.
The moon glints deepest red in the pennant of Cecelia's hair as she rides toward me.
MC
“She's not even galloping. Thinks she's caught me already.”
(But I can't say I'm not relieved she came after me...)
Cecelia
“I meant what I said, MC. Come back. Stay.”
MC
“You sure get attached to your pet projects fast.”
Cecelia
“There are few who deny me. I'm very persuasive.”
She uses no magic, no vampire tricks, but the moon makes her eyes irresistible anyway.
MC
“With eyes like those, of course you are.”
She covers her eyes theatrically.
Cecelia
“Shall I count to ten, and you'll be right back where you should be?”
I shake my head, almost smiling.
(She's really something.)
MC
“Why don't you leave me be?”
Cecelia
“I told you. I won't leave you, alone.”
The words ring in my chest like a bell—she means she won't leave me to be all by myself, and I hate how much that resonates.
MC
“It seems to me you're intent on shoehorning me into a slipper three sizes too small, then telling me to keep on dancing.”
Cecelia
“No, never that. I have no wish to—trample you.”
“Why are you so— what do you honestly think staying would cost you?”
(Why is it that people think they have to dissect you in order to know you?)
MC
“What if I go?”
Cecelia
“What if you stay?
MC
“What if you chase me?”
Abruptly, all the harried teasing leaves her face.
The skin around her eyes darkens
Cecelia
“If you make me chase you, there will be no what-if's.”
“When I ride after a threat, it's a foregone conclusion.”
MC
“The Desert Rose thinks I'm a threat, huh.”
Cecelia
“I don't think—I know. How much do you know?”
“What promises can you make, to yourself or to the citizens of this land?”
MC
“What? Come on-!”
Cecelia
“A witch without allegiance or tether could set the world on fire—could dynamite the moon and the stars.”
Her vampire side is leaking out and she doesn't stop it.
She's willing to let her monster out if it means stopping me.
(From what, exactly? From being free, or just running wild? Or does any running at all tease a predator like her unbearably?)
Choice A: So take off the mask.
MC
“So take off the mask.”
Cecelia
“MC...”
MC
“I'm your prey, right? Your lawful bounty. So do it.”
Cecelia
“...If I must.”
MC
“Cecelia—you tell me.”
Choice B: Then how would I see your pretty eyes?
MC
“But then how would I see your pretty eyes?”
Cecelia
“You won’t, until I find you again. And then they won’t be pretty at all, little witchling.”
She reins herself in, the glossy hints of the vampire beneath the surface fading into her soft cheek, her long fingers.
Cecelia
“You... You're not scared of me.”
“Not like... Please don't make me be monstrous because you expect it. Simply to make you see .”
I swallow, heat crawling up my collar.
MC
“So, let me get this straight—you'll bring me down any way you have to...”
Cecelia
“Any way you make me. But I'll hunt for you no matter what.”
I wonder if she can see me blush in the dark.
(Silly—she can probably hear it. Sense it—taste it, maybe?)
MC
“Because you're you, huh?”
Cecelia
“Because you're you .”
The most fearsome Warden of the west isn't sitting here talking to me in the dark for almost an hour…
Because she's settled on arresting me for my irrefutable crimes.
She could—she could also knock me off my horse in a blink, or offer me knowledge of witchery to even the playing field...
(Or kiss me, goddess damn it!)
But she's not doing any of that, either.
Cecelia
“Will you stay?”
(Not sure if I'm more pissed off that she's not offering me a kiss or that she's not offering me genuine, unconditional freedom…)
(Freedom which, to be clear, is and always will be my right!)
I sigh.
MC
“Damned if I do, damned if I don't.”
Cecelia
“Oh, my sweet little witchling—you are not damned. Not yet.”
Since she's sweet-talking me, maybe I can use that sliver of wiggle room she's left me to sweet talk her someday…
I'll just have to decide whether I want to talk her into telling me everything I want to know, letting me go free, or something a little sexier.
(That's a problem for Tomorrow Me! For now, she's got all the cards.)
MC
“Hmph!”
I shrug and direct Whisper back towards town.
Cecelia
“So, you will stay.”
MC
“Well, all my stuff is here.”
(Tonight, I was impulsive—but I don't have a need to run, or anything.)
(What I have is a need to know .)
I have to admit, walking back into the lights of town makes me feel a lot better.
MC
“I must be getting attached to this place.”
(I admit that leaving in the middle of the night without any of my belongings isn't the wisest idea I've had.)
The good side of coming back from giving into a whim like that is my own attitude can shift just as quickly.
(So maybe Cecelia hadn't given me much of a choice in coming back—since it turns out I want to be here, it's no skin off my nose!)
Cecelia
“Follow me.”
I expect Cecelia will just march me straight back to my room at the boarding house and lock every door behind me.
Imagine my surprise when instead, she steers me straight for the saloon!
MC
“Uh-!”
As if everyone can tell it's Cecelia by the click of her boots, the whole bar freezes when we walk in.
Liquor drips halfway to people's lips, and the last bad chord of the piano fades beneath the very obvious sound of us walking to the bar.
MC
“... Howdy, everyone?”
Cecelia
“Ahem.”
Cecelia whips her hat off, sits on a stool, and all the noises resume.
MC
“Uh, much as I hate to draw your attention to it, I think you took a wrong turn.”
“This isn't the boarding house or a jail cell!”
Cecelia frowns, nettled.
Cecelia
“Despite what you may think, I am not on duty every waking moment. I relax.”
I stare at her.
Cecelia
“I do! Not often, but I am aware of the concept of enjoyment, thank you very much!”
MC
“Is that why we're here now? To relax?”
Cecelia could not look more tense if she was made out of wood.
Cecelia
“Yes. That is the idea.”
MC
“So... what do you enjoy, then?”
Cecelia
“Music.”
(How sweet!)
Cecelia
“Fresh blood.”
I feel a little green.
MC
“Alright, anything else?”
Cecelia
“I once attended balls, I suppose.”
(And didn't have fun at a single one of them, I bet.)
Cecelia
“But that was mostly for the music I loved.”
MC
“So you're well-acquainted with the concept of enjoyment—but what about fun , Cecelia?”
She raises a frosty brow, and I'm sure that I'm right—poor Cecelia is a novice at silly, harmless fun!
Cecelia
“I'm sure someone has a dictionary stashed somewhere and could look up the definition for us.”
MC
“You don't define fun, honey—you just find it!”
We busy ourselves trying out every entertainment Ada has set up…
And then some, from coin flipping tricks and drinking games to a fast-step dance and betting on a beetle race.
Around the fifth round of drinks and our second game of something that involves eight pairs of dice…
I become sure that Cecelia's cool gaze has been wandering to the same thing.
(She keeps sneaking looks at the piano player—but I can't tell why.)
MC
“Do you object to the pianist's tune selection?”
Cecelia
“What? No, they're charming pieces—if a trifle crude.”
(The piano player's mustache is also a little crude, if you ask me.)
MC
“Then either I've got a reason to be jealous and you've got a crush, or it's something else?”
Cecelia
“It's just that I wonder...”
MC
“Uh-huh?”
(Come on, Warden, find your fun! I believe in you!)
Cecelia
“Do you think I might ask him if I could play?”
(Well I'll be! She must like music so much that she can play the piano!)
The longing in her eyes as she gazes at the polished piano tugs my heartstrings.
Heart choice: Help Cecelia play the music she longs for!
MC
“Well, that's settled, then!”
I grab her hand, and catch her startled expression before she lets me drag her behind me towards the piano.
MC
“Hey, piano man!”
Piano Man
“Y-yes?”
Cecelia and the pianist both stare at me with alarmed interest, waiting for what I intend to do.
(Well, it's not like I sauntered into a federal vault and interrupted the coin-counters—put your eyes back in your head, you two!)
MC
“See this?”
I wave Cecelia's hand at the pianist, and he blinks.
Piano Man
“Uh. Yes?”
MC
“See those long fingers? See that emotive soul? That there is a pianist's hand!”
Piano Man
“Oh! Is that true?”
Cecelia arches a brow, but something in me knows that if she could, she'd be blushing.
Cecelia
“It's been said.”
MC
“Sure has! I just said it! Mind scooting over and letting my friend have a go at tinkling the ivories?”
Piano Man
“Not at all! I was just thinking I was parched.”
MC
“Thirsting for the illumination of the soul through music, you mean! Just listen to this!”
Cecelia
“Hm.”
With a swirl of fabric and ruby hair, Cecelia settles onto the bench.
By all rights, that rickety old piano should not have been up to the task of bringing tears to our world-weary eyes.
The last heart-wrenching chords fade into the night. Reminding us all of the starry dark that lies all around this little golden cocoon of lanterns and alcohol and friends.
Cecelia
“Oh, I suppose that rather alters the atmosphere of the evening, doesn't it... Perhaps I can muddle through a more popular ditty!”
She strikes up Marry Me At Midnight with perfect flourishes and a rollicking beat.
(Yes!)
(It's this stuffy classical piece my mother used to force us all to listen to each Sunday.)
(But she’s kicked up the speed and changed it to a major key!)
I burst out laughing, tapping onto the dance floor with practically everyone else.
MC
“You're brilliant!”
Cecelia
“Wait until I reach the end of my repertoire!”
(I doubt that will take less than a week, straight!)
Then she plays, and plays, and plays.
For a while, I lose myself in the warm spin of drinks in my belly and dance in my feet.
MC
“And you said you didn't know fun! Why, Cecelia, this is definitely an amusement—or even a hobby!”
Cecelia
“Ah, but I didn't choose to learn the piano for the sheer joy of it.”
“It was simply one in the long list of accomplishments at which I was expected to excel.”
(What a cold way she must have lived...)
MC
“But it's so lovely. That's too bad.”
Cecelia
“Not at all! It brings you joy, which is far more than I could ever have asked.”
My mouth hangs open, my chest both hurting and swelling over with unbearable warmth.
(Not one damn person on the face of the earth has ever done something just to give me joy.)
Cecelia cocks her head, squinting and almost smiling.
(She's listening to my heart.)
I try to calm my breath enough to listen too, to guess what tempo she hears…
When she starts improvising a skipping, lyrical tune in a minor key.
(That's it. That's the beat of my heart!)
Ada props her chin on her hands, leaning on the piano lid and swaying enthusiastically.
Ada
“That's lovely—I'd sing along if I knew the word, Red!”
Cecelia
“It's purely wordless. Instrumental.”
Ada
“What's the name of the tune?”
Cecelia
“It's MC's Heart.”
My heart stops for a solid few bars.
When she draws that beautiful, strange tune to a close, she caresses the piano keys while everyone applauds.
Cecelia
“I do believe I'm finished for the night.”
She says it so softly.
Ada
“Aw, no, Red! Keep playing!”
There are some friendly cries of protest, but Cecelia isn't the type someone wants to push on any stand.
I still haven't managed to make a sound since I overheard the “title” to Cecelia's brand new song, so I just stare as Cecelia walks towards me.
The piano man reclaims his spot and starts to play again.
Cecelia
“Thank you. I would not have dared, if you hadn't persuaded me.”
MC
“... Dragged you, you mean.”
I lean back in my chair, and run my finger around the rim of my glistening drink.
(The evening is turning out far better than I'd thought it would when I snuck out to ride off alone.)
MC
“Mm—there's nothing I like better than a good saloon!”
On the other hand, next to me Cecelia has both hands clasped tightly in her lap, sitting ramrod straight.
(I thought she liked music!)
MC
“Hey. What's got you so wound up?”
Cecelia
“Don't trouble yourself. Enjoy the drink.”
She sounds calm and offhand, but the moment she speaks my witch senses plunge my stomach.
It feels like the room is spinning, but I know it's not—and I'm not drunk.
(Something's wrong with Cecelia!)
MC
“You're not alright, I know it. Tell me.”
(She looks like she's dreaming.)
Cecelia
“I find myself... losing focus, is all. Our... fun has stoked your heartbeat.”
“It seems louder than the music. Your blood is rushing, full of life and-!”
“Your blood is not just any blood. It's witch blood.”
Her voice narrows to a thread, so I lean in to hear—she keeps leaning, until her words feather against my cheek.
Cecelia
“I can smell it.”
My eyes go wide. Beneath the music and the laughter, that midnight note is leaking into her voice.
I shudder and lean in.
(What is wrong with me?)
(And why don't I care?)
Cecelia
“I didn't want to scare you. I thought I'd keep it to myself.”
MC
“You don't scare me.”
Cecelia
“I should. My control is... slipping.”
My heart thuds even faster, yet it seems to me like it slows.”
(When she looks at me like that... I feel so alive.)
MC
“You have your flask. You don't ever drink... straight from the source, do you?”
She drags one fingernail along the edge of my jaw…
Skating over all the most vulnerable spots.
Cecelia
“It's been a long time.”
(She stills sounds like she's dreaming, or in a trance...)
Cecelia
“Come with me?”
I can only nod.
Outside, the fresh air hits my fevered skin with a rush of giddy reality.
But Cecelia abruptly stops dead.
Cecelia
“... Goddess. Wait.”
MC
“What's the problem?”
Cecelia
“I have to leave. Alone.”
Apparently the rush of reality has hit Cecelia too—but like a ton of bricks.
MC
“But why?”
(This can't be the end of the night!)
Cecelia
“You burn my control to cinders.”
MC
“Mine too...”
Cecelia
“That is not a good thing! If I am not controlled, I am-!”
“I cannot believe I almost put you at such risk. This between us can never-!”
Sheriff
“There you are, Miss MC. I've been looking for you.”
My racing heart and growing dismay primes me to panic, and his tone is so flat and dangerous.
MC
“Oh?”
(Shit, he's taking me in to collect that bounty on my head!)
Sheriff
“Miss... I'm afraid you've been robbed.”
Chapter 7: Season 1, Episode 7
Chapter Text
Normally I wouldn't meekly trail after a lawman to his office like this, but I<m swamped by that old, helpless anger.
(The Sheriff says I've been robbed—what more do I have to lose, before life stops taking from me?!)
Cecelia guides me to sit, and I feel her steady hand at the small of my back like a balm.
Suddenly, I can breathe freely.
I'm dizzy from the sense of losing dry land only to find a steady rock within reach.
(No one's ever stood behind me like she is... unless they were using me as a human shield, I guess!)
(Which is why I shouldn't let myself develop a taste for this.)
Cecelia
“I promise, no harm shall come to you. Just keep a civil tongue around McGann.”
I get the feeling she means more that I should be careful not to mention the Otherworld around the human Sheriff, but either way, I'm tongue-tied.
(I'm not used to relying on anything besides whatever fits in my pockets.)
(Which reminds me—I'm angry! Someone took my stuff!)
MC
“S-somebody stole something... from me?”
Dimly, I'm aware of the irony—but at the moment all I feel is crushing exposure.
Cecelia
“Give us the details, Sheriff McGann—and omit nothing.”
At least Cecelia hasn't remarked on me learning how everybody feels when I steal from them.
(The rich folks I steal from aren't half as close to having nothing as I am!)
Sheriff
“Not much to tell—Donna's the only witness.”
(Those snakes came straight for my home! Well, the closest thing I have to a home.)
Sheriff
“And apparently even a knock to the head isn't enough to convince Donna to talk to anyone but you, Warden.”
Cecelia
“I see. Good for her.”
Sheriff
“So we're relying on you, Miss MC—what can you tell me?”
(I was so in a rush to get out of town—and now my head's spinning—where do I start?)
Choice B: Donna’s hurt?!
MC
“Donna’s hurt?! Where is she? Is she going to be alright?”
Sheriff Shane
“I ain’t a doctor, but she got back to the boarding house on her own well enough. Stubborn.”
Cecelia
“Strong. And smart.”
(She means that Donna was smart not to talk to Sheriff Shane?)
(But the Sheriff doesn’t strike me as smart enough to be an evil mastermind...)
Choice C: What was taken?!
MC
“Well, I was in a rush, so I left behind... almost everything I own!”
(I could be as poor and bereft as I've ever been since I fled from home, and not even know it...)
MC
“Oh shit, everything I have could be gone!”
Cecelia clasps my shoulder.
Cecelia
“Not everything.”
(The bandits just want revenge on me for a long list of embarrassments and bullet holes I've caused them- and to steal that necklace back.)
(So that's plenty of bone to pick.)
(Oh, why couldn't Donna have just said what was missing so I wouldn't have to wait to find out how screwed I am?)
Sheriff Shane
“Look, Miss MC may be in danger, so-!”
Cecelia
“Oh yes, she is in danger indeed—but it's my kind of danger, Sheriff McGann.”
“Therefore, it's my turn to take up the fight.”
(… Oh!)
(Donna only wants to talk to Cecelia because whatever's going on with the robbery is linked with the Otherworld…)
(Which the Sheriff doesn't have a clue about.)
(Which means Donna knows about the Otherworld!)
(And this can't be any mere theft—the bandit's master must want something more from me. Gulp.)
Cecelia
“Your services are not needed—I shall let you know in the unlikely event that that changes.”
(Now monsters are coming after me, and I've only met four!)
(For crying out loud, how many monster types are there? Any of them could be on my tail…)
(And I'm stuck in this Otherworld whether I like it or not.)
My life's stakes have been well and truly raised, just as I'm stripped of almost everything I have.
Cecelia cups my elbows and steers me outside.
Cecelia
“I shall escort Miss MC to speak with Donna myself.”
Which is how, for the first time in my life, I find myself returning to the scene of a crime.
By the time Cecelia drags me into the boarding house, Donna is almost finished rearranging what's left of her furniture.
(Goddess, it's like a tornado with a grudge came through.)
Donna
“Come on in.”
“Don't stand on ceremony, sugar—I told you this is your home away from home!”
There's a bandage across her brow, and splinters in her hair.
Donna
“Anyway, all the other tenants checked out early, so there's nobody for you to disturb but me!”
“My fault for putting up a fight.”
(Why the hells would she do that?!)
I try to draw on the familiar anger again to bolster myself.
(But this anger I'm feeling is definitely a new—or at least rare—flavor.)
MC
“Donna, how have you survived this long without learning to duck and cover?”
(She could've stood back, let them take whatever they wanted, and come out of the whole robbery without a scratch.)
Donna
“Wasn't about to let them make off with your stuff when I knew you'd be back in no time.”
MC
“You knew no such thing.”
Donna
“I know faces—you've got the look of a friend to this place. I am never wrong about that.”
Normally, at this point I'd just be screwed and have to start all over again; run and plan a grift and go hungry for a while.
Now, it seems I've got... people around.
Helping when I'm not even there, and then helping when everything's busted to smithereens.
(People that got hurt. And might go getting themselves hurt in the future.)
Donna
“Hells know we could use a friend, what with all the insanities and magic foo-foo-rah you Wardens have coming and going.”
Choice A: Glad you’re alright.
MC
“Well... Glad you're alright, Donna.”
Donna
“Aww.”
She pats my wrist.
Donna
“Now shut your mouth, dear. We've got important things to discuss.
Choice B: You know about the Otherworld?
MC
“So you know about the Otherworld?”
Donna
“Yep. More’s the pity.”
(I’m never wrong, she said…)
MC
“So, what are you?”
Donna
“I’m all human, honey—but still, you’re lucky I don’t take offense to that kind of brash question!”
Donna
“Others call we humans-in-the-know 'Awakened', but I may as well have been asleep for all the good I did against those varmints.”
“Damn, I'm half-ashamed and all pissed off, I tell you.”
I slow her down for a second, and adjust her bandage as gently as I can.
MC
“So if you're Awakened, then all the other regular folk are Sleepers, huh?”
Cecelia
“Well-guessed! Some 'regular folk' are thrust into knowing the Otherworld by happenstance of birth...”
Donna
“Or by events much more unfortunate than this little scrape.”
“Why, some folks even marry into the Otherworld, I'm told!”
(Huh! Is that so...)
MC
“... Life's full of surprises, I suppose.”
Donna
“Ain't that the truth.”
“Speaking of, I'm sorry to tell you they definitely stole a necklace from you, honey.”
(Oh hell.)
MC
“What did it look like?”
Donna
“Ugly and janglesome—which means it was probably expensive, huh?”
MC
“Son of a motherf-!”
Cecelia actually starts laughing!
Cecelia
“Of course!”
MC
“Just what in all the hells is so funny?!”
She dabs a rueful tear from the corner of her eyes and sighs.
Cecelia
“The necklace you were selling when we met... if they've stolen it, that means their master wants it…”
“Which means it's the rare, unspeakably dangerous artifact I was hunting here in the first place... and has been in your back pocket all along!”
I stamp my foot.
MC
“If it'd been in my pocket all along, there wouldn't be a problem!”
Cecelia
“Perhaps you've had it wrapped around your metaphorical little finger, then. Just as I have been, since I met you.”
(If only that were true—if I had any influence over Cecelia, my life would've been a lot easier these past few days!)
MC
“... Does this mean helping me out is your official duty as a Warden, now?”
I bat my eyelashes.
MC
“You always do your duty, don't you?”
She casts me a fond smile, still chuckling.
Cecelia
“I would have in any case, but it does help make things faster.”
(Hm, we'll see!)
Donna
“I wish I could tell you all more and spur you on your way, but I didn't see which way they rode off.”
For a brief moment, Donna sighs, and seems so small in the busted room.
Swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat, I pat Donna gently on the shoulder and hope she isn't bruised there.
MC
“Don't fret, Donna.”
Cecelia
“Indeed! I know just the person to help us divine the location of the stolen goods.”
“Your body needs rest, Donna—we'll take care of the mess.”
Quiet sinks in again as Cecelia and I watch Donna limp up the stairs.
I make fist in my pocket.
MC
“... Gonna make them pay.”
Cecelia
“Well, of course we are.”
Her nonplussed tone makes me clear my throat.
(Can't get so mad that my powers make smaller splinters out of the furniture.)
MC
“Don't know why I'd think such a silly thought.”
“I wasn't planning on forgiving those bandits for anything else!”
Cecelia
“You're rattled.”
(Whatever goddess forsaken change of heart this is, I'm afraid that the more I try to explain it, the harder it'll stick!)
I start kicking firewood into a corner.
MC
“Eavesdropping on my heart again?”
Cecelia
“I don't have to.”
“What's upsetting you now, when less than an hour ago you were ready to leave all of this behind?”
(Ready? I wasn't thinking that clearly at the time.)
MC
“But leaving was still my choice!”
Cecelia
“... Some choice is better than none, of course.”
(For some reason, her agreeing with me bothers me too!)
Cecelia
“... I'm still learning about this Fun business, but I hear shopping trips are usually included?”
(I can blow my first paycheck on brand new things if I accept her offer to join the Ward she means. Hmph.)
MC
“Some things can't be replaced!”
(Like my sense of independence and personal space!)
Cecelia
“I've lost a favorite waistcoat or two, over my many years, but it's best not to get too attached.”
(To waistcoats, or to people?)
MC
“You think you understand, but you don't!)
Cecelia
“Believe me, I do not understand at all! Nor do I pretend to!”
MC
“Don't talk to me about brushing off sacrifice because there's always more things around to be had- those things aren't mine !”
“They don't remind me how to feel like myself when I've had to run to some random town!”
“The closest thing I have to home is whatever I can fit in my suitcase, or else-!”
(...Or else, I have nothing.)
When she speaks, I realize my skin is buzzing from unnoticed touches she's been giving my shaking hands while I ranted.
Cecelia
“I feel such similarity between us sometimes, that I forget your life before this was very different from mine.”
“I've been picturing what reasons I would have had for a criminal life, and they're all... frivolous.”
(I picture her youth, and castles come to mind.)
Cecelia
“I'm too used to letting things go, century after century, for me to imagine becoming a criminal for anything other than the petty thrill of it.”
“For you, this is survival.”
Her hands squeeze harder than they ever have as she makes me meet her stirring gaze.
Cecelia
“Come with me. Make those bandits pay.”
I swallow.
(Come work with her, she means.)
Choice A: You can’t afford me.
MC
“I've told you, Warden—you can't afford me.”
Cecelia
“I don't care about the cost.”
MC
“My rates are high.”
Cecelia
“... That, too. You deserve better means to survive.”
She brushes the inside of my elbow, blinking with dawning confusion.
Cecelia
“... You're still angry?”
(It would be convenient if that were all I was feeling!)
Cecelia
“Of course I... don't want Donna to be injured, either.”
I would stomp away, but she gathers me in.
(Comforting me, or diagnosing some strange human disease?)
MC
“And why is that?!”
She throws her hands in the air, baffled.
Cecelia
“Because it just makes sense!”
MC
“HA! That's your argument?”
Cecelia
“I'm not arguing with you!”
MC
“Then why are we yelling?!”
(And why do I feel like I'm about to cry again?)
She takes my hands again.
Cecelia
“I told you, you have a loud heart.”
I choke on a laugh.
She sits beside me without letting go.
Cecelia
“ You did not hurt Donna.”
Of course. I deflect and her quick mind reveals me for what I am: a pathetic human with feelings.
Cecelia
“I thought you appreciated risk-taking.”
“She was hurt while helping you, not because she helped you.”
MC
“Well, I didn't ask her to! It always ends up—complicated!”
Cecelia
“Well, doing everything by yourself does not make anything easier!”
An unreadable expression twists her features. Her eyes wander to where we touch.
Cecelia
“... Ah.”
For a moment, she doesn't speak, though her fingers move against mine like a phantom conversation.
(Or playing a song I can't hear.)
I deflate against her shoulder, and we stare at the ruins of the common room.
MC
“This is silly—it's just clean-up. Why is it so hard to decide what's next?”
(Yet why do I feel so much better, if still bruised?)
Cecelia
“I may have an idea.”
Her thumb strokes, soothing. Coaxing.
MC
“Just you, not the Ward.”
Cecelia
“Yes. But you'll have to invite me in, to see the damage.”
(… Just her, not the Ward.)
MC
“Hmm, I could do that. Maybe.”
(After all, it's just a room and the door's already broken. But why do I still feel vulnerable?)
Chapter 8: Season 1, Episode 8
Chapter Text
With every step we take up the stairs towards my room, the weight of what I'm about to do settles deeper into my stomach.
(Yet my head is giddy in the best, most dangerous way...)
I count our matching footsteps, steady as a metronome—or a heartbeat.
I'm about to allow a vampire past the last real zone of safety between us.
(But it feels like inviting myself into her arms.)
MC
“May I have this dance, Cecelia?”
I brace my hands on the doorframe, and lean dangerously close to her body.
Once again, she doesn't back away.
Cecelia
“You are about to invite a vampire into your den.”
MC
“I'll have to keep on my toes!”
She leans dangerously close to my body—and to the invisible line of my threshold.
Cecelia
“Once you give me permission, you will never be able to keep me out.”
(She has to know what that does to my heartbeat.)
Cecelia
“You should-!”
MC
“Come in, Cecelia.”
This close, I watch her pupils expand, deeper darkness in her dark eyes.
(She looks famished.)
And my door is open…
The chill of her lips near mine, like breathing on a windowpane during a winter storm.
MC
“Please.”
(This is flat-out embarrassing. She hasn't even kissed me yet, just offered to let me lean on her!)
(She's already under my skin.)
I stay mostly lost in thought as she identifies the mud in the bandits' bootprints.
MC
“None of this tells us much.”
Cecelia
“It's just as well we can't find anything useful—Fiona's tracking skill will always far outstrip anyone else's.”
“Let's take some dirt to see if she can find where they are headed, or where they've been.”
(Thank Goddess, something useful to do besides moon over Cecelia or mope over my clothes!)
MC
“Yes, we'll go ask her!”
I stop short of her hand at my chest-level.
Cecelia
“I can practically taste your impatience, MC, but you are mortal and you need some rest.”
(Damn it, no lips get to smile at me that knowingly without having let me kiss them, first!)
MC
“Hmph!”
Cecelia
“We will speak with Fiona tomorrow,'
MC
“At first light? Or—uh, at first dark?”
Cecelia
“That is the plan. For now, however...”
She glances me over from under her lashes, and my neck heats again.
Cecelia
“I do not rest, but I'm... unoccupied. There is nothing keeping me from... staying nearby.”
(Now that I've invited her in, there really isn't .)
MC
“Nearby?”
Cecelia
“The town is safe, but if my presence would be a comfort? To you and Donna, I mean.”
(She's offering to stick around all day just to help us feel better.)
(Well, Donna's already in bed, so—she wants to make me feel better.)
(To feel safe.)
My heart thumps like a trapped bird.
It's hard not to dive headlong into relief of her nearness.
Cecelia
“Is it alright if I stay?”
Heart choice: Make a little room for Cecelia.
MC
“I—don't you want to stay?”
She blinks, cocks her head in confusion.
Cecelia
“... I beg your pardon, was I speaking a different language?”
“Sometimes I slip into old ways without noticing.”
(How on earth did I jump to that conclusion?)
MC
“No, you—you said what you said pretty plainly.”
(So maybe I could do the same for once!)
MC
“Look, I don't like making you do so much for me...”
(Well, there are some things I might like making her do.)
MC
“I don't know anything about this situation, but...”
(I like having you near.)
MC
“I-I'd like that. If you want to, of course…”
“I'm not used to this.”
She smiles warmly.
Cecelia
“Neither am I, I confess.”
“So I appreciate what it took for you to say so.”
MC
“Right, well. Let's take it further, shall we?”
(Honestly, stop talking!)
We reach for the same fallen stocking, and our hat brims bump. I immediately stand up.
MC
“Oh. Beg your pardon.”
With an arched eyebrow, she sweeps away some of the debris from the bed.
Cecelia
“Think nothing of it, my dear. This is your space, after all. I'm the one who must learn how to move in it.”
(She can move up my space however she likes.)
After that, as we clean I suffer the delightful torture of a thousand little brushes.
The sides of our hands bumping…
Fabric shushing in secret whispers as we flit past and around each other…
Picking up my broken pieces is always hard, like cataloging a thousand tiny bruises, but I find myself smiling at Cecelia as we work.
(It's always a dance with her.)
(I just never thought I had any dances left to learn where I was a beginner!)
MC
“So much of this is beyond repair...”
Cecelia
“Nonsense. I achieve things beyond belief before every sunrise.”
MC
“Are you sure you don't mind playing housemaid?”
Cecelia
“Do not make me repeat myself!”
MC
“Well, alright. Just don't mess with my sheets.”
(Which should be fairly clean... Except from the dreams that danced through my head while it rested on that pillow, of course.)
Cecelia
“Everything else smells fresh and lovely. Just like your hair; wind and moonlight.”
“And naughty dreams.”
MC
“Bet you wish you could clean up my thoughts as easily as this room, Warden.”
Cecelia
“Nothing could be further from the truth.”
I fan myself.
(Cleaning is hard work!)
MC
“Well in any case, you're welcome to lie down and rest—I know you must be tired.”
Cecelia
“That's because you are, my dear. Vampires are perfectly suited to keep watch while others sleep.”
She captures my hand and sits me on the edge of the bed before I know it's happening.
MC
“You're not on the clock, Cecelia, I didn't mean to rope you into-!”
Cecelia
“Hush! I shall simply while away the hours daydreaming.”
I raise an eyebrow.
Cecelia
“So to speak.”
I find myself suppressing a sleepy yawn.
MC
“Well, then. I suppose I'll just... if you insist?”
She presses my shoulder gently, cupping my neck just so it hits the pillow like a falling feather.
Cecelia
“Since when have you had so much trouble taking?”
(I always do, when it's something freely offered.)
(By someone looking me straight in the eyes, with such knowing affection.)
MC
“Well, when you put it like that, I'm an old hand at this.”
She stretches out on the bed between me and the rest of the world.
I've known so many fleeting luxuries.
(The jingle of stolen trinkets around my neck, the slide of supple velvets along my skin...)
Yet I've never felt so pampered as I do now, with Cecelia's attention revolving solely around my simplest needs.
(Gives me a tantalizing hint of what it might be like to allow her the time to turn her attention to some of my other simple needs...)
Her hand slides over my hair so slowly, so tenderly, and my eyes sink closed.
Cecelia
“Decadent dreams, my little delinquent.”
A smile curls my lips.
MC
“I will...”
(Knowing, of course, that her watchful eyes can see everything, even in the darkness of sleep.)
When I wake up just past sundown, Cecelia is gone.
I languish across my lonely mattress like it's the bottom of the ocean.
(Well... She left after all. What did I expect?)
I find myself at the apothecary at the appointed hour.
Fiona
“Hello, MC.”
Fiona barely looks up from her mortar and pestle—and her gooey green concoction.
But, standing at attention next to the counter, Cecelia's eyes light up.
(She was already facing this way when I came in—just anticipating my arrival, or hearing my heart get closer? Or both?)
I clear my throat.
MC
“Right, let's hear the plan before the bandits beat us for good. It's past time something useful got done!”
Fiona raises a cautioning finger at me without looking up.
Fiona
“Find them we will, but at the pace the universe decrees, and no faster.”
(All I heard was “no faster.”)
MC
“I understood half of that and liked even less.”
Cecelia
“She began the incantations before I arrived.”
Fiona
“You try hurrying a spirit of the aether without a proper invitation and see where it gets you.”
“Aside from an invitation to the middling circle of hell. And not by the easy way.
I grip the counter-top so I don't clench my fists.
Cecelia
“Is there really no quicker way? Or nothing to be done in the meantime?”
Fiona
“Quicker. I see. Hmm. Well, I'd hate to do things improperly. It isn't usually my 'policy' to rush.”
Cecelia stiffens, then the hand beside mine lifts away to cover her disconcerted cough.
(This is out of the ordinary for Cecelia' if Fiona is bothering to tease her with one of her favorite words!)
Cecelia
“As MC said, it's past time something was done.”
Fiona
“Hmm. Of course, any spell goes faster with a witch's familiar to help.”
MC
“Alright, so go get it!”
Fiona
“I'm not a witch. But since we're looking for a witch's things—your things—your familiar should work.”
(Mine?)
Cecelia
“Hmph. Demon-work. Must we?”
(Demon-work?!)
Choice B: My what now?
MC
“My what now?”
Fiona
“Your familiar. It’s a part of you.”
MC
“I hate to break it to you, but nothing in my life has been terribly familiar for a while now, including various parts of me.”
Fiona
“Well, this is like an element of yourself given its own life—that you can call on to protect and serve you.”
“You’re a witch, so you have it whether you know it or not.”
Fiona shrugs.
Fiona
“I wouldn’t worry.”
Choice C: All I have is a horse!
MC
“Familiar? All I have is my horse!”
Fiona
“Perfect!”
MC
“Hang on, now—hands off Whisper! No experimentation!”
Cecelia
“Fiona, stop teasing her.”
Fiona
“Oh, alright—a familiar isn't a pet. Or it doesn't start that way, anyway.”
“It's part of your magic that can take separate forms and serve you, if you call it.”
“Some look like animals, some look like people, and some don't look like anything you've ever seen...”
(...Oh good.)
I'm not certain this is something I really want to do, but if it will find my things and fast, so be it!
Fiona
“Well, if that's our plan, then I'll smother this spell and gather what we need to summon your familiar...”
(Yes! Now we're talking!)
Fiona
“Tomorrow.”
MC
“Tomorrow?! I thought you said this was faster!”
Fiona
“MC—without your familiar, this was going to take at least until the next full moon.”
(That's weeks away!)
MC
“Then what's the use?!”
I press a finger to my lips and gather what dignity I have left.
Cecelia
“It's alright to be upset, MC. Until tomorrow, then Fiona.”
That word— tomorrow —sticks like a splinter.
(I have to get some distance.)
Outside, the night air doesn't give me any relief—until Cecelia comes to stand next to me.
(It might be wisest to get some distance from her, too...)
Cecelia
“I often find a brisk ride helps simmer the blood, when calm seems out of reach.”
I turn on my heel and stalk towards the stables.
MC
“Hells yes. Let's get out of here for a while.”
(Alright, so this doesn't count as getting distance from her effect on me. But hey, she had a good suggestion!)
For a long, lovely while, I let Whisper gallop his heart out.
(I trust Cecelia can keep up, even if her horse can't!)
I grin, something inside me loosening its grip.
MC
“I needed that.”
Cecelia
“I know. I felt it when you finally became in tune with the night.”
(Did she, now?)
MC
“Is that what we're doing out here?”
Cecelia
“Well, who knows, perhaps luck will find us better in the open.”
MC
“Luck will find me sooner than I'll find any of my stolen things in the pitch dark.”
Cecelia
“Poor blind dear! I might spot something for you.”
(Sure, a confetti of my under-things, littered all over the desert.)
MC
“Keep an eye out for a salacious little number in coral satin.”
She chuckles.
Cecelia
“While we're at it, perhaps you could describe a certain necklace?”
Choice B: Now who’s concerned with possessions?
MC
“Now who's over-concerned with earthly goods?”
Cecelia
“I never thought you shallow.”
MC
“Liar!”
Cecelia
“But you could learn to let go of mere things.”
MC
“Hypocrite! Yet you can't seem to let go of me... perhaps it's you who get too attached!”
Choice C: Don’t you mock me!
MC
“Don’t you mock me!”
“Of course you know you can’t keep anyone—anything forever, in this life!”
“That means what little you can truly call yours matters even more.”
Cecelia
“Shall I point out the irony, there?”
MC
“The people I steal from have far too much, and losing some costs them nothing but money.”
She cocks her head.
Cecelia
“I wasn't mistaken about you completely…”
“You're so cultured, quick, and fit wherever you are...”
MC
“None of that bakes a single bite of bread, believe me.”
Cecelia
“I see that, now. I understand why you chose this life over the alternative.”
My spine straightens.
(I'm not this way just because my back was to the wall!)
MC
“I suppose that took you some effort, since you were born fully-formed from a lawbook.”
She shoots me a lofty look, insinuating so many things.
Cecelia
“So you think.”
(Really!)
MC
“Sounds like a good bedtime story.”
Cecelia
“Once upon a time…”
“A princess found herself uprooted in an empty garden where once there stood such dark and lovely trees...”
(I imagine her family were dark and lovely indeed—so something once wiped them all out. Except for her.)
Cecelia
“... So she replanted herself and learned to grow in less-salted soil.”
(So she grew into her law-abiding self. Alone.)
Cecelia
“But my service to the law serves me, too.”
“I see to it that what villainy was done to me will never happen again...”
MC
“By doing unto villains first? Nice for you that revenge dovetails with textbook justice.”
Cecelia
“It is, isn't it? I love a swift slice and a cleaner world.”
(Without people like me in it?)
As if she guessed my thought, Cecelia sighs and winces.
Cecelia
“I'm not careful with my tongue—as I'm sure you've noticed.”
My eyes sink to her mouth, warmth traveling up my neck where the wind had cooled it.
MC
“Too busy being careful with your teeth?”
She clears her throat and averts her gaze.
Cecelia
“Ah, excellent. I was hoping the timing was right.”
My heart skips a beat, and my breath quickens.
MC
“Yes?”
Cecelia
“Look over there.”
I'd hoped we were heading for something more interesting than taking in the desert sights…
But the sight she points out is interesting indeed!
Apparently, under the right conditions, the stone “ribs” of the Devil's Backbone glow.
MC
“They're luminescent!”
Cecelia
“I do miss having brightness in my world, on occasion.”
The light attracts huge, winged insects—pretty ones that seem to feed on the glow.
Cecelia
“You can let them land on you, they won't harm. They don't eat earthly things.”
(No interest in trifling with delicious human blood.)
MC
“Perhaps I don't mind being bitten, if it's by something beautiful.”
Cecelia
“It's not like a thief to give away something so precious as your blood so lightly.”
MC
“What can I say, I'm pretty generous when I can choose who gets the gift.”
Cecelia
“I've been working for people for so long.”
“I always thought that kept me enough in touch with the world, but perhaps...”
(Perhaps she's been just as alone as I have.)
MC
“Well, I'm the last person who should be on a high horse deciding what's what for other folks. Who gets to have and have not.”
Cecelia
“On the contrary, that's exactly why you should join the Ward—you understand people closer to the grain than I ever will.”
MC
“I thought you went after monsters.”
Cecelia
“Some humans are capable of becoming monsters.”
“But I can hear their pulse, but not read their hearts.”
(So why does it feel like she can read mine, damn it?)
MC
“So you admit monsters and humans both have those?”
Cecelia
“Stop wandering off the point!”
MC
“The conversation isn't meandering, Cecelia—our paths have always diverged.”
“I'm on an outlaw road, always have been.”
“I don't talk like a ranger because I don't think like a ranger!”
Cecelia
“Maybe we need someone who's walked a different path.”
MC
“An outlaw path?”
(So, she suddenly doesn't care that I stand for everything she fights?”
She halts her horse.
Cecelia
“That's your deepest obstacle, you stubborn woman?”
“The Ward seeks the special—why on earth would I want to stamp out what makes you special?!”
She realizes she's been waving her arms, and reins herself in.
Cecelia
“... Perhaps we should head back.”
(Just when I've got her admitting things without delivering them all polished and sly?)
MC
“No!”
I snag her reins, and she gives me an affronted stare.
MC
“Come on, the night is young. Don't tell me you think you need any beauty sleep.”
Cecelia
“... I lost my temper.”
(While defending me.)
MC
“Not at all—I like a little pepper in a friendly discussion.”
She rolls her eyes, but there's a smile there somewhere.
Cecelia
“Very well, then. What else do you like?”
(She seems to think there's something in me that makes me special.)
So, I try and live up to that for a while.
(I tell her any little thing I can think of that might seem special, to a stranger.
Nothing important, but her eyes shine the more I talk.
(Hang on—that's more than just a shine of affection, that's light.)
(That's daylight.)
MC
“Oh no!”
Cecelia snaps her head toward the graying horizon, and hisses something that sounds like a curse.
Cecelia
“Sunrise!”
“We've stayed too long—how could I not have noticed?!”
Chapter 9: Season 1, Episode 9
Chapter Text
(Damn—how could I forget that dawn isn't just an hour on the clock to Cecelia?)
Cecelia heaves a disgusted sigh.
(And how could I put her in such a position, just for the sake of talking nonsense about my likes and dislikes?)
Cecelia
“I should have paid more attention. Fiona will have my head for carelessness.”
She doesn't seem to think our situation is dire—that's encouraging.
But Cecelia is also far too used to risking her life to take proper care of herself sometimes.
(No wonder she lives under such strict rules—she doesn't have the luxury of losing track of time.)
I calculate we're only ten minutes from the edge of town, and my concerns go quiet.
(Shelter is near enough. This dawn is an inconvenience more than anything.)
Cecelia
“Pleasant as our night together has been, I'm afraid it draws to an unwelcome end.”
(Hmm, does it have to be unwelcome?)
(Since she'll soon be safe, I'm sure I can find the fun in it...)
MC
“Let's get you out of the 'weather', darling!”
I wheel my horse so I'm casting a coy grin at Cecelia from over my shoulder.
MC
“Race you.”
Cecelia stops fussing with the protective angle of her hat and collar.
Cecelia
“You adorable little brat. Not everything is a game.”
Her eyes capture a glint far brighter than the glow of sun threatening the horizon.
MC
“But it could be!”
“Unless the Desert Rose is lily-livered.”
A smirk blazes through her eyes though she doesn't smile.
Cecelia
“Is that a formal challenge?”
Choice B: Apologize just a little?
I dip my chin to my shoulder, and lower my lashes.
MC
“Consider it an apology for endangering you so...”
At my signal, Whisper breaks into a flat-out run.
MC
“And for beating you soundly!”
Cecelia
“Ha! Never!”
Choice C: Play it to the hilt!
I strike a pose and tap my horse with my heel—Whisper rears a little, playfully on cue.
MC
“Oh no, I fear we’ve been caught unawares, my Fairest Warden!”
Cecelia
“Hmph. Verily?”
She gallops past, leaving me in the dust.
Cecelia
“Then catch me, if you can!”
Our horses dip and dive like speeding hawks, practically flying over every sleeping fox's den and lonely scrub-bush.
(I swear I can still hear her laughing, like music in the wind.)
I turn to tease her more, but something catches my eye.
Red sunlight flashes off Whisper's harness.
(Oh no—sunrise is already coming! We're still too far from shelter!)
MC
“Yah! Hurry, Cecelia!”
Our horses thunder faster, and my heart's in my throat.
All the fun has flown from my head like silk in a storm.
Cecelia
“MC!”
(How could I have been so stupid?!)
A hand grabs mine with an iron grip, and I meet Cecelia's eyes.
She's smiling!
(What?)
Cecelia
“Perhaps an alternative mode of transportation?”
MC
“What?!”
Despite not understanding, I hold onto her tight.
In the blink of an eye, I'm lifted from my horse.
Cecelia launches us into the rushing air.
The horses know their way, still thundering along behind us, but they seem impossibly slow compared to our flight.
It happens so fast, yet we move like gossamer, delicately, flowingly, as Cecelia whisks us the rest of the way into town.
Buildings blur just past her breathtaking profile, but I barely notice—until she recoils from the boarding house steps...
(Why is she stopping?!)
...Only to spring into the air, threading us neatly through my open window.
We land in my bed with just enough oomph to startle a noise out of me.
Above us, blazing dawn paints a wide band across my headboard.
MC
“Wait!”
I lunge to pull the bed-curtains shut, plunging us again into cool blue twilight.
(Whew, that was close!)
Cecelia
“Excellent catch!”
For a moment my eyes sink closed.
MC
“We made it!”
I can't catch my breath, but I can't stop smiling, either.
MC
“And you knew we would all along, you intolerable, grandstanding...”
I open my eyes to see her lounging beneath me, perfectly at ease in her power.
(And her ability to save herself!)
MC
“... Magnificent woman.”
I trace her unblemished cheek, thinking of the sizzle of that silver knife.
(She's as soft as she is sharp... and as she is beautiful.)
The heat of the sun breathing down our necks has lifted only to rise again from beneath my skin.
MC
“Why did you do that?!”
Cecelia
“I didn't want to insult my horse.”
MC
“Ooofh, you—to joke at this moment!”
I want to smother that hidden smile of hers with my pillow.
Cecelia
“Truly, though, I have a policy...”
I let my head thunk onto her chest.
MC
“Of course you have a policy.”
Cecelia
“... In this case, it's a policy of employing regular means as much as possible to do what I have to.”
“Also, I don't want to risk being spotted by early risers, and therefore testing just how far my 'friendship' with these citizens extends.”
For a long moment, I simply shake my head at her.
MC
“Saints alive. At a time like that, risking your life for appearances... I take my hat off to you.”
I toss my hat away, and run an unsteady hand through my wind-mussed hair.
Cecelia
“I appreciate the gesture.”
I do my best to spear her with a glance.
MC
“I appreciate the gesture of you spending precious moments to take me with you on the trip.”
Her eyes widen, and she clears her throat.
Cecelia
“... I suppose I did.”
MC
“Which doesn't make sense.”
Cecelia
“... I suppose it doesn't.”
She'd claimed protecting Donna—and by extension, the rest of humanity—simply made sense to her...
(Conveniently got her out of inspecting her real motives, at the time.)
(Well, not this time.)
MC
“After all, the worst the sun would've done to me was force me to squint!”
Her fingertips trace the delicate skin beside my eyes.
Cecelia
“Well...”
Before she can make a joke about saving me from premature wrinkles, I press the issue.
MC
“Or was it more than a gesture?”
The mildest blush rises in her cheeks, and my teasing evaporates.
Cecelia
“... No, I question gestures, before I make them.”
“I question instinct, and rarely give in to impulse.”
(Of course.)
MC
“... So it was logical, then?”
Cecelia
“No, I didn't question carrying you with me. I simply had to.”
The regimented, tightly-laced vampire warden acted without a thought.
(For me?)
She frowns slightly, tracing the surprised shape of my lower lip.
Cecelia
“The sun may not have harmed you, but we both needed shelter.”
Both her hands cup my face, a support and a shield.
Cecelia
“Or at least I felt that way, I suppose.”
( She needed shelter—she simply wanted to give it to me.)
(She wants to protect me so deeply that it comes naturally to her.)
My own hands wrap around her wrists.
(More than protect—she wants to wrap me up safe and soft and snug... like we are right now.)
(All I do is push her, tease her—risk her.)
Her gaze flickers to my speeding pulse pressed against her skin.
Cecelia
“MC?”
MC
“I'm sorry!”
The words just come out of me—easy as breathing.
(Natural.)
MC
“If I hadn't goaded you into staying out so late—so early, I guess—then you wouldn't have had to risk upon risk-!”
She sways towards me, stealing my breath…
Then her lips smother my words.
(Seems she had it in her to take one more risk for the both of us.)
My eyes threaten to sink shut as she kisses and kisses me.
(And I'm so glad she did!)
The coolness of her lips slowly warms from my hectic breath, blooming from the pressure of my eager mouth.
Her lips part, and the slightest edge scrapes my tongue…
Heart choice: Lose yourself in Cecelia’s kiss.
MC
“Mm!”
I can't resist sipping deeper and deeper from the lips she so generously offered.
(Like a long drink of water after months in the desert.)
Her face tilts below mine like she's bathing in moon-glow, but she's gone still.
Accepting my kiss, but suddenly shy of returning it.
(Well, she started this! I guess I'd better remind her why.)
Her stillness shatters.
The lush mouth beneath mine opens, a lovely, tender trap that captures me fast.
Arms clamp around my back, stronger than chains—twining like snakes for cool palms to seek the warmest places.
As she hunts out the taste of me, I shudder endlessly.
Then she looms above me suddenly, vampire darkness throbbing from her hungry eyes and grasping fingers.
(What will happen if she decides she wants more of my taste than my lips can give?)
She pants down at me, kiss-bruised lips lifting in a ravenous grin.
(Oh, who cares?)
MC
“Get back here...”
Her spread fingers dig into my ribs and hips, dragging me into the curve of her body.
And for a while, nothing matters but her...
(Except air, apparently.)
I throw my head back on a moan, fighting for breath, and she chuckles darkly.
Then she gasps, a hoarse, unearthly sound. And suddenly we're on opposite sides of the bed.
MC
“What—no!”
My limbs are trembling too much to crawl back to her, just yet.
MC
“Cecelia?”
Without a sound, she draws herself up straight, tucking her legs primly beneath her.
(Meanwhile, I'm a gasping mess.)
Cecelia
“I... don't know what came over me.”
MC
“I think you have some idea, don't you?”
She presses careful fingers to her forehead, a delicate line etching between her brows.
Cecelia
“Unfortunately, I do. Have no illusions, MC...”
She looks at me, and her eyes are still blacker than midnight.
Cecelia
“This is what you took into your arms.”
“If I surrender to what you awaken in me... I fear you won't be able to hold me back from hurting you.”
I clasp her hand in mine, and rather helplessly, she lets me.
MC
“Only because I would never need to, Cecelia.”
I smile up at her through my eyelashes, feeling the slight soreness pulling at my lips.
MC
“And I would never want to. Shoot, I might even ask you to, real nice.”
She laughs again, letting her head thunk against my headboard.
MC
“In fact, I do have a request...”
Cecelia
“It had better be an innocent one.”
MC
“Naturally!”
Cecelia
“Uh-huh.”
I bite my lip, and slowly climb up the bed to snuggle beside her.
MC
“It's just so nice and cool cuddled up in your shade—and I run hot when I sleep.”
She sighs ruefully, relaxing against me.
Cecelia
“You run hot all the time, my impulsive witchling.”
MC
“Hush, what's the harm?”
She huffs, straightening her hair, but doesn't risk the daylight.
Cecelia
“Oh, MC, how little you know...”
Since Cecelia doesn't seem to believe she can have—or is allowed to have—harmless desires…
I show her one of mine by dozing like a cat through the day.
(Perhaps my answers will come to me in my dreams, with her resting so close...)
All morning long, she turns the pages of my bedside novel far too slowly to be actually paying attention to what she's reading.
So I don't bother to feel guilty for all the moments I steal of her quiet presence, pretending to sleep between genuine naps.
Basking in the feel of her cool fingers gently thread through my hair as I struggle not to smile.
Everything is soft and cozy, the sleepy sweet scent of my sheets mingling with smoky magnolia...
Cecelia
“... that bottled moon-rise works wonders.”
(Is she talking to me while I sleep? That's cheating, telling me things I won't remember!)
Fiona
“Good morning, MC!”
I swing upright, blinking.
Fiona
“Tsk, you're dressed too! And here I was hoping to catch Cecelia in a compromising position for once.”
“Eh, it's just as well—we have shopping to do, and the spheres wait for nobody.”
MC
“Shopping! With the Ward's funds to spend, I hope?”
Cecelia
“Don't get too excited—what she means is more like scavenging.”
Fiona
“I call that the most exclusive, elusive, best kind of shopping!”
Fiona extends a long list, and each item I read raises my eyebrows higher.
MC
“Half-cursed coin, hangman's rope, fermented wormwood—you cannot be serious.”
Fiona
“I almost never am!”
“But you're brand-spanking-new, fresh from the Sleeping world. To focus your raw power, we'll need a lot of helping hands.”
(I hope she doesn’t mean that literally; I might be talked into grave-robbing, just not body-snatching!)
I sigh at the length of the list, trying not to let my disappointment show.
(So much for bringing forth what lies within me.)
MC
“If you don’t have your own magic, store bought will suffice?”
She slings an arm around my shoulders, gesturing into the future.
Fiona
“Just imagine, someday, you’ll rise to whatever arcane heights your dark little heart desires…”
I can’t picture it as clearly as Fiona seems to, but it stirs something in me to hear her say it.
Fiona
“No crutches or barriers, but the boundaries of your own imagination…”
(A future as vast as I can imagine…)
Cecelia clears her throat.
Fiona
“...As long as you continue on your journey of self-discovery under the care of the Ward, etc. etc.”
“So I’m officially relieving you of bodyguarding duty, Warden Visconti!”
Cecelia smiles fondly, waving me onwards.
Cecelia
“Don’t get up to too much fun, you two.”
MC
“Guess you’ll just have to keep an ear out for distant explosions…”
Fiona drags me down the hallway while Cecelia settles back with my book.
(Maybe she’ll actually read it, this time.)
Fiona
“So—where shall we start? It’s up to you, my fledgling friend!”
Choice C: Get the fermented wormwood from Ada.
MC
:Um, fermented wormwood sounds simple enough!”
Fiona
“Chose the easy one on your first try—Ada just got a new shipment.”
“How good are you at picking locks?”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little theft between friends!”
MC
“I am not!”
So, we do.
Between us, gathering the rest goes quickly.
(And nobody suspects a thing!)
(Although I’m starting to suspect Fiona may be a more practiced master thief than even I am.)
MC
“I’m almost sad we’re finished!”
Fiona
“Ah yes—the most charming dances shall falter, and all things come to their end.”
MC
“You know how to have my kind of fun, Fiona; which is more than I can say for your compatriots.”
She links our arms, swinging our odd bag of loot.
Fiona
“Seems to me you’ve figured out how to have fun with Cecelia!”
MC
“I-! Well, I’m trying, anyway.”
“Camaraderie doesn’t come as simply between her and me as it does with you and me.”
Fiona
“Well, you must remember, we share many things in common.”
MC
“A checkered past, light fingers…”
Fiona
“An abiding power suffused into our very souls.”
MC
“How…do you know?”
Fiona
“Mystics and witches are kindred, kind of. I know some things about your heart because I know myself.”
(As well as she knows Cecelia?)
MC
“She considers you a friend—if you and I are so similar, then why can’t I get as close?”
Fiona
“We’re alike, yes, but not the same—I don’t have the fiery potency that you do.”
“And I don’t just mean the way you take naps.”
“You scare her. You scare me. But I don’t bite, when I’m scared—I prefer inviting my fears to tea.”
MC
“...Do you poison the cup?”
Fiona
“Depends. Cheer up. We’re all more than a little scary.”
“That’s why no matter how it looks from the outside, we’re better friends to each other than most people ever dream of.”
I catch sight of the boarding house, and the little window all the way at the top.
(Behind those curtains…)
(She’s stretched on my bed, head on my pillow, reading what I’ve read a million times, thinking of what I might have thought when I last read it.)
Waiting for me. Patiently uncovering my thoughts and daydreams.
(Maybe as Cecelia and I cross off our own lists, I’ll get closer to understanding hers, too.)
I quicken our pace.
I’m not good at being patient.
At the foot of the boarding house stairs, Fiona tugs me to face her.
Fiona
“Look, I’m not a saleswoman, for all that I like playing around with the truth…”
(Here it comes.)
(I know what she’s selling, but i’m curious as to her perspective.)
Fiona
“I’ve never seen Cecelia so hells-bent on recruiting anyone else to our cause…”
I nibble my lip, glancing upstairs.
My ears are tingling.
(It’s like I can hear her distant presence, like phantom music.)
Fiona
“But it’s taken less than a day for me to see why.”
(Wait, that is music!)
Crooning violin washes over me, the song unfamiliar but unspeakably sad.
Fiona
“Goddess, I think you might just make an excellent-!”
MC
“Do you hear that?!”
Fiona cocks her head.
Fiona
“That tune…”
MC
“It’s so sad .”
Fiona
“And it’s coming from your room.”
IonKar on Chapter 1 Wed 28 Sep 2022 09:05PM UTC
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ILoveOttersWBU on Chapter 4 Thu 06 Oct 2022 09:25PM UTC
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MeAndAlsoMyself on Chapter 4 Fri 07 Oct 2022 02:25PM UTC
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