OOC: This story took lots of twists and turns over the last few months. Related plotlines spun off in several directions. However, I decided, with November's coming return to CoH, to collect the central threads together into one longer piece.
These stories were written by myself, November, and Moth.
I will post links here in a few days to the other plotlines and spin-offs.
I will also be working feverishly to finish the last piece necessary for November to come back.
Collected Posts: La coutee d'amour.
Moderator: Student Council
Prologue.
"Jan. 3, 'XX
Dear Diar,
I am invisible and she is shrouded in lies. "Do not speak of Ybur Academy, Yulia." I have been asked to make a promise that the truth about our past in Ybur and the involvement of The Carnival of Shadows should forever be kept silent. Anything for her.
The holidays were pleasant, but I miss Tati("papa") and Mamka("mom") so much. I got 'pad (Moth's petname for November, "Pad" literally means "fall/to fall", "Listopad" means November in Czech)a gown for the dance and I asked her if she'd accompany me, at first she refused the dress and claimed she wasn't sure. I insisted she accept the dress regardless. She got me a barrette with a porcelain yellow rose centered on silver casting, it is quite lovely. But don't yellow roses symbolize friendship? How bitter sweet..."
Moth was on her bunk. Lying on her belly, lean legs bent and crossed behind her. She was propped up on her elbows, scribbling away in a leather booklet, her journal. The radio softly played behind her,
There's a part of me you'll never know
The only thing I'll never show
Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
Hopelessly I'll give you everything
But I won't give you up
I won't let you down
And I won't leave you falling
If the moment ever comes
It's plain to see it's trying to speak
Cherished dreams forever asleep
Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
Hopelessly I'll give you everything
But I won't give you up
I won't let you down
And I won't leave you falling
If the moment ever comes
Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
Hopelessly I'll give you everything
But I won't give you up
I won't let you down
And I won't leave you falling
But the moment never comes
The haunting lyrics forced a stuttering sigh out of her. She canted her head forward. Blonde bangs cascaded over stormy blue oculars, forming a dark shadow across her brow.
"...I wonder what will become of us. Every time I see her I crave her more. I crave for her hand to reach for mine. I crave for her dewy lips to crash into mi--.."
Moth frowned and scribbled that last fragment out.
"...At the moment I only have my dreams. My wonderful dreams. And of course our friendship. If 'pad were mine, we'd be unstoppable! I'd try my hardest to never see her cry like she did that night. Seems like eons ago that I have last seen her shed a tear. She is too hard. What is she hiding from?
The other day she made a crude comment regarding fellow classmate Hedgehog. It hurt.
A lot.
Well, that is all for tonight, Diar. Good night.
- Yulia
ps: Never read Story of the Eye outloud again!"
She shifted and pulled out a couple of photos from underneath her mattress. One of November and one of herself, they were both badly burnt. She taped them to her latest entry and as she pulled away she glid a gentle finger across November's image. And with that she clamped the book shut. She sat up and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.
She breathed deeply, "Trpelivost, Yulia, trpelivost."
Part One: After the Ball
Mimi sat in the darkened library, listening to the great clock quietly tick and tock. The smell of old paper filled her nostrils. She held a crystal paperweight in her hands, slowly passing it from her left hand to her right, and back again. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the cut crystal sphere.
Papers rustled on a table near her. She looked up and across the library, but saw no one. Mimi knew better. She peeped softly, sending a low sonic wavefront across the table. The sounds bounced back to her sensitive ears in fractions of a single second, and in an instant, she recognized the very solid form that stood at the table near her.
“Sam,” she said softly. “I really wanted to be alone.”
What are you doing? Sam’s voice filled her head, and Mimi reached up to rub her temple. Sam still had trouble sometimes gauging the strength of his telepathy. Sometimes, it was like carrying on a conversation with someone wearing headphones: the first few sentences were too sudden, and too loud.
“Trying to be alone,” Mimi replied, looking to anyone who might be watching as though she was talking to herself. She dropped her head to stare at the crystal ball.
You’re not being alone, Sam thought to her, you’re sulking.
“How could I miss it, Sam? The looks, the little notes? For God’s sake, the dress?”
You’re not the mind-reader in the room, Meem.
“Like that matters now?” Mimi looked up again.
She’ll be fine.
“Will she? I don’t know that. Do you?”
No voice filled her head.
“That’s what I thought. I didn’t see it, and I didn’t think about what it meant. And now she’s gone. Nobody seems to know where. No one’s seen her since the competition.”
No one thinks it’s your fault. Even Andrew didn’t see this coming, and he was her partner. Do you have any idea how upset he is?
Mimi hadn’t thought about Andrew in all this. All she had thought about was that terrible moment: Mimi announcing that Andrew and November had won the ‘best dressed couple’ award at the dance. The look on November’s face, her bursting into tears. November running from the stage, shoving past Mimi, going out the fire exit and into the street. And she was gone. The memory caused Mimi to wince in pain.
Mimi heard Sam come closer. She shrank away from his hand as he held it out. “Then maybe you should be comforting him instead of me.”
Sam couldn’t laugh. Not exactly. But his thoughts in her head betrayed him. Where do you think I’ve been for the last couple hours? Hedge got so sick of me that he shoved me out of his room.
Mimi smiled without meaning to. It must have been pretty serious for Sam to call Andrew Oliver ‘Hedge.’ He just didn’t do it, not like everyone else did. Sam had explained once that Andrew told him that he didn’t like the nickname. Sam had never called him ‘Hedge’ since. Mimi still did, but only because Andrew Oliver had never told her he didn’t like it. A childish kind of spite, she knew. But she wasn’t worried about that right now.
“I think she loves Moth,” Mimi said quietly, not exactly understanding what it meant, or why it caused feelings to stir in her.
You think? Came Sam’s reply, his tone sarcastic.
Mimi’s mouth twisted into a frown. “That helps. Thanks. And to think Hedge didn’t want you around.”
She heard him move away. Fine. Be alone. A book slid off the table violently, and the sound of it hitting the floor echoed through the library.
Mimi looked back down at the paperweight again. It was Czech lead crystal, a present Moth had given her. Mimi still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t given it to November, especially now.
Sam’s footsteps fell back to the arched doorway of the library, then stopped. But you know, he thought to her, I think we both know you’re the last person in this school to talk about what it means to be in love. And then he was gone, slipping through the door and down the hall.
Mimi’s breath caught in her throat. She felt her face grow hot. And she felt suddenly ashamed.
“You’re wrong,” she growled quietly.
But Sam was too far away to hear by now.
After the Ball Is Over
Melody & text - Charles K. Harris
A little maiden climbed an old man's knee
Begged for a story - "Do, uncle, please!"
Why are you single; why live alone?
Have you no babies; have you no home?"
"I had a sweetheart, years, years ago;
Where she is now, pet, you will soon know.
List to the story, I'll tell it all,
I believed her faithless, after the ball."
After the ball is over,
After the break of morn -
After the dancers' leaving;
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching,
If you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball.
"Bright lights were flashing in the grand ballroom,
Softly the music, playing sweet tunes.
There came my sweetheart, my love, my own -
'I wish some water; leave me alone.'
When I returned, dear, there stood a man,
Kissing my sweetheart, as lovers can.
Down fell the glass, pet, broken, that's all.
Just as my heart was, after the ball."
After the ball is over,
After the break of morn -
After the dancers' leaving;
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching,
If you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball.
"Long years have passed child, I've never wed
True to my lost love, though she is dead.
She tried to tell me, tried to explain;
I would not listen, pleadings were vain.
One day a letter came from that man,
He was her brother - the letter ran.
That's why I'm lonely, no home at all;
I broke her heart, pet, after the ball."
After the ball is over,
After the break of morn -
After the dancers' leaving;
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching,
If you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball.
Part Two: A Return
Chapter 1.
The last period of the day ended and students barreled out of their classes. Some met by lockers and huddled together while others wandered off to seemingly more prioritized destinations. Admist the clutter of bodies, November broke through, shoving a gang of giggling girls out of her way with an eye roll. The shortest girl stumbled back, "Hey, that was ridiculously rude and uncalled for!" She raised a smokey hand and pointed a digit at the form casually walking away. November muttered without turning her head, "Don't even try it. Just get over it and get on with your fuckin' day."
November marched down a set of stairs and turned into a less frequented corridor. She thought she heard a light squeak, the kind you'd hear when rubber soles rub against freshly waxed floors. She stopped briefly and pivoted her head before turning around. There was no one. There was nothing. She smiled, shaking her sable locks at her foolishness. November reached the hall of mailboxes and opened it up with a small key. She flipped though the stack of envelopes.
Dad.
Dad.
Dad.
Mom.
Mom and dad.
- "What? An ad for breast enlargement pills?"
And at the bottom of the pile, a stampless cream-colored envelope. She tossed the others into the nearest receptical, save for the little manilla envelope, and headed for her dormitory.
Cricket was reclining in her cot, her nose buried in the latest issue of Arcane Arts and Times magazine. November grunted salutations and promptly sat at her desk, sliding the bear Jaygo had given to her out of the way. With great care she peeled open the envelope,
"Nejdražší 'Pad,
How are you? I am sorry I have not written sooner, Mamka has been very sick and I've been an emotional wreck. I wish I could say this trip was a most needed vacation, but it is not at all. Tati is telling me that Mamka might need to head back to Anansi in order get well. This is most unfortunate. I really wish I could join her but they both insist I go back to school. Besides, I would really miss you so. And, boy, do I miss you! Again, I am awfully sorry for not writing. --
Cricket slapped the magazine down on her bed and ambled over to November, "Hey, I'm going to grab something to eat, want to come with?" November's eyes were glued to the penned words, "No thanks." Cricket shrugged and strolled off, "Oof!" November glanced over at Cricket, standing and smiling awkwardly by the open door, "Uh, see ya!" She bounced away in a frenzy of giggles.
'Pad, how is everything? How are your studies prevailing? How was the dance? Any interesting new students? I'm sure you will have lots to tell me once I get back. And when that happens, I'm going to treat you to some of the most delicious Czech desserts I learned while home!
I can't wait to see you! I hope you have a wonderful day!
Forever yours,
Yulia
P.S: You're probably wondering how this letter got mailed without a stamp. In fact, if you take the moment to turn around, you'll learn the answer to this funny little mystery.
November squinted and scrunched up her nose before spinning around in her seat. The air before her shifted and swayed, colors appeared. Then line. Then form. Then Moth. She was looking down at her, her pearly whites exposed to the fullest. November jumped to her feet and swung her arms around Moth's neck, embracing her snuggly, "Yulia! Oh my God, when did you get here!" Moth, noticably taller, peered into November's malachite orbs, "I got here earlier today and dropped off the letter while you were all in class. Cricket was in your dormitory by the time I got here. I told her I was planning on surprsing you, she was a good sport about it!"
November beamed and gave her friend another squeeze. Caught off guard by her unusual tenderness, Moth's eyes went wide for a second before easing into the nuzzle. She closed her eyes and held onto November's slender anatomy. She felt a murmured rumble emanating from the girl's chest and before she could stop to ask she was violently shoved back.
November's arms were bent straight out before her, her face gnarled. Moth eyed her cautiously, "Pad, what's...what's wrong?" November's shoulders convulsed in a wild chortle, "You fucking bitch. You God damned fucking bitch. You think, you honestly think, you can come out of nowhere and everything is going to be alright? You fucking tell me at the last minute that you have to head home, you don't even bother to call and then you write me ONCE, and you have the gall to show up in my room? And the dance! You blew me off, you did it on purpose didn't you? You," November broke into tears, "...you didn't even stop to think about what others would say? I looked like an idiot that night, thanks to you, Yulia. Putain! Je ne peux pas croire ceci! Sortez de ma pièce, putain..." She swung her arms down and repetitively shook her head sniveling, "You bitch...you fucking bitch..."
Moth, dumfounded, tried to gather up the right words. Hushed, she tried to sound comforting and sincere, "Pad, please. I am sorry, my mother is deathly ill. It was short notice for me as well, I couldn't just let Tati suffer with that burden alone. I didn't even know you wanted to attend the ball with me, Pad, I wish I knew. I really wish--" November howled, slamming Moth out the door and into the hallway; Moth crashed into the wooden banister outside the girls' room, "SORTEZ!"
Kali came into view through the doorway. She was clutching a stack of textbooks securely to her chest when she stopped at her tracks before the commotion going on in her room and now out in the hallway. She looked at Moth, who was laboring to her feet, and then she darted her panic-stricken eyes over to November. She dropped her books and sprinted down the staircase and out the door leading to the outside of the building.
"Dearest Yulia, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way from now on." She strolled past Moth, who sat with a look of utter bewilderment on her face, and descended the stairs before disappearing through the doorway that led to the school's courtyard.
Moth gathered to her feet finally and rubbed the small of her back as through a window she watched November's form march across the field.
Chapter 2.
Steam swirled around the bathroom, fogging the mirrors, smelling faintly of sandalwood soap. Mimi stood in the shower stall, face upturned to the spray, relishing the feeling of the hot water on her face. The water flowed from her face and hair, running down her neck and breasts, washed over her tummy and down her legs, and pooled at her feet before slipping away down the drain. Mimi turned her head down, feeling the spray massage her scalp. She winced slightly as the water’s course changed, running down her back, stinging slightly. She watched with some disdain as the water at her feet turned pink. The wound on her lower back would take some time to heal.
It had started as a youthful, joyous dare: she had joined Detective, Jade Rooster, and Sapphire Angel on a trip to Bloody Bay to investigate the meteors that plagued the area. It had turned on a dime, becoming unbelievably frightening, when a hazy form had come from nowhere, attacking the four students as they surveyed the crash sites. Armed with a samurai sword and moving with incredible speed, the villain had made short work of them, slicing and hacking as he callously laughed at the blood that flowed. Even Sapphire’s attempts to teleport them to safety had proved futile; the villain had pursued them all the way to the Longbow security helipad, and the attacks continued. Whoever he was, he was relentless and seemingly unstoppable.
Mimi closed her eyes, trying not to cry. It had been a long time since she had felt so powerless. What would Mary Moltar think if she had seen her? The blind panic, the pitiful cries of pain, the hopelessness. Mimi pounded her fist against the tiled wall. Pathetic. Weak and pathetic.
“My god,” said a soft voice from behind her. “What… has happened to you?”
Mimi looked backwards over her shoulder, squinting as the water sprayed into her eyes. A form stood there, partially obscured by the steamy mist. But the short, cropped blond hair was as big a giveaway as the accent. Mimi hadn’t even heard Yulia come in. She had been so distracted, so consumed by shame, that even her hypersensitive hearing had failed her. No wonder the man had beat her so easily. Mimi turned her face back to the water.
“I heard you were back,” Mimi said in an even tone.
“Yes,” Moth said hesitantly. “This afternoon.” Mimi nodded, but the conversation stalled.
Moth bit her lip softly. The long, jagged slash across Mimi’s back was raw, new. Something horrible had happened. But it wasn’t just a physical wound she bore; Moth didn’t need to be an empath to tell that much. Three weeks earlier, Mimi would have smiled, would have been happy to see her. But now, nothing. What had happened? Was it the pain of the wound, or had Pad poisoned her mind to her?
“You are badly hurt,” Moth said, finally. She stepped closer, reached out her hand to evaluate the injury. Mimi nodded vaguely. But when Yulia's fingertips touched Mimi’s back, the older girl tensed and whirled about suddenly.
“What are you doing?” Mimi demanded. She raised her arms to cover her breasts. “What do you want?” Mimi’s eyes flashed with anger and fear, ready to attack. But looking upon Moth’s face through the steam, she felt confusion quickly replace her anger. Standing so close, Mimi could see that Moth’s face and shoulders were spotted with bruises. Thin cuts and abrasions, like shrapnel wounds, were newly clotted. The towel wrapped around her was spotted with a few drops of blood. Suddenly, Mimi felt herself back in Bloody Bay, the fear, the confusion. But something was wrong. Moth wasn’t in Bloody Bay.
“I did not mean…” Moth began. She hated the fact that Mimi felt so threatened by her. Especially now. “I was concerned about your back.”
“I’m not the only one who’s hurt,” Mimi said, struggling to clear her mind. “What happened to you?”
Moth felt her face flush with embarrassment. She shook her head. “It is nothing, really.”
Mimi set her jaw sternly. Moth saw the anger come back into her eyes. “Bell did this to you, didn’t she?” Mimi began to step from the shower stall, a purposeful look upon her face. Moth had seen that look on Mimi’s face only once or twice, and only on patrol. It frightened her.
“No!” cried Moth, and laid a hand upon Mimi’s shoulder. Mimi’s angry eyes met hers. “You mustn’t,” Moth said quietly. “I… I provoked her.”
Mimi sneered slightly. “Unlikely. Your girlfriend’s been a real bitch for the last couple weeks.” Moth was simultaneously elated by the word girlfriend and offended at the word bitch. It made her stomach turn in a knot. Mimi read the conflict on her face, and she shook her head angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you? You want to be a doormat? Fine, be a doormat. But don’t stand here and lie for her.”
Moth bit her lip again. She wished desperately to be somewhere else. “I am not lying,” she said, but she heard the uncertainty in even her own voice. She shook her head sadly. “There are things,” she said hesitantly, “that you do not know.”
Mimi waved a dismissive hand. “Undoubtedly,” she said gruffly. “But you know what? I don’t care. November can’t treat people this way. First she blows up because you’re gone. Then she blows up because you didn’t come all the way back for the dance. Now she blows up because you’re back? To hell with that. Is this what you want? You want to be bullied around by her?”
Moth didn’t know what to say. Things had happened while she was gone, things she hadn’t even considered. What did it mean? The sound of the shower filled the bathroom, drawing attention to their silence. The steam continued to swirl about, slowly pasting Moth’s hair to her forehead. Water droplets beaded on Mimi’s face and slipped down her throat.
Moth swallowed hard. “I want November to be happy,” she finally said.
“Damn it, Yulia!” Mimi cried, turning to face her. She grabbed Moth by the shoulders. Her fingers dug into the little cuts and bruises, and pain flooded into Moth’s mind. From the pain came a certain mental clarity, and it felt suddenly awkward to be this close to Mimi’s naked body. “Nobody can help November if she doesn’t want to be helped! Don’t you get that? Nobody can make her happy if she doesn’t want to be!”
Moth stayed silent.
Mimi let her hands slip from Yulia's shoulders. She sighed heavily. “I think it’s the bell,” Mimi said quietly.
Moth raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“The bell, you know,” Mimi said, and gestured to her breastbone in a pantomime. The gesture served to remind Mimi of her nakedness, and she crossed her arms again and stared at the floor, blushing slightly. She sighed again and continued. “About a week ago, it started ringing. I don’t even know if anyone besides me can hear it. But it’s definitely ringing, softly, all the time.” Mimi looked up and met Moth’s eyes. “It didn’t use to do that. But now it does. And ever since I started hearing it, November has been… different.”
Moth felt the color drain from her face. She thought back to Ybur Academy, to what had happened there. To the night when November told her about the ringing. To the fire…
Mimi cocked her head. “What?”
Moth shook her head. “I do not know, yet,” she said quietly. Moth felt like she was on the edge of understanding, and that gave her hope. “But I think your clever hearing may have saved her.”
Mimi shrugged. “Uhm, okay,” she began.
Moth broke into an excited smile and took Mimi by the arms. “Oh, thank you!” she sighed, leaving Mimi puzzled as to how many students were going to lose their minds today. But even as she began to wonder, Yulia leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.
The shock of it left Mimi dazed. But as soon as it had begun, it was over. Moth didn’t seem to register the look on Mimi’s face as she turned and skipped towards the door.
“There is hope yet,” Moth laughed as she reached the door. “for all of us.” She paused at the door and turned to face Mimi through the thick steam. She was just an outline, her face unreadable. “Thank you, Mimi,” she said, and vanished through the door.
Mimi put her fingers to her lips and touched them. She stumbled back into the hot shower spray, and felt her back ache. Her own nudity embarrassed her suddenly, and she covered her body with her arms. She leaned back against the tiled wall. Her injury strung sharply, and she thought again about the villain who had attacked them on the helipad. But in her mind’s eye, the villain took a new shape, a different form. She slid down the wall, and felt the wound tear open again from the friction. The pain was distant. And as she slipped into a sitting position on the floor of the shower stall, the water around her growing red, she began to cry uncontrollably.
In her mind’s eye, Mikaela held the sword.
Chapter 3.
The sound of bare feet slapping against varnished hardwood floors bounced off the walls of the dark and empty gymnasium. November, donning a pair of black tights and a black bustier, flicked the light switch and deposited her bag on the first row of bleachers.
She stretched and twisted her body, prepping her ligaments. She turned to her bag and unzipped it, retrieving a small stereo. She plugged it into a unit in the wall and went back to her bag, drawing out a pair of beige satin pointe shoes. She neatly coiled the wide straps around her delicate ankles and bowed down to depress the Play button. The somber and heavy harmony of Ludwig Van Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata streamed from the little stereo. She readied herself into first position, her heels firmly set together and knees bent. She closed her eyes. (For a cool effect, listen while reading: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00000 ... nce&n=5174)
Haven't done this in a while...
And as if it was second nature, November finished the remaining positions of demi-plié before sweeping into more complicated and aerial movements. She started slow, keeping in sync with the initial melody. In slow motion she lifted a leg, the fine muscles in that appendage straining and bulging to keep itself steady. Just as slowly, she swept the leg back down before curling herself into an abrupt spin. She lunged through the air in short bursts, her legs stretching out firmly and her toes ending in swift, rigid points. She winced as she landed.
Pain? Bend at the knees when you land! Remember?
She fluttered in tune with the solemn music, swinging her wrists and back around, slicing the air with her right leg. She snapped the leg back down and galloped across the floor, spinning faster and faster. She grimaced in agony as her pointed feet soundlessly prodded the floor.
Fight it, fight the hurt. You deserve this anyway, don't you? You've been a real bitch lately. A real pain in the ass. Now you know how it feels. Now you know how everyone's been feeling around you.
She pivoted her waist and leaped up into the air with her arms bent over her head only to slam back down onto the floor with a yelp. November, sobbing, resumed dancing, twirling her skeletal arms and keeping her foot in the air rigid.
You baby. Suck it up. If you can deal it, you can take it. Enjoying alienating yourself, Novembre? People are noticing. People are talking. And this whole rape thing, are you serious? Can you even imagine the shit you’re going to have to deal with when people find out it never happened? Stupid! Stupid!
The corners of her mouth tucked into a lopsided smirk as she kicked up her reedy limbs, slowly and sensually gliding her arms and legs across the floor.
I....I don't care.
She tip-toed across the floorboards, heaving, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes finally flew open to see the vision of Moth silently watching her from the gymnasium doors. She was wearing a pair of green shorts that ended high up on her long thighs and a white-tee with "Go Flyers!" and the school emblem printed neatly over her heart. November nearly fell over, struck by Moth's sudden appearance in mid frappé. She settled her feet flatly to the floor and quickly shut off the stereo.
November boomed, "And what are you doing up at 5 in the morning?" The words echoed in the silent ambience of the gymnasium. Moth nipped at her bottom lip before responding softly, "I haven't been able to sleep since I get here..."
November swiped at the beads of sweat that pooled on her forehead with the back of her hand as she gave a snort, "Oh, is that so? I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from me, Yulia." She bent over to grab a towel out of her gym bag and dabbed it across her face and chest. She sat down on the bleachers and undid her pointes. She hissed as she peeled off the snug shoe, revealing fresh blisters and splintered nails. Moth coolly eyed November's toes, "Let me fix."
-"No, don’t. Just...just get the hell out of here, will you?”
Moth walked over to her and kneeled, forcing November to look at her as she stared up, meeting November's harsh gaze, "You want to walk around like that, ah?"
- "Yea, I actually fucking do. Dammit Yulia, just leave me alone."
November curiously surveyed Moth, mindful of her damp strands.
Just took a shower, amour?
The bell in her chest began to murmur. Moth's eyes darted to it and back to November, "Schválit , Pad. I let you be,”Moth said quickly. She gave her a tender smile before rising to her feet, lurching over November who was holding onto a bleeding foot. "...I will give you all time in the world." She nodded and began to walk out of the gymnasium, "But do not worry, Pad, do not punish yourself. It is not yourself to blame," and disappeared into the shadows of the halls.
November, squeezing her throbbing toes, thought about the secret meetings with Azuria, her MAGI guide, she’d been occupying herself with lately. Azuria happily agreed to do some extensive research on olden bells but she hadn’t chimed in with any sufficient information yet. She dipped her head to the side and eyed the emptiness before her, "Amour,” she whispered, “…Don’t be so sure.”
Chapter 4.
It was breezy, the wind felt like fire against Moth's face. She folded her arms over herself, huddling against a tall oak. Light flaxen bangs that coiled from her scalp like antennae curtained her eyes as she stared down at her feet, thinking.
November. November. November.
What has become of her and that bell? That thing at one point brought us closer. We were both “different” from the rest of the girls at school. We both had that bond. But now.…
She frowned as she tucked a pale lock behind an ear, her fingers stiff and red from the cold.
The main reason why I came to this school was for her. But she's shoved me away. I could be home. Why....why am I even here?
She sunk a hand into her blazer pocket as she took a quick survey of her surroundings. Satisfied with the inspection, a silver flask was now in her sinewy hold. She brought it to her lips and took a swig. She swallowed the warm liquid down with her eyes glancing about for any new signs of life. She shrugged and slumped down to the ground, her back pressed up against the tree. Shaking her head as she thought, she took long swills of the whiskey.
Who would I be in more trouble with if they saw me? Sister Moltar or Pad?
She smiled sloppily, the euphoric warm and hazy sensation starting to take effect.
"Yulia?"
Moth stared up slowly, her lids draped heavily over her stormy blue eyes. She eyed the intruder drunkenly, her pupils dilating and shrinking ever so gradually as they tried to focus on one image. Mimi.
Moth broke into a winsome grin, "Ah, Mimi! Jak se mas?"
Mimi kneeled down to Moth's level, peering in closely as she took a whiff of the alcohol on her breath, "Are you......drunk?"
Moth's head drooped to the side as her lips moved with no sound. The words, delayed, stumbled out in stutters and slurs, "Me? Hahaha!" She looked around and leaned in towards Mimi, "Yes." She reclined against the tree again and nodded briskly.
Mimi eyed her sadly and stood up. “You really shouldn’t let her do this to you,” she said softly. Moth gazed fixedly at the ground. Mimi sighed when she heard the bell ring, “Come on, get up. Let’s get you out of here and into your dorm for decency’s sake.” She grappled onto Moth’s shoulders and forced her up. She noticed old Moltar coming their way, “Yulia! Quick!” Moth groaned and, though it seemed to take forever, granted them both invisibility. Mimi propped Moth’s arm around her shoulders and started towards their dorm.
At reaching their destination, Mimi kicked open the door and shuffled Moth inside. Moth slid off her and onto her cot, “Are you going to be alright?” Mimi inquired. Moth rolled onto her back and closed her eyes as she gave Mimi a thumbs-up.
“I really hope this won’t become a habitual thing, Yulia,” she breathed as she sat down on the bunk by Moth. Mimi took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. Moth finally replied, her voice gravelly, “Don’t you worry.” Mimi replaced her glasses and she sighed, leaning forward with her elbows sloppily placed on her knees, “You’re my roommate. My friend. And this has got to stop.” Mimi caught the glint of the flask in Moth’s pocket and she reached for it. Moth’s hand flew down and grasped her wrist, “Noooooo, you silly imp.” She smiled sleepily and released, patting Mimi’s hand before stretching her arms over head. Mimi breathed, “Fine. Have it your way.” She got up and headed towards the door, “I have to get to class, I’m already incredibly late. Will you be alive and well when I get back?” Moth nodded silently in her drunken stupor.
As Mimi turned to go, Moth cleared her throat, “Though it seems to go unnoticed, yes? You are beautiful, both inside and out. Un…….like….” And she trailed off, her head rolling to the side. Mimi eyed her momentarily before heading to class.
Part Three: Dinner Plans
Chapter 1.
November sat back in a slightly stiff couch in the library, unenthusiastically turning the yellowed pages of an old book. She had spent the night there after passing a curious and uncomfortable moment with Jai. She scratched at the hunk of silver in her flesh. Several books and pamphlets were piled against a small wooden desk. November glanced up with a languid flutter of her lashes to see Moth leaning by the library doorsill. She was speaking to a girl.
Who?
The mint-green tufts of hair made November sit up straight.
Mimi?
Alarm flew to her eyes as she watched Moth break into light laughter with the VanBuren girl. Moth nodded with her infectious smile and glanced towards November’s way. Her heart fluttered but she glowered and returned her defiant stare to the pages in front of her. The ancient words stopped making sense to her a while ago.
Why am I getting so worked-up over this? Mimi is my friend too! She can be Yulia's friend as well....I guess....
Moth nodded her cranium in agreement over something. November swallowed hard as she watched. Yulia looked happy. Too happy. She could see Mimi’s eyes squinting from laughter behind the girl's lens. She sprang up onto her tip-toes and swung her arms around Moth, giving her a quick squeeze before turning to leave. Moth stood there for a second to watch her go before spinning on her heels to enter the library room. Her hands were in her trouser pockets as she started towards a soaring shelf of books.
She indiscriminately yanked one out and quietly passed November. She sat idly by and folded her legs, simulating great concentration in the object in her hands.
November rolled her eyes and grumbled softly, “Qui bon.” Moth didn’t bother to look up from the book, “Prosim?” November sighed, “Still spying on me, are we?” She snickered and leaned back. Moth shook her head and turned a page as she whispered, “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. I happen to find…” She paused, twisting the book around and taking a conspicuous gander at the title, “…Sex, Drugs, Disasters and the Extinction of Dinosaurs quite interesting, actually.” November scrunched up her face as she hissed, “No you don’t!” Several students glanced up at the sudden exclamation. November sunk deeper into her seat, lifting the book up to her face. Moth pressed her lips together firmly, fighting a smirk.
She turned to November and pushed down on her book, leaning in she whispered, “Can we please talk?” The surly brunette gathered her composure, sprang up in her seat and straightened her skirt, “Fine,” she replied.
They wandered outside. Moth leaned back against a brick wall, sliding her hands back into her pockets. November always wondered how her dear friend had gotten hold of a male’s uniform. Did she lie on her application? Or steal it and leave some poor chap to mosey about in a plaid skirt and blazer?
“I miss you,” she said resolutely, her European accent barely noticeable in that brazen statement. November swung her head, looking about for any eavesdroppers before nodding, “I’ve…I’ve missed you too.”
Wait. WAIT. Rewind. Yulia hugs people now? Since when did she start getting touchy-feeling with people? Yulia Darek does not HUG! What other changes have occurred in you, petite chaton?
She blinked, remembering she was still agitated, “…I guess.” Moth smiled serenely and took November’s hand. She breathed, “I know it’s not you. It’s that….” She cursed in Czech as she nudged her chin at November’s chest. “That thing has been making you act unbearable, Pad.” November’s hands flew up to the glimmering piece of metal in her emaciated bosom, “This?” Moth nodded with a severe look on her face. November smiled as she fibbed, “Nah. I’m better now. I was just a little stressed with school and things. That’s all, ” Moth looked skeptical. November continued, “It’s ok, mon ami. Truly,”
Do they spend a lot of time together? Mimi hasn’t really mentioned it. Yulia! You dirty little whore…is someone on the backburner? Mimi or me? Or perhaps someone else? Has she met Tara, yet? Ugh, Tara….
“In fact,” November’s eyelids slid down seductively, “Let’s have dinner sometime, Yulia. We haven’t chatted in forever. I’d like to hear about your trip, the state of your mother, your blossoming...friendships.” The squeeze the lanky girl gave to her hands and the sudden beam that washed over the handsome face reassured November that Yulia was still her puppy. “Znamenity!” She cheered and tightly embraced November, lifting her a few feet off the floor.
Chapter 2.
Mimi smiled at November and wished that her friend could be happy more often.
They sat together in a booth at La Mer, a trendy seafood restaurant that November had heard of some time ago. They had planned this dinner for weeks, and Mimi had really been looking forward to it. The place was supposed to be really classy, November had said, so Mimi had bought a new dress. It was black and snug around the middle, but it looked great. She had done her hair, and painted her nails, and thought about how much fun it would be in the Spring to go to the Junior Prom. This dinner was like an experiment: how girly could Mimi pull off and still feel like herself?
November had met her in the commons, wearing a blue cocktail dress that Mimi was pretty sure she never could have pulled off. The skirt had a small slit up the side and the cut of the neck swooped pretty low. Low enough to fully expose the bell in her breastbone and even a bit more than that. Mimi had found herself quietly wondering if she should invest in a wonderbra for the Prom.
They rode out to Talos on the Green Line, sitting together and talking, laughing. An older man across the aisle had stared at them, and November had intentionally flashed him a bit of thigh before calling the man something in French that Mimi had to assume was really awful. The man has gotten really flustered at that, and he couldn't so much as look at them again for the rest of the ride. November smiled proudly at her small triumph, and Mimi gently scolded her before falling back into giggling.
On the walk to the restaurant, Mimi looked long at a group of Tsoo they had passed. She had suddenly felt guilty for having a night out, when there was still so much to do for Paragon. November had pulled Mimi away. "Non, ma amie, not tonight," she had said. "Tonight, we are off-duty, Tonight we pretend there is nothing wrong." Mimi allowed herself to believe it, and the tattooed men faded away and were forgotten.
November had of course made reservations, but there was some sort of screw up. Mimi didn't really understand what it was, but November and the maitre d had argued in French about it, and soon they were sitting in their booth, on real leather seats, staring at the tablecloth, and playing with the three different forks at their places. The table could have held four people, and was set for three. November explained that it had to do with the mix-up on the reservation. The restaurant was very crowded, and Mimi could not help but feel like she and November were really special girls to be here. She tried hard not to look out of place, not to draw too much attention. But when the menu was opened in front of her, she couldn't help but gasp a little.
"November, this place wants almost 40 dollars for a fish!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure about this?"
"Absolutely," November purred. "This night would be worth any amount of money to me."
Mimi smiled and shrugged. "Okay, you're the one with the credit card," she giggled.
"Mimi," November said quietly, "you really do look lovely."
The green-haired girl blushed. "Not like you," she replied. "You look sensational in that dress. I could never look like you."
November felt her heart tremble a little. Mimi's honesty, her openness, was so disarming. Perhaps it was not worth it. Perhaps this was wrong. She shook her head a little.
Mimi frowned. "November? What's wrong?"
Nothing is wrong. Nothing. November frowned. Say it. "Nothing," she said smoothly. "What do you think you might have?"
"Me? I'm not even sure what half of this stuff is," Mimi replied with a smirk.
November heard the maitre d speaking with someone. And she heard the reply, the soft accent. Mimi either did not hear, or she simply wasn;t paying close attention. Either way. She felt emboldened. November swung around the table in a single graceful motion until she sat next to Mimi, who obliged by shifting over. "Well, so much of it is in my language. I will help you, non?"
Mimi felt November slip her arm around her shoulders as she leaned in. "Okay," she said. "What on earth does meuniere mean?"
November laughed slowly. "Sauteed in butter, my sweet."
Mimi didn't like the change in the tone of November's voice. There was something wrong with it, just as there was something wrong with the way her fingers were brushing against the flesh of Mimi's shoulder. "November..?"
November held fast. The maitre d was coming over. She forced a smile and pointed to another item. "And croûte de sel means crusted with salt. That may be too much for your delicate palate." She felt Mimi begin to squirm a little, but she held the smaller girl in place.
Mimi was growing very concerned. She suddenly felt a little claustrophobic, pinned against the inside wall of the booth, November leaning hard against her left side. And it was at that moment that Mimi could hear the bell. Ringing, ringing. The sound was so quiet she had missed it before, but there it was. The sound filled her with fright. But before she could say anything else, November turned suddenly and looked at the thin, angular form at the head of the table. Mimi looked up and gasped quietly.
Yulia dropped the bouquet of flowers she was holding. They hit the floor, and petals fell in the impact. She wore a man-tailored suit of a subtle grey, with a crisp blue tie, the same color as November's dress. She stood, staring at Mimi, a look of suprise on her face. As the shock faded, a look of quiet desperation set in.
Mimi struggled out of November's grasp. "Yulia," she began.
"How wonderful you could join us!" November cried, her voice thick with a gleeful menace. She rose to her feet quickly and embraced Moth, kissing her lightly on each cheek. Then she pivoted and sat Yulia down next to Mimi. November smiled, wrinkling her nose a moment, and retook her seat, across from them. Mimi could feel the pain flowing off Yulia like heat, just as easily as she could feel the pleasure that November took at their discomfort. "D'accord," November said finally. "Now, what shall we talk about?"
Moments of awkward silence felt like eons. November folded her hands across the table and glanced at the two girls earnestly. She lifted her brows, cupping her chin, "Nothing? Is that how it's going to be then? Some company!" She beamed, "Who's hungry?" She gestured to a waiter, a young male-model type in gentlemanly garb with a towel strewn over his arm and an apron tied about his waist. He strolled over and jutted his chin high in the air, "Madame?"
November responded matter-of-factly as she handed the boy her closed menu, "Je prendrai le Soupe à l'Oignon gratinée, sans le vin, ajoutez la moitié du fromage que vous normalement emploieriez." She smiled sweetly over at the stiffened girls and canted her head to the side, observing. The server bowed his head and turned to the silent creatures, his voice thick with his Western European accent, "And yourselves, Madames?"
Side-thrown glances and drooping of heads was their response. He looked back to November helplessly, "M-madame?"
November never tore her eyes away the girls, pursing her lips she replied nonchalantly, "If you girls aren't going to speak up, I'm just going to have to order for you two, ah?" She smirked and sat up, "That one over there, avec peau aimez la lune, she'll have the Gratinée de Coquille St Jacques..." She shifted her visage to Mimi, "...You're not allergic to scallop or shrimp, oui?" Mimi glared softly before looking away. November smiled up at the waiter, "Yes. That'll be fine. Fresh from the shell, garcon. Let's see now, la blond, oui, she'll have..." Yulia sat with her arms frozen to her sides with her spine uncomfortably linear, "I'll have nothing." Her lean face was void of expression, her eyes hollow and vacant. November was taken back a bit. She waved her hand out at her as she continued, rolling her green eyes, "Nonsense. She'll have the Canard au Cerises." She radiated a smoldering glance to Yulia, "Sweets for my sweet." The boy, feeling the tension, started to lose his cool, "W-will that be all, madame?" November handed the rest of the menus to him and nodded, "For now, garcon. But we'd like some bread and water, s'il vous." He pivoted into a quick bow and scurried off.
Mimi slumped herself over the table and placed her foreheand in her hand. She muttered outloud, dazedly staring down at the parchwhite table cloth, "What's going on, November?"
"Jan. 3, 'XX
Dear Diar,
I am invisible and she is shrouded in lies. "Do not speak of Ybur Academy, Yulia." I have been asked to make a promise that the truth about our past in Ybur and the involvement of The Carnival of Shadows should forever be kept silent. Anything for her.
The holidays were pleasant, but I miss Tati("papa") and Mamka("mom") so much. I got 'pad (Moth's petname for November, "Pad" literally means "fall/to fall", "Listopad" means November in Czech)a gown for the dance and I asked her if she'd accompany me, at first she refused the dress and claimed she wasn't sure. I insisted she accept the dress regardless. She got me a barrette with a porcelain yellow rose centered on silver casting, it is quite lovely. But don't yellow roses symbolize friendship? How bitter sweet..."
Moth was on her bunk. Lying on her belly, lean legs bent and crossed behind her. She was propped up on her elbows, scribbling away in a leather booklet, her journal. The radio softly played behind her,
There's a part of me you'll never know
The only thing I'll never show
Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
Hopelessly I'll give you everything
But I won't give you up
I won't let you down
And I won't leave you falling
If the moment ever comes
It's plain to see it's trying to speak
Cherished dreams forever asleep
Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
Hopelessly I'll give you everything
But I won't give you up
I won't let you down
And I won't leave you falling
If the moment ever comes
Hopelessly I'll love you endlessly
Hopelessly I'll give you everything
But I won't give you up
I won't let you down
And I won't leave you falling
But the moment never comes
The haunting lyrics forced a stuttering sigh out of her. She canted her head forward. Blonde bangs cascaded over stormy blue oculars, forming a dark shadow across her brow.
"...I wonder what will become of us. Every time I see her I crave her more. I crave for her hand to reach for mine. I crave for her dewy lips to crash into mi--.."
Moth frowned and scribbled that last fragment out.
"...At the moment I only have my dreams. My wonderful dreams. And of course our friendship. If 'pad were mine, we'd be unstoppable! I'd try my hardest to never see her cry like she did that night. Seems like eons ago that I have last seen her shed a tear. She is too hard. What is she hiding from?
The other day she made a crude comment regarding fellow classmate Hedgehog. It hurt.
A lot.
Well, that is all for tonight, Diar. Good night.
- Yulia
ps: Never read Story of the Eye outloud again!"
She shifted and pulled out a couple of photos from underneath her mattress. One of November and one of herself, they were both badly burnt. She taped them to her latest entry and as she pulled away she glid a gentle finger across November's image. And with that she clamped the book shut. She sat up and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.
She breathed deeply, "Trpelivost, Yulia, trpelivost."
Part One: After the Ball
Mimi sat in the darkened library, listening to the great clock quietly tick and tock. The smell of old paper filled her nostrils. She held a crystal paperweight in her hands, slowly passing it from her left hand to her right, and back again. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the cut crystal sphere.
Papers rustled on a table near her. She looked up and across the library, but saw no one. Mimi knew better. She peeped softly, sending a low sonic wavefront across the table. The sounds bounced back to her sensitive ears in fractions of a single second, and in an instant, she recognized the very solid form that stood at the table near her.
“Sam,” she said softly. “I really wanted to be alone.”
What are you doing? Sam’s voice filled her head, and Mimi reached up to rub her temple. Sam still had trouble sometimes gauging the strength of his telepathy. Sometimes, it was like carrying on a conversation with someone wearing headphones: the first few sentences were too sudden, and too loud.
“Trying to be alone,” Mimi replied, looking to anyone who might be watching as though she was talking to herself. She dropped her head to stare at the crystal ball.
You’re not being alone, Sam thought to her, you’re sulking.
“How could I miss it, Sam? The looks, the little notes? For God’s sake, the dress?”
You’re not the mind-reader in the room, Meem.
“Like that matters now?” Mimi looked up again.
She’ll be fine.
“Will she? I don’t know that. Do you?”
No voice filled her head.
“That’s what I thought. I didn’t see it, and I didn’t think about what it meant. And now she’s gone. Nobody seems to know where. No one’s seen her since the competition.”
No one thinks it’s your fault. Even Andrew didn’t see this coming, and he was her partner. Do you have any idea how upset he is?
Mimi hadn’t thought about Andrew in all this. All she had thought about was that terrible moment: Mimi announcing that Andrew and November had won the ‘best dressed couple’ award at the dance. The look on November’s face, her bursting into tears. November running from the stage, shoving past Mimi, going out the fire exit and into the street. And she was gone. The memory caused Mimi to wince in pain.
Mimi heard Sam come closer. She shrank away from his hand as he held it out. “Then maybe you should be comforting him instead of me.”
Sam couldn’t laugh. Not exactly. But his thoughts in her head betrayed him. Where do you think I’ve been for the last couple hours? Hedge got so sick of me that he shoved me out of his room.
Mimi smiled without meaning to. It must have been pretty serious for Sam to call Andrew Oliver ‘Hedge.’ He just didn’t do it, not like everyone else did. Sam had explained once that Andrew told him that he didn’t like the nickname. Sam had never called him ‘Hedge’ since. Mimi still did, but only because Andrew Oliver had never told her he didn’t like it. A childish kind of spite, she knew. But she wasn’t worried about that right now.
“I think she loves Moth,” Mimi said quietly, not exactly understanding what it meant, or why it caused feelings to stir in her.
You think? Came Sam’s reply, his tone sarcastic.
Mimi’s mouth twisted into a frown. “That helps. Thanks. And to think Hedge didn’t want you around.”
She heard him move away. Fine. Be alone. A book slid off the table violently, and the sound of it hitting the floor echoed through the library.
Mimi looked back down at the paperweight again. It was Czech lead crystal, a present Moth had given her. Mimi still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t given it to November, especially now.
Sam’s footsteps fell back to the arched doorway of the library, then stopped. But you know, he thought to her, I think we both know you’re the last person in this school to talk about what it means to be in love. And then he was gone, slipping through the door and down the hall.
Mimi’s breath caught in her throat. She felt her face grow hot. And she felt suddenly ashamed.
“You’re wrong,” she growled quietly.
But Sam was too far away to hear by now.
After the Ball Is Over
Melody & text - Charles K. Harris
A little maiden climbed an old man's knee
Begged for a story - "Do, uncle, please!"
Why are you single; why live alone?
Have you no babies; have you no home?"
"I had a sweetheart, years, years ago;
Where she is now, pet, you will soon know.
List to the story, I'll tell it all,
I believed her faithless, after the ball."
After the ball is over,
After the break of morn -
After the dancers' leaving;
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching,
If you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball.
"Bright lights were flashing in the grand ballroom,
Softly the music, playing sweet tunes.
There came my sweetheart, my love, my own -
'I wish some water; leave me alone.'
When I returned, dear, there stood a man,
Kissing my sweetheart, as lovers can.
Down fell the glass, pet, broken, that's all.
Just as my heart was, after the ball."
After the ball is over,
After the break of morn -
After the dancers' leaving;
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching,
If you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball.
"Long years have passed child, I've never wed
True to my lost love, though she is dead.
She tried to tell me, tried to explain;
I would not listen, pleadings were vain.
One day a letter came from that man,
He was her brother - the letter ran.
That's why I'm lonely, no home at all;
I broke her heart, pet, after the ball."
After the ball is over,
After the break of morn -
After the dancers' leaving;
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching,
If you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball.
Part Two: A Return
Chapter 1.
The last period of the day ended and students barreled out of their classes. Some met by lockers and huddled together while others wandered off to seemingly more prioritized destinations. Admist the clutter of bodies, November broke through, shoving a gang of giggling girls out of her way with an eye roll. The shortest girl stumbled back, "Hey, that was ridiculously rude and uncalled for!" She raised a smokey hand and pointed a digit at the form casually walking away. November muttered without turning her head, "Don't even try it. Just get over it and get on with your fuckin' day."
November marched down a set of stairs and turned into a less frequented corridor. She thought she heard a light squeak, the kind you'd hear when rubber soles rub against freshly waxed floors. She stopped briefly and pivoted her head before turning around. There was no one. There was nothing. She smiled, shaking her sable locks at her foolishness. November reached the hall of mailboxes and opened it up with a small key. She flipped though the stack of envelopes.
Dad.
Dad.
Dad.
Mom.
Mom and dad.
- "What? An ad for breast enlargement pills?"
And at the bottom of the pile, a stampless cream-colored envelope. She tossed the others into the nearest receptical, save for the little manilla envelope, and headed for her dormitory.
Cricket was reclining in her cot, her nose buried in the latest issue of Arcane Arts and Times magazine. November grunted salutations and promptly sat at her desk, sliding the bear Jaygo had given to her out of the way. With great care she peeled open the envelope,
"Nejdražší 'Pad,
How are you? I am sorry I have not written sooner, Mamka has been very sick and I've been an emotional wreck. I wish I could say this trip was a most needed vacation, but it is not at all. Tati is telling me that Mamka might need to head back to Anansi in order get well. This is most unfortunate. I really wish I could join her but they both insist I go back to school. Besides, I would really miss you so. And, boy, do I miss you! Again, I am awfully sorry for not writing. --
Cricket slapped the magazine down on her bed and ambled over to November, "Hey, I'm going to grab something to eat, want to come with?" November's eyes were glued to the penned words, "No thanks." Cricket shrugged and strolled off, "Oof!" November glanced over at Cricket, standing and smiling awkwardly by the open door, "Uh, see ya!" She bounced away in a frenzy of giggles.
'Pad, how is everything? How are your studies prevailing? How was the dance? Any interesting new students? I'm sure you will have lots to tell me once I get back. And when that happens, I'm going to treat you to some of the most delicious Czech desserts I learned while home!
I can't wait to see you! I hope you have a wonderful day!
Forever yours,
Yulia
P.S: You're probably wondering how this letter got mailed without a stamp. In fact, if you take the moment to turn around, you'll learn the answer to this funny little mystery.
November squinted and scrunched up her nose before spinning around in her seat. The air before her shifted and swayed, colors appeared. Then line. Then form. Then Moth. She was looking down at her, her pearly whites exposed to the fullest. November jumped to her feet and swung her arms around Moth's neck, embracing her snuggly, "Yulia! Oh my God, when did you get here!" Moth, noticably taller, peered into November's malachite orbs, "I got here earlier today and dropped off the letter while you were all in class. Cricket was in your dormitory by the time I got here. I told her I was planning on surprsing you, she was a good sport about it!"
November beamed and gave her friend another squeeze. Caught off guard by her unusual tenderness, Moth's eyes went wide for a second before easing into the nuzzle. She closed her eyes and held onto November's slender anatomy. She felt a murmured rumble emanating from the girl's chest and before she could stop to ask she was violently shoved back.
November's arms were bent straight out before her, her face gnarled. Moth eyed her cautiously, "Pad, what's...what's wrong?" November's shoulders convulsed in a wild chortle, "You fucking bitch. You God damned fucking bitch. You think, you honestly think, you can come out of nowhere and everything is going to be alright? You fucking tell me at the last minute that you have to head home, you don't even bother to call and then you write me ONCE, and you have the gall to show up in my room? And the dance! You blew me off, you did it on purpose didn't you? You," November broke into tears, "...you didn't even stop to think about what others would say? I looked like an idiot that night, thanks to you, Yulia. Putain! Je ne peux pas croire ceci! Sortez de ma pièce, putain..." She swung her arms down and repetitively shook her head sniveling, "You bitch...you fucking bitch..."
Moth, dumfounded, tried to gather up the right words. Hushed, she tried to sound comforting and sincere, "Pad, please. I am sorry, my mother is deathly ill. It was short notice for me as well, I couldn't just let Tati suffer with that burden alone. I didn't even know you wanted to attend the ball with me, Pad, I wish I knew. I really wish--" November howled, slamming Moth out the door and into the hallway; Moth crashed into the wooden banister outside the girls' room, "SORTEZ!"
Kali came into view through the doorway. She was clutching a stack of textbooks securely to her chest when she stopped at her tracks before the commotion going on in her room and now out in the hallway. She looked at Moth, who was laboring to her feet, and then she darted her panic-stricken eyes over to November. She dropped her books and sprinted down the staircase and out the door leading to the outside of the building.
"Dearest Yulia, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way from now on." She strolled past Moth, who sat with a look of utter bewilderment on her face, and descended the stairs before disappearing through the doorway that led to the school's courtyard.
Moth gathered to her feet finally and rubbed the small of her back as through a window she watched November's form march across the field.
Chapter 2.
Steam swirled around the bathroom, fogging the mirrors, smelling faintly of sandalwood soap. Mimi stood in the shower stall, face upturned to the spray, relishing the feeling of the hot water on her face. The water flowed from her face and hair, running down her neck and breasts, washed over her tummy and down her legs, and pooled at her feet before slipping away down the drain. Mimi turned her head down, feeling the spray massage her scalp. She winced slightly as the water’s course changed, running down her back, stinging slightly. She watched with some disdain as the water at her feet turned pink. The wound on her lower back would take some time to heal.
It had started as a youthful, joyous dare: she had joined Detective, Jade Rooster, and Sapphire Angel on a trip to Bloody Bay to investigate the meteors that plagued the area. It had turned on a dime, becoming unbelievably frightening, when a hazy form had come from nowhere, attacking the four students as they surveyed the crash sites. Armed with a samurai sword and moving with incredible speed, the villain had made short work of them, slicing and hacking as he callously laughed at the blood that flowed. Even Sapphire’s attempts to teleport them to safety had proved futile; the villain had pursued them all the way to the Longbow security helipad, and the attacks continued. Whoever he was, he was relentless and seemingly unstoppable.
Mimi closed her eyes, trying not to cry. It had been a long time since she had felt so powerless. What would Mary Moltar think if she had seen her? The blind panic, the pitiful cries of pain, the hopelessness. Mimi pounded her fist against the tiled wall. Pathetic. Weak and pathetic.
“My god,” said a soft voice from behind her. “What… has happened to you?”
Mimi looked backwards over her shoulder, squinting as the water sprayed into her eyes. A form stood there, partially obscured by the steamy mist. But the short, cropped blond hair was as big a giveaway as the accent. Mimi hadn’t even heard Yulia come in. She had been so distracted, so consumed by shame, that even her hypersensitive hearing had failed her. No wonder the man had beat her so easily. Mimi turned her face back to the water.
“I heard you were back,” Mimi said in an even tone.
“Yes,” Moth said hesitantly. “This afternoon.” Mimi nodded, but the conversation stalled.
Moth bit her lip softly. The long, jagged slash across Mimi’s back was raw, new. Something horrible had happened. But it wasn’t just a physical wound she bore; Moth didn’t need to be an empath to tell that much. Three weeks earlier, Mimi would have smiled, would have been happy to see her. But now, nothing. What had happened? Was it the pain of the wound, or had Pad poisoned her mind to her?
“You are badly hurt,” Moth said, finally. She stepped closer, reached out her hand to evaluate the injury. Mimi nodded vaguely. But when Yulia's fingertips touched Mimi’s back, the older girl tensed and whirled about suddenly.
“What are you doing?” Mimi demanded. She raised her arms to cover her breasts. “What do you want?” Mimi’s eyes flashed with anger and fear, ready to attack. But looking upon Moth’s face through the steam, she felt confusion quickly replace her anger. Standing so close, Mimi could see that Moth’s face and shoulders were spotted with bruises. Thin cuts and abrasions, like shrapnel wounds, were newly clotted. The towel wrapped around her was spotted with a few drops of blood. Suddenly, Mimi felt herself back in Bloody Bay, the fear, the confusion. But something was wrong. Moth wasn’t in Bloody Bay.
“I did not mean…” Moth began. She hated the fact that Mimi felt so threatened by her. Especially now. “I was concerned about your back.”
“I’m not the only one who’s hurt,” Mimi said, struggling to clear her mind. “What happened to you?”
Moth felt her face flush with embarrassment. She shook her head. “It is nothing, really.”
Mimi set her jaw sternly. Moth saw the anger come back into her eyes. “Bell did this to you, didn’t she?” Mimi began to step from the shower stall, a purposeful look upon her face. Moth had seen that look on Mimi’s face only once or twice, and only on patrol. It frightened her.
“No!” cried Moth, and laid a hand upon Mimi’s shoulder. Mimi’s angry eyes met hers. “You mustn’t,” Moth said quietly. “I… I provoked her.”
Mimi sneered slightly. “Unlikely. Your girlfriend’s been a real bitch for the last couple weeks.” Moth was simultaneously elated by the word girlfriend and offended at the word bitch. It made her stomach turn in a knot. Mimi read the conflict on her face, and she shook her head angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you? You want to be a doormat? Fine, be a doormat. But don’t stand here and lie for her.”
Moth bit her lip again. She wished desperately to be somewhere else. “I am not lying,” she said, but she heard the uncertainty in even her own voice. She shook her head sadly. “There are things,” she said hesitantly, “that you do not know.”
Mimi waved a dismissive hand. “Undoubtedly,” she said gruffly. “But you know what? I don’t care. November can’t treat people this way. First she blows up because you’re gone. Then she blows up because you didn’t come all the way back for the dance. Now she blows up because you’re back? To hell with that. Is this what you want? You want to be bullied around by her?”
Moth didn’t know what to say. Things had happened while she was gone, things she hadn’t even considered. What did it mean? The sound of the shower filled the bathroom, drawing attention to their silence. The steam continued to swirl about, slowly pasting Moth’s hair to her forehead. Water droplets beaded on Mimi’s face and slipped down her throat.
Moth swallowed hard. “I want November to be happy,” she finally said.
“Damn it, Yulia!” Mimi cried, turning to face her. She grabbed Moth by the shoulders. Her fingers dug into the little cuts and bruises, and pain flooded into Moth’s mind. From the pain came a certain mental clarity, and it felt suddenly awkward to be this close to Mimi’s naked body. “Nobody can help November if she doesn’t want to be helped! Don’t you get that? Nobody can make her happy if she doesn’t want to be!”
Moth stayed silent.
Mimi let her hands slip from Yulia's shoulders. She sighed heavily. “I think it’s the bell,” Mimi said quietly.
Moth raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“The bell, you know,” Mimi said, and gestured to her breastbone in a pantomime. The gesture served to remind Mimi of her nakedness, and she crossed her arms again and stared at the floor, blushing slightly. She sighed again and continued. “About a week ago, it started ringing. I don’t even know if anyone besides me can hear it. But it’s definitely ringing, softly, all the time.” Mimi looked up and met Moth’s eyes. “It didn’t use to do that. But now it does. And ever since I started hearing it, November has been… different.”
Moth felt the color drain from her face. She thought back to Ybur Academy, to what had happened there. To the night when November told her about the ringing. To the fire…
Mimi cocked her head. “What?”
Moth shook her head. “I do not know, yet,” she said quietly. Moth felt like she was on the edge of understanding, and that gave her hope. “But I think your clever hearing may have saved her.”
Mimi shrugged. “Uhm, okay,” she began.
Moth broke into an excited smile and took Mimi by the arms. “Oh, thank you!” she sighed, leaving Mimi puzzled as to how many students were going to lose their minds today. But even as she began to wonder, Yulia leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.
The shock of it left Mimi dazed. But as soon as it had begun, it was over. Moth didn’t seem to register the look on Mimi’s face as she turned and skipped towards the door.
“There is hope yet,” Moth laughed as she reached the door. “for all of us.” She paused at the door and turned to face Mimi through the thick steam. She was just an outline, her face unreadable. “Thank you, Mimi,” she said, and vanished through the door.
Mimi put her fingers to her lips and touched them. She stumbled back into the hot shower spray, and felt her back ache. Her own nudity embarrassed her suddenly, and she covered her body with her arms. She leaned back against the tiled wall. Her injury strung sharply, and she thought again about the villain who had attacked them on the helipad. But in her mind’s eye, the villain took a new shape, a different form. She slid down the wall, and felt the wound tear open again from the friction. The pain was distant. And as she slipped into a sitting position on the floor of the shower stall, the water around her growing red, she began to cry uncontrollably.
In her mind’s eye, Mikaela held the sword.
Chapter 3.
The sound of bare feet slapping against varnished hardwood floors bounced off the walls of the dark and empty gymnasium. November, donning a pair of black tights and a black bustier, flicked the light switch and deposited her bag on the first row of bleachers.
She stretched and twisted her body, prepping her ligaments. She turned to her bag and unzipped it, retrieving a small stereo. She plugged it into a unit in the wall and went back to her bag, drawing out a pair of beige satin pointe shoes. She neatly coiled the wide straps around her delicate ankles and bowed down to depress the Play button. The somber and heavy harmony of Ludwig Van Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata streamed from the little stereo. She readied herself into first position, her heels firmly set together and knees bent. She closed her eyes. (For a cool effect, listen while reading: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00000 ... nce&n=5174)
Haven't done this in a while...
And as if it was second nature, November finished the remaining positions of demi-plié before sweeping into more complicated and aerial movements. She started slow, keeping in sync with the initial melody. In slow motion she lifted a leg, the fine muscles in that appendage straining and bulging to keep itself steady. Just as slowly, she swept the leg back down before curling herself into an abrupt spin. She lunged through the air in short bursts, her legs stretching out firmly and her toes ending in swift, rigid points. She winced as she landed.
Pain? Bend at the knees when you land! Remember?
She fluttered in tune with the solemn music, swinging her wrists and back around, slicing the air with her right leg. She snapped the leg back down and galloped across the floor, spinning faster and faster. She grimaced in agony as her pointed feet soundlessly prodded the floor.
Fight it, fight the hurt. You deserve this anyway, don't you? You've been a real bitch lately. A real pain in the ass. Now you know how it feels. Now you know how everyone's been feeling around you.
She pivoted her waist and leaped up into the air with her arms bent over her head only to slam back down onto the floor with a yelp. November, sobbing, resumed dancing, twirling her skeletal arms and keeping her foot in the air rigid.
You baby. Suck it up. If you can deal it, you can take it. Enjoying alienating yourself, Novembre? People are noticing. People are talking. And this whole rape thing, are you serious? Can you even imagine the shit you’re going to have to deal with when people find out it never happened? Stupid! Stupid!
The corners of her mouth tucked into a lopsided smirk as she kicked up her reedy limbs, slowly and sensually gliding her arms and legs across the floor.
I....I don't care.
She tip-toed across the floorboards, heaving, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes finally flew open to see the vision of Moth silently watching her from the gymnasium doors. She was wearing a pair of green shorts that ended high up on her long thighs and a white-tee with "Go Flyers!" and the school emblem printed neatly over her heart. November nearly fell over, struck by Moth's sudden appearance in mid frappé. She settled her feet flatly to the floor and quickly shut off the stereo.
November boomed, "And what are you doing up at 5 in the morning?" The words echoed in the silent ambience of the gymnasium. Moth nipped at her bottom lip before responding softly, "I haven't been able to sleep since I get here..."
November swiped at the beads of sweat that pooled on her forehead with the back of her hand as she gave a snort, "Oh, is that so? I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from me, Yulia." She bent over to grab a towel out of her gym bag and dabbed it across her face and chest. She sat down on the bleachers and undid her pointes. She hissed as she peeled off the snug shoe, revealing fresh blisters and splintered nails. Moth coolly eyed November's toes, "Let me fix."
-"No, don’t. Just...just get the hell out of here, will you?”
Moth walked over to her and kneeled, forcing November to look at her as she stared up, meeting November's harsh gaze, "You want to walk around like that, ah?"
- "Yea, I actually fucking do. Dammit Yulia, just leave me alone."
November curiously surveyed Moth, mindful of her damp strands.
Just took a shower, amour?
The bell in her chest began to murmur. Moth's eyes darted to it and back to November, "Schválit , Pad. I let you be,”Moth said quickly. She gave her a tender smile before rising to her feet, lurching over November who was holding onto a bleeding foot. "...I will give you all time in the world." She nodded and began to walk out of the gymnasium, "But do not worry, Pad, do not punish yourself. It is not yourself to blame," and disappeared into the shadows of the halls.
November, squeezing her throbbing toes, thought about the secret meetings with Azuria, her MAGI guide, she’d been occupying herself with lately. Azuria happily agreed to do some extensive research on olden bells but she hadn’t chimed in with any sufficient information yet. She dipped her head to the side and eyed the emptiness before her, "Amour,” she whispered, “…Don’t be so sure.”
Chapter 4.
It was breezy, the wind felt like fire against Moth's face. She folded her arms over herself, huddling against a tall oak. Light flaxen bangs that coiled from her scalp like antennae curtained her eyes as she stared down at her feet, thinking.
November. November. November.
What has become of her and that bell? That thing at one point brought us closer. We were both “different” from the rest of the girls at school. We both had that bond. But now.…
She frowned as she tucked a pale lock behind an ear, her fingers stiff and red from the cold.
The main reason why I came to this school was for her. But she's shoved me away. I could be home. Why....why am I even here?
She sunk a hand into her blazer pocket as she took a quick survey of her surroundings. Satisfied with the inspection, a silver flask was now in her sinewy hold. She brought it to her lips and took a swig. She swallowed the warm liquid down with her eyes glancing about for any new signs of life. She shrugged and slumped down to the ground, her back pressed up against the tree. Shaking her head as she thought, she took long swills of the whiskey.
Who would I be in more trouble with if they saw me? Sister Moltar or Pad?
She smiled sloppily, the euphoric warm and hazy sensation starting to take effect.
"Yulia?"
Moth stared up slowly, her lids draped heavily over her stormy blue eyes. She eyed the intruder drunkenly, her pupils dilating and shrinking ever so gradually as they tried to focus on one image. Mimi.
Moth broke into a winsome grin, "Ah, Mimi! Jak se mas?"
Mimi kneeled down to Moth's level, peering in closely as she took a whiff of the alcohol on her breath, "Are you......drunk?"
Moth's head drooped to the side as her lips moved with no sound. The words, delayed, stumbled out in stutters and slurs, "Me? Hahaha!" She looked around and leaned in towards Mimi, "Yes." She reclined against the tree again and nodded briskly.
Mimi eyed her sadly and stood up. “You really shouldn’t let her do this to you,” she said softly. Moth gazed fixedly at the ground. Mimi sighed when she heard the bell ring, “Come on, get up. Let’s get you out of here and into your dorm for decency’s sake.” She grappled onto Moth’s shoulders and forced her up. She noticed old Moltar coming their way, “Yulia! Quick!” Moth groaned and, though it seemed to take forever, granted them both invisibility. Mimi propped Moth’s arm around her shoulders and started towards their dorm.
At reaching their destination, Mimi kicked open the door and shuffled Moth inside. Moth slid off her and onto her cot, “Are you going to be alright?” Mimi inquired. Moth rolled onto her back and closed her eyes as she gave Mimi a thumbs-up.
“I really hope this won’t become a habitual thing, Yulia,” she breathed as she sat down on the bunk by Moth. Mimi took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. Moth finally replied, her voice gravelly, “Don’t you worry.” Mimi replaced her glasses and she sighed, leaning forward with her elbows sloppily placed on her knees, “You’re my roommate. My friend. And this has got to stop.” Mimi caught the glint of the flask in Moth’s pocket and she reached for it. Moth’s hand flew down and grasped her wrist, “Noooooo, you silly imp.” She smiled sleepily and released, patting Mimi’s hand before stretching her arms over head. Mimi breathed, “Fine. Have it your way.” She got up and headed towards the door, “I have to get to class, I’m already incredibly late. Will you be alive and well when I get back?” Moth nodded silently in her drunken stupor.
As Mimi turned to go, Moth cleared her throat, “Though it seems to go unnoticed, yes? You are beautiful, both inside and out. Un…….like….” And she trailed off, her head rolling to the side. Mimi eyed her momentarily before heading to class.
Part Three: Dinner Plans
Chapter 1.
November sat back in a slightly stiff couch in the library, unenthusiastically turning the yellowed pages of an old book. She had spent the night there after passing a curious and uncomfortable moment with Jai. She scratched at the hunk of silver in her flesh. Several books and pamphlets were piled against a small wooden desk. November glanced up with a languid flutter of her lashes to see Moth leaning by the library doorsill. She was speaking to a girl.
Who?
The mint-green tufts of hair made November sit up straight.
Mimi?
Alarm flew to her eyes as she watched Moth break into light laughter with the VanBuren girl. Moth nodded with her infectious smile and glanced towards November’s way. Her heart fluttered but she glowered and returned her defiant stare to the pages in front of her. The ancient words stopped making sense to her a while ago.
Why am I getting so worked-up over this? Mimi is my friend too! She can be Yulia's friend as well....I guess....
Moth nodded her cranium in agreement over something. November swallowed hard as she watched. Yulia looked happy. Too happy. She could see Mimi’s eyes squinting from laughter behind the girl's lens. She sprang up onto her tip-toes and swung her arms around Moth, giving her a quick squeeze before turning to leave. Moth stood there for a second to watch her go before spinning on her heels to enter the library room. Her hands were in her trouser pockets as she started towards a soaring shelf of books.
She indiscriminately yanked one out and quietly passed November. She sat idly by and folded her legs, simulating great concentration in the object in her hands.
November rolled her eyes and grumbled softly, “Qui bon.” Moth didn’t bother to look up from the book, “Prosim?” November sighed, “Still spying on me, are we?” She snickered and leaned back. Moth shook her head and turned a page as she whispered, “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. I happen to find…” She paused, twisting the book around and taking a conspicuous gander at the title, “…Sex, Drugs, Disasters and the Extinction of Dinosaurs quite interesting, actually.” November scrunched up her face as she hissed, “No you don’t!” Several students glanced up at the sudden exclamation. November sunk deeper into her seat, lifting the book up to her face. Moth pressed her lips together firmly, fighting a smirk.
She turned to November and pushed down on her book, leaning in she whispered, “Can we please talk?” The surly brunette gathered her composure, sprang up in her seat and straightened her skirt, “Fine,” she replied.
They wandered outside. Moth leaned back against a brick wall, sliding her hands back into her pockets. November always wondered how her dear friend had gotten hold of a male’s uniform. Did she lie on her application? Or steal it and leave some poor chap to mosey about in a plaid skirt and blazer?
“I miss you,” she said resolutely, her European accent barely noticeable in that brazen statement. November swung her head, looking about for any eavesdroppers before nodding, “I’ve…I’ve missed you too.”
Wait. WAIT. Rewind. Yulia hugs people now? Since when did she start getting touchy-feeling with people? Yulia Darek does not HUG! What other changes have occurred in you, petite chaton?
She blinked, remembering she was still agitated, “…I guess.” Moth smiled serenely and took November’s hand. She breathed, “I know it’s not you. It’s that….” She cursed in Czech as she nudged her chin at November’s chest. “That thing has been making you act unbearable, Pad.” November’s hands flew up to the glimmering piece of metal in her emaciated bosom, “This?” Moth nodded with a severe look on her face. November smiled as she fibbed, “Nah. I’m better now. I was just a little stressed with school and things. That’s all, ” Moth looked skeptical. November continued, “It’s ok, mon ami. Truly,”
Do they spend a lot of time together? Mimi hasn’t really mentioned it. Yulia! You dirty little whore…is someone on the backburner? Mimi or me? Or perhaps someone else? Has she met Tara, yet? Ugh, Tara….
“In fact,” November’s eyelids slid down seductively, “Let’s have dinner sometime, Yulia. We haven’t chatted in forever. I’d like to hear about your trip, the state of your mother, your blossoming...friendships.” The squeeze the lanky girl gave to her hands and the sudden beam that washed over the handsome face reassured November that Yulia was still her puppy. “Znamenity!” She cheered and tightly embraced November, lifting her a few feet off the floor.
Chapter 2.
Mimi smiled at November and wished that her friend could be happy more often.
They sat together in a booth at La Mer, a trendy seafood restaurant that November had heard of some time ago. They had planned this dinner for weeks, and Mimi had really been looking forward to it. The place was supposed to be really classy, November had said, so Mimi had bought a new dress. It was black and snug around the middle, but it looked great. She had done her hair, and painted her nails, and thought about how much fun it would be in the Spring to go to the Junior Prom. This dinner was like an experiment: how girly could Mimi pull off and still feel like herself?
November had met her in the commons, wearing a blue cocktail dress that Mimi was pretty sure she never could have pulled off. The skirt had a small slit up the side and the cut of the neck swooped pretty low. Low enough to fully expose the bell in her breastbone and even a bit more than that. Mimi had found herself quietly wondering if she should invest in a wonderbra for the Prom.
They rode out to Talos on the Green Line, sitting together and talking, laughing. An older man across the aisle had stared at them, and November had intentionally flashed him a bit of thigh before calling the man something in French that Mimi had to assume was really awful. The man has gotten really flustered at that, and he couldn't so much as look at them again for the rest of the ride. November smiled proudly at her small triumph, and Mimi gently scolded her before falling back into giggling.
On the walk to the restaurant, Mimi looked long at a group of Tsoo they had passed. She had suddenly felt guilty for having a night out, when there was still so much to do for Paragon. November had pulled Mimi away. "Non, ma amie, not tonight," she had said. "Tonight, we are off-duty, Tonight we pretend there is nothing wrong." Mimi allowed herself to believe it, and the tattooed men faded away and were forgotten.
November had of course made reservations, but there was some sort of screw up. Mimi didn't really understand what it was, but November and the maitre d had argued in French about it, and soon they were sitting in their booth, on real leather seats, staring at the tablecloth, and playing with the three different forks at their places. The table could have held four people, and was set for three. November explained that it had to do with the mix-up on the reservation. The restaurant was very crowded, and Mimi could not help but feel like she and November were really special girls to be here. She tried hard not to look out of place, not to draw too much attention. But when the menu was opened in front of her, she couldn't help but gasp a little.
"November, this place wants almost 40 dollars for a fish!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure about this?"
"Absolutely," November purred. "This night would be worth any amount of money to me."
Mimi smiled and shrugged. "Okay, you're the one with the credit card," she giggled.
"Mimi," November said quietly, "you really do look lovely."
The green-haired girl blushed. "Not like you," she replied. "You look sensational in that dress. I could never look like you."
November felt her heart tremble a little. Mimi's honesty, her openness, was so disarming. Perhaps it was not worth it. Perhaps this was wrong. She shook her head a little.
Mimi frowned. "November? What's wrong?"
Nothing is wrong. Nothing. November frowned. Say it. "Nothing," she said smoothly. "What do you think you might have?"
"Me? I'm not even sure what half of this stuff is," Mimi replied with a smirk.
November heard the maitre d speaking with someone. And she heard the reply, the soft accent. Mimi either did not hear, or she simply wasn;t paying close attention. Either way. She felt emboldened. November swung around the table in a single graceful motion until she sat next to Mimi, who obliged by shifting over. "Well, so much of it is in my language. I will help you, non?"
Mimi felt November slip her arm around her shoulders as she leaned in. "Okay," she said. "What on earth does meuniere mean?"
November laughed slowly. "Sauteed in butter, my sweet."
Mimi didn't like the change in the tone of November's voice. There was something wrong with it, just as there was something wrong with the way her fingers were brushing against the flesh of Mimi's shoulder. "November..?"
November held fast. The maitre d was coming over. She forced a smile and pointed to another item. "And croûte de sel means crusted with salt. That may be too much for your delicate palate." She felt Mimi begin to squirm a little, but she held the smaller girl in place.
Mimi was growing very concerned. She suddenly felt a little claustrophobic, pinned against the inside wall of the booth, November leaning hard against her left side. And it was at that moment that Mimi could hear the bell. Ringing, ringing. The sound was so quiet she had missed it before, but there it was. The sound filled her with fright. But before she could say anything else, November turned suddenly and looked at the thin, angular form at the head of the table. Mimi looked up and gasped quietly.
Yulia dropped the bouquet of flowers she was holding. They hit the floor, and petals fell in the impact. She wore a man-tailored suit of a subtle grey, with a crisp blue tie, the same color as November's dress. She stood, staring at Mimi, a look of suprise on her face. As the shock faded, a look of quiet desperation set in.
Mimi struggled out of November's grasp. "Yulia," she began.
"How wonderful you could join us!" November cried, her voice thick with a gleeful menace. She rose to her feet quickly and embraced Moth, kissing her lightly on each cheek. Then she pivoted and sat Yulia down next to Mimi. November smiled, wrinkling her nose a moment, and retook her seat, across from them. Mimi could feel the pain flowing off Yulia like heat, just as easily as she could feel the pleasure that November took at their discomfort. "D'accord," November said finally. "Now, what shall we talk about?"
Moments of awkward silence felt like eons. November folded her hands across the table and glanced at the two girls earnestly. She lifted her brows, cupping her chin, "Nothing? Is that how it's going to be then? Some company!" She beamed, "Who's hungry?" She gestured to a waiter, a young male-model type in gentlemanly garb with a towel strewn over his arm and an apron tied about his waist. He strolled over and jutted his chin high in the air, "Madame?"
November responded matter-of-factly as she handed the boy her closed menu, "Je prendrai le Soupe à l'Oignon gratinée, sans le vin, ajoutez la moitié du fromage que vous normalement emploieriez." She smiled sweetly over at the stiffened girls and canted her head to the side, observing. The server bowed his head and turned to the silent creatures, his voice thick with his Western European accent, "And yourselves, Madames?"
Side-thrown glances and drooping of heads was their response. He looked back to November helplessly, "M-madame?"
November never tore her eyes away the girls, pursing her lips she replied nonchalantly, "If you girls aren't going to speak up, I'm just going to have to order for you two, ah?" She smirked and sat up, "That one over there, avec peau aimez la lune, she'll have the Gratinée de Coquille St Jacques..." She shifted her visage to Mimi, "...You're not allergic to scallop or shrimp, oui?" Mimi glared softly before looking away. November smiled up at the waiter, "Yes. That'll be fine. Fresh from the shell, garcon. Let's see now, la blond, oui, she'll have..." Yulia sat with her arms frozen to her sides with her spine uncomfortably linear, "I'll have nothing." Her lean face was void of expression, her eyes hollow and vacant. November was taken back a bit. She waved her hand out at her as she continued, rolling her green eyes, "Nonsense. She'll have the Canard au Cerises." She radiated a smoldering glance to Yulia, "Sweets for my sweet." The boy, feeling the tension, started to lose his cool, "W-will that be all, madame?" November handed the rest of the menus to him and nodded, "For now, garcon. But we'd like some bread and water, s'il vous." He pivoted into a quick bow and scurried off.
Mimi slumped herself over the table and placed her foreheand in her hand. She muttered outloud, dazedly staring down at the parchwhite table cloth, "What's going on, November?"
Mimi wasn’t sure when Yulia had started crying.
Yulia took Mimi’s hand under the table. Her grip was stronger than Mimi would have thought, and her fingers were calloused. She squeezed Yulia’s hand, feeling utterly unable to comfort her friend in any other way. She felt the Czech girl squeeze back, and her grip was full of desperation. Mimi looked sideways and caught Yulia’s eyes for a moment, and silently, they exchanged a moment of both sympathy and pity.
November noticed, and snorted. “Perhaps you and your new girlfriend would like some time alone, d’accord?”
Mimi flinched in surprise, and stared at November, wide-eyed. Yulia dropped her eyes and stared at her lap. Aha, thought November. Perhaps the feelings aren’t mutual, Yulia?
“What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Mimi, sputtering for words.
November allowed herself a knowing smile. “Ah, non? I spoke out of turn, did I?” Mimi continued to stare at November, speechless again. Yulia flushed deeply in her cheeks. November continued. “You don’t want some privacy, Yulia? You’ll just finger her under the table right in front of me, n’est pas?”
Yulia jerked her hand away from Mimi’s and folded it in her own lap. November laughed cruelly. Softly, Mimi heard the bell echo her laughter.
Mimi was dumbfounded and embarrassed without knowing why. “November, that’s enough!” she cried, almost shouting. A few of the other patrons looked up, and Mimi quieted. “You have no right to—“
“Do I not?” November interrupted. “You’ve kissed my girl, you’ve even bathed together. Don’t pretend.”
Mimi shook her head. “That’s not what happened—“
“She dreams about you, Mimi, did you know?” November cut in again. “She dreams of folding you into her arms. She dreams of having you.”
Mimi turned to look at Yulia, but through her tears, the Czech girl was inscrutable. Mimi turned again to look at November and saw that she, too, was looking to Yulia. November’s face was calm and smug, but the bell sang out viscously.
November turned suddenly and stared into Mimi’s eyes, and there was something wild there, something that made Mimi afraid. “You can’t have her, Yulia,” November said softly. “And she can’t have you. You’re mine.”
Mimi had had about enough. She sat up straight and spoke quietly but angrily. “November, you don’t even know what you’re talking about. These things didn’t happen!”
November started to laugh. “There is no reason—“
“And even if they did,” Mimi continued, cutting November off, “what the hell makes you think it’s even any of your business? You threw her away. You almost knocked her off a damned balcony! She doesn’t belong to you!”
November waved a hand dismissively. “She’s mine,” she said smugly, failing to see the contradiction.
Mimi was about to press the argument when Yulia spoke. “This is not you, Pad,” she said quietly.
November glared at Yulia. “Quoi?”
Yulia looked up, tears still streaming down her face. He eyeliner had run, outlining the tracks of her tears and staining her flushed cheeks. “This is not you. This is that thing,” she said again, more boldly this time, and she nodded her head at the bell, accentuated by November’s dress. As if on cue, Mimi heard the bell chime a sour note.
November struggled to regain herself, but her anger had begun to seep through the veneer of her smile. Mimi could almost read her thoughts: she watched as November quickly conjured and dismissed several arguments in her head. The bell’s tones betrayed her confusion. Suddenly, her wicked smile returned and her eyes flashed. “Do you know why she belongs to me, Mimi?”
Mimi shook her head, not knowing what else to do. Yulia had fallen silent again, and November’s strength had returned. Mimi felt disoriented, confused. Her face felt hot. And the soft tones of the bell were distracting. More and more, Mimi felt like the recipient of this show, an audience for this performance.
November leaned closer and put her head into one of her hands, resting her elbow on the table. “Because I know her secret.”
Yulia looked up slightly, her face showing both concern and confusion.
November grinned, and though it seemed as though she was speaking to Mimi, she looked deeply into Yulia’s eyes. “Oui, that’s right. I am the only one who knows who started the fire at the Ybur Academy.”
Mimi felt her head swim, and she looked from November to Yulia. The blood had drained from Yulia’s face. “But, Pad—“
“You don’t get to call me that anymore, putain,” November purred, cool with malice. Mimi winced as the bell rang louder, sweet and yet off-key. Yulia bit her lower lip, deep in thought.
Mimi set her teeth. “Don’t you speak that way to her, November.”
November looked surprised for a moment, but the moment passed swiftly. She met Mimi’s angry stare evenly, and the bell chimed quietly as she spoke. “I’ll speak to her any way I want to, you damned closeted dyke.”
The words hit Mimi like a physical blow, and she grappled to find words. Yulia spoke again, but her voice was shaky with quiet sobs. “This is not you, Pad. I know it isn’t,” she said. She sounded so hopeful, Mimi thought, as though any moment November was going to admit this was all a horrible joke, gone awry. “Not you,” she repeated.
“And how would you know, putain? Do you think you know me, to say who I am?” November spat.
Yulia began to weep harder. Mimi choked back tears of her own. Yulia struggled to catch her breath. “Because I love—“
“Shut up!” November shrieked. The tones of the bell rose and fell in time. Both Yulia and Mimi winced. Other guests of the restaurant were now whispering, glancing more and more at the table. November saw the curious stares and turned her anger away from the table. “This is none of your business!” she shouted at the gawking guests, who looked away and fell to muttering. November’s head snapped back to glare at Yulia and Mimi again. “You shut up,” she said again, and a melody of menace came from the bell.
“Mademoiselle.”
The maitre d stood beside the table again. He wore a deep, disapproving frown.
November glanced up, “Oui?”
The maitre d cleared his throat softly. “You and your guests must restrain yourselves. Your behavior—“
“Our behavior, monsieur? This is a seafood restaurant, non? We were merely discussing my friend’s taste for fish,” she purred, and smiled at Yulia, but there was no warmth to it. November continued, slowly and clearly, her tone full of mockery, “and, of course, things that taste like fish.”
The maitre d did not smile. “Mademoiselle, if you cannot restrain yourself—“
“What about that, Yulia?” November interrupted again, and the maitre d flushed with annoyance. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Perhaps that is how you’ll have your way with Mimi? By restraining her?”
Yulia stood suddenly. She looked up at the maitre d and spoke quietly. “I am very sorry, sir.” She wiped at her face again, trying hard to keep from sobbing again. “I will be leaving, now.” The maitre d nodded vaguely, and Yulia turned towards the door.
Yulia’s courage allowed Mimi to find her own, and she rose as well. “Yulia, wait,” Mimi said. The Czech girl hesitated. Mimi stepped up behind her and took her by the hand, squeezing it firmly. “Let’s both go.”
Yulia nodded, and the pair walked towards the doors.
From behind them, Mimi heard the bell peal an angry tone. November’s voice rose, clear and furious. “How dare you! Dyke! Whore!”
Mimi felt Yulia squeeze her hand again. They were fifteen feet from the door. Ten.
The angry melody of the bell played out across the room. Mimi could hear November arguing with the maitre d. He wanted her to leave, and she, inexplicably, demanded that he fetch the two of them and bring them back to the table.
They were passing through the door when November must have flipped the table over. Glass shattered, china cracked. A woman screamed. Then they were outside, in the growing dark. The sun still played along the horizon deep and crimson, but the moon had already risen, full and bright, and it cast light across the boardwalk before them.
For a moment, the pair stopped. They were both breathing deeply as adrenalin flowed through them. They were both scared, and both ashamed, and both for different reasons.
“Mimi,” Yulia said softly, and Mimi met her eyes, still moist, and very red. She stared at Mimi for a moment, then said calmly, “I am not trying to have sex with you.”
Whether it was Yulia’s earnest tone, or the look in her eyes, or the sudden relief of having escaped the restaurant, but Mimi broke into laughter. Yulia looked shocked for a moment, and Mimi raised a hand to stay her. “Oh, Yulia,” Mimi said between nervous laughs, “I know.” She smiled at her strange friend. “And lord knows, even if you were—“
The doors to the restaurant flew apart, torn off their hinges by a devastating howl. The maitre d crashed onto the walkway and crumpled, unconscious. November stood in the ruin of the doorway. The discordant melody of the bell shrieked from her. Mimi and Moth stood, dumbfounded, as November turned to face them.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” November said, and smiled maliciously.
Yulia took Mimi’s hand under the table. Her grip was stronger than Mimi would have thought, and her fingers were calloused. She squeezed Yulia’s hand, feeling utterly unable to comfort her friend in any other way. She felt the Czech girl squeeze back, and her grip was full of desperation. Mimi looked sideways and caught Yulia’s eyes for a moment, and silently, they exchanged a moment of both sympathy and pity.
November noticed, and snorted. “Perhaps you and your new girlfriend would like some time alone, d’accord?”
Mimi flinched in surprise, and stared at November, wide-eyed. Yulia dropped her eyes and stared at her lap. Aha, thought November. Perhaps the feelings aren’t mutual, Yulia?
“What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Mimi, sputtering for words.
November allowed herself a knowing smile. “Ah, non? I spoke out of turn, did I?” Mimi continued to stare at November, speechless again. Yulia flushed deeply in her cheeks. November continued. “You don’t want some privacy, Yulia? You’ll just finger her under the table right in front of me, n’est pas?”
Yulia jerked her hand away from Mimi’s and folded it in her own lap. November laughed cruelly. Softly, Mimi heard the bell echo her laughter.
Mimi was dumbfounded and embarrassed without knowing why. “November, that’s enough!” she cried, almost shouting. A few of the other patrons looked up, and Mimi quieted. “You have no right to—“
“Do I not?” November interrupted. “You’ve kissed my girl, you’ve even bathed together. Don’t pretend.”
Mimi shook her head. “That’s not what happened—“
“She dreams about you, Mimi, did you know?” November cut in again. “She dreams of folding you into her arms. She dreams of having you.”
Mimi turned to look at Yulia, but through her tears, the Czech girl was inscrutable. Mimi turned again to look at November and saw that she, too, was looking to Yulia. November’s face was calm and smug, but the bell sang out viscously.
November turned suddenly and stared into Mimi’s eyes, and there was something wild there, something that made Mimi afraid. “You can’t have her, Yulia,” November said softly. “And she can’t have you. You’re mine.”
Mimi had had about enough. She sat up straight and spoke quietly but angrily. “November, you don’t even know what you’re talking about. These things didn’t happen!”
November started to laugh. “There is no reason—“
“And even if they did,” Mimi continued, cutting November off, “what the hell makes you think it’s even any of your business? You threw her away. You almost knocked her off a damned balcony! She doesn’t belong to you!”
November waved a hand dismissively. “She’s mine,” she said smugly, failing to see the contradiction.
Mimi was about to press the argument when Yulia spoke. “This is not you, Pad,” she said quietly.
November glared at Yulia. “Quoi?”
Yulia looked up, tears still streaming down her face. He eyeliner had run, outlining the tracks of her tears and staining her flushed cheeks. “This is not you. This is that thing,” she said again, more boldly this time, and she nodded her head at the bell, accentuated by November’s dress. As if on cue, Mimi heard the bell chime a sour note.
November struggled to regain herself, but her anger had begun to seep through the veneer of her smile. Mimi could almost read her thoughts: she watched as November quickly conjured and dismissed several arguments in her head. The bell’s tones betrayed her confusion. Suddenly, her wicked smile returned and her eyes flashed. “Do you know why she belongs to me, Mimi?”
Mimi shook her head, not knowing what else to do. Yulia had fallen silent again, and November’s strength had returned. Mimi felt disoriented, confused. Her face felt hot. And the soft tones of the bell were distracting. More and more, Mimi felt like the recipient of this show, an audience for this performance.
November leaned closer and put her head into one of her hands, resting her elbow on the table. “Because I know her secret.”
Yulia looked up slightly, her face showing both concern and confusion.
November grinned, and though it seemed as though she was speaking to Mimi, she looked deeply into Yulia’s eyes. “Oui, that’s right. I am the only one who knows who started the fire at the Ybur Academy.”
Mimi felt her head swim, and she looked from November to Yulia. The blood had drained from Yulia’s face. “But, Pad—“
“You don’t get to call me that anymore, putain,” November purred, cool with malice. Mimi winced as the bell rang louder, sweet and yet off-key. Yulia bit her lower lip, deep in thought.
Mimi set her teeth. “Don’t you speak that way to her, November.”
November looked surprised for a moment, but the moment passed swiftly. She met Mimi’s angry stare evenly, and the bell chimed quietly as she spoke. “I’ll speak to her any way I want to, you damned closeted dyke.”
The words hit Mimi like a physical blow, and she grappled to find words. Yulia spoke again, but her voice was shaky with quiet sobs. “This is not you, Pad. I know it isn’t,” she said. She sounded so hopeful, Mimi thought, as though any moment November was going to admit this was all a horrible joke, gone awry. “Not you,” she repeated.
“And how would you know, putain? Do you think you know me, to say who I am?” November spat.
Yulia began to weep harder. Mimi choked back tears of her own. Yulia struggled to catch her breath. “Because I love—“
“Shut up!” November shrieked. The tones of the bell rose and fell in time. Both Yulia and Mimi winced. Other guests of the restaurant were now whispering, glancing more and more at the table. November saw the curious stares and turned her anger away from the table. “This is none of your business!” she shouted at the gawking guests, who looked away and fell to muttering. November’s head snapped back to glare at Yulia and Mimi again. “You shut up,” she said again, and a melody of menace came from the bell.
“Mademoiselle.”
The maitre d stood beside the table again. He wore a deep, disapproving frown.
November glanced up, “Oui?”
The maitre d cleared his throat softly. “You and your guests must restrain yourselves. Your behavior—“
“Our behavior, monsieur? This is a seafood restaurant, non? We were merely discussing my friend’s taste for fish,” she purred, and smiled at Yulia, but there was no warmth to it. November continued, slowly and clearly, her tone full of mockery, “and, of course, things that taste like fish.”
The maitre d did not smile. “Mademoiselle, if you cannot restrain yourself—“
“What about that, Yulia?” November interrupted again, and the maitre d flushed with annoyance. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Perhaps that is how you’ll have your way with Mimi? By restraining her?”
Yulia stood suddenly. She looked up at the maitre d and spoke quietly. “I am very sorry, sir.” She wiped at her face again, trying hard to keep from sobbing again. “I will be leaving, now.” The maitre d nodded vaguely, and Yulia turned towards the door.
Yulia’s courage allowed Mimi to find her own, and she rose as well. “Yulia, wait,” Mimi said. The Czech girl hesitated. Mimi stepped up behind her and took her by the hand, squeezing it firmly. “Let’s both go.”
Yulia nodded, and the pair walked towards the doors.
From behind them, Mimi heard the bell peal an angry tone. November’s voice rose, clear and furious. “How dare you! Dyke! Whore!”
Mimi felt Yulia squeeze her hand again. They were fifteen feet from the door. Ten.
The angry melody of the bell played out across the room. Mimi could hear November arguing with the maitre d. He wanted her to leave, and she, inexplicably, demanded that he fetch the two of them and bring them back to the table.
They were passing through the door when November must have flipped the table over. Glass shattered, china cracked. A woman screamed. Then they were outside, in the growing dark. The sun still played along the horizon deep and crimson, but the moon had already risen, full and bright, and it cast light across the boardwalk before them.
For a moment, the pair stopped. They were both breathing deeply as adrenalin flowed through them. They were both scared, and both ashamed, and both for different reasons.
“Mimi,” Yulia said softly, and Mimi met her eyes, still moist, and very red. She stared at Mimi for a moment, then said calmly, “I am not trying to have sex with you.”
Whether it was Yulia’s earnest tone, or the look in her eyes, or the sudden relief of having escaped the restaurant, but Mimi broke into laughter. Yulia looked shocked for a moment, and Mimi raised a hand to stay her. “Oh, Yulia,” Mimi said between nervous laughs, “I know.” She smiled at her strange friend. “And lord knows, even if you were—“
The doors to the restaurant flew apart, torn off their hinges by a devastating howl. The maitre d crashed onto the walkway and crumpled, unconscious. November stood in the ruin of the doorway. The discordant melody of the bell shrieked from her. Mimi and Moth stood, dumbfounded, as November turned to face them.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” November said, and smiled maliciously.
-
November Bell
- Posts: 350
- Joined: Sat Dec 24, 2005 4:06 pm
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She shook her head, clawing at her temples as she lamented with what sounded like half-sobs half-laughter, all the while the bell cood and clamored on. She flattened her lips together as she pointed a finger at them, shaking her raven locks over and over while tears brimmed. She shrilled, "Don't you dare walk away from me, vous crétins!"
Mimi scowled and retorted stolidly, "You have lost your mind. I...We have nothing more to say to you, and I'm going to personally see to it that you get the hell out of SJS." Yulia canted her sullen eyes towards the fallen maitre d and started towards him. She began to kneel by him and reach for his face when November's high-heeled right foot jolted Yulia across the ribs, "Imbecile!" Mimi squealed at the impact. November glanced up at her through a veil of lashes, "Oops, pardonne moi, cher Mimi, did I kick your dog?"
Mimi glowered, her eyes reflecting hopelessness and infuriation, "November, is that want you want? A fight?" She cried out, "Is that what you really fucking want!?" People rushed out of the restaurant and others still gathered by the streets. Someone yelped, "Someone call the cops!" November closed her eyes and sent a burst of vibrating waves towards the outcry, slamming a cluster of bystanders back several yards into the pavement. She rolled her eyes and disenchantedly stated a simple "Ta gueule." She turned her attention back to Mimi who was now dragging Yulia around a backstreet corner. November wiped at a single tear, "What on earth do you think you're doing, mon ami?"
Mimi gasped into Yulia's ear, "Yulia, Yulia! Are you OK?" The lanky girl groaned and peered down at her feet as they grazed the ground. "Yulia! You have to make us disappear, please! Make us invisble, now!" Yulia frowned, "Why bother ah..." Mimi dropped her to the dirt, and with a quick jounce, grabbed her by the chin, "This has all gotten out of hand far enough, we need to hide out and wait until the proper authorities deal with this. Do you understand?" Yulia stared intently into Mimi's eyes, "Oh ya ya, I understand. We're just going to run away ah..." Mimi sighed, "No, it's not run--"
"...What for? Why you cannot for once be defiant! Always play by books. This has nothing to do with "authorities" or the school, this is us. This is our problem. We cannot be cowards."
Mimi released her face, "It's not like that, Yulia. Yes, we're...what we are, but we're also still god damned kids, you know, and...ah....," She exhaled again," And the responsible thing to do --"
Yulia cut her off again, "Fuck responsibility!"
November glanced about with bored scrutiny as the growing amounts of alarmed denizens circled her and the, from now on surely infamous, French seafood restaurant. She grunted, "Don't you people have things to do? Like get mugged or have your purses snatched?" Someone yelled, "Yeah, and aren't you supposed to be out there preventing that!"
"And not trying to kill waiters," someone else chimed in. An elderly woman ambled over to November's side, "Young lady, can't you see how much trouble you're going to be in once the authorities arrive? Your parents will be so upset!" November's left eye began to twitch as more people seemed to inch closer and closer to her. Three police vehicles with their lights blaring and alarm wailing pulled up to the crowd. November slapped her face into her palm, "This is not happening." Her patience had been worn out by the time the announcement to "CEASE AND DESIST CITIZEN" blared through the megaphone. She gradually lifted her head from her hand. The bell burst into sudden life, sending a shockwave of ear-splitting undulations through the streets. Everyone buckled over in agonizing pain. November commenced her way to the alleyway where the two miscreants disappeared to.
Yulia gathered to her feet and swept her hands down her midriff. The material on her body blurred and discolored into a rich wine. She flipped the reticle over her eye, "Pad and I have never danced, you know. It is never too late to start, ah?" She winked at Mimi, who mumbled, "This is ridiculous." Moth expressed to her a look of a dejection. Mimi sighed when she heard the bell and the cries that followed. She stated flatly, "But. Our dear November has gone batshit." She dug into the inconspicuous saddle purse she had brought with her to seemingly accessorize with her ensemble. She retrieved a pile of stretchy grey material. Moth quirked a brow questioningly before spinning around to allow Mimi the privacy to change quickly. Mimi grunted as she hopped around on one leg while jamming the other into her tights, "Hey! You never know!"
The abrupt tip-tap of heels on moonlit pavement shook Mimi slightly. Moth shrouded the two in illusionary invisibility. November came into view. Her face beaming with unsettling amusement. She chirped, "Come out, come out wherever you are, mes petits chatons!" Mimi's heart pounded as November breezed by her. She stopped. The side of her face mere inches from Mimi's nose. November spoke, "Cher Mimi. I can smell your putrid knock-off perfume. Yulia, are you up to your old tricks?" November continued forward into the darkness.
Mimi scowled and retorted stolidly, "You have lost your mind. I...We have nothing more to say to you, and I'm going to personally see to it that you get the hell out of SJS." Yulia canted her sullen eyes towards the fallen maitre d and started towards him. She began to kneel by him and reach for his face when November's high-heeled right foot jolted Yulia across the ribs, "Imbecile!" Mimi squealed at the impact. November glanced up at her through a veil of lashes, "Oops, pardonne moi, cher Mimi, did I kick your dog?"
Mimi glowered, her eyes reflecting hopelessness and infuriation, "November, is that want you want? A fight?" She cried out, "Is that what you really fucking want!?" People rushed out of the restaurant and others still gathered by the streets. Someone yelped, "Someone call the cops!" November closed her eyes and sent a burst of vibrating waves towards the outcry, slamming a cluster of bystanders back several yards into the pavement. She rolled her eyes and disenchantedly stated a simple "Ta gueule." She turned her attention back to Mimi who was now dragging Yulia around a backstreet corner. November wiped at a single tear, "What on earth do you think you're doing, mon ami?"
Mimi gasped into Yulia's ear, "Yulia, Yulia! Are you OK?" The lanky girl groaned and peered down at her feet as they grazed the ground. "Yulia! You have to make us disappear, please! Make us invisble, now!" Yulia frowned, "Why bother ah..." Mimi dropped her to the dirt, and with a quick jounce, grabbed her by the chin, "This has all gotten out of hand far enough, we need to hide out and wait until the proper authorities deal with this. Do you understand?" Yulia stared intently into Mimi's eyes, "Oh ya ya, I understand. We're just going to run away ah..." Mimi sighed, "No, it's not run--"
"...What for? Why you cannot for once be defiant! Always play by books. This has nothing to do with "authorities" or the school, this is us. This is our problem. We cannot be cowards."
Mimi released her face, "It's not like that, Yulia. Yes, we're...what we are, but we're also still god damned kids, you know, and...ah....," She exhaled again," And the responsible thing to do --"
Yulia cut her off again, "Fuck responsibility!"
November glanced about with bored scrutiny as the growing amounts of alarmed denizens circled her and the, from now on surely infamous, French seafood restaurant. She grunted, "Don't you people have things to do? Like get mugged or have your purses snatched?" Someone yelled, "Yeah, and aren't you supposed to be out there preventing that!"
"And not trying to kill waiters," someone else chimed in. An elderly woman ambled over to November's side, "Young lady, can't you see how much trouble you're going to be in once the authorities arrive? Your parents will be so upset!" November's left eye began to twitch as more people seemed to inch closer and closer to her. Three police vehicles with their lights blaring and alarm wailing pulled up to the crowd. November slapped her face into her palm, "This is not happening." Her patience had been worn out by the time the announcement to "CEASE AND DESIST CITIZEN" blared through the megaphone. She gradually lifted her head from her hand. The bell burst into sudden life, sending a shockwave of ear-splitting undulations through the streets. Everyone buckled over in agonizing pain. November commenced her way to the alleyway where the two miscreants disappeared to.
Yulia gathered to her feet and swept her hands down her midriff. The material on her body blurred and discolored into a rich wine. She flipped the reticle over her eye, "Pad and I have never danced, you know. It is never too late to start, ah?" She winked at Mimi, who mumbled, "This is ridiculous." Moth expressed to her a look of a dejection. Mimi sighed when she heard the bell and the cries that followed. She stated flatly, "But. Our dear November has gone batshit." She dug into the inconspicuous saddle purse she had brought with her to seemingly accessorize with her ensemble. She retrieved a pile of stretchy grey material. Moth quirked a brow questioningly before spinning around to allow Mimi the privacy to change quickly. Mimi grunted as she hopped around on one leg while jamming the other into her tights, "Hey! You never know!"
The abrupt tip-tap of heels on moonlit pavement shook Mimi slightly. Moth shrouded the two in illusionary invisibility. November came into view. Her face beaming with unsettling amusement. She chirped, "Come out, come out wherever you are, mes petits chatons!" Mimi's heart pounded as November breezed by her. She stopped. The side of her face mere inches from Mimi's nose. November spoke, "Cher Mimi. I can smell your putrid knock-off perfume. Yulia, are you up to your old tricks?" November continued forward into the darkness.
Mimi was trying so hard not to even breathe. She held Yulia's hand tightly, feeling a kind of fear creep over her that reminded her of Bloody Bay. Being hunted, stalked, by someone who did not care if she lived or died.
In the darkness of the alley, November moved slowly past them, sniffing at the air lightly. "I will find you," she said quietly, menacingly. And all the while, the bell chimed out a sour tune, twisted and wrong.
Mimi tried to collect herself. This was not Bloody Bay. She did not have to be powerless. Here, it was she that was invisible. She and Moth had the advantage. But what to do? The ringing of the bell filled her ears, distracting her.
November turned in a slow circle, peering into the deepest corners of shadow. "Ou etes vous, cheri?"
There was a noise, then, louder than the bell's chimes. Mimi recognized it immediately: a subsonic tone, sharp and precise. A ping. Mimi made those noises when she was looking for Sam Stinebrenner. She felt the blood drain from her face. November was trilling them out, listening for what they revealed in the darkness. Moth hadn't heard it. How could she? The Czech girl stood still, clutching at Mimi's hand.
Another ping. November was getting closer. Soon, she'd hear where they were. Mimi's mind raced for anything to do other than run, or hurt her friend. Neither option was appealing, but she was running out of time. The bell sang in November's breast, urging her to the hunt.
Another. With one more quarter-turn, November would be on them.
How much have you been practicing, November? Mimi suddenly thought. I have learned enough to counter some of your tricks-- but can you counter mine?
Mimi squeezed Moth's hand quickly, like a warning. She dared not speak: even a subvocal whisper, November would hear. She felt Moth move a little, perhaps a signal she was ready for whatever was coming. Mimi hoped that was true.
November made the last quarter-turn and Mimi felt a ping echo off her and Yulia. November's face was at once surprised and darkly furious. "Viola!" she hissed, and took a step towards them.
Mimi stepped forward and howled at November, sonic shockwaves kicking up dust and debris from the pavement. November put up her hands, perhaps too distracted with her own anger to think of any other action. The wavefront hit her, and Mimi altered her pitch, wrapping November in a vibrating sphere of sound. November came to her senses, but too late: she pounded on her sonic cage, but it would not give.
Mimi turned and began to drag Yulia back down the alley. "Run, Yulia! It's not going to hold her, she'll find the wavelength, match it, and then it'll be gone--"
Wavelength. Frequency. Opposition, cancellation. Mimi found herself smiling suddenly. Could it be that simple?
Yulia resisted, trying to turn back. "Mimi, we cannot flee, over and over. We have to fight!"
Mimi shook her head. "Not there. Too cramped. We need space." And with that, Mimi cushioned herself and her Czech friend with sound, lifting them from the ground and into the night air.
Moth gaped. "Proboha! Mimi!" she stammered. "You can make me fly?"
Mimi nodded, looking for a wide open rooftop, a parking structure, anything. "I have lots of new tricks, Yulia. November's going to find that out."
Below them, in the darkness, Mimi heard November's screeching as she erupted from her prison, and again, the chiming of the bell, wild, nearly out of control. November would be able to hear the soundwaves that propelled them through the air; she would be able to follow.
And Screaming-Mimi was counting on that.
In the darkness of the alley, November moved slowly past them, sniffing at the air lightly. "I will find you," she said quietly, menacingly. And all the while, the bell chimed out a sour tune, twisted and wrong.
Mimi tried to collect herself. This was not Bloody Bay. She did not have to be powerless. Here, it was she that was invisible. She and Moth had the advantage. But what to do? The ringing of the bell filled her ears, distracting her.
November turned in a slow circle, peering into the deepest corners of shadow. "Ou etes vous, cheri?"
There was a noise, then, louder than the bell's chimes. Mimi recognized it immediately: a subsonic tone, sharp and precise. A ping. Mimi made those noises when she was looking for Sam Stinebrenner. She felt the blood drain from her face. November was trilling them out, listening for what they revealed in the darkness. Moth hadn't heard it. How could she? The Czech girl stood still, clutching at Mimi's hand.
Another ping. November was getting closer. Soon, she'd hear where they were. Mimi's mind raced for anything to do other than run, or hurt her friend. Neither option was appealing, but she was running out of time. The bell sang in November's breast, urging her to the hunt.
Another. With one more quarter-turn, November would be on them.
How much have you been practicing, November? Mimi suddenly thought. I have learned enough to counter some of your tricks-- but can you counter mine?
Mimi squeezed Moth's hand quickly, like a warning. She dared not speak: even a subvocal whisper, November would hear. She felt Moth move a little, perhaps a signal she was ready for whatever was coming. Mimi hoped that was true.
November made the last quarter-turn and Mimi felt a ping echo off her and Yulia. November's face was at once surprised and darkly furious. "Viola!" she hissed, and took a step towards them.
Mimi stepped forward and howled at November, sonic shockwaves kicking up dust and debris from the pavement. November put up her hands, perhaps too distracted with her own anger to think of any other action. The wavefront hit her, and Mimi altered her pitch, wrapping November in a vibrating sphere of sound. November came to her senses, but too late: she pounded on her sonic cage, but it would not give.
Mimi turned and began to drag Yulia back down the alley. "Run, Yulia! It's not going to hold her, she'll find the wavelength, match it, and then it'll be gone--"
Wavelength. Frequency. Opposition, cancellation. Mimi found herself smiling suddenly. Could it be that simple?
Yulia resisted, trying to turn back. "Mimi, we cannot flee, over and over. We have to fight!"
Mimi shook her head. "Not there. Too cramped. We need space." And with that, Mimi cushioned herself and her Czech friend with sound, lifting them from the ground and into the night air.
Moth gaped. "Proboha! Mimi!" she stammered. "You can make me fly?"
Mimi nodded, looking for a wide open rooftop, a parking structure, anything. "I have lots of new tricks, Yulia. November's going to find that out."
Below them, in the darkness, Mimi heard November's screeching as she erupted from her prison, and again, the chiming of the bell, wild, nearly out of control. November would be able to hear the soundwaves that propelled them through the air; she would be able to follow.
And Screaming-Mimi was counting on that.