Novella had left Annie with her brother. And for whatever reason, her wife was fine with it. Probably because the child was next door, and visited every evening for dinner. Sometimes they came over for lunch, too. They were paying for a nanny to help Malik with the girl, on an as-needed basis.
Ella still didn't spend a ton of time with Annie. Though she didn't ignore the child, if Annie sought her mother, her mother was there. But she hadn't decided if she wanted her. It'd been nearing a month, and they'd fought just earlier about Kaczor inviting people for a family dinner. She didn't want people over.
But the invitation couldn't be revoked. Something about Deme this, Deme that. Ella wasn't that stupid; she'd pressure the Archon for a lot but she wasn't going to rescind an invitation to someone close to the man and lose any favor she'd curried. If any at all, given her requests of him.
She hadn't dressed up for the event, even though her wife had laid out a nice dress for her. She was still in her pajamas, seated on the floor of the little girls' room, while Annie played with her toys. Look at that horsey go, she murmured, trailing her fingers over the child's soft hair.
Y'know, Annie, maybe things would be better with a new mommy? She mused, softly, as she made a quiet neighing sound, earning a giggle from the child. What if I just... go back to pretending? Your mapa wouldn't know, would she?
The little girl made a disgruntled sound at their playing, and she rolled her eyes, No, you're right. Mapa would notice, she's very perceptive. Kaczor would have made a good spy, in another life, in another country.
The girl babbled about their game, as Ella stretched out on the floor next to her, on her side. Idly moving her figurine across the place the girl sat. To an onlooker who didn't know Novella; she looked happy, she was smiling, and laughing, and having a good time. But to anyone that had gotten to know every side of her, they'd see that her eyes didn't match the emotions, not fully. Her laughter was hollow at times, and cut off quickly. Her smile was just a half. Though, every now and then, something real would flit across her face, when the child truly made her laugh or smile.
Kaczor hadn't expected the invitation of the Salvo woman to dinner to be met with quite as much resistance from her wife as it had been -- it had meant to be a way to have the younger woman see her brother in law in a different light -- even if Kaczor didn't like the man too terribly much, she still knew that the two of them were dancing around one another like scared children -- honestly Kaczor was impressed it hadn't come down to them beating one another senseless.
And Annie had taken up semi-permanent residence next door with Malik while the two of them figure out... what ... this was. It was neither of their faults -- the birth and then the incarceration, they ... they hadn't gotten a chance to really know one another before the entirety of their world had been upheaved and thrown back over on them.
And then to find out what her wife had taken her place, within the movement, well, that had also not gone over too well, but it was what it was -- they would figure it out, one way or another. And while Kaczor had never expected to fall in love with Ella, she had, but Ella was miserable, and Kaczor didn't know what to do to make it any better. If she did, she would have made it better already, but money, and a brain made for problem solving issues, not people, didn't get her any closer to a solution.
Mhm, perceptive, and a great big idiot most of the time. She said softly from the bathroom doorway, having just finished her thinking in the tub, her loose pants and robe drawn around her shoulders as she pulled her hair back into a low tail. Finally, she could feel the edges of her hair along her jaw line, soon it would sweep her shoulders again, and then a bit further and she wouldn't feel the need to wear a head covering outside of the house any more. Of course, I don't know what I'd be perceptive of, I missed that part. She stated with her usual bravado as she came to lower herself down to the floor with the two of them. Did I miss something important? I'm sure I can take care of it, mind you, as long as there's no wild accusations that I'd have to pay someone off for..
Kaczor was careful as she sat, not touching either of the girls, waiting for them to come to her instead, if they would.
Mmm, Ella murmured an agreement, as her wife declared herself perceptive, but also an idiot. In another time, she might have attempted to dissuade the woman from negative statements. Ella rolled onto her back, as the child scrambled to her other parent. One arm behind her head, she watched the little girl, the moment the child's back was to her, her smile had drifted away.
If I put my mask back on. You liked my mask, right? Her gaze was on the ceiling, now, decorated with little stars and glow-in-the-dark constellations. Happy housewife and mother. Trophy wife on display. It was a nice mask. She murmured, thinking about how the master bedroom was flooded with various hobbies, started and stopped.
She'd never taken anyone seriously when they said they'd needed to find themselves. Perhaps she should have. She'd know what they'd done. Would solve our problems. But you'd notice. No resentment in her tone, just matter-of-fact. As of late, she hadn't even attended meetings with their rebel group. She'd effectively disappeared from the public eye, save for when her wife dragged her out of residence.
Today, though, despite avoiding dinner, Ella had gone out on her own. She'd pinned a note to the fridge that morning, though it hadn't told where she had gone. Went to see the Calidus Lord today. She sat up, offering a ghost of a smile. He shut the door in my face, or... he tried to. She rolled her eyes, as Annie reached to grapple with her mapa's hair.
But all he'd tell me is, I was a curse. Her gaze had flitted to the ceiling again. The morning paper would warn people in their high-end neighborhood of a murderer on the loose. She clicked her tongue. He told me that, I was a sniveling brat. That he was grateful when the Academy took me, though he hoped I'd die in action. She shrugged, as if it hadn't hurt some part of her hoping to hear that her family had wanted her.
But on my way out, one of the maids thanked me. Her grin is genuine, here. That felt good. And she gave me the name of my mother's lady maid, from the staff roster. She didn't know much about her mother; she didn't even really know much about her father, except that he'd let scientist, healer and mage, tear at her to attempt to remove the curse or the wings and horns.
I'd like it better if my wife didn't feel the need to wear masks around me, but I will take whatever she will give me in this life and be thankful for it. Kaczor let Annie pull at her hair, at her bare earlobes, even at her lower lip as she juggled the deep conversation and a toddler at the same time. She had never thought that she would be the moderate voice in anything, her life had been steeped in so much excess over the course of her life, that anything like this seemed to be.. so ... foreign to her. I would notice, but it wouldn't be solving a problem, only masking one. And I have faith in you, Ella, no marriage is perfect, and without rough patches, as long as you're willing to work through this, I still am as well.
And she would, returning the smile that was given, as Ella explained her day, using the lull to scoot closer, to bring herself closer to her wife, to offer a shoulder, an arm, a hug, a closer ear, anything that she could give the other woman in that moment. In the morning, she would wonder if her wife had killed her father, but would never blame her, Hells, Kaczor would like to have had half a chance at murdering the man who had been as much a cause of her wife's depression as she had been. But this moment wasn't about what Kaczor would have done or do for her wife, but what her wife had finally done for herself.
I'm thankful you didn't die. She finally said, quietly, an open hand offered towards her wife, an invitation to hold hands. Do you need help, tracking her down? It was something Kaczor probably wasn't as good at as say, Malik, or Malachai would be, but she offered still. Ella was her wife, and even if they weren't really together, in a sense, at the moment, Kaczor still wanted to do anything she could to help. Or is this something you need to do alone? Please understand I wouldn't try and insert myself into something you didn't want me being a part of. But I want to help, if you'll allow me.
Novella's nostrils flared, as she listened to her wife. No. I've already found her. At Rosehelm Cemetery. She was silent, staring at the child as it played with her wife. And after a while, she'd leave the room, departing to sit in the gardens. She spent a lot of time in the gardens, these days. Reading, planting, simply sitting and existing.
Two Weeks Later
Annie hadn't visited in the past two weeks. Kaczor went to visit frequently, but Ella would never go any further than the gardens. She'd been carefully writing in a journal, these past few weeks, something she wouldn't let Kaczor read. And that morning was no exception.
The journal went away, until Kaczor left for the day. And Ella set to work, carefully working with rope, that seemed the right length and width. It seemed strong enough...
Today was the day.
No visitors. She'd sent the servants off for the day; with Annie living with Malik, the servants split their time between the homes. It wasn't raining today, it'd been raining since last Wednesday, and rope was slippery in the rain. She wanted to do this right—
She was pretty sure her wife wasn't coming home until late. So, around lunchtime, she slipped back into the garden, a quick peek over the high privacy fence to ensure nobody was heading over to chat. Sometimes the neighbors did that.
Tossing the rope up across a branch, she braced herself on it, testing the branch. It'd hold.
Next she had to pull the stool from the kitchen outside, the heavy wood left splinters in her fingers. She wouldn't notice that later.
Next, she carefully arranged the journals she'd been writing in. Each of their covers said a name. Malik had a journal. Malachai. Kaczor. Annie. She laid them on one of the outside tables, so that they'd be out of the way, safe and sound. The edges of Kaczor's journal seemed to have other pages slipped inside; legal documents, likely.
She wasn't going to be rude, and leave her wife prepared. There was paper for a trust; the money Kaczor had paid when they'd married, set aside for Annie. Paperwork detailing the name of the funeral home that would cremate her. More paperwork detailing the jewelry they were to make her ashes into for her wife and child.
Once she was certain everything was to rights, she let her hands drift along the thick length of rope, noosed by her own hands, and stepped up onto the stool. As she kicked the stool away, she didn't kick it quite far enough—and had to kick it again.
The rope was coarse against her neck—and the last thing she remembered thinking about, was that the tree wasn't tall enough. And she was going to die slowly. She didn't want to die slowly, and the way she clawed at her throat, trying to pull the necklace of rope up and away, showed that.
But gravity has a funny way of taking your breath away.
Kaczor watched her wife depart, brow furrowed as she let the other woman go, for now. She knew a thing or two about grief and knew sometimes one had to be alone to figure it out, before they'd be prepared to talk about it. So Kaczor waited, gently, until her wife was ready to talk.
Two weeks flew by, between visits with Annie over at Malik's, and other affairs she had to attend during the week to see their estate upkept, that the name was taken care of where it needs to be, she had watched her wife write. Nothing had set alarm bells off in her mind that she should be concerned -- writing was a good way to figure one's self out, but still she didn't press on her wife's privacy. She didn't want to interrupt what was.. well it was working?
In her eyes, Ella was writing, which had to be good. She spent time in the garden, true, she didn't leave the house for anything, and she didn't want to see Annie, but.. Ella was in sunshine, in the warmth outside, she was planting things, doing things that seemed.. normal.
Everything was as normal as it should be, while someone tried to figure themselves out. It was a long journey, Kaczor knew, she had traveled it before, a few times -- was she gay, was she bi? Was she still a he, had he really been a woman all along? Kaczor's book was as filled with entries as it could be while she had been finding who she was, where she fit in -- there were no written records of what Kaczor had gone through, she had it all in her mind, but had it been committed to paper it would have been volumes upon volumes -- and even now, there were days that she felt like an imposter in her own skin.
So, what Ella was doing was normal. For two weeks they had quiet time, and while it was frustratingly difficult to let her wife come to her, Kaczor had somehow managed not to crowd the woman, to push to be let in, to know what was going on.
Maybe she should have pushed, she told herself, as she watched Ella's hair shift with the slight sway of her body from the tall tree, what she was seeing not quite registering at first, Ella, darling, I... I'm going to pick some tomatoes and make a curry, didn't recognize the reason for the kicked over stool, that looked like it had dug into the ground, and had been scooted again.
A gentle breeze moved through the garden, the tree creaking under the weight of a body hanging from the branch that Kaczor had said she was going to tie a swing to, for Annie, when they decided to bring her back from Malik's.
Maybe she should have paid more attention, she scolded herself, as Kaczor's mind finally caught up to what was in-front of her, her wife not answering her, as Kaczor's eyes finally put together that her wife's feet were not on the ground, that Ella wasn't responding, wasn't moving. That there was a rope from which the woman dangled, swaying gentle in the breeze as the tree creaked and groaned again.
Ella!
Kaczor stepped through the late afternoon shadows, appearing the few feet above the ground as she sliced the rope with elongated nails, the taste of her magic in the air, ionized, catching her wife's body and easing them down to the ground. She wasn't cold, like her Uncle had been, when she'd found him, no, she was still warm, she .. she..
Kaczor couldn't think, only that she knew nothing of what was needed, letting her body move on auto-pilot, immediately, detached, she pulled the noose free from her wife's neck, fingers sliding along her wife's neck, looking for a pulse.
She.
Couldn't.
Find.
A.
Pulse.
And the sob that rose from her, came from the absolute depths of Kaczor's soul, the tightening vice that gripped her heart then and stole away all reason. Animalistic. Feral. It was a sound that any who would have been close enough, would never forget -- the sound of someone losing half their soul. If it hadn't been for the cloud of black, and the cry of a child, Kaczor would had laid down there, with Ella, curled her close, and let her own self die to follow her into the Fade.
But Malik was there, shaking her, forcing her to look, telling her to try, the man's face twisted in anger, even as he bounced Annie in his arms, their child crying loudly. Take her inside, she can't see this!
Had the hit come any other time in their life, Kaczor would have immediately fallen into a battle stance and fought the other mage -- their relationship had always been antagonistic -- Malik hated her for taking his little sister, and Kaczor hated Malik because Ella loved him more than she. But in that moment she could finally hear the man's words, Fucking try Kaczor!
Her brother-in-law vanished into the house, taking a crying Annie with him, and she could hear him try and calm her child down, the lullaby and gentleness in his voice even when it was laced with ... fear, even as she felt the pulse on her ring send out another distress signal -- something the five of them currently had -- a means for them to call one another close in danger, but the searing sting that spread through her cheek, Annie's crying, Malik's yelling, yes, Kazcor had studied those magics in the past, back when she had thought that maybe her path lay in healing others -- it was worth a shot. She could try. She had to try.
Her fingers splayed over Ella's heart, eyes closed as she tried to push out the crying, the anger, the insistent urgency that nipped at the edges of her consciousness, blocking out everything until she could feel the faint trace of life that hungered inside her wife's body, letting the magic use her as a conduit, flowing through her to Ella, coaxing that small spark that felt hungry, trying to tease it back to life.
Everything fell away, the garden, the head, the crying. Background noise as she used her free hand to cup Ella's cheek, tears already starting to fall from her thick lashes, I won't promise I can fix it all, Ella, but we can try and fix it together yeah? Sweetheart, please, wake up? Kaczor's thumb traced over the deep groove where the rope had dug into flesh, even as she felt what she thought of as her magic push hard, breathing on that small flame that flickered, trying to build it still, trying to feed it enough to catch fire once again. Kaczor sniffled, hard, letting the tears fall, because she had to keep her hands in contact, trying to mend and coax as she worked, so she sniffled instead, tear blinded and snotty nosed as she pleaded.
He had just barely convinced Annie, through means of turning into a giant cat and letting the child curl up on his belly, into a long sought after nap. It was a game of theirs -- they would eat lunch, usually a little before the noon hour, then they'd take a bath to clean up from the mess lunch would usually be. Fruits and veggies had a regular place in cute curls and smeared across faces, so a bath was absolutely needed. Next would be music, because every expert he could find advised that it was essential to his niece's growing brain at the moment, and his niece was going to be the next Archon. He would serve her faithfully, just like he was serving Deme.
Too bad he wouldn't be around to see it, so he had to make every moment with the child count. These times when he took her, for his sister and her wife, were the best moments of his life right now. He felt.. happy. Normal. He was an uncle, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it felt more like being a father. This would be the only time he would be given the luxury of such a thing, so he would take every small tiny, seemingly insignificant moment of it, and smile the entire time. And he had hopes for Annie, and he would try and give as big of a head start as possible. So after music time, was nap.
Nap time was often times a struggle, because it was also about the time that Ella would go out to garden, slightly after noon, after the sun had passed directly overhead and moved enough to offer a bit of shade into the back garden. He would take moments to look out, now and then, as the rumble of his purr would lull Annie to sleep, lazed in a sun-beam to help -- and as soon as Annie's breaths would turn over into the even, rhythmic pulse of sleep, he would let the magic slide from his body, until he was able to hold her close and rise up off the floor on two feet and settle her down into her crib. Soon he would have to modify it, to drop the mattress closer to the floor so she could stop climbing out in the middle of the night.
Between watching Annie, and watching Seraphine, Malik needed one of them to be where he left them at bed time, even if it meant he had to sleep in the hallway in animal form to keep an eye on the both of them at the same time.
So today had been like every other, Annie had finally fallen asleep, and Malik had rose from the floor, nose itching as the last of the whiskers vanished along his skin and melded back to his cheeks, the transformation leaving him a bit tired, but usually a crack of his neck and sitting in the nursery reading until Annie would wake up took care of it. He wouldn't have that chance today as the sound that came from his sister's garden ran a needle of fear down his spine.
He had heard that sound before. He had made that sound before. One night, over a decade again, as his father had fallen to the side.
Not many things scared Malik, but the pulse on his finger, an alarm that one of them was in danger, had him bundling Annie up to his chest and making for the window -- he saw enough to know before he was throwing the balcony doors open and jumping down into the garden below, What the fuck is going on,
Annie was awake now, and crying hard, even as he realized his mistake. He should have let Annie sleep blissfully unaware up in the nursery, but he couldn't have been certain it wasn't assassins. No, his split second assessment had been to take the child because he could protect her while carrying her, better than he could a story and house away. Shut up and start casting, I know you can. You know what happens if I try, so you better fucking try Kaczor!
He turned and took Annie inside the kitchen, looking for her stuffed bear, she liked the stuffed bear and they had left it there in the kitchen this morning because he could always run back over for it if they needed too. He sent out the signal to Malachai's jewel, by-passing the one meant to contact the others. No one else in their little family unit needed to know what was going on, yet. They'd only need someone else if his sister-in-law couldn't coax Ella back to life, and Malik was trying hard to ignore the feeling of his own magic trying to seep from him towards Ella's body, to do what he did best, whispering to her as he rocked Annie.
You can't leave yet, you have to kill me, remember, how are you gonna do that on that side of the Fade, huh? He paced the kitchen area as he watched Kaczor work, trying to calm himself -- nothing was set in stone yet, there was time left, Kaczor was gifted enough to pull this off. And Malachai would be there faster than they knew, and would come with re-enforcements, certainly a more gifted healer, it was protocol.
He would be angry later. Right now, as he worked hard to soothe Annie, he started to murmur a lullaby to her, his loops around the kitchen island taking him in view of the double doors out into the garden to let him watch what was taking place.
His day had been a tedious affair of reports, progress reviews and little in the means of enjoyment. Mal’s mood was already sour, but it deepened with every line that pointed to a mounting disaster that would affect the South. A sudden shroud of foreboding settled over him some moments, whether by magic or gut instinct, he knew before the signet ring around his finger burned with an intense heat that something had occurred, spurring his departing footsteps on. Only a select few in the Eyes could reach him in such a way, an immediate signal that Malachai’s presence was imperative, without delay.
He turned the ring three times in response, barking orders that a horse be ready for him to make haste to the Tilani estate, and the road made clear, or else. Two Eyes sped ahead as he mounted, shortening the journey to a few handful of minutes instead of the busy and agonising twenty. Mal gritted his teeth, unable to shake the feeling that whatever had happened felt wrong, nearly throwing himself off the mount to sweep through the estates gates on foot.
The cries of the child carried through the air, the angry panicked mutterings of incantations reached his ear, guiding him to a scene that had Malachai freeze momentarily, his entire expression going cold. Though pure fury seared through his veins, the Chancellor schooled his features before marching his way towards the huddled pair with urgency and purpose, aiming to take charge of this chaos.
You. Give her to me. Now. the authority in his voice leaving no doubt that any resistance would not go well even as Mal began reaching for her.
He cradled her with one arm, her neck nestled into the crook of his own. A thumb traced the sharp edge of another ring, blood beading to the surface while the other angled her head upwards. Smearing her cheeks, the brand of her neck and upper chest with his blood Mal began uttering an incantation, pushing magic through as the pair hastily retreated inside. His blood and magic mixed with hers, thrumming in his mind as it seeped into her, hastening the oxygenation begun by Kaczor’s efforts.
He swept past Malik and Annie without sparing a glance, leaving them in the kitchen for a comfortable chair in the study.
Novella… Hear me, girl. fell as a gentle command that was said quietly against her ear as well as sent deep into her mind. Drawing circles in his blood, Mal softly hummed a tune as they rocked back and forth on the chairs edge. ...lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie…
Detached from herself, she walked the gardens, unseen by all, save for those with necromancy. She watched, silently, as her wife tried to help her. Reached out to touch Kaczor, brush a strand of hair from her face—she'd feel a breeze. You weren't the problem, Czora. The words were whispered, and the leaves of the tree rustled overhead in response.
Eventually, she'd left Kaczor in the gardens, to follow her brother's voice. Standing in the doorway, defiant, even as her spirit began to shimmer—a sign that Kaczor's magic was working. She held one hand, which was fading slowly, bit-by-bit, in front of herself and stared at her brother. Her spirit didn't look right, though; one half of her was significantly warped. Ella glanced over her shoulder, to her body. I don't want to go back there. Let me stay. Tell her. Tell her!
When her father arrived, she stepped narrowly out of his way. He almost stepped through her, and she trailed after him idly, almost as if she were just a bored child being pulled along on a field trip she didn't care for. Walking next to him, as he pulled her away from Kaczor, as if she were on a mission. Step-for-step, she followed from the gardens to the study.
Papa still feels right. She was yanked back into her body, without much warning. Dumped into her subconscious, which quickly took form. He'd hastened the oxygenation enough that her chest rose, slowly, irregularly. Stuttered to a stop, a few times.
He was brushing against her thoughts, through her mind, searching her conscious self out. I don't want to go back. Her voice echoed loudly across the planes of her mind.
Another voice responded, "I can go instead. It can be my body, and you can stay here. It's quiet, here." The demon and Novella were seated in the depths of her mind, bargaining whilst they played chess, sitting on the floor of her childhood bedroom at the Academy.
You don't love them. Why do you want to go? Ella inquired, moving her chess piece. She was losing.
"I like the noise. You can stay here. Deal?" The demon had made her last move, and it was up to Novella to move her piece, one last piece before the demon would take her king. "Shake my hand, and I'll go. They'll never notice. I've been with you long enough to be you. A happier you! Won't your wife like that?"
Their hands had almost touched, when Malachai's humming echoed around them. Ella's fingers folded, towards her palm. I... I don't want to go, but I don't think I want you to go, either. She murmured, pushing herself up.
We made a deal! The demon snarled. The demon was fast behind of her; it turned into a race for who would get out of their subconscious first. Outwardly, her body spasmed, and she flailed, heart-rate rising rapidly. If her eyes had been open, they'd have dilated with fear.
When she came to, she startled physically, enough to almost upset the delicate balance that kept them on the chair's edge. But she also found herself mentally overwhelmed by existence of emotions, thoughts—the child, the wife, the brother. Before she'd physically realized where she was, she'd begun to force those emotions, thoughts, pleas, onto her father. It'd feel as if she was attacking him on purpose; flooding his mind with everything she couldn't handle.
Her breathing stuttered, as her eyes opened. He was rocking her, she realized, it was his voice she'd heard. She hadn't put that together until this moment. She couldn't find her voice; blearily peering over Malachai's shoulder, eyes closing after a moment. She nuzzled against the side of his neck, and began to sob.
