20 Cylus 722
The small stone suite was still cooling down from the heat generated by two active bodies within it. Without a window, even outside of Cylus, this place in the Underground was like a capsule. The passage of time was hard to determine, and even more so when one was intent on wasting it with one vice or another. The only inkling of the early breaks of the morning rested in the quieting of the brothel compared to the unrest that was there once before. Far too early in the trials to justify leaving the bed.
A steady stream of lazy smoke billowed from a joint of Ambrosia toward the ceiling. Maxine brought her lips to it, letting the heat of the drug warm her lungs to fight the harsh come-down from the katomise taken much earlier. She held the hit for a few long trills before she watched the plume spew from her parted mouth. Her dark eyes watched the smoke dissipate a few feet over her head, staring through as though she could see through the stone to the streets far above.
"What are you thinking about?" Sabrina asked softly, running her fingers through Maxine's raven hair in her lap.
"A woman who was like a mother to me," Maxine answered solemnly.
"What of her?"
"She betrayed me," the cursed Rusalka murmured. "Called me 'daughter' while she sat in the chair right next to me, selling me out while I was none the wiser. I've spent over an arc hating her ever since." She put the joint back to her lips and turned the end of it a bright orange. "But even as much as I hate her, I remember the gift she gave me long before that. Right before I was locked up. I might've died without it. I just wish I could understand it."
"Why don't you go speak with her?" the Naerikk asked the obvious, gently.
"I've tried," Max sighed a puff of smoke and closed her eyes. "That's the thing. There's just...silence. It's like she's not there. I can't feel her presence anymore." She plucked the joint from her lips and held it behind her for the Naerikk to take from her fingers. "And the last time we had words...I condemned her."
Sabrina digested the brief, personal share with a thoughtful drag on the joint. She brushed a rogue strand of hair from Maxine's face and tucked it behind the woman's ear. A soft smile switched at the corners of her lips but it didn't meet her bright, piercing eyes.
"My mother is gone too," Sabrina commiserated.
"How?" the cursed Rusalka dared.
"Murdered," Sabrina's voice carried a sharp grit with it. Maxine turned her head and opened her eyes to study the woman's face. The Naerikk averted her gaze, studying her busy hands intently. "Last Saun."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"I bet whoever did it, they'll be much more sorry. If they're still alive."
"On the trial she is avenged they will wish they weren't."
"I believe you," Max responded, jealous eyes watching as Sabrina finished the joint and pitched the useless end of it. "What's standing in your way?"
"They're too far beyond my reach."
"Then we will make our fortune and ride like the wind across Idalos to wherever they are. You'll avenge your mother, and I will hope that I am wrong about the absence of mine."
"Someday."
It was a dream of glory, justice, and closure...but a dream nonetheless. It didn't need to be said. They both knew it, but it was comforting to still have dreams of any kind. Maxine was a cursed, disgraced, penniless addict. Sabrina was the queen of nothing but a brothel in the Underground of Etzos. Life was dark and cruel, and still getting meaner all the time. Even this trial was not promised to either of them. In this cold little stone suite, at least, they could forget that. Just for a little while.
"You said you got locked up," the Naerikk raised a brow. "What did you do?"
"Which time?" Max rolled her eyes.
"Okay. Fair." Sabrina's gaze rested on a scar on the Rusalka's face, softening in thought. "When the woman who was like your mother gave you a gift before."
"It's a long story."
"I'm sorry, are you paying?"
"Uh, no."
"Right. Then summarize."
"Alright, alright," Max sat up to turn and plop down beside the Naerikk, head on a pillow. "I fuckin'...I started a riot."
"Be serious."
"I am."
"Why?"
"I don't know." Max shrugged and waved a hand facetiously. "Maybe I have a problem with authority."
"Really?" Sabrina mocked a jaw drop. "You?!"
"Shut up."
Maxine rolled over atop the Naerikk suddenly, playfully pinning her there before their lips locked. The cursed woman's hand began to wander. Sabrina pulled away with a tortured sigh.
"What?" Max asked, despondently.
"You know I have to go," the Naerikk said, cupping the Rusalka's face. "Karrine is supposed to tailor my new outfit for tonight, and you know there will be trouble if you stay much longer."
"Good," Max smirked. "I love trouble."
"That's the problem. Ferdinand is still upset about finding Jordan's head nearly caved in the hallway."
"Dramatic. I didn't cave it in."
"Looked bloody enough to ruffle some feathers I had to smooth."
"Fine." Max removed herself from Sabrina's touch and hopped off the bed. She started yanking clothes back onto her naked frame.
"You'll be back tonight? After?"
"Probably not."
"Seriously?"
Maxine ignored Sabrina noticeably. She picked her weapon belt off the back of a chair, wrapped it around her waist, and tightened it to fit her slender silhouette. The world beyond the door was eerily silent. She shrugged her cloak on snugly and her eyes darted briefly toward the drawer she knew held the small wooden box. She could feel the Ambrosia warring against the withdrawal of katomise inside her body. Maxine tore her thoughts away from substances and wandered to the door. The lock fell slack and she turned toward Sabrina briefly as she turned the door handle.
"One of us has to hunt for that fortune."
Then out she went. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her, likely stirring a few remaining sleepers. The stage caught her eye as she exited the hallway and passed through the main lounge area of the brothel. In several breaks Sabrina would be up there, scantily clad in that new outfit she was excited about to debut a new, coquettish routine. Lulled into a euphoric trance of lust and katomise, Maxine remembered voicing her intent to come watch.
At the time she believed it was true, that she would come and enjoy a public foreplay she knew was just for her pleasure later. It's not like it was a hard sell. Even now she told herself the same lie: that she would be here and on time for the show. It's what people like her always said, always promised. This time she wouldn't be able to blame Famula's damned curse. She would ruin this one all on her own.
If she made a small fortune today by some Immortal's grace, she'd piss it away by noon. If she didn't, she'd be anxious and fiending by the evening. One way or another her body and mind would get what they were after. She would be consumed, wholly, entirely, and there would be room for nothing else.
Maybe it was better this way. Keep the line from getting too blurred. Keep them from forgetting what their relationship was, which was the furthest thing from that type of relationship. Sabrina was a dancer in a brothel. A whore, no doubt. And Maxine? Well, Maxine was something far, far worse. That much was certain and could be discussed ad nauseum.
All the things they hated about themselves tugged the two of them together with a single, peculiar stitch of fate. Whatever this was, it was toxic, and violent, and full of pain neither of them cared to name.
So the junkie would uphold her end of the bargain. She would promise to show up.
And then she would disappoint her.
Time and time again.
