Chapter 67: Inhuman |
"…Do I really need to be there for this?" I ask, not sure if Uma'tama will even be able to hear me over the rushing wind. There's a part of me that hopes they don't. A part of me that's ashamed of even asking.
"It would be very helpful to us to have you there," Uma'tama answers, clearly not having any trouble hearing me at all. Guess it was kind of stupid for me to hope.
"Uh… okay, well, please don't be too surprised if my body… doesn't really look anything like me? Or, like I do now, I guess," I offer awkwardly.
I'm probably overthinking this. Uma'tama definitely has experience with people like me, right? I mean, Earth Guardians literally transform into idealized versions of themselves whenever they go out to fight. That cat is either chill with it or just doesn't understand humanity well enough to care. It's my parents I need to worry about.
Oh, god, I'm going to have to see my parents again. Maybe they're not home…? Wouldn't that be wonderful. Unfortunately, it's not very likely. My mom isn't much in the way of a social butterfly, and it's too late in the day for her to still be at work. She'll be home. The real question is: will I be home?
I've put off thinking about this for so long. There's so much that could be going on here, and I just didn't want to know what it was. I still don't. Melpomene thought I was an Antipathy or Preserver soul at first, right? She believed there had been a soul already inside the device that inhabited the robot body it made. What if she was only half-right? What if an Antipathy or Preserver has my body? But if that's the case, why haven't they done anything?
And honestly, if they do? Good for them! They can keep it! I hate that body. I hate it I hate it I hate it so much that the very thought of it keeps all of this tolerable. It doesn't matter that my senses are all wrong and the qualia I feel is basically just my bioemulator hallucinating the most likely match. It doesn't matter that I'll never really know what it feels like to touch someone again, it doesn't matter that I'll never be able to taste food or smell flowers or even play video games like a normal person anymore. Who needs ice cream or a warm shower or sex? Who needs a brain that isn't constantly cluttered with a dozen inhuman thoughts churning in the back of my mind, chewing through data and running calculations and always reminding me at the edge of my periphery that I am nothing but a machine pretending to be the person I used to be with nothing but a fraction of my total computing power and a stolen soul? My hatred for everything wrong with my flesh far outstrips everything good it gave me.
It's wrong. It's even less 'me' than this metallic copy. If Uma'tama tries to force me back into it, I'll have to fight them, and it won't just be because of my programming. Even after everything that's happened, even after I nearly had to kill everyone I care about, even after Melpomene twisted my soul so hard that I couldn't do anything but wish for death, I would rather have this than that horrible, disgusting husk.
Yet still, here I am. Despite wanting nothing to do with this, I am now forever at someone else's beck and call. Why is it that my choice has to be between two unforgivable curses?
It's easy to recognize the place I've lived most of my life in, even from this high up in the air.
"Understood," Uma'tama says, and we make a swift nosedive for the front porch, though thankfully I'm flipped around at the last minute so I can land on my feet.
God, this is going to be surreal. Let's see, checklist time. Skinsuit: on. Coping mechanisms: active. Trauma: repressed. 'Don't call her mom' protocols: checking every runtime tick. Let's do this. I ring the doorbell.
It's been over a year since I've seen the woman who answers the door, and I was still human then, so I didn't have the perfect memory that I do now. The data that simulates my brain, if I care to look deeply at it, would store her face as little more than a smattering of generalizations, none of which alone are enough to accurately construct any part of what she looks like. Yet taken together, when I bring it to the forefront of my thoughts, my mind recognizes the patterns and decompresses her smile like someone trying to fix an old JPEG.
I don't like my mother. I might even hate my mother. But looking at her now doesn't elicit any particular revulsion. She was a constant presence for nearly the entirety of my life, and with enough familiarity, anything can feel normal. Even, or perhaps especially, pain. Physical or otherwise.
My mother is in her late forties, with curly hair, small hanging earrings, and the unevenly tanned skin of a naturally pale person who spends a lot of time outdoors in different outfits. She's shorter than me, though our difference in height is less than it used to be, and while she gives me a cursory glance, there isn't a hint of recognition on her face at the sight of me.
Because of course there isn't. I look like a completely different person, and her child has been home the whole time anyway. It's not even a full second before her eyes drift off of me and focus exclusively on Uma'tama flying beside my head, which… is entirely fair. Her default suspicion as to the likelihood of anyone ringing the doorbell being an unwanted solicitor is quickly replaced by the confusion and panic I assume is exclusively reserved for visiting isolationist extraterrestrials.
"A-are you…?" my mom stammers.
"Hello! We are Uma'tama!" Uma'tama confirms cheerfully. "Are you Mrs. Pace?"
"Um… yes, that's me," my mom confirms.
Wow. Uma'tama knows my real last name. I don't think I've ever told anyone that, so that's fucking weird, but it's also somehow not surprising at all?
"Wonderful! We'd like to speak with your child about something," Uma'tama beams. "Are they home?"
"Er… my son is upstairs, but…"
"Son?" Uma'tama hums. "Do you have any—"
"We'll talk with him," I cut them off. Uma'tama seems surprised, but they soon nod in agreement.
"We'll talk with him," they confirm.
"Oh. Okay," my mom says, looking admittedly rather terrified. "There's… nothing wrong, is there? He's been doing so much better after coming home."
Better, huh? Better? Like you would know anything about that. I’d been barely holding off suicide by hiding everything important to me from you. By what standards is this other me 'better,' I wonder?
"Everything will be just fine. Please stay here," Uma'tama says pleasantly, going ahead and floating on inside. I take that as permission as well and follow.
My mom doesn't at all look like she consents to this, but she's also a bit too afraid to just say no. I kinda feel bad for her, despite everything, but as usual I'm just going to do my best not to interrogate that emotion too much. All of my mental energy is going to be needed for something much worse.
The walk up the stairs is hauntingly familiar, though the way the old wood creaks with every step is new. I'm probably twice as heavy as I used to be, what with being made of metal and all, so even though the house is in relatively good repair, it doesn't act like it. Up the stairs and down the hall, the first sign that something is wrong is that the door to my room is open. I always, always kept it closed. Mom always used to yell at me about that, but I never actually listened to her. I had to be firm about that. I needed the privacy to stay sane.
The second thing that's wrong is the inside of the room. I've never had much in the way of decorations; a combination of depression and my parents having a general distaste for most of the things I actually like meant there were few places I felt safe expressing myself. Yet there are new things here now, old posters of random sciency things like the periodic table and Hubble telescope pictures that my mom bought me ages ago and I never bothered to put up. Why would they be up now…?
We poke our heads inside, and I find my answer. The third and most obvious thing wrong: me. I—or the thing wearing my body, at least—is sitting at my old computer, the browser open to what looks like some kind of online college course. Summer school, of all things. It turns to look at us, staring blankly. It's not surprised to see us. It's not confused, or worried, or happy, or sad.
It's not feeling anything at all. It's completely emotionally blank.
"Who are you?" it asks me, and ugh that voice. I want to vomit. "What are you doing here?"
"Are you Luna?" Uma'tama asks it.
It's not. It's not me. I wore that body once, sure, but whatever wears it now is anything but. Just looking at its face makes me want to scream. It's unshaven, and uncaring, even though that would have me trying to scratch my own skin off. A year of poor maintenance—and, I'm almost certain, a lack of my usual medication—has left this creature rough where it should be soft, and uncared for where it should be meticulous. My breasts are hidden away, shoved under layers of clothing and obfuscation to try and ensure they cannot ever be noticed.
"How do you know that name?" they ask. "Can Preservers read minds or something?"
They say it so casually, like it's a mild curiosity and not a violation of privacy. It's not a name I told many people when I was human. It was a name I hid inside my heart. Only Bean and a few others were aware it was my real name. So naturally, it should be disturbed, but of course I'm the only one starting to freak out a little. This… thing has my memories, then?
"I'm surprised you care," I say. "Can you even care about anything at all?"
"Not really," it admits, its voice completely hollow. "So, do you need something? I can only assume you're here to ask about what happened a year ago."
A year ago. Right. A bit more than a year ago now, actually. That was when Melpomene took me and made me into this. So it remembers that, too.
"Yeah," I lie. "That's why we're here. What happened?"
"I got kidnapped. I woke up in a metal box. I left. I wandered through the Dark World for a while until the person who kidnapped me took me to the exit. I walked back to school."
It walked back to school. Ahahaha. Oh my god, that's so ridiculous.
"So what then?" I ask, only getting a little bit hysterical. "You're just me, but… empty? Or even emptier than I was before, I guess?"
"I'm… you?" the thing asks, almost sounding confused.
"It would seem that way," Uma'tama answers. "Oh, you poor dear. You're almost entirely soulless. It's a miracle you're moving around at all!"
"Oh," the soulless me says blankly, and… yeah, Uma'tama's right. I can barely, barely feel an emotion of some sort there. Confusion? Maybe a bit of… relief? Still, though…
"What do you mean 'almost' entirely soulless?" I ask. "Do I not have my entire soul?"
"No, it's likely that you do," Uma'tama answers, shaking their head. "It's just that, in the absence of a soul, a brain will begin to develop a new one. That's where souls come from, after all: your people's brains evolved to encourage the growth of magical power, even if it was never something your species accessed consciously."
Right, I remember Melpomene saying something about this. It's the source of stuff like the placebo effect and seemingly impossible strength during an adrenaline rush. Human will and belief literally, physically shapes reality… just in extremely tiny, personal ways, because we're not that powerful.
"I'm surprised that's not on your long list of secret things to never tell us about magic," I admit.
"It's a relatively harmless bit of information," Uma'tama says. "What would you even do with it, try to experiment on each other's brains?"
"Yeah, probably," I confirm. "Maybe keep that one between Guardians."
"Oh," Uma'tama says, their ears going flat against their head. "Oh dear! Noted!"
"Did you forget evil humans exist, or something?" I ask. "Surely you've read basic Earth history at some point."
"B-back to the topic at hand!" Uma'tama deflects. "We're still in shock that a human body could continue functioning without a soul at all! There would have been a significant period before one began to regrow, and without the capacity to feel emotions, a brain shouldn't be able to make decisions. Desire is the driver of action."
"Skill issue," I and my body say at the same time. I glare at it, vaguely annoyed by the reminder that it is my body. Or… was.
"Pardon?" Uma'tama squeaks.
"…Habit is also an effective driver of action, in the absence of desire," I clarify. "I've had a long history with severe depression. Sometimes, you just go through the motions even when you feel nothing at all. If any brain has been trained well enough to survive without a soul, it's mine."
"We see. Yes, that's an entirely plausible explanation," Uma'tama agrees with a considering hum. "Well, the good news is, since your body's soul is regrowing on its own, this is a solvable problem. There are things that can be done to encourage that growth, although… hrm."
"Although what?" I press.
"Well, we've run into another contradiction in policy," Uma'tama admits. "You're full of those, it seems. We have a duty to repair the damage that Antipathy technology has done to you, but we can't do that without sharing restricted magical information."
"I don't want it," my body says.
"What was that, dear?" Uma'tama asks.
"I don't want to have a soul," it answers.
Oh. Oh. Oh, god. That makes perfect sense, doesn't it?
"We're… afraid we don't understand," Uma'tama squeaks, sounding incredibly worried.
"You're not incapable of being happy," I remind it.
"I find that unlikely," it argues. "At least this way, it doesn't hurt. I don't have to want things I can't have. I don't need to hate my family."
"You're not even a person!" I snap at it.
"Yeah," it agrees. "It's better this way. At least, that's how I see it. Maybe you remember it differently, but…"
It motions vaguely at my skinsuit.
"Things clearly worked out well for whatever happened to you. You're my soul, right? If you look like that now, there's no way you came here to take me back."
I scowl at it. Yeah, this thing has me nailed with that. The fact that it really is me enough to understand all this just makes me even more disgusted by it, though. It's a me that gave up. It's a me that has nothing. No passion, no emotion, no drive to do anything other than what it's told. Habit personified and nothing more. I glance at its computer screen again. That… looks like a pretty advanced engineering course. Just what my mom and dad always wanted me to major in. I loved to build things as a kid, they said, so surely I'd be great at it. Forget about all that other stuff, you'd just ruin your future with it.
So here we are. A version of me that's doing exactly that. A version of me that's on track for a nice career. A version of me that has given up on everything and gone totally, completely empty. And a version of me that is far more palatable as a result. No snark, no passion, and certainly no idle dreams of being a magical girl and becoming friends with Castalia.
It never even spoke to Bean. It has all my memories, all my passwords, and my old computer. Nothing would have stopped it. But still, this whole time, it never spoke to Bean. Too much effort, I guess.
"No," I confirm. "There's no chance in hell I'm ever going back."
"Right," it nods. "So… is that all you needed, then?"
"Is that really it?" I growl, my simulated guts churning in disgust. "Nothing? That's all you aspire to?"
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"What else do you want?" it asks. "You're already everything we wanted to be. You can't like looking at me any more than I like looking at you."
It's not wrong, but that's the problem! God, I never should have come here. This is going to fuck me up for days. I can't believe this… this homunculus is still walking around!
"You need help, darling," Uma'tama says. "This is no way to live, especially for a human."
My body sighs, glancing back at its computer impatiently.
"Look," it says, "I'm better off this way. Everything that kept tearing me up before… I don't have to worry about it anymore. Liking yourself is overrated. Just not hating myself is more than I thought I could ask for. I'm not a danger to myself anymore. I don't know what that box did to pull my soul out of my body and make her hot, but… great. Good for you. Now please leave."
I can't help but snort as the soulless thing calls me 'hot.'
"What, you aren't even a little jealous?" I taunt it.
"No," it says, "and I don't want to be. It hurt."
God, did it. It hurt so much. It was a constant struggle just to find a reason worth living for. And this… this thing is spitting on all of that like it never even mattered. All because it's easier than hope.
…And because of the whole 'removed soul' bit that isn't its fault at all, but like. Still. I'm mad about it.
"It was worth it," I insist.
"Yeah," the thing answers. "I bet for you, it was."
I sigh. I shouldn't… I shouldn't be mad at this. That thing isn't me. Not anymore. It's not me. It's just the body I used to have making its own choices without my soul to guide it. I should just… go.
"Are we done here, Uma'tama?" I ask.
"We… we suppose so," Uma'tama agrees hesitantly. "If their life isn't in danger, then… perhaps it is not as bad as we feared?"
"Great. Let's get out of here," I grunt.
"We… I am sorry, Luna, it's clear that you are upset," Uma'tama says hesitantly. "We wish we understood so we could assist."
"What's there to not understand!?" I snap. "There's a creepy doppelganger version of me with all of my memories but none of my values sitting here and spitting in the face of everything I've worked for! Even if it's just using my sloppy seconds of a body that I don't even want anymore, it's freaking me the hell out!"
Uma'tama stares at me, and if anything the weird little cat seems even more confused than before.
"…Right. Well. As you suggest, we will depart," Uma'tama nods. "You're doing something fun today with your friends, aren't you? Let's not keep them now that we've confirmed there's no immediate crisis."
God, they're way too nice. Makes me suspicious. Still, I can't wait to get the hell out of here.
"Wait!" my mother calls out, because of course this is happening now.
She steps in from where she'd been eavesdropping in the hallway, because of course she's been doing that, too. I knew she was there, I'd just been doing my best to ignore it. I'm well past caring about what that woman thinks, because the thing is? By most metrics, she's a perfectly normal, genuinely kind human being. Her only real sin is the fact that she decided that she gets to dictate who I am and who I want to be, and the fact that this ultimately resulted in changing out our family doctor three different times until she found one that agreed with her instead of me is just part of what it takes to be a good mother, right?
Nah. I'm over it. Eighteen years was the upper limit of when I needed to actually put up with this woman, and now I'm… heh, well, I guess I'd be twenty-one now, come to think of it. I'm legally allowed to get wasted! I should go buy an entire jug of battery acid.
"What's going on!?" my mother asks desperately. "All this talk of souls and everything else… are you really—"
Runtime alert: don't call her—nope, hard override, fuck this.
"Mom," I snap, cutting her off. "If you seriously look me in the eyes and call me by the name I think you're gonna call me, I'm gonna punch your lights out."
She freezes. She was already scared of all this wacky magic talk, but now she's intimidated, too. Despite my anger, I can't help but feel a little bad. She's… still my mom. It wouldn't feel right just socking her in the jaw.
…Doesn't mean I won't do it, though, and I think she knows that.
"I just… don't understand," my mom says weakly. "You're saying that there are two of you?"
Hmm… how much do I want to explain all of this to her? Let's see, I think… zero. Zero much. Nill. Nada. Absolutely fuck-all because absolutely fuck this. I just move to step past her, gently nudging her out of my way with a light hand on her shoulder.
"Just… don't worry about it, okay?" I say. "Besides, you said he's been doing so much better since coming home, right?"
I pat her shoulder and finish moving past her, heading for the stairs. If I don't get out of this house right the fuck now I'm going to explode. Maybe literally; I desperately need to vent this magical buildup. Figures I had to pick literally just a few hours ago to swap over to north-aligned crystals. If I'd still been powered by the shitty emotions, I might have been at a hundred percent by now.
"W-wait! Please, would you just—"
"[H ʏ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ s ᴘ ᴀ ᴄ ᴇ]"
I do what I've wanted to do many, many times before and just teleport clean through the walls of the house. God. God! I can't believe all this happened to me! I can't believe this is real! If I was still organic I'd be shaking. I can only imagine what my body must be thinking. That could have been me. Our memories diverged at the same point. What if I was the soulless husk, content with emotionlessness until some idealized alternate self suddenly walks into my room and starts yelling at me? But I just… looking at myself that way, I just can't… gah.
"Luna?" Uma'tama asks, appearing behind me. "Luna. Are you alright?"
"I can't say I'm doing great," I answer, "but I'll be fine."
"You're very strong, you know," Uma'tama comments. "We regret not offering you a position in the Guardians far earlier."
Huh. Didn't Melpomene say something about that…? Right, yeah. She mentioned that the Preservers prefer their pawns to be a bit more 'credulous.'
"I was a candidate, right?" I ask. "But I was turned down. Why?"
"Luck," Uma'tama answers simply.
"That's it, huh?" I sigh. "Really? Just luck?"
"Mostly luck," Uma'tama clarifies. "Good luck, to be clear. We didn't have an opening in this city while you were of age, that's all. I just wish we… apologies, forget I said anything."
"I'll try, but if you keep dropping juicy lines like that I'm gonna have a hard time," I say, reaching up and scratching them under the chin.
"Erm?" Uma'tama blinks, seeming surprised. "Juicy…?"
"Tantalizing. Tempting. Tasty," I offer a few synonyms. "I wanna learn what your deal is, Tama."
"Uma'tama please, or just Uma," Uma'tama corrects me, which is also juicy, oh my god, what does that mean? "And we're afraid there isn't much we can explain. All we can do is the duty we have been assigned, and our assignment is to assist in maintaining the safety and security of Earth and its inhabitants from foreign magical threats."
"You… don't mean that literally, right?" I ask. "It's not physically, actually all you can do? Because, y'know, I have a few tips I might be able to share in that case."
Uma'tama reaches up a paw to stop me from giving them more scritches, smiling softly.
"No, dear," they assure me. "It's not like that. Your situation is quite unique, as far as we're aware, but that is part of what makes it all the more impressive that you are handling it with strength and dignity. You will be an excellent Earth Guardian, Luna. We hope we can count on your support."
"Well, thanks for having me," I shrug, starting to walk down the block. "I appreciate whatever strings you may or may not have pulled to get me officially signed up."
"Pulled… strings?" Uma'tama asks.
"Sneaky manipulations," I clarify. "Y'know. Like interpreting vague rules in whatever way is most likely to give you the outcome you want. As a… totally random example."
"It seems unlikely that… oh. Oh! Yes. Random and unrelated to recent happenings," Uma'tama agrees with truly expert-level guile.
"Yup. Anyway, can we head back now?" I ask.
"Oh! Yes, of course," Uma'tama agrees, telekinetically lifting me up again. Man, I gotta figure out a flight spell of my own.
"Wouldn't it be easier to teleport me?" I ask. "You guys teleport all over the dang place all the time, right? I know you manage the entire state of Colorado."
"Oh, no dear," Uma'tama insists. "We can't teleport you. We don't teleport at all, actually."
Uh. What?
"Sure, yeah, obviously you're using some other method of vanishing from one location and instantly reappearing somewhere else," I snark.
"Yes! We're impressed you can tell!" Uma'tama says, entirely seriously.
Well that's. Okay. Sure. Fine. I'm just not gonna tell them I was joking, I think. Whatever. This sucked. I'm setting my brain to stop being conscious until we get back to base.
Oh hey, we're back at base. Base is nice. Two of my favorite people are here. And one of them is even my master! …No, wait, that's bad. Though Thea is good. I hope she's been okay being alone this whole time. I should go check on her.
"Thea! Castalia! I'm back!" I call out, heading deeper inside as Uma'tama waves and then vanishes behind me.
Hmm… no answer. I can feel where Castalia is, though. I jog deeper into the base, happening across her floating in the common room, knees curled up to her chest as she chats quietly with Amaterasu. Su-san not-so-subtly motions at me with her head when I come into view, and their conversation halts. I couldn't hear any of it, either. I guess I'm not the only one with privacy spells.
"Luna," Castalia greets me. "Welcome back."
"Hey, Castalia," I nod. "Ready?"
"Yes," Castalia confirms.
"Cool. I assume Thea's in her room?"
"You former Rebellion girls sure are close, aren't you?" Su-san accuses.
"Yep, we absolutely are!" I confirm happily. "I tend to like people who are really cute and also save my life! Two excellent qualities for a girl to have, in my opinion."
"She's in her room," Castalia confirms for me.
"Great! Let's go get her," I say, turning and walking away from Amaterasu.
Thea's room isn't very far away, just a quick walk before I'm rapping on the door with the back of my hand. I don't hear any response, though, which makes me a little worried. I knock again.
"Thea?" I call out.
Still nothing. I can only hear a faint, rhythmic clicking noise.
"Thea, I'm coming in!"
I turn the handle, finding the door unlocked, and push my way in. Thea is sitting on her bed, also with her knees curled up to her chest, but she seems to be having a much worse time than Castalia was. Her eyes are unfocused, vaguely staring down at her knees and feet as her webbed hand flicks one of the crystals growing out of her leg, making that constant, repeated click. I step into the room to get a better angle, and—
Alert. Red fluid. Composition match: blood. My master is bleeding. I move closer immediately, scanning the room for likely sources of harm and possible forms of support. Several sources of makeshift bandages are available, but bandages are likely unnecessary. Sterilization spells accessed. Analysis of the wound indicates the most probable weapon to be Thea's own fingernail; removal is obviously impractical. My master has damaged herself. Clarification required.
—get down on my knees in front of her, trying to get her attention as unobtrusively as possible.
"…Thea?" I say, my voice soft but urgent.
"Huh?" Thea says blankly, and then she jolts back to attention, nearly kicking me in the head as she flails a bit. "Ah! L-Luna!"
"Thea, you're bleeding," I say, continuing to stare at her.
"I'm… what?" she says, glancing down at her leg. "O-oh! Shoot! Sorry, I'm sorry, sorry…"
She starts to paw at the wound, so I put my hand on her wrist to stop her and try and calm her down.
"Sorry!" she yelps, yanking her hand away. "Sorry!"
"It's okay!" I assure her. "It's okay, Thea, you're fine. I got it."
I use my spell core to generate lines of light, carving a magic circle into the air. A simple thing, designed to locate and eradicate viruses and bacteria from a specific, targeted point. With the circle properly constructed I don't really need to name it; the name primarily exists to properly direct the will and focus the emotions, and I couldn't possibly be more focused. Still, every little bit of efficiency matters. My master's wellbeing comes first.
"[Bᴀsᴀɴᴛᴀғ]" I incant, a scouring light sanitizing the wound.
Thea flinches, whining in pain as I grab some of the cloth I was working with earlier today, sterilize that too, and bandage her up with it. Injury dealt with, I turn my attention to figuring out its source. Apparently, leaving Thea alone in shorts was enough to put her in a dissociative episode severe enough that she didn't even notice she was scratching open her own skin. So. You know. I feel awful enough to kill myself.
I failed. I failed bad. And for what? Some… some creepy desire to see more of her skin? I should have known she was just acting like things were better than they really were. I should have known, but I didn't want to know. I didn't want to consider it. I didn't want to prioritize her. But that's not just being a bad friend, it's simply not what I am. Did I seriously think I could escape that?
I feel like I'm being turned inside out, but the lack of any physiological response to this level of wretchedness only seems to make it worse. I should be sweating, I should be heaving, I should be covered in my own vomit by now, but there's nothing. I'm as still as stone because I'm nothing but metal. I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up but there's no time I can't spare any energy to care about myself. I need to fix this!
"Let's get you into something you're comfortable in," I say, reaching for a pair of overalls and marveling at how steady my hands somehow are. Not even my voice quivers. It's all just fake.
"Wait, no," Thea protests, but it's not because she wants to wear the shorts, it's because she doesn't want to upset me and that's wrong that's wrong.
"It's my fault," I insist. "I knew you weren't comfortable, but I pressured you into it. Let's just cover you up and stay inside. I have a ton of movies saved; we could watch something to help you calm down. I have some suggestions if you—"
"Luna stop!" Thea orders, and I freeze. "S-stop. Please."
"Okay," I say, my insides churning even harder. I pushed too hard. My emotions are probably upsetting her, too. I need to be more careful. In order for me to obey her properly, she can't know I'm being forced to obey. She doesn't like that.
"I-I'm sorry, I messed up, I… please don't… I'm sorry. It's my fault!" Thea stammers.
"No," I insist.
It's not her fault. Or more accurately, it doesn't matter if it is.
"I should have had a p-project or something to work on, I know I get like this when I don't have anything to do," she continues, shaking slightly. I wish I could do the same. I wish I could physically display my distress in a manner that I couldn't force myself to hide. "These past eight months I've just been working on you and I know there's more to do but you were gone and I couldn't find anything in time so I started thinking and I kinda got caught up in… that."
"We'll find you a project for when I'm not around," I insist. "We can do that now, even."
"No! We should… meet your friends," she insists, getting up from the bed and wobbling slightly.
That's the problem. They're my friends. They're not her friends. She's doing this for me, and that's wrong, I can't be selfish when it comes to her. I've learned that now.
"I don't want to do that if you don't want to do that," I tell her simply. "I really don't. I want to make sure you're okay."
"I think the best thing for me right now would be to be around people I can trust," Thea says.
"You don't know them. You can't trust them," I say.
"I trust you," Thea says, "and you trust them. Right? They're not gonna… judge me?"
No. They won't. But is she lying about this for my sake again? I can't tell. Her emotions are too chaotic. I genuinely can't tell, and that's yet another failure to add to the tally for today. But… when I can't tell, I follow the letter of the order, right?
"That's true," I say. "Okay. Let's go. Do you want to change first?"
"No," Thea says.
"Are you sure?" I press.
"Yes," she insists. "Let's just go already."
She's getting impatient. I fucked up again. Come on, Luna, this slave shit is the easiest thing in the world. Just obey and nothing else. How are you constantly fucking this up? Can you seriously not handle a master that isn't actively encouraging you to hate her?
Why is this harder?
"Okay," I say.
"Please stop beating yourself up over this," Thea begs, heading for the door.
Oh. Ouch.
"That's… going to be hard," I admit, walking beside her. "That's just kinda how I am. The easiest way to get me to stop is if I just delete my memories of this happening?"
"You… can do that?" Thea asks.
"Yeah," I confirm.
"Don't ever do that," she orders.
"Okay," I confirm.
I open the door, ending up face-to-face with a very concerned Castalia. Right. I didn't cast the privacy spell. She probably heard and felt all of that. I wonder if putting up the privacy ward would have made her more or less suspicious of us… then again, Thea did a good job making it clear she cares about my feelings and stuff, so we should be in the clear for now.
"Are you okay?" Castalia asks both of us.
"Uh… I won't say it was an ideal situation, but we're okayish?" I say, hedging my bets somewhere between telling the truth and lying my ass off.
"What spell did you cast?" she presses.
Well, I don't have to lie for that one.
"Sterilization," I answer. "'Basantaf' is the Antipathy verb for cleaning a wound. Thea cut herself by accident, and I, uh, maybe freaked out a little and went overboard, but she's definitely not going to get an infection!"
"…I'm basically immune to disease anyway," Thea complains. "I doubt I'm even human enough to carry an illness in the first place."
"Ah, but what if you manage to catch something from a sick otter instead?" I joke.
"We live in Colorado!" Thea protests.
"…Um, yeah," I agree. "And there are otters here. River otters? Have you never seen river otters before?"
"Wait, really?" Thea brightens up. "I thought otters lived in the ocean!"
"Well sure, there are sea otters and then there are river otters," I say. "We should go hiking. We should go to the zoo! Wait, actually. Hey Castalia, did the kaiju a year ago destroy the Denver zoo?"
"No," Castalia answers.
"Sick. We'll pencil in a zoo trip. But first, Thea wants to meet my friends! And boy does she need more friends!"
"H-hey!" Thea whines, but I'm right, and she knows it.
…Not that this justifies making her feel bad, but teasing her is good for helping convince people I'm not her slave, which is a direct order and therefore a higher priority. Of course, optimally, I shouldn't be upsetting Thea or outing her, and so not having a better method to keep our cover is another failure on my part, but it's also important I not focus on that while Castalia is around.
Oh boy. We are going to have so much fun at Chloe's house, I can already tell.