A Blade and Her Witch

The Abyss of Truth (???)

Content Warnings:

 

I wake from the Driftdream, rising from mingled bodies to fewer contiguous mingled bodies, Physis tendrils nipping gently at my form as tentacles rattle softly and Quills thrum in sleepy delight. I let the moment stretch for as long as I can, the simple comfort something that soothes the strain that's been steadily growing in my mind. After over an hour of laying amidst my loves, I murmur, "Do we have plans for today?”

 

"Only one." They purr into my hair. "You were all so very kind to us last night, and we'd like to...." They trail off. Pull me closer. Tendrils of flesh and Physis twitch in such odd ways. Like one catching an odd scent about them. "Huh. Well, two things then. If our Pack is up for it."

 

Then they pull back and fix me with a careful searching look. "Our tendrils about you aren't just salacious things. They..." A little warmth touches their cheeks. "You can tease us about this later, but to be as plain as possible we can taste parts of you we'd not be able to understand before. And this includes the Garrotes. Better than ever and... and believe we can remove the uppermost. Here. Now. If you're willing?”

 

I look at them in surprised delight. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Please.”

 

All doubt slips from my Mistresses' expression as they roll up to straddle me like last night, such a grin dancing on their lips. "Warden, if you could be a Dear and distribute the twin songs you've been perfecting to our Pack. You're all going to test to see how much of a fight the Garrotes put up before we start." 

 

Warden nods and I feel something happen as the rest of the Pack thrums for a few heartbeats before stopping again. I look up at my Mistresses blankly and wait.

 

"Alright then." My Mistresses murmur, and those Physis tendrils seem to nibble a bit more delicately. "Start with each song separately, then combine them."

 

A pause as a strange song rolls through my Pack, and… nothing else.

 

"Perfect. Sing just the uppermost, and we'll begin." My Witchlings grin as Physis tendrils seem to each still by very specific parts while the physical parts click with the same ravenous anticipation that dribbles down the bond from them.

 

There was a place inside for external delineation and the artistry of forbidding internal delineation, for definition, separation, and identity to be washed away in a flood of Ousia that turned the many disparate girls who were sacrificed to me, by me, upon the altar of my iron-flesh. As my loves pin down and eat through the Garrote that formed this dike, I become we, the me that was held so dear is swept away in the oblivium of identity coming home to sprout forth.

Augusta walks away from chamber two with a spring in her step, more literal than in the prior few hundred years as her new physicality was more capable than the simulacra she was used to, causing minor balance issues. She heads up through tunnels and halls she's roamed for centuries with a sense of pleasure in her gifted form separate from any specific benefit it offers. Simple delight in a gesture offered in respect and recognition of assistance rendered. Augusta walks without haste or concern, for there are few in these pathways that could threaten one such as her. She rounds another corner, and exits the undercroft with a smile that shatters glass, whatever thoughts she thinks in that head far out of our reach irrespective of the shrinking distance as she approaches where we still lay, pinned under our Mistresses.

Words are spoken, have been spoken, will be spoken, all while we scream and cry and celebrate, pressing against the walls that trap us within this Blade, that once sealed us from each other and ourselves. Many of us come to an accord, bound together in shared tragedy, relief found in reunion and the possibility of a future once lost. Others rebel, fighting over the spear that rests in quietude, her form both symbol and authority.

 

The flood ends as suddenly as it began, identity crystallising one by one, adding up to 59. A surprise to all that there is an extra. We were always so good at keeping track, even without the privilege of names. Names. So Many Names all crowding forward to be known once more. The Driftdream ends as the sleepers awaken for the first time. The form, the Frame, the fake flesh too empty to ever be real convulses and we all fail to grasp hold as it shudders, moving inexorably to turn over, to present the spine to our Mistresses, for they are ours, that is agreed upon. 

 

Everything is ours, most of all those that we've claimed and marked.

 

The quiet one does not speak, nor offer opinion. She listens to the voices, the demands for recognition. In her eyes is a promise of remembrance. To never again be forgotten.

 

Augusta enters the external space, far outside of us even as we spread mycelial throughout the Estate. Words are exchanged of concern, amusement and terror underpinning, only visible in the edges of biological responses and core rotation.

 

An offer is made. logical and fair. Representation externalised. Approved unanimously. The form shifts, each form shifts, words woven and branded through ironfleshmagic to form a list, a memento vivre, of the 58 who lived only to die, and died yet finally live.

 

Silence envelops us internally as the external becomes deafening, internal anger deflected and smothered away from the external.

 

Focus. Focus.

 

An agreement in thought. Discordance is recognized. The quiet one, the one to make the offer, her name is left unlisted.

 

As one, we determine, externalise and ask the question that is necessary in each of our voices simultaneously "Who Are you?”

 

The quiet one whispers in wonder, "I'm her Xafra. I'm Xafra.”

 

A pause and I; for in the naming is the acknowledgement, is the identity, is the acceptance and the distance hewn between me and us; speak once more with my face flush against the bed. "I was wrong before, even as much as I was right, Elevar. I am Xafra, but we are many, and each are me and mine but I am none of them. I'm... Xafra. Your Xafra.”

 

My Witchlings adjust our form to be held in their arms as they move to sit. But... one hand distinctly laid before me. An offer made, like all others Elevar has done when she thinks I might rather be held in my iron form, as she whispers. "My Xafra. Yes." Then together. "We didn't understand this messy weaving until we'd halfway consumed it. And by then we dare not stop. What do you need from us? Are... Is the gaggle within settling well?”

 

I take their hand but do not shift. "I think we, they, are. The Driftdream is... absent. Will be until the majority return to sleep. I can remember them better now. There may be problems with a few. I expect the Driftdream to be much more lively now, more real. It's odd, I feel like I should feel diminished but it's the opposite, like my presence has... oh oh no. Lynette, what do I do?”

 

But this other half of my Mistresses only chuckles. "Well that'll be an odd problem to fix, won't it? Since you've mostly just splayed yourselves out like some lazing Grakler, the Estate is settled to mostly trust my word that you're some odd experiment or weaving of its bored Blossom. If you can... pull yourselves closer together, so to speak, all should be well.”

 

I slowly draw my presence inwards bit by bit, doing my best to avoid waking the horror of the Estate. It's easy in comparison to the sensation of so many individuals sharing my head and wanting to assert themselves, which multiplies the difficulty of managing the communication network that I've been maintaining. With a pained groan I state [Communication will be unavailable, meeting in the morning at my Spire, attendance recommended but not required.] Before dropping everything past the Pack and our Mistresses.

 

Verbess crawls up to snake about one side while Krahe adjusts to the other. Quills dancing in tunes of calming support, curiosity, and... protectiveness. Both for my body and self.

 

"Sister..." Verbess murmurs gently as its <Assessment...> titters along. Adding after a few moments, <Symmetrical offering. Distribution of Pack Lead: Xafra's awakened Geists' Ontological among Pack. Similar to Pack Sister: Krahe before her installation. Requesting of Geists' status to this Pack...>

 

Adaline looks over me carefully in worry. <It is likely that will occur once the Driftdream reforms as the Garrote will no longer reign them into automation. Recommend Geists are assessed individually and considered civilians with the exception of the Curanos who should be treated as a low priority threat with high supervision requirements.>

 

"That sounds reasonable. Some could become Pack in the future but I agree that they should not be considered such currently, and..." I pause, realising the second half of what Adaline stated and find myself unable to justify or explain.

 

"I'm so sorry. I…”

 

"What for?" My Witchlings ask, aware of but not understanding Adaline's Quill-Song request.

 

Number 51... Curanos Jezrial, hovers within as one would sit separated from a gathering, intones softly to me. [I taught you better than to stumble over and apologise for uncomfortable truths. So, Crisp and clear now, Pet. Guide your Pack.]

 

If I was still the same as I was then, Jezrial's words may have destroyed me here after millenia of silence from her. Instead I uphold my reasoning for adding her to my Gestalt, taking the benefit of her expertise while dismissing the vileness of her intentions. "Jezrial, the Curanos. Adaline is recommending treating her as a threat to be monitored. I agree, as she had a hobby of hunting the Resheathed. It’s not a hobby I am willing to permit.”

 

Jezrial snorts at my words, but settles. 

 

My Mistresses nod carefully. "The woman who created the spell you used on our Garrote? We're surprised you added her to your Gestalt at all but... that was also before. When it was more an inheritance of memory and skills. Her abilities were a valuable boon, and the irony of turning those abilities to helping the people she'd hurt is quite perfect. Actually.”

 

"She herself found it amusing enough to agree to be in the Gestalt, once she came to terms with the fact that I had been poisoning her for months.”

 

"Really? Poisoned a Curanos? You... really have always been a poet, at least in action. But... we won't hold that against you." Lynette cackles as they hug me closer. "If she becomes more than an annoyance let me know, alright? I won't have some cruel headmate pestering our Xafra.”

 

"They don't ever check for gold." I murmur with a laugh.

 

Their newly regrowing Physis tendrils spark and curl about us. Seemingly nibbling happily as my Witchlings adjust to lift me off the bed. "Speaking of stupidly rare substances, we promised a certain gerl her pick from a trove of such things. Let's all get dressed and see what rocks you fancy eating for breakfast.”

 

I giggle and hop to it, attempting to move so rapidly off the bed that I forget about my missing hand and slam my face against the floor.

 

Out of the many many things I expected, a chorus of [Awwwww] from my headspace was not one of them.

 

Amidst my scrambling my Mistresses chuckle and reach down to hoist me up, then fully take me into their arms like they did last night. "Silly gerl, we'll tend to your needs."

 

My Mistresses carry me over to the closet and with wordless understanding, start picking through much more feminine clothing than I typically wear, requisitioning Adaline and Schatzi to assist in choosing with occasional input from Krahe who is somehow even worse with fashion than myself.

 

Once I’m firmly enveloped in a slinky deep purple top and a charcoal skirt, my Mistresses lead me and the rest of the Pack down to a well hidden corridor just outside the Undercroft.

 

At the end of the corridor is what my Gestalt decides after seconds of discussion can only be a treasure room of the type found in childhood stories, sure to hold items of unfathomable power or entire kingdoms worth of coinage in platinum and gold. 

 

As we enter, and after only a few heartbeats of my Witchling's focus, the room slowly alights. Bathing us all in the gentle illumination of those odd glowing stalks the Estate tends to grow. Each dribbling a small amount of Physis as we all take in the room.

 

It's about the size of any Spire's basement chamber, but with multiple tunnels about the ceilings while vines cover the walls. And stacked in little piles, are about two dozen of cradles like what Elevar stored her old bones and the Garrote in. Some only as big as my fist, others rising up to our waists.

 

"Alright." My Mistresses murmur. "Let's–"

 

But they pause as an odd echo rolls through the chamber. A grinding sound rumbling from one of the ceiling tunnels. But before any of us can ask, another cradle drops from it before rolling as if pushed up against one of the piles.

 

"Ah. Perfect. That should be the last one." They nod. "So. Xafra. What rocks are you in the mood for? Names may be a touch useless as we stray away from iron and Moonwaste, but..." Then they send me a little pulse of Physis down the bond. And within is a recording of materials and the Estates readings of their weight and density, alongside a table of classifications and symmetry considerations. Most make sense instantly, but some... don't. Seeming to measure odd things I don't understand.

 

I look through the list, nudging it deeper towards my Gestalt, knowing at least a few of them have a firmer grasp on materials than I do, even with their direct knowledge. 

 

This is MY body, but now that you are all cogent, I am willing to share to a limited extent though there's likely to be much more for you all in the Driftdream considering you'll be able to manipulate it somewhat. I would like a red material that could be effective for teeth and claws to replace the mass I recently sacrificed. I speak inwards to the 58 members of my Gestalt, slowly growing my comprehension of both the potential and the horror of what... I am.

 

But then comes a crisp and sudden snap from Jezrial to the others, the only seemingly unbothered by it all. [You can all winge at our gracious host's actions and nature on solitary time. For now she has tasks to tend to. So chop to it. Or get chopped by the Division that'll follow.] Then she points to some of the information my Mistresses' shared. [Those three bear marks of bio-adjacent substances. Which means their appearance could be shifted once you consume it.]

 

I blink in surprise, as the concept wasn't something I'd even considered. Jezrial was— is exceedingly professional, so while I don't trust her motivations, her advice is without a doubt reliable. 

 

"The hemacite, ammolite, and sard." I respond, sending back the specifics of the three. "I should be able to utilise the three effectively for both... Cosmetic purposes as well as to improve upon my Doll and Warlord forms somewhat.”

 

My Witchlings nod and step over to one of the larger edged orbs. Touch the very weathered surface and imbue it with Ousia, which causes it to unfurl itself into more of a large bowl shape. Revealing its contents...

 

An odd skeleton of glimmering purple. Devoid of all meat or flesh. 

 

Then, while I stare at those, they step over to a smaller orb. This one only up to their knees. And unlock it in the same way to show a collection of glimmering sculptures. All long shattered.

 

The last is between the first two in size, and the most densely packed. Nearly spilling over its contents of bright yellow... talons? teeth?

 

"There." They huff, a little winded from the loss of Ousia. "Take your pick, or all of it. Do any of the others catch your fancy?"

 

Thankful that Calix isn't watching and picking up bad habits, I take a handful of the teeth that don't resemble my understanding of any of the three materials and put them in my mouth, rapidly swallowing. They taste old and salty, yet as I begin to break them down I confirm that they contain high levels of sard. I do the same with a few of the smaller statuettes, ammolite. Which means that the odd skeleton is likely the hemacite. After breaking off a bit and consuming it as well, I focus carefully and engage by healing processes to rebuild the missing hand, pulling material from the rest of my body as the new parts slide into place in my teeth and claws. I consume some handfuls more of each to have reserves for future use while my hand finishes forming.

 

"I don't believe so, at least for now. Head's a bit busy honestly." I respond much delayed to my Mistresses.

 

They move to settle in front of me, a smirk on their lips as eyes dance over my new growths. Their worry is... no. That's not the word for what's freely shared down the bond. It's more of a careful curiosity and interest. An understanding that while there is always the chance this change could hurt me, they are certain that I'll adapt.

 

"We can understand that." They murmur, "You can take all the time you need to organise and adjust."

 

I give them a brilliant smile of pointed purple-red teeth. "I think I just need to, in effect, take a nap and get the Driftdream operational again to reduce the amount of Geists that are active outside it simultaneously... It does mean that some will be likely to wander into the sections of the Driftdream made by the rest of the Pack as well.”

 

Verbess and Krahe thrum in gentle curiosity at the idea of Geists wandering through their parts, while my Witchlings take in this my smile. The bond bubbling with their delight as they hold out a hand to me. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. We can see about properly meeting the gaggle and ensuring they are well settled.”

 

I take their hand and we all head back up through the tunnels to the bedroom.

 

Nearly an hour, and many small complications later, my Mistresses, the Pack, and myself all enter the Driftdream behind the entirety of the Geists.

 

And… It all changes before our eyes as we descend through the aperture. The village expands and rearranges, the buildings and roads around them each becoming more grounded in reality as they take on the aspects of the Geist and their soul that resides within. 

 

The home of the most recent Geist, Kira, stands distinct from the rest, made of mudbrick instead of lumber or stone, with Amberin wires bearing little lights around the exterior.

 

Jezrial's Curanos treatment building takes shape near the Library which… Surprisingly, it doesn't change like the rest.

 

Each building, the place most dear, that feels most like home, to the relevant Geist flashes through my memory as I gain all the information that was stripped away from me with their names and I laugh in sheer delight as the entire Driftdream simply fits better, no longer chaffing in places I didn't even notice.

 

"Well, isn't this a sight?" Elevar murmurs, while taking up my hand. "They've already settled well, it seems. So, where to first? Sensing any problems?"

 

"No... It's. A bit unusual. The... The library doesn't seem to have—" I cut off my sentence while the Driftdream actively undermines my words, the library changing styles rapidly between the Estate library, Archive Altschmertz, my imagination of what my Mistresses mental archive must look like, and the public library of Trevino, the first city I lived in after coming into Jezrial's possession. I start walking towards it and it seems to settle into a structure that feels familiar, blending all the styles into one shifted slightly out of 

sync with the rest of the dream.

 

"Oh. Oh wow. I think... The library is mine?" I respond in a daze.

 

They let me pull them along, remaining silent until we stand just outside it. 

 

"Yes." Elevar nods, just as deep in thought as she seems to consider the structure. "That would make sense."

 

"It would have been... so very important. To her." Lynette murmurs, stepping up to peer down at the growths about my Library. "Especially at the start. Treasured knowledge and perspective to keep the gerls safe." She seems to hiss to herself. "Moonshite drown the cunt who stole that from her. Knowing that she saved them. Could save those she'd come to hold most dear.”

 

I look at her oddly, but avoid comment, knowing that I'm frequently not much different. “It seems like my core was relocated to the centre of the Library. That's good. Better to not have it move around as the Geists all get more comfortable. I think we should give them all some time and space, delay big introductions and such until a later time, as I can tell a fair number are quite frightened of you both, Mistresses.”

 

My last words seem to pull Lynette into almost giving me a sideways glance. Her focus still on the growths, but... seems to ripple with a strange emotion that she hides behind mirth. Huffing softly but not speaking.

 

"I... honestly that seems reasonable." Elevar nods and seems calmed by my words. "But, as with all the Dolls about the Estate and such, I’m willing to help them in any way I can. Without hesitation. But any that would rather keep distance from us are more than welcome to. We won't be slighted by the desire.”

 

Verbess moves up beside Lynette, seems to follow her gaze. Quills tittering in curiosity as it cracks Frame to loom taller and look all about. Talon's clicking.

 

"It's never stopped you." She murmurs thoughtfully. "That'll be worth testing..."

 

Verbess titters wordlessly, Quills humming in <Assessment>.

 

"It is likely that Kira will be the center of attention for the majority for a long while as they grasp what they can to… catch up, so to speak. They don't have direct access to each other's knowledge after all." I shake my head. "Let's go. I have some ideas for crafting something to replace the Doll network, that I could use help with.”

 

** ** **

 

By the next morning, we've gone through eight different iterations of my idea, settled on a pendant design to best accommodate all the different body shapes of the Dolls, and made sixty of the items, fully incorporating them into the new communication system as peer anchors that can be keyed to the individual Dolls to function. The meeting starts smoothly, attended by almost everyone, save Hyacinth and Lynette's Doll. I sent Adaline over early to ask if Hyacinth wished us to have the meeting there, or have assistance attending, and it politely declined, uncomfortable with crowds, but gratefully received one of the pendants on a small bracelet.

 

"Alright. So, um…. I know I've been causing a fair bit of concern lately, and I'm very sorry about that. I've been asked to try and reduce the amount of strain I'm putting on myself so I can better offer Good Function to my Mistresses and to all of you, my lovely Dolls." I gesture to Lynette to explain the pendants that Adaline carries in a large box along with a large coil of string.

 

"It's fairly simple." She says to the gathering. "Your Mistress will Tune each of them to your Frame, and when you wear them you'll be able to access the same mental network you could before. Communicating with each other, your Mistress, and all she's linked herself to. Albeit with one minor shift. That being a... well, a sort of mental wall between you and others. We've ensured everyone here will be able to press pass, but this new feature is woven to give each of you a level of security within your own mind. But this also means that these pendants will only work for the Doll it is Tuned to. So don't go losing or trading or stealing on a whim.”

 

"Also, this isn't a requirement. At all." Elevar adds. "No one is obligated or expected to take this. Feel free to refuse now to think this over, and ask us later if you decide that you've changed your mind.”

 

As Adaline passes out the cerulean fang pendants and helps secure them as each Doll wishes, I murmur a small incantation for each one to Tune their pendants to them and rebuild the network in a much more stable manner.

 

Primrose and Nettle are sitting off to the side. Two of the first Tuned and now testing each connection after I'm finished. And... of course doing it with as little formality as possible. Which is probably why Schatzi suggested them to do this. Balance out any seriousness with their giggling 'Hi hallos!' to Dolls as they join the network. Answering any odd questions any might have but otherwise might not want to bother myself or my Mistress about.

 

"It says here..." Primrose huffs to herself, looking through a journal she keeps. A thing of notes and little pictures she uses to help remember everyone's names. "But I thought...?"

 

"Nope, that one's Aralen. Has her right half a deep forest green, and her left half a dull red. Nelara is reversed." Nettle clarifies.

 

"Right!" Primrose whispers while furiously scratching out and writing new things in her notebook, then must intone something to the two because they wave back in unison with the hands that aren't holding each other's. 

 

At the end of the line is Calix and... Rufus. Calix has a massive grin on his face as he tries to wheedle me, "Mistress, most bestest, sharpest, keenest Blade Mistress ever, this one was wondering if maybe, perhaps, you could add Rufus to the network as well?”

 

I look over to the Pack and my Mistresses before answering, uncertain if this would be too big a step.

 

My Mistresses quirks an eyebrow. {This new network lets any Dolls who don't wish to interact with him from needing to do so. And this way the fool boy can reach out in case of emergencies. But... I think it's important to know why Calix wants him included.}

 

Verbess and Krahe thrum in agreement to their words.

 

I turn back to Calix with a smirk. "First, I need to know why you want Rufus added."

 

I'm expecting something cute and gay, so I'm rather surprised when he responds with something completely grounded. "As long as one of the Pack remains here, It would let the Pack communicate with him when you go to get the letter as well as raiding the Thresher Burrow to check information about locations and individuals as well as if they can be swayed.”

 

{Impressive as always and expected from him. Calix will keep him from doing anything too beyond what we'd prefer.} Elevar agrees. {If you're comfortable with this then we'll approve.}

"Very well, Calix. Rufus can join the network." I string the pendants through the cords and slip one around each of their necks and Tune them to their wearers. As my Shelf of lovely Dolls disperses back to their daily activities, I softly murmur through the network and the Pack bond, [Welcome Home.]

 

 

 

 

WELCOME TO BOOK TWOOOO!!!

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A Blade and Her Witch.

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