Vigor Mortis

“‘Conventionally attractive?’ What does that even mean? What are you doing to me?”

Penelope’s revelation is not sitting well with me. A biomancer fucking with my body without permission? She can’t do that! It’s my body!

“Vita, this kind of thing is important. A lot of people pay incredible amounts of money for this kind of thing. It’s nothing harmful to you.”

“Then why the fuck wouldn’t you just ask me about it first?” I growl at her. “What the hell are you not telling me?”

“A lot!” she snaps back. “Vita, I don’t tell people most of what I do. Some of it is for their own good, and some of it is just for mine, but no one can tell the damn difference. I’m just fucking tired of explaining myself to people when I can get better results from not bothering. You would have been perfectly happy never knowing, and I was never going to tell you. Yet here we are, here’s your wish. Are you satisfied?”

“No!”

“Exactly!” she snaps. “Never mind that I am— for free— opening countless future doors to you that you’d otherwise be unable to choose. Never mind that the changes are entirely unobtrusive and unharmful. I’m clearing blemishes, smoothing skin, fixing teeth! I’m still hated for it. But you need this, Vita. This is the kind of thing that makes a difference on whether or not important people like you. We’re women. People will look past a lot for a pretty face, nobles included.”

“And I’m sure you rely on that,” I jab, “but of course I’m going to be pissed off when I find out you’re messing with my stuff without permission!”

“Well, they say it’s better to seek forgiveness than ask for permission anyway,” she responds scornfully.

I glare at her, standing up in the bath as my tendrils curl dangerously around her body.

“There’s a lot you haven’t been forgiven for, yet.”

“What, you mean your slime friend?” she asks scornfully, matching my hateful gaze. “Please. It was a biomancer too, and it knew how I think. There’s no way it wasn’t aware. It just chose not to tell you either, because it knew I’m right.”

That gives me pause. Penta knew, but didn’t tell me? Penelope truly believes that, she’s being honest. Why wouldn’t Penta tell me, though?

“Penta is a she, not an it,” I answer lamely.

“And that’s not an argument,” Penelope answers. “Is there any particular reason you’d prefer to be ugly?”

I swallow.

“I… I guess not?”

“Then is this matter settled?” Penelope impatiently growls.

I don’t answer, and after a while she snorts.

“People are so often put out by the doings of those they didn’t personally approve. But most people are stupid, Vita. The entire reason the government exists, nobles in particular, is that some of us know better. It is essential to put the right people in charge of the fools, as anarchy leads to nothing but chaos and rot. You know that better than anyone, living where you did. Survival of the fittest does not mean survival of the wisest or best, not by a long shot.”

“Yet the hell I grew up in festers in your city,” I counter. “The nobles aren’t helping.”

She nods, her eyes hard.

“When I’m a First Lady,” Penelope promises, “I will.”

I swallow, sitting back down as my tentacles retract back into my body. She’s serious about that, too. For all her flaws, she seems to care about something I can’t afford to not help her with. Not when Lyn and Rowan are still stuck there.

“Penelope… do you think I’m stupid?” I ask slowly.

She raises an eyebrow at me, shifting to stretch her back.

“I think you’re completely uneducated, but no. If anything, you’re remarkably intelligent for someone in your position. I’ve seen you look over my shoulder to read my work, you know. How did you become literate with your background?”

“What? I-I dunno, I picked it up somewhere. Maybe someone taught me, I don’t remember. But the important thing is that if you don’t think I’m stupid, if you don’t think I’m the kind of fool that shouldn’t ever have power, why are you bothering to hide stuff from me? If you’re right, you should be able to convince me of that. You don’t need to go behind my back all the time.”

She snorts.

“So you agree with me, then?”

“Uh, is that your measure of whether or not I’m being dumb?”

“It is for this,” she answers flatly. “Unless you have any sort of real objection.”

I pause, scratching my cheek as I think about it.

“Um… well, the only objection I have is not getting consulted about it, I guess. I don’t mind looking nice, but I very much mind you messing with my body without telling me what you’re doing. I want to know.”

“Fine,” Penelope relents. “I’ll do that.”

I nod, and that’s all there is to it. Sinking deeper into the warm waters, I catch myself once again wondering if my family will ever be able to experience something as nice as this. Probably not, I suppose. I’m rich by my standards, but certainly not by the standards of the people that live in the inner city.

“Hey, Penelope?” I ask after a while.

“Hmm?” she murmurs in response. The girl is clearly enjoying her soak in the bath as she lounges with her eyes closed.

“You said you’ve seen the Mistwatcher, right?” I ask. “When you went to those edge cities with your grandpa. What did you think of it?”

Penelope opens her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Well… it is the single most terrifying and incredible demonstration of biological mastery I have ever witnessed,” she responds eventually. “It seems impossible, you know? Something that large… how can it even move? How does it not get crushed by its own weight? It looks alive. If it is, if it truly is, it is a creature of perfection beyond human understanding.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Though if you could see its soul…”

Her eyebrows raise.

“It is beautiful. Impossibly so. I worry that may be a magical effect. Some kind of cognimancy, drawing people to adore it. The church would deny it, of course, but we both know how reliable that is. Besides, even if it is magical... I can’t get the image out of my head. What’s this about its soul?”

“The Mistwatcher takes the souls of the dead,” I confirm. “Using tentacles like mine, but ones that reach all over the world. I think… I think it just eats them. Like I do. Its soul-form looks like its physical form, but with mouths instead of eyes.”

Penelope’s eyes widen.

“That’s… disturbing. All the more reason to become immortal, I suppose.”

I chuckle at that.

“Well, our clothes are likely here by now,” Penelope says suddenly, standing up and letting the water drip off her body. Holy shit, I’m just so much thinner than her. Not that she’s rotund or anything, but none of her bones are showing. Her whole figure is just very… soft. Like a series of expensive pillows shoved into a human shape.

I follow her out, drying off and wrapping up in towels as we head to another room. Inside, sure enough, are a bunch of brand new outfits hung up beautifully. Or at least, I assume they’re hung up beautifully. I have exactly zero knowledge or interest in fashion and clothing, being someone that goes everywhere in a scratchy cloak that’s pretty much as big as I am.

“What the heck?” I ask, holding up some underwear. “Why is this bra so huge? Am I supposed to wear this?”

“It’s padded,” Penelope answers. “To make your chest look bigger.”

I scrunch my eyebrows together.

“Why the fuck?”

“Just put it on,” Penelope snaps. “You should wear a bra anyway, it will help with the sensitivity. The padding on that one is for show, but every little bit is going to help here.”

“Don’t I look like a child?”

“You do, which is bad for our purposes,” Penelope answers. “Drawing attention away from that so you seem more mature will help sell the notion that you’re going to reliably assist with the research I’ll be ostensibly employing you for.”

She pauses for a moment.

“...Also, I suspect Lord Erebus will rather like it, which will be more points in your favor. It’s best not to play a game of cards until you’ve finished stacking the deck, as it were. Getting used to the stares while you still look too young for them to linger will be good practice. Later I’ll teach you how to properly reject the advances of a noble, but that’s a lesson for another day. For now, just do not separate from me. If someone tries anything with you, ignore them and let me handle it.”

I chew on those words for a while, my skin crawling at all the implications she just smoothly passed over.

“Penelope, this creeps me the fuck out,” I tell her firmly. “I am not at all comfortable being paraded around as eye candy.”

She gives me an honest, sympathetic look, a bit of genuine regret passing through her.

“Nor should you be,” she answers. “This isn’t right, and it isn’t fair. Frankly, it’s outright disgusting… but it gets results, so I’m going to insist you do it anyway.”

I scowl, but nod and put it on. Shit, she really thought about all this. This social stuff goes so far over my head I don’t have much choice but to take her word for it. I kinda get the logic though, as unhappy as I am with the implication that people will be more likely to save my life if it looks like I have bigger breasts. That sounds utterly crazy, but… well, very much the kind of crazy I’m pessimistic enough to believe.

The rest of my outfit is equally confusing, though it’s at least simple. A long-sleeved black dress that exposes way too much of my legs for comfort and some matching shoes are more or less all there is to put on, Penelope insisting that ‘there’s no better color’ for me than black. It’s nice enough, although some dangly bits on the end of the sleeves that seem to have no purpose annoy me immediately.

Penelope, meanwhile, wears a crazy, sleeveless thing that exposes most of her breasts and all of her back. The bottom half is even more egregious, though, being a massively poofy waste of fabric and dye that I can barely comprehend. The entire dress is such a beautiful dark blue that I suspect it costs more than all the money I’ve ever physically seen in my life.

“That thing looks like it’s about to fall off,” I comment.

“That’s the idea,” Penelope counters with a smile. “But it won’t. The tailor would be ruined for generations if a faux pas like that occurred.”

“How does it stay up, though?” I press. “Is it like, suction, or…?”

“Vita, you just worry about your own dress. Make sure to sit with your legs crossed, if you’re invited to sit. The last thing you want to do is flash your underwear at Lord Erebus.”

“If you’re worried about that, then put me in pants next time!” I snap, smoothing out the dress in an effort to try and make it cover lower.

“Oh, quit fiddling. It’s a knee cut. You’re fine. I’m sure you’ve worn something that showed more leg.”

“Well yeah, but only cuz it rotted and fell apart! It’s different when it’s on purpose!”

“You are the whiniest abomination I have ever met,” Penelope groans.

“I’m the only abomination you’ve ever met!”

Penelope snorts derisively, walking out of the changing room. Reluctantly, I follow, stopping only at the reflecting pool. Penelope says nothing, politely waiting in silence as I stare at myself for a long time. My face still looks foreign and wrong, something about it not sitting well with me. Yet, it’s mine. It obviously is, since I’m the one controlling it. I start poking at it with my tentacles, watching the face squish and stretch to my will. It’s just so strange.

Eventually, we depart. Penelope pays the staff and I nervously follow alongside her as we descend deeper into the rich district, the houses evolving into ever-more-extravagant manors. Approaching one, the armed gate guards bow politely to Penelope, opening the way for her without a word. She struts in like she owns the place, flashing me a confident smile.

I don’t think I can match the mood; this place is already pissing me off. The fucking fountain here is so excessive that the money it cost could probably renovate half the slums. A servant greets us and we’re brought inside, but I barely pay any attention. My anger only builds as I see the inside of the house, covered with dyed tapestries and all sorts of fancy shit left on display for no reason beyond the pride of being able to amass such useless things.

“Vita,” Penelope hisses under her breath. “Quit making that face. You look like you’re going to kill somebody!”

Oh, fuck. I take a deep breath, schooling my expression.

“Think of it like Litia,” Penelope says softly. “How you’re perceived could be the difference between life and death.”

Right. Yeah, this is just another mission. It may be less immediately deadly, but it’s no less important to my survival. Down the rich and expansive hallways we go, until we’re eventually shown to a rich and expansive waiting room. At least the master of the house doesn’t keep us waiting for long.

“Lord Erebus will see you now,” the servant announces, bowing as she opens the door for us.

The man himself is sitting behind a fancily-carved wooden desk, his lean, hawkish face smiling pleasantly. Tall and thin, his brownish-red hair and blue eyes contrast pale and unblemished skin, leaving an oddly foreign impression I can’t quite place. More interesting than all of that is his soul, however, a dark brown orb in which twists of purple roil like fire in slow motion. From the size of it he’s clearly no powerful fighter, though considering the gleam of metal on his fingers I suspect there might be a few very nasty tricks he could pull if someone tried to attack him.

“Penelope,” Lord Erebus greets warmly, “welcome home. I must admit I was startled to hear that you’d joined the hunter’s guild. I’m overjoyed to see you back safely.”

His eyes travel up and down her dress, drinking in his supposed future wife’s beauty. I get a similar treatment, though thankfully his gaze spends most of its time on Penelope. Maybe that’s part of why she chose to put on such a saucy outfit… it would certainly have been nice of her if so.

“As you can see, I’m no worse for wear,” she responds, smiling right back at him. “Just a little annoyed that the Templars seem to have ruined my surprise for you. I didn’t want to tell you until I got something to show for the risk, but alas. I was ever so slightly too late.”

“The risk? My dear, over a third of hunters die in the first year of employment. Over half die in the first five years.”

“You think I’m the lower half, darling?” Penelope protests smoothly. “I’m hurt.”

He sighs, looking away.

“We’ll have this conversation later. For now, let’s talk about this other problem you’ve dropped on me. Though I admit… Vita, is it?”

“Yes, Lord Erebus,” I answer. I was ready for that one!

“I’ve read up on you, and heard quite a few things from quite a few people. Firstly, however, I would like to thank you. I hear you are responsible for halting the first Nawra incursion in fifty years, and directly freeing my betrothed. That alone would normally be enough to want you working under me, but I have here some disturbing reports about the church charging you with multiple high crimes and two investigative demands. You understand, I’m sure, that this puts me in a difficult position.”

I nod, not quite sure what to say. The First Lord steeples his fingers, leaning his elbows on his desk.

“Are they true?” he asks.

“I didn’t cause the perception event,” I lie firmly. “I don’t even know how I could have possibly done that. Um… I don’t know what the other thing I’m apparently being accused of is, though.”

He nods slowly, piercing blue eyes locked on mine.

“I see. Does the name ‘Ars’ mean anything to you?”

I blink. Ars? Had I heard that name before? No, I’m sure I haven’t. I shake my head.

“No, Lord Erebus.”

He nods again.

“That’s all I need from you, then. My fiancée and I will speak on this alone. You may go.”

I shrug. That works for me. Turning around, I walk out without another word. I can feel Penelope wince at the action without even looking at her, the sound of her soul screeching briefly off-key. What, was I supposed to say something? She never taught me that. He told me to do something so I’m doing it.

Letting myself out, I sit down in the waiting room, making sure to keep my legs crossed like Penelope told me to and, well, wait. They talk for a good while before Lord Erebus eventually gets up to pull Penelope close for a while. Then, she exits, a triumphant smile on her face.

“I’m good, then?” I ask.

“You’re good,” she confirms. “Things went rather well. Surprisingly so.”

“Neat. Now what?”

“Now?” she purrs, anticipation filling her features. “Now we go stretch your talents, Vita. It’s time to push them as far as they’ll go.”

My tendrils curl gleefully, a grin of my own growing to match hers. I stand up, ready to follow her. I can barely wait.

Finally, finally, I get to do some fucking necromancy.