Raelle stood amongst the crowd of new recruits in a casual set of clothes, stomping her feet in time with the faceless hordes of common folk around her. She was about to become a cog in a machine built to murder, to control, sanctioned by the government and paid by regular people. She’d always hated the military, and yet there she stood, enlisted among their ranks.
All eyes, hundreds of them, were pointed at a dais at the far end of the waiting masses, littered with proud flags and banners, and an empty podium. It wasn’t long until somebody appeared, a woman with long black hair – tall, with a square jaw. Raelle couldn’t really make out much more from the distance, but a great number of medals hung from her breast and her posture reeked of confidence and control. She held out her hands to beg for silence, to which the stomping feet quickly became still. She was introduced to them as oner Sarah Alder – an ancient witch, the mother of all witches
“Welcome to Fort Salem. It is a solemn day, much like the day some 327 years ago when I made a deal with the Massachusetts Bay Militia. My terms were simple. Honour me, make a place for me and my kind and we will win your wars. That was before we were even America. All of you have answered the call, just like your mothers and their mothers before them. You are the daughters of ancient lines. You are called to greatness.” She looked around the crowds, eyeing the response from her newest recruits.
“You have bravely pledged to serve and defend this great country. I assure you; dark days await us. We live in a time of ancient hatred and emerging threats. We will need all of you to meet what's coming, and we will meet it - with storm and fury. You are among your own kind. Take comfort in it. Find strength in it. A blessing on all of you, a blessing on this place - this witches' place.”
Raelle felt the tiny hairs on her body raise as a result of her rousing speech. Others around her cheered and clapped, more eager to be there than she was herself. Still, she couldn’t deny the fact that she was among her own kind and the military would offer her the chance to hone her gifts and fully learn to control them. She knew of the Cree, the band of witches that had been causing destruction and panic among the general populace. It was hard for anybody these days not to know about them. With people worrying and panicking, she knew full well that something had to be done.
After the speech they were led through to their barracks and introduced to Sergeant Anacostia Quartermain, a black woman with long nails and a beautiful leather whip curled around her waist. She had a pretty face adorned with a curled pompadour atop her head, but was just as tall as General Sarah Alder if slightly less foreboding. She introduced herself and her role with regards to them all. She would be the one responsible for their general wellbeing and for their instruction. Raelle was eager to learn more from her and looked on with respect as the girls gathered around her. She, too, gave an introductory speech of unity, albeit with a slightly less serious tone. After, the girls were released to join their respective unites and meet their comrades with a barked ‘Now, ladies!’ Everyone scrambled to their feet and quickly shuffled their way out of the hall, making their way to the tall barracks to meet their respective groups.
“You must be Raelle.” A tall autumn-red-haired girl with a gentle face approached, holding her hand out with a retrained nervous look about her. She was cute, lithe, and despite her nervous appearance seemed quite outgoing.
“Hi.” She answered, unsure of what to make of it all. “I’m Tally Craven – and this is Abigail Bellweather” She looked young, somewhere between 18 to 20. Far too young to be out there putting her life on the line when she had so many years left, Raelle reasoned.
“Sounds like we’re going all the way together.”
Another girl, just as young, stood in the background. She was black, with dark brown hair and stood just below Tally’s height. She had a big fringe covering her forehead that dropped down to her eyebrows and a bob at the back. Her face swooped down into a gentle curve that met at a dimpled chin. She wore a plaid skirt that accented her soft legs, bound in long stockings.
“Onward to glory, soldiers.” She said with a hint of reservation about her voice. Light from the stained glass window depicting a pentagram cascaded through the dusty air onto her, illuminating her from the side.
They talked about their hometowns, where they’d come from, and Abigail questioned Tally about her mark. She admitted to being a virgin, and Abigail checked the mark on her body as she lifted her hair.
“It changes when you have sex for the first time.” Abigail stated in a hushed tone. “It gets better.”
She lifted up her top to reveal her own mark beneath. It was a lilac squiggle, but it glimmered and glistened in contrast to the smooth gloss of her skin. Tally seemed impressed, taking a huffed gasp of awe. She turned her head to face Raelle and asked “Where’s yours?”
With both strangers staring eagerly at her, she felt the need to tell them. “Literally an inch from my vagina, so … maybe when we get to know each other better.” She wished they hadn’t asked. Curious, Tally took a step forward and asked in a whisper “… is it shiny?”
After everyone was introduced, they sat around a candle in their room, hand in hand to get to know each other better. They spoke of the things that had driven them to be there, the collective lives they had lost to the war, soon coming together to hold hands and chant a phrase in honour of those who had been lost. They all had things in common, though the ideals and reasons for enlisting themselves varied greatly.
The next morning Raelle held out her uniform, eyeing up the starchy fabric as she held it out before herself. She knew exactly what it meant to wear it, to become a dog of the military, and the ire that it would draw from others. This war wasn’t going to go away of its own accord, though, and with so many lives lost already she knew something had to be done.
They were to make their way to the main hall that day for training – a cylindrical room, dark, with a fountain at its centre. There were multiple levels, with railed sections to divide the girls into their respective groups of three. Around the fountain stood a few of their superior officers, watching as the water lifted and raised, curling, bubbling and splashing around in response to their humming.
This was beneath Raelle. She felt that she wasn’t offering much to this, nor was she learning anything. Her eyes darted around checking if anybody was watching her, and slowly made her move to leave as she slunk back into the shadows and out into the hallway. Their sergeant, Anacostia, had noticed her departure and stared up into the shadowed platform with two girls instead of three.
Raelle made her way outside, noticing immediately that something was amiss. The sky was dark and there was a rusty hue to the dusty air – then she saw it. Six tornadoes, all circling around a point, carving through solid rock in the distance. She made her way across the grounds among weeds and bushes, walking along the dirt path towards a chain link fence separating her from the storm.
Clouds hung unnaturally low in the sky, blustering and billowing around the animated winds and darkening all beneath them. She could see the witch from which the winds came standing off to the side, moving her arms in a commanding manner with stiff, swift movements. It was deeply impressive – this is what she wanted to learn, this was the power she yearned for. Raelle watched on in amazement as concrete slabs were shattered and tossed aside as though they were glass by the powerful winds, mesmerised by the raw force on display.
“Sounds like a freight train.” Came a voice behind her. “Who knew wind could cut rock?”
Raelle spun her head around, somewhat frightened that she’d been found out skipping out on her first training session. Approaching behind her was a pretty girl, young, with wavy brown hair and a pretty smile.
“Wouldn’t mind learning to do that.” Said the girl, her eyes darting to Raelle and back to the gathered storm.
“Yeah, well with my luck I’ll end up a medic like my Mom.” Raelle retorted with a tone of pessimism, looking away from the girl and back to the storm. There wasn’t anything wrong with being a medic, but with the talents displayed in her family it would be a waste of potential. “Didn’t work out so well for her.” She added.
Raelle could feel the girl’s eyes focused on her and turned back to face her again. “Shouldn’t you be in training?”
She was staring, smiling at her with a placid interest. The girl had been called out – it was clear from her face that she was thinking of something witty to say. Her neck bobbed and weaved around as she formulated her reply. “Shouldn’t you?” Raelle watched as her face turned into a sly smile.
Another voice called out. “Medals.” Three of their superiors approached in formation, the centre one with her hands held out. “Hand over your medals.”
In an unspoken act of united defiance, they both lied about why they had come there, saying they were looking for the infirmary. It was a bad lie, an obvious one – the infirmary was on the other side of the compound. They were given seven minutes to return to training and explain themselves to Sergeant Quartermain. The three women looked a little too happy to be causing trouble for Raelle and the other girl, but quickly made their exit.
“They were loads of fun.” The brown haired girl muttered in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Yeah, I hear they do birthday parties.” Raelle answered, watching as the girl’s face lit up into a smile. There was no denying she was cute, her smile was an infectious toothy grin with smooth, soft lips that framed her teeth perfectly. She noticed the way her eyes glittered in the light, sparkling with a youthful, rebellious joy.
“Walk you back?” Raelle suggested, eyeing the girl up and down. Her body was tight – the way her uniform hugged her curves made her wish she was seeing more.
“I’m Scylla.” She smiled.
“Raelle.”
She wasn’t looking forward to getting her ass chewed out so soon, but nevertheless there was little other choice. She made her way to meet with her staff Sargent and took a seat as her medal was taken from her.
“Sorry.” She said. She didn’t particularly mean it.
“Are you?” Anacostia quickly interjected. She wasn’t looking Raelle in the eye. The way her lips were pursed told her that she was holding back.
“Do you know what happens to soldiers that shit the bed in basic?” She glanced over to Raelle, then back away again. “War meat, Private. Front line disposable war sausages in some of the worst places on earth.” Raelle didn’t want to hear it. She knew what war was. She knew what it did to people. There was still a dissonance in her mind between her situation and the reality of things to come.
“Take some advice.” She continued, sitting next to Raelle and glaring at her. “Pretend you’re not yourself for one minute and listen. “There’s a Bellweather in your unit, I’m guessing that –“ Raelle cut her off. She knew what she was about to say, she’d heard the story a thousand times.
“Yeah I get it – there’s more four stars in our line than any other, ride it all the way to war college.”
“You’ll live longer.” Was the reply she received, with a tilted head and a look of superiority upon her sergeant’s face. “Trust me on that.” Raelle thought about what she was being told, what was expected of her, and twiddled the medallion in her hands to examine it, taking in the hefty weight of what it meant.
“Stop… blowing it.” She was ordered.
After getting chewed out and reprimanded for her absence, Raelle made her way to eat. She sat down and fiddled with her food, but didn’t particularly feel like eating. Through the muttering crowds a displeased looking Abigail stormed her way towards her.
“Where were you today?” she asked, standing firm before Raelle. “We were worried.”
“Didn’t feel good.” She lied.
“Oh no.” Abigail answered with a clear disingenuity about her voice. “Anything I can do?”
Raelle wanted to get rid of her. Sure, they were meant to work together, but she’d already been told off for this. She didn’t need to hear it all over again. “Doubt it.”
Abigail placed her hands down on the table and leaned into Raelle’s space. She was fuming.
“Look – I know this is a lot for you, but please, I will not have you holding me back.” Her face was far too close for comfort. “Or Tally for that matter.”
Soon after, another attack by the Cree was announced. They trained harder together, working as a team instead of against each other - the fragile bonds between the three girls would need a lot of work.
That evening Raelle saw Scylla again outside, working on her own. She came to see what she was up to, curious about her. She explained that she works with the dead, and her unit is kept separate from the other witches in training. Scylla led her into the woods nearby, jogging off into the shaded boughs and leading Raelle along. She took out from her pocket a small tin box labelled ‘Salva’. Raelle was curious, and Scylla forced some into her hand. It was a small, shiny paper-like substance in the shape of a star which Scylla then put onto her neck. Raelle watched as her face loosened up and her eyes grew wide. From what she could tell, it felt good.
She fiddled with the little star in her fingers, admiring the way it glistened and glittered in the dappled moonlight. Throwing caution to the wind, she applied it to her neck. A feeling of ecstasy swelled in her, coupled with a warm and fuzzy placidity. It felt as though everything was going to be ok, that all was right with the world.
Everything fell away. The military, her past, her identity – there were only the two of them and the shaded woods left in the world. As the weight of her troubles sublimated off her shoulders with a tingling buoyancy she noticed that Scylla was beginning to raise off the ground. In her added state, it was incredible. She hadn’t taken note of her own levitation as the world slowly descended away from her.
In the gentle glow from between the trees Scylla looked beautiful. All that was left in Raelle’s mind was love and warmth and her impression burned itself deeply into her mind. Her eyes wouldn’t draw themselves away from the wide-eyed girl. They floated higher and higher as though suspended underwater, gently rising to the surface, the gentle breeze blustering their hair loosely.
Then – a sudden crash to the ground. It seemed that they’d been discovered, and they were quickly called back to reality by the angered voice of Anacostia Quatermain reprimanding them yet again.
“What were you thinking?!” She stood stiff, angry, with a furrowed brow that spelled danger. “We need to get you both to the infirmary.”
That night Raelle met back up with Scylla to talk about what had happened. Scylla made light of the path she was currently on that would lead her to the front lines, getting herself prematurely blown up. Scylla watched her through the mirror as she toyed with her hair.
“Die young – waste all that youth and beauty…” She pulled her hair behind her ear and glanced to Raelle’s face in the reflection. “And fury.” She added with a grin.
“Yeah, kinda like that but faster.”
“Your plan was hot garbage, even it if worked it’s winning by losing.”
“Yeah, well I hate to break it to you, beautiful, because there’s no way out.”
Finally, Scylla turned away from the mirror to face her properly. “I know a way.” Raelle didn’t quite follow. Scylla took a few steps closer with wide eyes and a caring smile. Raelle didn’t expect it, but she swiftly closed the space between them and planted a kiss on her lips.
She was caught off guard – there was no denying she was a pretty girl and Raelle was interested, but this was all very fast. She caught her thoughts and processed it in her mind, drawing a blank stare in her mind as she figured out if this was what she wanted.
Blinking away the buzzing questions in her head, she took a step into Scylla’s space and gripped her hands around her jaw, moving her face in as Scylla placed a hand on her shoulder and meeting her with a kiss – then another, and another. She forced her back against the wall and released an onslaught of lust-driven caresses against her soft lips. With furious need, she unbuckled Scylla’s belt.
“Let them train you.” She uttered through gasping breaths. “Let them make you powerful.”
Raelle’s fingers explored hastily beneath her panties, deep down beneath the uniform trousers. “The way over…” She stammered, paused momentarily by the sensation of Raelle’s fingers tracing the line of her cunt. “Is under.”
“The way out…” Scylla puffed, squeaking as Raelle’s fingers finally found their mark at the smooth ring of muscle denoting her entrance. “Is in.”
Pt. 2
Raelle awoke to Scylla’s body laying next to hers, outlined by the warm glow of a marigold-yellow sunrise reflecting through her bedroom’s window on the fourth floor. She stared at her peacefully sleeping, breathing in and out of her little nose, for an indistinguishable amount of time. It could have been minutes or hours, but she couldn’t look away.
Eventually she stirred and blinked her eyes open to greet Raelle with a sleepy smile. Her first instinct was to raise her hand to touch her cheek in an unspoken greeting, but she found her head instinctively craning down to meet the girl with a kiss. She had never intended to let it get hot and heated, but before she even realised it Raelle was rolling atop Scylla and kissing her with a maddened passion but it was cut all too short by the sound of a distant bell calling through the morning’s mist.
“I have to go back to Circe. I have inspection.” She uttered as the bell brought her back to reality.
Scylla didn’t approve, rolling herself on top of Raelle to stop her leaving. “This is an inspection.” Her hand began to wander around Raelle’s waist while the other locked into her fingers. She planted her lips down onto her stomach and trailed kisses along the length of it. “I need to secure this area.” She said playfully.
“Ok, I gotta go.” Raelle objected after a second, smiling down at Scylla. She rolled her over and knelt herself up on the bed before stepping down to throw on her slacks. She only noticed then how wet she’d gotten from that, but there wasn’t time to deal with it now.
“How’s high-and-mighty?” Scylla questioned from the bed.
“Abigail?” Raelle replied, jumping to squeeze herself into the pants. “The same.”
“A lot less mighty than she thinks she is.” Scylla eyed up the girl before her, drinking in the beautiful curves and soft skin still on display.
“Yeah, that’s just the world she comes from. It’s her family.” She began tying the belt around herself to keep the pants up. “Where do you come from, since we’re on the subject?”
Scylla seemed to be dodging the question given the way she glanced around. “All over.”
“Could you be more vague?”
“We … moved around constantly.”
“You a base brat?” Raelle continued, glancing over to her still sat on the bed while she tied up her shoes.
“My parents didn’t serve.” Came the response. A little unexpected and said with hesitation, so Raelle continued to press.
“How did that work out for them?”
“It’s complicated.” Scylla was still clearly evading the questions, but Raelle was never going to give up that easily.
“I do complicated.”
Scylla had the look on her face as though she was about to divulge more information, that she was on the cusp of revealing something about herself that she’d rather keep hidden but the bells called out once more, taking the words from her. She used that as her cue to escape the line of questioning. “Bells are ringing. Don’t you have to go?”
Raelle pulled on her jacket and threw disingenuous glances towards her counterpart. “I’ll see you tonight?” Scylla added, lightening the tone between them and reaching for her jacket. She pulled herself closer to Raelle and closed the space left open, drawing her face closer but she blonde girl moved for the door. “I’m not sure when we’re done, so…” She managed to plant a glancing kiss on her cheek as she left without looking back.
She managed to miss inspection entirely but did catch a glimpse of the president’s motorcade passing through the grounds on her run back. During breakfast she got herself chewed our by Abigail for messing up again and making them all look bad. With Anacostia announcing that the top five ranked units getting a trip to Salem and some unsupervised time off base, Abigail was intent on reigning in Raelle’s rampant indifference towards her squadmates.
Raelle found herself taking on guard duty for her failure to appear for her inspection. Her indifference towards her duties had found her in hot water, and so this was to be her punishment. Darkness had fallen and she found herself wandering around the corridors in a sleep-deprived stupor as she stumbled her way around but was startled by a sudden clasping hand gripping her shoulder. Shocked, Raelle turned around to find a woman in uniform standing before her.
“Hey.” She began – a tall woman with the sides of her head shaved leaving a tall pompadour atop her head. Her face was stony and serious, although the corners of her mouth had turned up sharply as though forced to. “Lieutenant Helen Graves.” She held out her hand and Raelle shook it with a lack of vigour. “Sorry to scare you.” Helen had a cocky look about her as though she wasn’t really sorry. “You must be Private Collar.”
Raelle was still taking it all in. It was far too late to be meeting new people. All she could muster was a mousy “Hi.”
“I brought coffee.” Helen replied, holding out an olive-drab thermos and giving it an enticing shake.
“Ah, no thanks.”
Helen looked displeased. “Suit yourself.” She turned away and turned the handle of one of the many doors that ran along the length of the hall. “… it’s not my fault you’re here, you know.”
“I never said it was.” Raelle answered, only half paying attention as Helen moved along to rattle more doorknobs.
“This is gonna be fun.” Helen continued, disheartened by having somebody so boring during her guard duty.
“What year are you?” Raelle questioned her as she followed. A feigned interest might soften her mood, she reasoned.
“Sophomore. War college.”
“What specialisation?”
“Necro.” She said with a tone that was a little too light for the type of work she did.
“What’s that like?” Raelle asked with a tone a little more genuine now. Scylla was a Necro too, so perhaps she could glean something useful out of this after all.
“Necro’s like any other.” More doorknobs rattled and clattered as they moved along. “Blasters blast, they clear ground with dangerous weather, fixers fix people, keep ‘em alive, knowers see around corners, they know what to do, when to do it…” She paused for a second, still moving along and ignoring Raelle’s eye contact.
“Necros, well, we just happen to channel the power of death itself.” It was a little grandiose, but she clearly thoroughly enjoyed what she did even if she was poetically vague about it all.
“Well, what does that mean?” Raelle pushed. Helen finally turned herself to face Raelle and meet her gaze. Her wandering and shuffling came to a halt.
“Death has its own magnetism and resonance, highly directable in combat situations, great for gathering intel. The dead make excellent eyes and ears. Why are you so curious about Necros?”
“No reason.” Helen knew she was lying.
“Yeah. Two can play at that game, tight lips.”
“Alright, so maybe I have a special Necro in my life.”
“This evening just got interesting. Who is she?” Helen knew it was a she as well. Perhaps she was more of an open book than she’d realised.
“She’s a second year. Scylla Ramshorn.”
“Bright girl. Best in her year.”
“Yeah, bit cagey, though. “
“The thing you’ve got to understand is that Necros are a weird lot on the best day.” Helen continued as they stepped out into the cool air of the courtyard, illuminated softly by the artificial light spilling from the windows.
“And why is that?”
“Because of what we can do. Because we are the army’s bastard stepdaughters. Because we’re so damn spooky.” She’d taken out a flashlight and wafted it around to illuminate their path.
“On top of that, Scylla's got her own stuff. Mind you, this is just gossip, but I heard the Army killed her folks.” Raelle wondered how she knew so much about Scylla. It was like they went way back.
“Why?” She asked curiously as Helen pointed the light through a window and peered through.
“Draft dodgers. Again, don’t quote me, but that’ll mess you up.”
Raelle turned around and stared at the floor as she took it all in. She could understand why she might be a little tight when it came to her story given that it was so personal, but they’d shared each other’s bodies – there wasn’t much more intimate than that.
“You look a little wiped.”
“Yeah, I barely slept last night either.” Raelle admitted, unable to keep eye contact with Helen.
She let out a little chuckle. “I wonder what you were up to.” She knew exactly what she was up to. “Tell you what. Who’s your drill sergeant, Quartermain, right?”
“The one and only.”
“Go sleep. I’ll tell Anacostia you were… the picture of military virtue.”
Raelle wanted to, she definitely needed the sleep, but the picture of Abigail flashed into her mind. She always had a way of finding out when she’d been up to no good. “You know what? I’m good. My orders were to walk the perimeter until dawn and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Save that fight for the spree, private.” Helen smiled as Raelle looked back to meet her gaze. Her face wasn’t quite as stony as it was before, cracking into something softer, something warmer.
“Give your special necro a minute to open up. I bet she’s worth it.”
“I will, thanks.” With that, Raelle wandered off into the inky darkness to complete her rounds, missing the flashing of flames behind her as Helen raised a lighter to her face, grinning as she watched Raelle walk away, revealing her true identity beneath – Scylla.
Training came and passed with the usual grievances of Abigail trying to ride Raelle too hard. When Abigail tried to remind her that they were all in it together, she brought up the fact that she’d tried to get moved to another unit. Tensions between the two of them were high, but they at least had the trip to Salem to look forward to, having done well enough to attend the pageant in Gallow Hills. Rows of tents with fairy lights had been set up with various stalls selling candies and candles, pretzels and postcards. A return to normal life outside of the daily routines of training and sleeping was a welcome distraction, if a little too fleeting. As night fell there was a reconstruction of Sarah Alder atop the gallows with costumed performers, recreating the night that she signed a petition with the locals stating that all future witches would be enrolled at Fort Salem to serve in the army, sealing the fates of so many young women for years to come.
Abigail managed to slink away from the others, making her way to a pizza parlour. Raelle managed to stalk her, noticing that she was leaving her unit alone. Abigail had followed her the previous night as she tailed Scylla, so she took her chance for revenge. After a few terse words to each other they finally managed to find some common ground and actually shared jokes over pizza until Tally entered and joined them with her childhood friend Glory, shortly followed by Scylla. Almost immediately, Raelle ditched the other girls to greet her.
She didn’t actually expect to see her there at all that evening but there she stood, awkwardly, before the members of her squad.
“Uh, I didn’t think you were coming.” She whispered close to Scylla, turning her face away from her unit.
“And miss a chance to see you? No way. Let’s go.” Scylla suggested. It’d be rude to leave without an introduction, so Raelle turned reluctantly to her unit.
“Um… Tally, Abigail, Glory… this is Scylla.”
“Hi. Great to meet you, ladies.” She nodded.
“So this is Necro.” Abigail spluttered with an unenthusiastic air about her.
“And this is high Atlantic.” Scylla replied with an equal amount of distrust.
Things were getting real awkward real fast, so Raelle took her chance to leave. “Ok, yeah, let’s go.” She hushed, making her move to leave.
“Just can’t wait until we meet again.” Scylla added as she turned with palpably thick sarcasm.
Scylla led Raelle through into some nearby woodland, skirting over discarded branches and around darkened bushes through dappled moonlight that twinkled and glowed through the rustling leaves.
“Why didn’t you come last night?” She began.
“I had… guard duty. Because you made me late for third bell. I met someone you know though, um, Helen Graves?”
“What did she say about me?” Scylla questioned.
“She said you take a while to open up., and she told me why you guys are so weird.”
“Who?”
“Necros.”
“You think I’m weird?” Scylla seemed amused at this.
“Like sexy weird.”
“I like it.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’m looking for something dead.” Sure enough she was scanning the ground around her, checking underneath bushes and ferns for something, anything, to show Raelle a little more about her world.
“Yep, you should have your pick of that in here.” Raelle added as they began to pass moss-laden dilapidated tombstones, long forgotten.
“I mean something recently dead - something fresh.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something beautiful.” She said as she stopped to face Raelle. From where she was standing, she already was. The way the light cast across her face with a gentle glow was already beautiful enough. Still, she remained curious.
At the base of one of the tombstones was a small bird with grey plumage laying on its back with its head to the side. She’d found what she was looking for and knelt down next to it, hovering a hand over the top.
Her lips parted and pursed and she began to sing with beautiful crisp notes, holding them at particular intervals. From out of the chest of the bird rose a lilac tendril, feeling, reaching around din the air before gaining a bulbous node near its tip.
“It’s a death cap.” Scylla smiled as Raelle watched with a placid awe. Scylla reached down to the node as it released its spores, catching a fingerful and licking it off.
“In the kingdom of plants, mushrooms occupy the underworld. Nothing ever really dies. Life becomes death, which becomes life again, over and over.” She looked on at Raelle’s reaction with glittering enthusiasm, but failed to find the same enthusiasm in her lover.
“My mom’s really dead.” Raelle whispered sadly.
“Sorry, I know it’s a sensitive subject but I just mean to say that… death is more complicated than people think – it’s not so cut and dry.”
Raelle thought on it for a moment but was cut short as Scylla continued. “And I’m sorry about the other day. I don’t talk about myself easily.”
With a quiet contemplation, Raelle told her “Take as much time as you need.”
Scylla’s head tilted slightly to the side. “I’ve been burned before.” Still there was a gentle smile on her face, despite the topic at hand. There was strength in that smile, hidden away deep beneath her stunning face and smooth skin, secreted away underneath her playful demeanour, restraining and containing the pain and hurt that she’d endured. From where she knelt, Raelle could see it all.
“You’re so beautiful.” She whispered, staring at her with unblinking focus. She raised a palm out to brush against her face, leaning her body closer and meeting her lips with Scylla’s. Around them, the spores of the mushroom clung to the stagnant air, illuminated by the shimmering light of the moon, glowing like fireflies. It was a beautiful moment with a beautiful girl and there in the hazy hollow, they shared a deep kiss with a renewed understanding for one another, speaking more with their actions than words would allow.
After everybody had returned to their dorm a party had broken out. Sitting around their room with red solo cups and Tally on the floor with a bottle of tequila all to herself, they shared their evenings. They recounted Tally’s run-in with a civilian in the pizza parlour after Raelle had left them when there was a believed Spree attack that turned out to be nothing more than a teenager releasing a balloon, where she had used their newly trained ability to wind shear to send the man flying when he failed to comply with her orders to remain inside the building. Glory had found it quite impressive that the ordinarily nice and meek young girl had stood up for herself and exercised her powers, though if Anacostia found out there would no doubt be trouble.
Mention was made of Scylla, and the ‘girlfriend’ word was thrown about liberally. Raelle wasn’t quite sure what they were, or if it was truly that official. In truth she barely knew anything about her, if somebody were to ask. That said, she was beautiful, she was intriguing and mysterious, and she was an excellent kisser.
Tally managed to stand herself up with difficulty and professed her love for the girls, colloquialising them as her witches. She professed that she’d made the right choice, reaffirming it perhaps more for herself than anybody else with the exception of Glory who was uncomfortable of the idea of Tally offering herself into service when she could have led a normal life instead.
Raelle thought on it – was the path her life was on what she wanted for herself? It had been chosen for her so her hands were tied, but if she wasn’t here, she wondered what else life would have had to offer. She would never have met Scylla had she not been there, but having made a tentative peace with Abigail things felt like they were on the up.
Having seen some of the other units there were definitely worse ones she could have been a part of, and given Abigail’s pedigree there was definite promise to be had in their unit – she could ride it out a long way.
Only time and hindsight would really give her the perspective she’d need, but for now she was in a good place.