<div dir="ltr">This was a really great story Rimme! Like I said before, I think the ending was pretty neat and also a bit surprising!<div> </div><div>-Indy</div></div> <div class="gmail_quote"><div dir="ltr" class="gmail_attr">On Mon, Jan 23, 2023 at 4:01 PM <<a href="mailto:mkguild-request@lists.integral.org">mkguild-request@lists.integral.org</a>> wrote: </div><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex">Send MKGuild mailing list submissions to <a href="mailto:mkguild@lists.integral.org" target="_blank">mkguild@lists.integral.org</a> To subscribe or unsubscribe via the World Wide Web, visit <a href="http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/mkguild" rel="noreferrer" target="_blank">http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/mkguild</a> or, via email, send a message with subject or body 'help' to <a href="mailto:mkguild-request@lists.integral.org" target="_blank">mkguild-request@lists.integral.org</a> You can reach the person managing the list at <a href="mailto:mkguild-owner@lists.integral.org" target="_blank">mkguild-owner@lists.integral.org</a> When replying, please edit your Subject line so it is more specific than "Re: Contents of MKGuild digest..." Today's Topics: 1. Blossom (6/6) (Rimme the Weasel) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Message: 1 Date: Mon, 23 Jan 2023 15:00:00 -0600 From: Rimme the Weasel <<a href="mailto:ontherimme@gmail.com" target="_blank">ontherimme@gmail.com</a>> To: Metamor Keep <<a href="mailto:mkguild@lists.integral.org" target="_blank">mkguild@lists.integral.org</a>> Subject: [Mkguild] Blossom (6/6) Message-ID: <CAJ-QGkX0UMXm=<a href="mailto:M-h9ut-2X8f0zkpQG4WAeqUu3D%2BJhp3sCb3pw@mail.gmail.com" target="_blank">M-h9ut-2X8f0zkpQG4WAeqUu3D+Jhp3sCb3pw@mail.gmail.com</a>> Content-Type: text/plain; charset="utf-8" Part 6 of Blossom. ---- March 16, 717 CR Volden did not mourn as long as he wished he could have. His heart still felt like lead, but the sheep had been confined to Twone for long enough. Inside, he could feel their yearning to see the Midlands once again. Life must go on; the sheep must go to pasture. That morning, before the sun was up, Volden stirred and rose from his bed, his wife Jera still asleep. She was always a deep sleeper, to her unending shame. Volden had already kissed her farewell last night, and so did not wake her. He crept out to the rainbarrel outside and splashed some water on his face. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, and straightening his hair, he turned back inside. A long journey was ahead of him, and he needed to start it out right. His clothes, freshly mended and brushed clean, sat ready for him. His pack stocked with rations and tools, his belt with his knife and flute and waterskin and coin purse, and his crock all sat to one side, where he had inspected and resorted them all over the last two days. One by one, he donned each of his clothes, focusing as best he could on the names and habits of his sheep. The days had been slow at first. That evening after returning to Twone, he told Jera what he had seen, and showed him their daughter's shoe. Jera, his rock and his root in this world, simply held him, her tears silently wetting his shoulder. They decided not to show their three younger children unless they asked. Thankfully, they never did. Jera put on a brave face, and kept the farm running as it should. She didn't pressure Volden to take his sheep out. There was still weeding and plowing and seeding to be done. They were menial enough tasks for Volden to keep himself busy, without thinking about the sheep. The guilt crept up on him, day by day, until Volden had to admit that he was letting the child within him take over, and that he had to put his own words to practice. There was business to get to. After adjusting his smock one last time, settling the pack on his shoulders, and taking his trusty crock in hand, he stepped out into the early morning. The full moon had already set behind the mountains, and the skies were purple with twilight glow. From the distant town, a few people were already starting their daily chores, their voices a distant murmur in the light breeze. Volden walked the edge of town southward to the barn. Bola, their oldest child, was already at the gate, slingshot in hand. He smiled and waved innocently as Volden came near. "Up early, aren't you?" Volden said. Bola looked aback. "I wanted to see you off," he said. Volden smiled, and tousled Bola's hair, to which he squirmed. "Thanks," Volden said. Bola pulled back and straightened his hair. "How old until I can come with you into the field?" "Not for a few more years. There's still so much work for you and Ma to do on the farm." Volden paused, and answered the question Bola was about to ask. "Not even Lori ever went out of the valley with me." Bola was only eight years old; there was too much he had to learn before he could go out into the world. The flock wasn't big enough to need two shepherds watching them. And besides, Volden wasn't ready to lose another child. "I've been practicing my shot," Bola said proudly. "See that stick over there?" He pointed to a stick lying on a patch of dirt thirty feet away. "I can get it knocked over in only three tries!" "Well, when you can knock down two sticks, side by side, each in only one try, then you can come with me to the pasture." Volden had a twinge of regret in making that promise, as he had no intention of keeping. But perhaps it would give Bola something to do. And perhaps it would give Bola a way to defend himself -- something Lori had never gotten. Bola grinned and nodded. Volden turned his attention to the barn. He opened the barn gate, and one by one undid the latches of the pens. He didn't unlatch all of them -- just the ones for the sheep who were old enough to go to pasture. If he was lucky, he might even sell a few of the nine-month-old lambs to the butchers of Midtown or Laselle for Equinox. Bola closed the barn gate and opened each unlatched pen behind him. One or two ewes filtered out, eager for the open space, but most stayed in their warm pens and looked back curiously at them. Volden and Bola together opened the barn door, and Volden whistled to the sheep. Those still sitting behind leapt to their feet and came running. In total, there were about seventy sheep ready to follow him, and about a dozen left in the barn. Volden expected eight to still be there by the time he returned in August. "Bola," Volden said once all the sheep were out. "Watch the sheep here while I'm gone. Your mother will help if you need anything. Take especially good care of the youngest lambs. Ginger's lambs." "I will. Ginger's a special ewe, isn't she?" Volden smiled. "She's what makes this flock so strong. And her lambs... they'll make this flock even stronger." In at least one small way, he and Bola could keep Lori alive. ---- March 19, 717 CR Nancy spent most of her time in fear, shame, regret, and self-hatred. It was her words that had killed Lori. This was Eli's punishment for her stupid, selfish, pagan ritual, her twisting of Lori's doctrine for her own ends. Blood magic. Lori's words burned in her mind. Only the Moranasi committed death magic. She had committed the greatest of sins against her best friend. What reason did she have to live? How could there be any redemption, or forgiveness, for what she had done? Everyone was watching her all the time, never leaving her within range of a weapon, probably fearing she might take her own life, perhaps justifiably. Nancy knew she was too much of a coward to try it, to endure the pain. And yet? an animal morph like her, lives and dies for the pain. She had killed that badger in cold blood. Killing was what she wanted. She had tasted blood. Even if she did become a badger morph, wouldn't Metamor be better off with a deranged killer like her? Maybe she had just been deluded and ignorant. Yes, it was wrong of her to have trusted magic, to have tried to use it to countermand Eli's will. Perhaps all she needed to redeem herself was to swear off all magic. Maybe? maybe if she took up the old traditional cause, and led the Church's crusade against magic, she could redeem herself. She could save other people from making the same mistakes she did. All she had to do was flee to the Midlands? But no. If she became a badger morph, they would just kill her. And it would be just the same as if she had taken up the knife herself and cut her own guts out. She would just be inviting others to do the killing for her, to make killers out of them. Coward. Perhaps she should become a monk within Metamor's walls. She would shave her head, renounce all identity, and live only for the benefit of the faithful. Perhaps their faith could give her faith too, and strength to rise above her sins. Perhaps Lori's death didn't have to be in vain. It could be the start of a long career, of carrying the cross like Yahshua. This last thought was the only one that comforted her, for as long as it lasted, until the next thought came to her: "Is it faith that I want? Or is it just selfishness, believing that good can come from my horrible sin?" And she would be unconsolable again. At first, her parents refused anyone to see her, believing that she would recover in time, once the trauma of her manipulation by that wicked Benjamin had passed. Nancy never corrected the misconceptions of her parents, or of the rest of Twone, that it was her idea, that Benjamin would never have set it up if she wouldn't have asked Ophelia to help her. The days passed, and Nancy's mood still didn't lift. And her parents began fighting each other, as they often did when it came to their children. Her mother insisted that getting back to work would help her. Her father, her loathsome father, suggested that she see her friends again. Her mother insisted that her "friends" were the ones who had manipulated her into this situation to begin with. After the old familiar arguments about how ungrateful she was, and how much of an insensitive fool he was, she finally relented and allowed for chaperoned visitations from her friends. Tom was the first visitor, but there wasn't much he was willing to say under the watchful eyes and ears of her parents. All he could offer was feeble apologies for not being there, and talk a bit about how Benjamin was doing, and give some vague hope that Lori was alive. They never found her body, after all. Nancy barely listened. For all she knew, the pagan gods dragged Lori's whole body into one of their many hells. Maggie stopped by after that. She didn't bother talking about Lori's death; she tried instead to talk about local gossip, and she brought a game of checkers to improve her mood. Nancy couldn't focus at all on the game. Somehow she won, but she figured Maggie must have let her win. Marcus came by to talk about Ophelia, how she was feeling very sorry for the mess that had occurred. It was little comfort to Nancy, and only made her feel more guilty for hurting her. Bola came by, seeing he missed seeing her big sister around, and wanted to keep seeing Nancy around. That meeting was even worse. All these meetings did was confirm that her presence in Twone was a detriment to their happiness. It wasn't until plans for the Spring Equinox had gotten underway before her parents finally let her out of the cottage. They seemed indifferent now to whether she helped out around the house, or simply stayed lazy for the rest of her life. Nancy felt like she had betrayed them. Or maybe this was their way of saying that they wouldn't stop her if she tried to run away. It didn't seem like a bad idea. Still, she feared it was all an act, and if she ever did any conspicuous packing, that their mood would flip and they would forbid her again from leaving. Everytime she was outside, their eyes were always upon her, watching her as she went to bathe or fetch water, or even just pass the time watching young Bola lead the flock that had been left behind. Finally, the Friday before the Equinox began, Nancy could take it no more. It wasn't a deliberate decision, but after she dropped off the family scythe at the blacksmith's for repairs, she started walking north of town, just to clear her head. Then she found herself still walking, off towards the woods, down the familiar path through the tall grass. She found the familiar deer path, followed it past the mossy rockpile and to the stream, then past the thickets and past the lone oak, and finally arrived at the mud clearing. To any outsider, there was nothing remarkable about the mud clearing. Anything left behind had been long removed by rains and winds -- all except one thing. Nancy's eyes snapped to the one reminder of what had transpire that night, still sitting there from where she had left it that night -- the rock. How long had it been sitting here, absorbing her memories and her pain, chaining her mind to the ritual, sapping whatever will she had to be free? Slowly, she stepped forward, fearing that some demon would strike her down as she approached, as if the lines of magic were still there, hidden beneath the mud. There was not even a gust of wind as she stood over it, and finally picked it up. If it was all in her head, why did she still feel a burning sensation in her hand as she held it? Through the stone, she could almost imagine the scene as Lori must have seen it. Such savagery. Such bloodlust. This was the first time she had been here since that night. Often she thought about the hours beforehand, as she stood watching Benjamin carefully draw out the symbols in the dimming light; or she thought about those minutes afterwards, and her strange wolf dream running through the woods. But she never thought about the ceremony. She'd been too afraid to look at it again, through her own eyes or through Lori's. Too afraid that she might find something she'd done wrong to make everything else collapse. She heard footsteps behind her ? she almost swore her ears swiveled in that direction. For some reason, that thought filled her with shame, rather than joy. Why should she be happy if it was really the animal curse? She wondered whether it was her parents come to drag her back, or maybe Errol sent on their behalf to fetch her. Maybe it was for the best if they caught her. Maybe they could whip this feeling out of her. But no, it was just Marcus. He pushed aside the ferns and stared at her in a mix of puzzlement and pity. "You came back." Nancy shrugged. "I thought I should visit." She didn't know how true that was, or if this was as far as she'd intended to travel. Marcus smiled weakly and nodded. "That's good." He looked at the field. "This might help you to heal." "There's nothing to heal." Marcus sighed. "You know the toughest part about being a man? It's everyone telling you not to feel pain anymore. Telling you not to grieve, when sometimes you have to." "Why should I grieve?" "... You didn't intend for this to happen." "I absolutely intended something to happen. I messed with the will of Eli." "No, I mean you didn't intend this specific outcome. You wanted to be an animal morph. That's all you wanted." "I was a fool," she said. "I wanted something without paying a sacrifice." "You didn't think you needed a sacrifice. You still don't, Nancy. The curse doesn't require a sacrifice." Nancy looked away. She didn't want to discuss this anymore. After a long silence, Marcus spoke. "Tom had a lot he wanted to talk with you about." "I don't care. I don't want to see him anymore. Is he still infatuated with me? Is he still convinced that we are going to be badger morphs together?" "There are some loose ends he needs to clear up with you, concerning that night. Please. You're not the only one who was hurt by what happened." Nancy rounded on him. "He left me and Lori to die. In the middle of the night, he could have stood by us, but he cared more about his reputation with the grown-ups than with us. Because of him, Lori is gone." "Do you want the whole story, or just your side of it?" Marcus sighed. "You're letting your anger and fear take over. Open your eyes. Keep them open." "Don't tell me to open my eyes," she hissed. "I've been keeping them open ever since that night. I can't sleep at night because of what happened. How do you sleep when every night you see and hear your own --" "Only yourself," Tom interrupted behind Nancy. He was standing in the middle of the mud pit, holding a familiar-shaped bag, with something stirring inside of it. "It hurts to listen sometimes. You just need to be patient." "What do you want?" Nancy hissed. Tom set down the bag, its neck already untied and open. "To start over." Nancy nearly lurched back as a badger nose sniffed its way out of the bag. "You... seriously expect me to repeat that ceremony? To chew out another beast's heart, to lose another friend to the same madness? Or are you that hungry for your own change, to go through it yourself? Well, fine then! I'll be the one to stare at you as you indulge yourself in blood! Then maybe the wolves of darkness can consume me too, for our heathen ceremony." "I didn't mean the ceremony," Tom said. And he gave the badger a light kick on its rear. Unlike the first badger, this badger seemed afraid to run away. It looked back and forth between the three of them with an almost domestic look in its eyes. It seemed to tense up under Tom's boot. Then it closed its eyes and... It seemed to almost melt closer to the ground, the way its body spread outwards, only without losing any height. In fact, it grew taller in height, the arms and legs spreading out like vines along the ground. The badger looked up at her with quivering blue eyes, its two human-like breasts naked but covered in white fur. "I'm so sorry, Nancy," it said in Lori's voice. Nancy fell to the ground. ---- The two girls finally broke their long embrace. It was Lori who first found her words. "I ran without thinking. When I heard the people coming, I just kept running. I didn't stop until I had reached the mountains. It was still dark, so I just hid in a hole until morning." She paused. "I woke up and? I was still a badger. I thought it was still a dream, that it had to be a dream. I was afraid of having you see me like this. That maybe? I stole the curse that was intended for you?" Nancy shook her head. "I don't care if you did or not. You're alive! You have to come home." Lori shook her head. "I don't want to head back. I'm finally free of Twone. No one's been back to look for me. Everyone thinks I'm dead." "Your father was really hurt when he thought you were dead," Marcus said. Lori nodded sadly. "He would never have let me leave if I asked. He always had a way of making me feel guilty for wanting my own life." "You can't just live in the woods, though." "She's right," Tom said. "She's terrible at hunting. I've been leaving her dead rats and rabbits, just to keep her alive." "I've been thinking," Lori said, "that maybe I could move to Metamor. There are always new people coming in, and nobody asks questions of animal morphs. Or I could move into the northern villages. People are very accepting up there, and they won't know anyone from Twone up there." "But you'd be leaving us. You'd be leaving me, Lori. Our promise?" Lori smiled. "We really thought we could live our lives together, didn't we? You'll always have my friendship, wherever I end up." Nancy looked away at the mud that surrounded them. "So, that ceremony targeted you with the curse, instead of me." "I'm not so sure," Lori said. "Maybe I had the badger curse on me all along, and you picked up on it, somehow. You wanted to be with me, and somehow you knew that meant becoming a badger." "But you hated animal morphs." "I didn't hate them, they just made me uncomfortable." She looked down at her fur-covered arms. "Maybe I just needed to accept myself." Nancy nodded. "I still don't want you to leave." "You'll always have a part of me with you." Lori put her paw on the rock Nancy held. "Keep it. And remember me." Nancy pulled her into another long embrace. Marcus and Tom, and the quiet forest and all the heavens above, silently watched them. 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