29 - Laura 09 - A Walkabout 1

The bus took a good 45minutes before it made its stop in the Kingsland eve. Laura was not surprised she was it’s only passenger for many blocks, until the broke out of the Kingsland slums and turned towards the waterfront. She got off at a random stop by the river. It was near the edge of the industrial district, and from Here, it flowed and widened past downtown and into a wide mouthed bay at the sea, where the docks were located. She flipped up her hood, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and walked.

She realized that she had not been to the waterfront in years - not since her incarceration. She wondered why that was. Everything since getting out had first been a pile of scrambling to live, meet parole restrictions and terms, and just continue on, it had left little time for idle wandering.

Then Lady Szarka happened.

And then *everything* went to hell.

She crossed the road that ran parallel to the water, reaching the rocky shore as the river was startling to widen. The eve was still somewhat warm for the season, and pleasantly hadn’t rained yet to chill the air.

She sat on the rocks, overlooking the water, and pulled her knees to her chest.

The sounds of the bay and riverfront washed over her as she recounted everything that had happened so far.

She almost ignored the gentle sound of splashing to her right. But idly turned her head. What she was not expecting to see, was a face looking back at her.

The face belonged to a girl. Her smile seemed pleasant enough, although her face was milky pale.

“Sorry.” Laura stammered and looked away. “Didn’t notice you there.”

The girl hesitated a moment, and then seemed to swim out of the reeds. “Not… many do.” The girl said, with a voice that was oddly singsong. Laura had a hard time looking away.

“You’re swimming, this time of night?”

“I always swim. Swimming is fun.” The girl said, as she began to float. As more pale skin broke the water, Laura realized the girl was *naked*.

“You’re *skinny dipping*? At this part of town?”

The girls answer was little more than a giggle, and a lascivious beckoning with a finger.

“*You should join me.*” the voice said, with almost a haunting echo. Laura shook her head a moment, and blinked. Her eyes then narrowed. She moved slowly, plucking the picture from her pocket, and performed the ritual.

She opened her eyes, and looked at the floating girl.

To a somewhat changed visage. The face was mostly the same, but her eyes were deep, black and hollow. When she bobbed higher, Laura could see the red hallow marks and bruises around her neck. The girls smile was no longer pleasant, but instead was a feral, hungry grin.

She was taken aback a second, and flinched. As she shuddered, the girl in the water did so too- as if the shock of realization hit them both.

“What *are* you?” Laura asked…. But she was asking nought but ripples by the time the question was out, for the girl had dived into the blackness, and did not rise again.

“Great. Flesh eating ghouls in the suburbs… Creepy skinny dipping dead girls in the River. I really hate this city.”



—

After an hour, the girl hadn’t returned, and Laura had long returned the photo to her pocket, given that the headaches had certainly started over it. It was close to midnight now. She was tired, but her brain was still just a million miles an hour trying to process everything.

Lady Szarkas voice echoed in her head.

*I promise you nothing less than wide eyes to the wonder of the possibilities of this world, and almost everything that I have…*

She found herself talking out loud to the River.

“Lady Szarkas got a lot of shit. And not just stuff shit. She’s *full* of shit… what does that even mean?”

Almost blessedly, *nothing* answered her.

It was after two, by the time she walked downtown from the rivers edge, looking for some place open to eat.

She’d walked four blocks by the time she found a little coffee shop with its lights still on. It was otherwise empty, it seemed, but the door wasn’t locked when she pushed it.

There was no overt chime as she stepped inside, but still, someone came around the corner and stepped up to the register.

It took Laura a few moments to recognize the girl, despite her unique white hair - which was tied back in a bun and held with a headband.

Laura stood there, blinking a moment, not hearing what the girl said.

“O-oh. Sorry. What?” “I said sit down. I’ll bring you a fresh toasted sandwich in a minute.” “How did you?” “Go go. Sit down.” The white haired girl waved, and turned back to the equipment.

Laura was past the point of wanting to complain, or even really processing what was going on, so she sat without a word.

It was only a few minutes before the girl joined her, a plated grilled cheese sandwich and a pot of *something* steaming between them.

The girl promptly folder her apron, placed it over a nearby chair, and sat down.

“Go on.” She said, waving a hand to the sandwich. “The rest takes a moment to prepare.”

Laura mechanically picked up a sandwich half and started chewing, only half registering how good any food was, as she watched the girl at work. Her hands were almost a blur as she put out two cups, added something from a small bag she pulled from… somewhere… poured in hot water and set both spoons stirring. Laura barely registered that, halfway through the action, the girl let go of the spoons - and yet they kept stirring. As she finished her mouthful and prepared to say something about it, the girl had plucked both spoons from their cups, dashed in a splash of milk, and pushed one of the two identical cups over.

“Take your time.” She said with a smile. “You’re… Rhi.” Laura managed to get out. “Of the Tipped Cauldron.”

“Yes, and you are Elle.” “What are you-“ “I can only open the shop on the weekends. The rest of the week, I work here. Mostly graveyard shifts. As you can see.” “Right.” Laura took a small bite of the second half of the sandwich. She chewed a moment, then looked up. “An’ you often just come and sit with customers?” “Not often, but special occasions merit special interactions.” “Y‘don’t say.” Laura muttered, taking another small bite. She wasn’t going to admit it, but the simple toasted sandwich was exactly what she craved, and was absolute divine. She stopped, mid chew, and looked Rhi in the eyes. “You’re not some Fae are you, and I’ve just taken food without paying…” “No no. You’re safe. This isn’t *Lessons*, and I’m just a small business owner… with a broom and a real nifty hat.” She smirked. “Which I can’t wear with the uniform, anyway.” “But you’re…” she motioned to the spoons. “Oh, I’m certainly special. But as far as I know, I’m not of the Fae. I mean, I could be, but I don’t know.” “I’ve gotten the impression that … magic … is both more common than I’d known and far less than I’d thought.” “You’re still new to the world as it is, aren’t you?” “My dumb lack of sophistication shows, Don’t it? No, I’m still stumbling through.”

Rhi pushed a mug forward, and took one herself. She sipped gently. “I mean, I know a bit about not fitting in, being in the deep end, you know, that sort of thing.” Laura waited patiently, finishing her bite.

“I come from a big family. Like. Bigger than most you’ve heard about. *Prophetically* big.” Rhi drew out. “Have you ever heard the legend of the Seventh of the Seventh?”

Laura frowned. “I remember a movie about a Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. And it had something to do with witches too.”

“That’s a human take on the legend. Seven is a powerful number in nature. So the seventh of a seventh is like a doubling of that. Typically the one born to that provenance is both loved and feared for the power the wield and the prophecy they foretell.”

“And that’s you?”

“Oh, no. That’s *my mother*.” Rhi chuckled. “You see, that’s where all the trouble starts. See, all the legends talk about what great and terrible and wonderful things the prophecied one will do. But no one really wrote what is expected of *their children*. So, while my mother is still expected to go and do many wonderful things back home, my Aunts and GrandAunts all quietly … got me out of the picture until they work out just what is going on.”

Laura blinked. “That’s horrible.” “Eh.” Rhi shrugged. “I mean. Everyone else in my family grew up as part of the big family. Brothers, sisters. Aunts, uncles, grands. It’s just how it is. But my mother kept me separate, secret for a while. I grew up an only child, and compared to family politics, I enjoy the solitude. Even if it is far from home, I can make a home here. And it’s not as if I was tossed out on my own. I got set up and have a Couple of loose family friends I can talk to.” “See, that’s where we really differ.” Laura said quietly. “As a dangerous ex criminal, you expect to be alone, and for everyone to hate you for just being you.” “Criminal?” “I stabbed someone. In self defence.” “That’s…” “Thirty four times.” “Oh.” “He was a scumbag, and I’d just refused to see it… refused to believe it, and kept forgiving for too long. Casual abuse, mostly verbal. Then one day, it escalated badly, and he started beating me. Broke my wrist and jaw. Was in the kitchen, in desperation I grabbed a knife, and…. Went at it. Police found me over him with the knife still in my hand after the neighbours called for a disturbance. So they made the obvious guess.” “And?” “I served time. 2 years, then paroled to community service for good behaviour and reduction of charges. They set you free, but that’s all they do. I had a bag with a change of clothes, a hundred bucks, and a letter telling me when and where I was to show up to serve. You don’t exactly get to go back to your old life.”

Rhi could only nod at hearing the story. “But.” Laura continued, “that’s when things went all to hell and I ended up here. But maybe you could answer something for me.” “Sure.” “This magic stuff. Making things move, wounds that won’t heal. Can just anyone do that?” “That’s… surprisingly complicated.” Rhi hedged nervously. “I mean, the short answer is ‘yes, but most shouldn’t’…”

“Shouldn’t?” “I mean, it’s hard because I only have one perspective on it. Anyone can learn the words and make the signs, spin the spell and drink the wine, as they say, but how much of an effect that has on the world, and on them, is totally up to who they are. I have power and tradition in my family, so when i work my will, the will works. Most of the time. But if I were to teach someone exactly the same steps, their spell might do little, it might do nothing, it might dwarf mine, or it might do something else entirely. And we’re all cautioned, right from the start; that basically… it’s a power, and power corrupts. Too much can leave you distant and haggard and craving more. And that’s just… people. People who are more in touch with nature,or are Feytouched, might have an instinctual magic that they can’t help but release. Some even need to release it, lest it build up and explode like a volcano at an inopportune time.” “But… one could.” “One could, yes. If they had the right teacher. And sorry, I’m still learning myself.”

Laura pulled out the photograph of herself. She looked at the closed eyes, and thought. “As you know, there’s already someone upending my life that way.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them, the headache struck, but the moment she inhaled the tea, it subsided. She looked up at Rhi, bracing for some change. The girl looked the same. Mostly the same. She hadn’t changed, but everywhere the steam of the tea rose, there were tiny sparkles in the air.

“That’s a remarkably powerful spell as it is.” Rhi remarked. “Your patron has a lot of skill to craft it. But that being said, it’s not the sort of spell you see often, being that it pierces privacy so easily.” “That certainly sounds bad.” “Many people just go about their business and are able to do so because they look like everyone else. It’s the way it is. It’s the way of life. What you have there, has the potential to upend it. So keep it close. Don’t let it escape.” Laura nodded, looked at the picture, and closed her eyes. The lingering headache almost immediately abated.

“How *did* you find my shop anyway?” “I can tell you, but I don’t understand it.” “What do you mean?” “What the fu-… I mean. Sorry. What the hell is a *Fetchling*? Lady S-… I mean, my patron, caught one by the scruff of the neck, handed it a dollar, and then it dragged me off.”

Rhi paused a moment at Laura’s response, then giggled a little. “I see. Well, what depends on who you ask. Because there’s a few different stories depending on where you are. But universal to them, is the concept of a *Fetch*. You see, sometimes, when certain Fae are angered. They lash out. Usually dis appropriately, as they have different thoughts to humans. But a common way was to… steal a baby. Now, they’d never just take, not without giving something in return. Oftentimes, this was an enchanted bundle of sticks in the shape of a baby called a Fetch, to trick those dumb humans with. Now, then depending on who you ask bit. The fetchlings are either that Fetch when it gets raised a certain point, and then abandoned… or, it’s the Fae that do the actual act of swapping and stealing. In either case, Fetchlings are spirits of the lost and hidden.”

“That makes more sense. Expands on what I was told, too.”

“Your patron… just grabbed a Fetchling?” “I thought at first she just grabbed a random kid running past. Then the creepy little goblin smiled and freaked me out.” “Heh. Well, I wouldn’t go about calling them goblins.” “Why. Would I be offending Goblins or something?” “Yes.” “Fuck.” As she swore, Laura rocked back in the chair and sighed loudly. “I swear, this whole damn city is out to fucking get me.”

“It has its places.” Rhi said, looking at the clock, and standing up. “You have to know where to look, though. When I’m sad and crushed by the concrete of the city, I go to the park on 90th. Find the Oak, ask for Blossom. Be nice, and you can see some wonders, even within the walls.” Rhi tied her apron up. “I can’t call this a break any longer or the boss will get mad at me.” She smiled. “Oh, and it’s six dollars for the tea and sandwich, just in case you were worried about Fae food still.” Rhi winked, and headed behind the counter with her mug, emptying and cleaning it before doing what appeared to Laura, to be very barista things behind the counter.