the morning after

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

[The morning after the dream of Nanshe]

Dear Ms. Thorn,

I apologize for the suddenness of this letter, and hope that you will understand that I would not write so abruptly if it were not a very urgent matter.

I need your help - or, rather, I know that we need to work together - on something vitally important. It is related to what we did together three years ago, at the water's edge. The need is even greater now than it is then.

Please meet me at your earliest convenience in the garden behind the Whitechapel on Silk Road. I will be there working.

Yours,

Hermia Stephanides

--
The letter was the fourth thing that I did after I awoke, with the taste of seafoam on my lips. The first was to curl myself close to Valmont, embracing him so tightly that he awoke too. I told him everything as I held him close, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling his warm presence next to me.

The second was to hug the children. (It is still a marvel, to think 'children' and not 'child.') For once, Luc stayed asleep - he murmured and squirmed in his dreams, his little mind working hard even in slumber, but he did not wake.

The third was to send a message to Chester, a tiny flare of magic sent into the ether. I know he will answer when he can, and I hope that it is soon, for I will need his help. I will need everyone's help.

The fourth was the letter, sent off with Adam as he finished the night's cleaning to head home. He was startled to see me awake, and even more so to see me sending a note to the Carnival, but he agreed to do what I asked.

And the fifth was to get to work.

I stay in the garden all morning, Marie sleeping beside me as the pale-purple stillness of dawn brightens into full day. Sorting herbs and sketching diagrams, plucking at the threads of Power to see what shapes I can weave them into, trying to find the sparks of divinity that Nanshe left behind.

Working and waiting.

[Open to Syl]

Comments

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Three fuckin' years. Three fuckin' years away from'is town, 'way from th'psyho monster, an', fer me, 'way from Tez. More grey'n m'hair, more wrinkles 'round m'mouth, an' lately m'monthlies 've been skippin' months. Th'witch act's movin' from slinky older lady t'bent ol' crone, which frankly I think'll be eas'er fer me t'pull off. But bizness' still good, I c'n still dance wit' th'best ovvem, an' th'magic still comes t'm'hand like a huntin' hawk.

Still, when I find a note at m'door'is mornin' when I stepped out fer m'first cig, had t'raise 'n eyebrow. Most folks knock on m'door, 'r come t'm'tent, not leave notes written all pretty'n sealed wit' wax. Takes me some time t'place th'name. Hermia...yeah, we worked t'gether, we took Nanshe from'er skin an' back inta th'town. All I really know 'bout'er other'n at's she wuzzat chick't th'lib'rary, th'one't'd rather watch'er man risk death 'n tell'er ex t'fuck off. Might be inclined t'let't go...but Nanshe knew'er, Nanshe liked'er, an' she did have power. I might not like'er allat much, but she worked wit' me, annat makes'er a sister.

So, I swig some coffee, wander inta town, trailin' cigarette smoke b'hind me. Th'Whitechapel ain't m'fav'rite place, but seems like't's cleaned up'n th'past three years. Even a nice garden'n the back; I smell herbs'n flowers. An'ere she is, hands workin' th'earth, green under'er nails, fat baby onna blanket b'side'er an'I can hear'er power singin'n th'wind. She's gotten better.

Crone'n mother, jes' missin' a maid now.

Wait for'er power t'ebb...y'don't never interrupt a caster, not never...An'en stub m'cig out 'gainst th'wall. "So, said y'needed help?"

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

It feels like it does when I am sewing - each stitch going in its proper place to bind the fabric together, or lining up strands of embroidery to form a picture. Each stitch small in itself, but all of them together something powerful. Except now the threads are Power, and the stitches are the tiny spells that I weave to draw it up. Tiny strands that seek out the places where Nanshe is bound into the earth, stretching down from the roots of our garden plants and winding through the ground under Excolo.

Yes. I can sense it now. I can see the weave, but I cannot reshape it myself. That will take more power than I have - more power than any human has alone.

As the pattern fades from my vision and the real world blinks back into view, I hear a voice behind me. "So, said y'needed help?"

"Syl." It is not a voice I would know if I heard it on the street, but even if I had not been expecting her to come, I am still deep enough into my spell that the power Syl and I once shared resonates in me when I hear her voice. I shake my head to clear it a bit more, and turn towards her. "Thank you for coming." I push myself to my feet, then bend down to scoop Marie into my arms. "Forgive me - I would have come to you, but I didn't want to leave Marie for that long," I explain, a brief smile flickering as I glance down to the baby. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea? Coffee?"

And then, no more delay of politeness - she must have been wondering why I of all people would invite her. "Nanshe came to me in a dream last night. There is something vitally important that needs to be done."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

She says m'name, an' there's a twang deep inside'a me. Once ye've worked wit' someone, fer better'r worse, there's always a c'nnection. Reckon she coulda called me wit' no need fer pen'n ink, if'n she'd thought 'bout't. "Forgive me - I would have come to you, but I didn't want to leave Marie for that long."

"Y'could'a brought'er," I says, steppin' inta th'garden. 'er power's hangin'n th'air like mist waitin' fer th'sun t'burn't off. "D'spite whatcha may've heard, we don't eat babies." Smile a bit, but don't really feel't. Th'scars on m'belly still give me trouble'n th'cold, an'I ain't fergotten.

She offers me coffee, an'I nod. But b'fore she goes t'get't, she turns t'me. "Nanshe came to me in a dream last night. There is something vitally important that needs to be done."

Nanshe. Ain't heard'er voice since I cut'er throat, sent'er soul inta th'town. But she wuz m'friend. Start t'take out 'nother cig, then glance't th'baby'n put th'pack away. "Since y'came t'me, doubt she wants a wall built."

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Y'could'a brought'er. D'spite whatcha may've heard, we don't eat babies." It does not much sound like a joke, despite her smile. I do not wish to offend her - she is my guest, and I need her help! - but the truth is that I did not want to bring Marie to the Carnival, so there is very little that I can say in return.

"Coffee," I say instead. "I'll just be a moment."

I step into the kitchen and pick up the large draped scarf that I have been using as a sling to carry Marie about so that I can have both hands free but still keep her close. She wriggles a little as I place her in the sling, mouth working and eyes scrunching, and for a moment I tense - but no, she settles again, and stays asleep. I smile and brush a finger across her tiny perfect hand, and then turn back to business.

Coffee first. I pour two cups and set out the little pots of cream and sugar on the tray, and carry it back out to the table.

When I step out of the door, Syl has a cigarette in her hand, and I tense again - but she is already reconsidering, and I say a quiet, "Thank you," as she slides the cigarette back into its pack.

"Since y'came t'me, doubt she wants a wall built."

"Not exactly, no," I reply, with a wry twist in my own voice to match. I set down the tray and sit down in the chair opposite Syl.

"She said that the battle is coming," I say simply, my voice quiet and my eyes lifting to meet Syl's directly. "The one that has been on the horizon for years in this town. Nanshe can help fight off the darkness, if we can draw on her power." My hand rises to the brooch (http://cdn.supadupa.me/shop/14943/images/1304974/pelicanbroochfront_grande.jpg?1384960598) that Nanshe gave me in my sleep. I found it pinned to my nightgown when I awoke, and put it on the dress I wear now. The power hums against my fingers as they brush across the metal. "If we can call her forth."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

See th'way she winces when I make th'crack 'bout eatin' babies, 'n m'mouth tightens a bit. Jes' cuz she's a sister don't mean I like'er, annis shows why.

She brings out coffee, made quick work ovva sling t'carry th'baby in, an'I give'er props ferrat. Seen many a woman'er age who gets so panicky witta baby she fergets how t'boil'n egg, let 'lone improvise a sling. But'en, she izza witch.

She also notices'n says thanks when I don't smoke. Shrug. "She yer first?"

When I ask 'bout Nanshe, she touches a pelican brooch at'er throat. "She said that the battle is coming. The one that has been on the horizon for years in this town. Nanshe can help fight off the darkness, if we can draw on her power. If we can call her forth."

Frown. "She di'n't have much idea how t'fight th'dark b'fore. She tell ya what's changed?" I liked Nanshe loads, but she did seem t'hang back some.

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Syl's frown has not changed a bit, not in the last few minutes and not in the last three years. I suppose that I did not expect it to, but part of me hoped that it might. It would be easier if it had.

Well. We do not need to be friends; we just need to work together, and three years ago, we proved that we could work together exceptionally well no matter how we felt about each other's company.

"She yer first?"

Well, that at least we can talk about without tension. I hope. "Second," I reply with a smile. "Our first is Luc - Lucien," I add. Perhaps the name might ease a little more of the stiffness - a reminder of the friend that Syl and I both lost, of the battle we all fought together. "He is two and a half. I - I was carrying him the last time you and I worked together."

I shift the warm little bundle to settle Marie more comfortably at my side as Syl starts in on her coffee, and as I start to explain the task before us.

"She di'n't have much idea how t'fight th'dark b'fore. She tell ya what's changed?"

"Some," I admit, my mouth twisting wryly. "She…was not enough herself to give many details. But she did say that the Tower is going to attack. Sometime around the equinox, or just after. It is going to make the strike that it has been preparing for, these last four years. To stop it, Nanshe said that we need to draw forth her power. Three years ago, we sent Nanshe's divinity into the earth and water and fabric of Excolo. To fight the darkness this time, we need to draw her divinity into the people."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Least we can talk 'bout'er kids. "Second. Our first is Luc - Lucien. He is two and a half. I - I was carrying him the last time you and I worked together."

"Right," I nod. "Thought I picked'at up from ya. Glad 'e's healthy." Lotta babies 'ese days don't make't outta th'womb, let 'lone live through th'first year. She's lucky t'have two.

"She…was not enough herself to give many details. But she did say that the Tower is going to attack. Sometime around the equinox, or just after. It is going to make the strike that it has been preparing for, these last four years. To stop it, Nanshe said that we need to draw forth her power. Three years ago, we sent Nanshe's divinity into the earth and water and fabric of Excolo. To fight the darkness this time, we need to draw her divinity into the people."

Quiet ferra minute, jes' th'sound'a th'birds 'til I says, "Hell." Take a mouthful'a coffee. Already m'mind's workin', tryin' t'imagine jes' how t'do'is, how t'work't. "That ain't gonna be easy." If'n't's even poss'ble..."She give ya any notion how?"

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

"Right," I nod. "Thought I picked'at up from ya."

"I shouldn't be surprised that you did," I murmur. So strange, to have had such a deep connection to someone that I hardly know otherwise - it took me a few minutes even to remember her last name when I was writing the note! But for the time that Syl and I were casting that spell, we were each aware of every tiny detail of the other.

" Glad 'e's healthy."

"Thank you," I say, quiet and serious. "So am I." Healthy children are never to be taken for granted, not in this world. "Nu had a great deal to do with that - she helped me."

Syl listens as I explain what Nanshe told me - her frown deepens more with every one of my words, and she sits in unhappy silence for a long moment at the end.

"Hell." is the first thing she says, and I do not blame her at all for wanting to curse. "That ain't gonna be easy. She give ya any notion how?"

"Not as much as I would have liked." I have to admit. "The brooch is part of it - it is a connection to her, and I can use it to call upon her. That will help us draw her forth. But the rest, I believe we have to figure out for ourselves. Not just the two of us, of course - it is too large a task for two people alone. But since we were the ones who worked the original spell, we are the ones who have the best chance of figuring this one out."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"Not as much as I would have liked." I have to admit. "The brooch is part of it - it is a connection to her, and I can use it to call upon her. That will help us draw her forth. But the rest, I believe we have to figure out for ourselves. Not just the two of us, of course - it is too large a task for two people alone. But since we were the ones who worked the original spell, we are the ones who have the best chance of figuring this one out.".

Wave m'hand'n dismissal. "Callin'er's th'easy part. M'knife's tasted'er blood, we's shared breath'n spit. Won't be no problem callin'er. Trouble's gonna be diss'patin'er wit'out losin'er essence'in power, not t'mention gettin'er inta all th'people in town. Rit'al onnat scale, hundreds'a folks..." Shake m'head. Ain't never done a spell'at big b'fore. Ain't even sure'at's poss'ble. Mebbe ferra god, sure, but mebbe Nanshe's too weak t'remember we's jes' two human witches.

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

"I know," I agree quietly. "It is an enormous task. We will have to get more people to help us. Chester will help, of course. And perhaps Nu, and Glass, and others who have strong power. As for getting her essence into people…" The wheels turn in my mind, spinning out dozens of ideas that I reject even before I speak them. What can we do? What do we share? How can Nanshe reach everyone in Excolo? I lean forward to take another sip of coffee as I think. "Well," I begin again. "She is already in the land, and that connects her to the people who live here - they eat what grows on the land, and they drink the water. Perhaps we could intensify that somehow? Put more of her in the water, so that her essence goes into everyone."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"It is an enormous task. We will have to get more people to help us. Chester will help, of course. And perhaps Nu, and Glass, and others who have strong power."

I nod. "Dunno if'n Tess's still'n town, but she has some chops t'er. An' Simon." Can't much think'f anyone else.

As for getting her essence into people…Well, she is already in the land, and that connects her to the people who live here - they eat what grows on the land, and they drink the water. Perhaps we could intensify that somehow? Put more of her in the water, so that her essence goes into everyone."

"Th'water." I muse. Well, I might not like'er, but she ain't stupid. "That could work. I work well wit' water, gotta good c'nnection wit't. But workin' witta river's tricky...y'gotta watch out, or yer magic lit'rally gets washed 'way." Still, wit' a river so c'nnected t'th'town, could work. "But dunno how long we'd b'able t'hold't. S'th'sorta thin't be easier if'n ev'ryone drank't th'same time, an' doubt'at's gonna happen."

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

"Yes, those are both good ideas. I haven't spoken to Tess in quite a long time." Not since she and Kate broke up, not since Tess left. "But I'll see if I can find her - she would help, I think, if she knew about this. And having three witches working together is always better."

"Th'water." I muse. Well, I might not like'er, but she ain't stupid. "That could work. I work well wit' water, gotta good c'nnection wit't. But workin' witta river's tricky...y'gotta watch out, or yer magic lit'rally gets washed 'way."

"I do well with water, too," I agree. "I'm best with air, but water works well, too. So if the river is too precarious…what if we concentrated it in a well?"

"But dunno how long we'd b'able t'hold't. S'th'sorta thin't be easier if'n ev'ryone drank't th'same time, an' doubt'at's gonna happen."

"Getting everyone to drink at the same time would be difficult," I admit. "But…what if we got everyone to gather in one place? At the abbey, even - if there is any place that would magnify Nanshe's power, it would be there. Then we could pass out water to everyone gathered? It wouldn't be the most subtle way of going about it, but it would be effective."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Nod when Hermia says she works best wit'air. She had th'feelin' ovvan air worker t'me, but't's int'restin'. Tradit'nally, air's a man's el'ment. Oh, known women who work wit' air, an' fire too, ferrat matter, jes' a bit less common.

I'm best with air, but water works well, too. So if the river is too precarious…what if we concentrated it in a well?" Nod slow, an' keep noddin's she suggests gath'rin' folk't th'abbey. "Getting everyone to drink at the same time would be difficult. But…what if we got everyone to gather in one place? At the abbey, even - if there is any place that would magnify Nanshe's power, it would be there. Then we could pass out water to everyone gathered? It wouldn't be the most subtle way of going about it, but it would be effective."

"Would be, sure," I says, drainin' m'cup, "but we'd hafta get ev'ryone'n town willin' t'join in'n drink. Not ev'ryone's so trustin'. Think th'local church's gonna go ferrit?" Find m'self doubtin'at. "But still, might work. D'y'know if'n th'abbey hazzit's own well? Be th'eas'est way t'draw'er power in."

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

"Would be, sure," I says, drainin' m'cup, "but we'd hafta get ev'ryone'n town willin' t'join in'n drink. Not ev'ryone's so trusting'. Think th'local church's gonna go ferrit?"

"Perhaps not," I admit with a grimace. I lean forward to refill Syl's cup, and then top off my own. "But many people will, I think. Nanshe still holds sway in this town."

"But still, might work. D'y'know if'n th'abbey hazzit's own well? Be th'eas'est way t'draw'er power in."

"They should." I look off into the distance, as if looking towards the abbey could help me remember. "A place as big as that - it would make sense for it to have its own water supply. We can easily check, of course, and if it doesn't, then we can try to find another place where there is a large well. But the abbey would be best, both because it is large enough to hold everyone and because it is the seat of Nanshe's power."

It all fits together very nicely when I say it, but I know that it cannot possibly be that easy. "If that plan doesn't work, though, what other ways do you think we might go about doing this?

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

She admits't some folk won't go ferrit, but most will. "An'ose't won't? What happens t'em? Get th'feelin'ere won't be a rosy future forrem." Needs must, though. If'n we lose a third'a th'town but save th'rest, I'll count't azza win.

She agrees't th'Abbey likely hazza well, "A place as big as that - it would make sense for it to have its own water supply. We can easily check, of course, and if it doesn't, then we can try to find another place where there is a large well. But the abbey would be best, both because it is large enough to hold everyone and because it is the seat of Nanshe's power. If that plan doesn't work, though, what other ways do you think we might go about doing this?"

"Hell," I sigh. "Don't s'pose y'know where'er body's buried? Too late fer blood, but'er bones oughta be'ere. Bone meal c'n carry magic pretty well, an' c'n be mixed in wit' flour eas'ly 'nough. Don't s'pose y'c'n bake?"

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

"An'ose't won't? What happens t'em? Get th'feelin'ere won't be a rosy future forum."

"She didn't speak about it that way," I say quickly. "She said that to save the town, we needed put her spirit into the people. She didn't say that those who refused would not be saved." But I did not ask, I think to myself, and I look down in guilt as I think it. "And even if those who refuse are left out of it…" It pains me to say it, but I must. "Then that is the risk we must take. She said that…if Excolo falls, so does the world." My arm has tightened around Marie - as if that could protect her if the world should fall! "So we must do whatever we can."

"Hell," I sigh. "Don't s'pose y'know where'er body's buried? Too late fer blood, but'er bones oughta be'ere."

"On the abbey's grounds." We could not bury her under her own name, of course. 'Noma' had a simple funeral. Few mourners, but abundant grief, and infinite respect. "If we need to, I could speak to the people there about getting them."

"Bone meal c'n carry magic pretty well, an' c'n be mixed in wit' flour eas'ly 'nough. Don't s'pose y'c'n bake? Don't s'pose y'c'n bake?"

"Not anything that anyone would want to eat." Even without the addition of bonemeal, I add with an inward shudder. I know this is about divinity and material magic, but the thought of consuming bones still has something repellent about it. "Can you? I don't think any of the others in town who can work magic can bake. I could try if we need it very badly, but I would not want to make a mistake on this."

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

"She didn't speak about it that way. She said that to save the town, we needed put her spirit into the people. She didn't say that those who refused would not be saved." Click m'tongue, soft. Don't doubt Nanshe intended t'save's many's she could, but also think Hermia's too soft t'see. Sometimes y'gotta save who y'can, an' most times'at ain't ev'rybody.

"And even if those who refuse are left out of it…" It pains me to say it, but I must. "Then that is the risk we must take. She said that…if Excolo falls, so does the world. So we must do whatever we can." Well, m'respect for'er goes up a notch, cuz if'n nothin' else, she sees't, but still can't be sure who meant what'n how. Guess'at ain't really our concern now.

She says she can't bake, an'I sigh. "Can you? I don't think any of the others in town who can work magic can bake. I could try if we need it very badly, but I would not want to make a mistake on this."

No, but I ain't th'one 't's playin' happy housewife. S'what I wanna say, but bite m'tongue. Won't do us no good t'argue, an' she's right onnis score; better't she not lie'n we both know the'score. "No. An' we'd want somethin't ev'rybody'd take, somethin' ev'rybody'd gladly swallow..."

Red rain is pouring down,
Pouring down all over me.

Hardly even notice when m'coffee cup slips from m'hands, rolls onta th'grass. So bloody simple, dunno why I din't' fuckin' see't b'fore. But'at's th'way'a witchin', y'think too hard annit'll pass y'by. "We make't rain," I says, lookin' up't th'sky, deep blue'n cloudless, an'en back't Hermia. "We need t'make't RAIN."

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

None of my answers make Syl very happy - not that it makes a great deal of difference to her perpetual frown. But I cannot blame her, for my answers are not very encouraging.

And then, in a flash, her expression changes. Her hand falls slack and her mug falls to the ground.

"We make't rain," I says, lookin' up't th'sky, deep blue'n cloudless, an'en back't Hermia. "We need t'make't RAIN."

"Oh!" I gasp, and my smile bursts back back onto my face. "Oh my goodness. Yes! Something that will touch everyone, something that they will not even think about. Air and water - both of our strengths. And earth, too, for the river touches that as well, and takes some of its essence. Everything that Nanshe's spirit is in, we can turn into rain!"