Marina’s history was much like Viviana’s own. A trauma that they both shared, resonated with. Because of this, Marina knew that was why Viviana held herself with such an unapproachable disposition, a trained technique to rid unwanted attention away; why she lingered close to Marina’s side when they walked the streets of Isolde; why she was reluctant to trust others.
A shot from Mansi’s gun fired, and another deity hit the floor.
Viviana raised her glass to her mouth and paused, her lip curling behind the rim. “What an unadulterated bitch.”
“She used to tell me how lucky I was…” Marina gave a bitter smile, lightly tapping her fingernail on the side of her wine glass, “…that of all the attempts made, none of the gods ever succeeded.”
Viviana swung her head. “That is a new fucking low for gaslighting, Marina.”
The validation eased the knot in Marina’s chest that attempted to convince her she had a reason to feel guilty for leaving Mira to suffer.
“How did I not see it back then?” She frowned, meeting her friend’s frustrated glare. “How did I fail to see what Naia and Finnian saw in her all along?”
Mansi reloaded her gun, but Marina could sense her listening since she didn’t make a jestful comment to the deity limping off the platform.
Viviana let out a sharp sigh and placed her empty glass on the bar. “Because, on the contrary to what you think about yourself,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigar, “you are benevolent and believe the best in those you love.” She stuck the cigar between her lips, leaned over, and lit the end with the flame of the candle blazing on the bar.
Marina averted her gaze back down to her wine. “She would say those are traits that I get from him.”
If Marina were being truthful with herself, she’d caught glimpses of Mira’s selfish and uncaring nature over the years, but believing the truth, that Mira did not have it in her heart to truly love, felt detrimental.
Inhaling a long drag, Viviana rested back in her stool. “Perhaps, but is that such a terrible thing?” She let out a breath, a plume of smoke rushing from her nostrils. The cloud of aged tobacco glided over Marina’s face. “I’ve known you for centuries, Marina. Loathing Vale was easier than admitting how much you wished your relationship with him could be different. It is easier for us to hate than to mourn.”
Marina lifted her wine to her lips to hide her wince, her insides twisting with regret.
Mansi strolled back over and took a swig of her fresh glass of whiskey, as if she could sense the heaviness in Marina. It had been this way between the three of them since they’d met. A sort of silent sense when one was weak or needed the other. Somehow, they always knew and banded together, like injured sheep.
Mansi claimed the stool on Marina’s other side and lounged back on her elbows, legs spread, peering out at the bustling bar. “You drain so much energy refusing to accept what you truly desire, at the expense of making those around you happy.”
“Loathing Father was more comfortable than longing for his attention and never receiving it. And now, with Mother, to learn it was all a lie…” Marina tipped back the rest of her wine, as if it were liquid glue to hold together the quake crashing down on her heart.
Centuries of her life, those moments that held her up like endless rows of brick and mortar, all crumbled and lay at her feet. Was any of it truly real?
“It is okay to admit they failed you.” Viviana offered Marina the rest of her gin. “But it is also okay to embrace the good moments they gave you as well. They are still your memories, even if the tint on them has changed.”
Buds of time sprouted behind Marina’s eyes: Father unfolding his hand and presenting her with her first magnolia blossom, and the way his eyes squinted from his smile; Mother braiding her hair and sharing stories of her own youth, before she was imprisoned in Kaimana, and the excited jump in her voice as she spoke.
Marina would live a thousand lives and never be able to forget the rosehip and honeysuckle fragrance of her father, or the mesmerizing way her mother’s silver hair glistened like stardew against the sun’s refraction.
There was pain, a trench of it in her chest, but there was always joy too, nostalgia pouring in to warm her bones against the bitter chill of loss.
Mira’s intentions might’ve been for her own gain, but her love had still existed to some degree. She might have only loved Marina’s power, but that was still a part of her. Just as Father’s love was, whispering secrets from the leaves of the trees.
Marina took Viviana’s gin and drank it in a single tilt. The piney liquor bit her tongue but unclenched her jaw.
“Do you remember the day you met me?” Mansi reached over Marina and snatched Viviana’s cigar.
Viviana rolled her eyes. “You were embarrassingly theatrical.”
Marina chuckled under her breath, turning to Mansi. “If you are asking if I recall seeing you get thrown out of this very bar, tumble into the alley, and sob for the next half an hour, then yes.”
Mansi took a long drag of the cigar, grinning. Smoke curled out from between her teeth. “My family had just disowned me for choosing not to follow in their footsteps and take over their business in Isolde.” She handed the cigar back to Viviana. “No amount of pleading with them ever worked. You two walked with me during my darkest days, but eventually, I had a decision to make: continue to suffer for a choice that was out of my control, or move on.”
Marina recalled Mansi’s tear-struck face and belligerent, drunken state, unable to make out anything she had been crying about. Leaving her alone in an alleyway didn’t feel right, which was why Marina and Viviana scooped her up and took her to Tenebris. The first act of kindness Marina had ever shown a stranger.
Back then, Mansi was a mess and needed a place to find her footing. She disguised herself as a mortal, worked at a weapon supply market in the village, and took refuge in Marina’s home. She lived in Tenebris for decades before growing ready to return to Isolde and make a name for herself as a middle goddess.
But that one kind act was something Marina had never told her mother about, knowing it did not match the image Mira expected of her.
