“I could. I should try it and see what’s down there,” I muse. “I’ve learned that many things exist that I didn't expect to find.”
“Do not go to the bottom of the ocean and drown yourself. Simba will never forgive me for putting that idea in your head.”
I swat his leg and grumble. “Spoilsport. You’re all spoilsports.”
“What does your new picture of our world look like, love? Maybe I could draw it for you and bring it to life so you can accept it.”
My brows furrow and I murmur low, “It looks dark. It’s grasping and needy. Everything is bleak, like a Gorey print, but not as cartoonish. People are not people, but caricatures of their worst traits. There is no sunshine and no rainbow—no hope. It’s like looking out into the wasteland.”
“How very T. S. Eliot of you. You’re stuck in a post-World War I apocalyptic nightmare.”
I roll my eyes at him and shrug. “I’m not ready for anything shiny and happy yet. All I see is the falsehood of the past pictureand the hopelessness of the future. Except for our family and Lily, I was so wrong about everyone. All of their motivations and their greed: it’s like looking over a mass grave. There’s this sense of horror in scope and finality; it’s a feeling that everything is beyond redemption.”
That’s true and I have no idea how to fix it—not that I think he will either. I just need to get this out.
Frowning as I fiddle with my wrap skirt, I worry that I’m being dramatic. Losing my friends—even en masse—is not comparable to an entire town being killed. It feels like a mass death in my heart. Sari scooped up everything I had faith in and slaughtered it without having to get an iota of blood on her hands.
I’m left to deal with all the corpses of my friendships.
“You’re not alone with the corpses.” He blinks and grumbles. “Jesus, doesn’t that sound like a line out of a horror movie. Bit ironic, too, because you are rarely alone amongst corpses in reality as well. Blade got a call about your mission from last night and she was raving about the reviews.”
“We live a very weird life, my darling,” I say, cracking a small smile. “Corpses and blood and roses, notwithstanding.”
A black rose bush appears in the landscaping outside his window, crawling up the pane as it grows. “Little on the nose, isn’t it?”
Shrugging, I add a night-blooming jasmine bush as well, watching them climb and twist around one another, soft and fragrant mixing with thorns and darkness. It’s not a terrible metaphor. “I’m okay with being less obtuse today. After the mess last night, I believe being as specific as possible at all times maybe called for. People aren’t bright enough to catch the subtle shades.”
“Very true, love.”
“Want to go to the awful place and sing a sad song about supporting the people you care about? I could go for a little musical release.”
He grins. “I’m covered in charcoal and you’re trussed up like a Russian doll. Are you okay with that?”
I think for a moment, contrasting my current and old pictures of the place I’ve called home for years. “Yeah, I think it’s time I stop hiding all the facets. If they can’t handle the diamond, they’re going to get the coal.”
“Well, darling woman. Take us away to the grungiest place in the Rift.”
Grinning, I pop us out with a wink and a tiny smile.
The day’s bound to get better with music; it always does.
The Coyote Formulates A New Plan
SARI
What no one prepared me for in this realm wasn’t the petty jockeying for power or the emotional manipulations—which I secretly relish—but the sheer fatigue that comes from running on overlapping, contradictory expectations. There was a time when it was easy to be a prime manipulator behind the scenes, careful and exacting and always two steps ahead. Turns out, the moment you get even a little of what you want, everyone else becomes unpredictable, including your closest devotees.
I can’t control the ones who aren’t with Wilde, and his death has soured some of the desperation for his attention.
My darling Belle, so certain and so often right, is incorrect about Amanda. She’s not the sort of strategist who can see the entire board at once. She’s eager enough to be accepted that we can use her, but emotionally undisciplined. She can’t compartmentalize her reactions, so any slight, whether real or perceived, sets her off her axis. After the meeting, she came back to my home and spent hours whining about the tiny hardball Talia lobbed at her.Belle and I thought having people insist that the droids and clones stay away would make it simpler for our minions to stay on message.
Instead, it helped long-buried grievances rise unopposed as our enemies just waved away the pertinent because of the ridiculous.
Wilde, on the other hand, is reliable in his unpredictability. He’s infuriating with his pragmatism—a holdover from the droid days, I suppose. When he’s present, I’m grounded, and my rage finds a dependable limit to push against. The meeting’s entire chain of failures could be traced back to Wilde’s absence, like a missing load-bearing wall. He would have smoothly gotten all those dummies back on track with a smile while also wigging out the cat and Talia. It was an error in judgment to limit the attendance that I can’t fill now.
But Belle has her own calculus going about why our demand was still right. I see the logic in it—removing the counterbalance forces the conflict to surface. We gave Amanda and Tamara the rope so they’d hang themselves rather than us. Perhaps their execution was less elegant than I’d prefer, but they did get the job done in regards to airing my grievances. It will most certainly change how the next meeting goes, and possibly the entire quarter if we can maneuver everything into place
I admire the chaos almost as much as I dread it; I don’t want to be stuck with these losers forever.
