Vigor Mortis - Chapter 149: Drinking Games

My fight-or-flight instinct is still screaming at me to kill as Cassia walks in, my whole body tense with the need for movement, for preemptive action. This is the woman that actually caught me two years ago, after all. The most direct and immediate reason I got locked away in Site 4 and ended up as public enemy number two. So there is an element of anger to my reaction, certainly. An instinctive desire for revenge. But more than that, I’m just terrified.

She captured me effortlessly the first time, and I’m not sure it would be much more difficult for her to do it now.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I should rush up and try to kill her, it means I need to calm down and rein myself in. Before possessing Melik, anyone with a danger sense could tell I was nearby without much trouble, but the shell I’m hiding in suppresses most of that. I’m still me underneath it all, though, tightly wound and painfully restrained. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wrong stimulus could cause my threat to come leaking out. Calm down. I need to calm down.

I focus outward, finding that my need to calm myself is shared by another: the bartender, of all people. He stares at the High Templar with a mixture of stress and avarice that still sits well below the threshold of ‘happy to see her.’

“What are you so worried about?” I ask him, trying to distract myself.

“Well, I’m fairly certain I’m about to make a lot of money,” he answers me quietly. “I’m just not sure if it’s going to be beer money or insurance money.”

“Probably both,” Cassia says, winking at us. “But don’t worry little rich boy, I’m not here to bust whatever drug trade you no doubt have going. I’m just—wait, is that a fucking vrothizo?”

Little rich boy!? Oh fuck that, maybe I should kill her after all. Holy shit, is that what I look like right now? Wait, of course it is, Harvey even told me I look rich with this outfit. Agh, I hate that, I hate that so much. There’s no time to lament my horrid new status, though, because Cassia steps towards Lark with a dangerous tumult of emotions surging in her soul. I instinctively step closer as well, but Lark seems largely unphased, standing up and facing the High Templar directly.

“Hello, High Templar,” she greets, nodding politely.

“Wow,” Cassia sighs, shaking her head. “A talking vrothizo that wears clothes. The smart ones can have pretty interesting feeding strategies, but wearing clothes and acting polite is a first.”

Why is she…? Oh, I get it. Cassia has been away from Skyhope since I broke out of Site 4. She has no idea Lark is a Templar, and might not even know how the whole battle against me played out. She literally just got back… and should probably be debriefing right now, but has apparently decided to get drunk instead. A few other members of our squad awkwardly get up, not sure how to handle the confrontation, but Lark still seems unruffled.

“I’m not here to pursue a feeding strategy,” she answers simply. “I’m here to enjoy spending time with my squ… no, actually.” She spares a glance over towards Xavier. “My friends.”

“Is that so?” Cassia asks, and the air hisses. It twists and curls like a furious snake, wrapping around Lark and lifting her bodily into the air. “And do your friends here know how many people you had to eat to get that face of yours?”

“Ten,” Lark answers, seeming more frustrated than intimidated as the magical bindings coil around her limbs. “And I’m working every day to repay the Watcher for that sin. Now can we skip to the part where you either kill or release me?”

Cassia is an exceptionally tall woman, needing to lift Lark over a foot in the air before she can stare up at her. She seems young by High Templar standards, probably only half a decade older than I am… depending on where you measure my age from, of course. Her attractive face (at least by Melik’s standards) is marked with a handful of deep scars across her nose and cheek, but if anything they only seem to add to the roguish confidence Cassia carries herself with. The woman practically oozes danger, though even despite this she doesn’t get a chance to answer Lark before my Captain butts in.

“Okay, scratch all that,” Jelisaveta snaps, crossing her arms and stepping past me to get up in Cassia’s face. “Lark, I order you to stop encouraging people to kill you. High Templar, stand the fuck down. This is not your jurisdiction and you’d know that if you were following protocol. Drop Templar Lark. Now.”

My lips quirk a bit. Jelisa is fucking terrified, but she’s not letting it show. Cassia tilts her head to the side, regarding her incredulously.

“Did I just hear you right?” she scoffs. “Templar Lark? You expect me to believe some fucking idiot made one of the monsters from Hiverock a Templar?”

“Galdra the Annihilator did,” Jelisa answers flatly.

Cassia opens her mouth, then closes it, shaking her head. Lark drops back down, landing on her feet and immediately turning to sit back down like nothing even happened.

“Honestly, that checks out,” Cassia grumbles. “That crazy bitch totally would. So she’s really a good monster then? Or at least our monster?”

“She’s a good person,” Jelisa corrects. “And a damn good Templar. And you just assaulted her.”

Cassia groans, rubbing her face with both hands.

“Watcher’s saggy tits, okay. I’m sorry… uh, Lark, right? I’ve barely been sleeping this whole past month from mission shit and I must have killed a hundred vrothizo on the way. Some of ’em have been scary smart, too.”

“It’s fine. I’m somewhat surprised to learn I’m not the only vrothizo that isn’t a mindless, raving monster, but I suppose I shouldn’t be,” Lark answers evenly, having already turned back to face the counter so she can nurse her mug of water. “And I did tell everyone that me being out of uniform was a bad idea.”

“Mmm,” Cassia grunts, nodding at Lark before turning to Jelisa. “Apologies to you as well, miss…?”

“Inquisitor Captain Jelisaveta,” she grunts. “I’d salute, but I’m currently off-duty and I don’t really feel like it.”

Cassia barks out a laugh.

“You and your squad have balls of iron,” Cassia says approvingly. “I’ve never seen someone stare me down like your little monster did.”

“I’m tired of threats,” Lark grumbles. “People should either be decent or just try to kill me. Doing neither is pointless.”

I raise an eyebrow at that, as while I don’t at all disagree it doesn’t really sound like her. She was terrified the whole way here, after all. Worried about everyone judging her. Yet now that a confrontation actually happened, she’s more disappointed and annoyed than anything.

“Ha! Well said,” Cassia agrees, despite the fact that she’s the one who just threatened someone. “Bartender! Drinks for all these fine folks!”

“I don’t actually—” Lark begins, but Xavier elbows her in the ribs.

“Challenge her to a drinking contest!” she hisses in Lark’s ear.

“What’s a dr—”

“Do it! Trust me, it’ll be great!”

“I… challenge you to a drinking contest?” Lark says to Cassia.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Cassia cheers, pumping her fist. “You are getting destroyed, monster girl!”

“Please don’t call me that.”

What follows is one of the most hilariously one-sided games I’ve ever seen, and I take great pleasure in watching Lark utterly destroy the High Templar at it. The rules are simple: throw a ball at a target. Miss, and you take a big drink of alcohol. If both players hit, they both take a smaller drink of alcohol. The point seems to be to balance one’s throwing accuracy with one’s ability to hold liquor, requiring both to achieve victory (which is, apparently, acquired only through concession or by someone literally passing out). Lark, of course, absolutely dominates in both of these categories, because just as Xavier predicted she seems completely immune to alcohol. That and, after the first few throws, Lark has literally never missed the target. Cassia even starts unsubtly cheating with her talent and still ends up with a less accurate target record than Lark by virtue of her sheer drunkenness. Still, Cassia hits more often than she misses, so both of them tend to consume alcohol every round.

I’m just sitting back and thoroughly enjoying all of it, since there’s nothing quite like eating good food while watching a High Templar make a complete fucking fool of herself.

“Where… urp. Where tha… the fuck are you keeping all that booze, girl? It shouldn’t even fit in ya!”

“It doesn’t,” Lark answers bluntly, leveling a patient glare at Cassia until she stops fucking up the air currents in the room and then throwing another perfect target toss. “I have a spatially hyperbolic digestive system.”

“A wha?”

“For a lady who was just bragging about how many vrothizo she killed, you sure don’t seem to know much about how they work!” Xavier taunts from the sidelines. She is very rapidly becoming my favorite.

“You look happier than I’ve seen you in a while,” Harvey tells me.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t funny,” I protest, offering him a bite of food because I truly am in that good of a mood. He accepts, proving his wisdom.

“Not without being a liar,” he agrees. “Xavier is a smart cookie. I can’t think of a better set of opening rumors for our girl than playing a drinking game against a High Templar.”

“I’m not actually sure she thought that far ahead,” I admit, looking around. “But you’re right. This is drawing quite a crowd, and it pretty distinctly isn’t drawing a mob.”

“Mmm,” Harvey agrees, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re not sure who thought that far ahead?”

“Xavier,” I clarify.

“Of course,” Harvey confirms. “Did Xavier request to be referred to that way, or…?”

Referred to what way? Oh shit I called her ‘she.’ Eh, it’s probably not a dealbreaker if I admit the fault. Lying is weird like that.

“No,” I admit. “I’ve been thinking about it so it just slipped out. Hating your own body is an unenviable position. But at least, as a Templar, Xavier should be able to afford that kind of work if she wants it. Our salaries are frankly ridiculous.”

Harvey barks out a laugh.

“That they are. I’m not too proud to admit that’s why I’m here rather than back at the army. They offer a pittance compared to the Church.”

“And the Hunters offer even less than that,” I grumble. “Yet Hunters are the ones taking the brunt of forest missions while Templars spend most of their time in the city.”

“That’s life,” Harvey sighs. “Though with our numbers recently gutted I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of those Hunters start getting job offers over on our side of things.”

“You mean like Gina?” I ask.

Harvey snorts.

“Hopefully not anyone like Gina, no. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think someone needs to explain to the High Templar that she’s up against someone that literally can’t lose before she gets drunk enough to start causing property damage.”

“An excellent idea, but one I might be better suited to,” declares a voice that startles me hard enough to make me jump out of my chair and draw my sword.

Breathing hard, my heart tearing open my chest, I carefully balance my plate of food in one hand as I slowly, purposefully stop pointing my blade at the suddenly-present Braum the Ubiquitous. Or at least one of his clones. Holy fuck he surprised me. I am not used to being surprised.

“Apologies for the sudden entrance,” Braum says, nodding his head. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But I picked up on your conversation when looking for my friend and didn’t want to pretend I hadn’t heard.”

“I-it’s, uh, it’s fine,” I breathe, sinking back into my seat. “Y-you startled me, is all.”

“This is now the second time in as many hours I’ve seen you freak out over a High Templar,” Harvey comments, amused.

“I’m just jumpy, okay?” I grumble. “I’ve never fought in a war before.”

“Understandable, given what I’ve been briefed about the situation,” Braum allows. “Apologies for intervening while you’re trying to unwind. But I couldn’t help but overhear the words ‘High Templar’ and ‘property damage’ spoken in the same sentence, and decided it was well past time to pick up Cassia. Cassia!”

Braum heads towards his fellow High Templar, who immediately looks his way as he calls out her name and lights up with joy.

“Braum! Brauuuum!” she slurs, drunkenly staggering over to and collapsing on his shoulders affectionately. “This girl’s really good at handlin’ balls! Heh. Heh heh heh. Hi Braum.”

“Hello, Cassia,” he answers, patting her on the back. “I cannot help but notice that you have yet to report to command, and are also extremely drunk.”

“M’losing a drinking game,” she mutters. “Against a friendly monster with a hollow fuckin’ leg.”

“It’s a form of teleportation, actually,” Lark corrects, but Cassia groans so loudly I doubt she hears it.

“She talks like my mom,” Cassia complains. “And she’s got kitty ears. Did you see them?”

“Yes, Cassia, I have indeed seen them,” Braum assures her. “Bartender, could I trouble you for some water?”

“Yes sir,” the man behind the counter agrees enthusiastically, seeming to enjoy this spectacle even more than I have been. Well, I suppose he was right; he’s gotten a lot of beer money tonight.

“Noooo, Braaaum,” Cassia whines. “Water tastes so… watery. Like… like really cheap beer.”

“Such as, for example, beer that has been watered down?” Braum prompts unrepentantly.

“Yus! Yeah! Exactly that. See, you get me, Braum.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Braum the Ubiquitous answers, accepting a large mug from the bartender and bringing it to Cassia’s lips. “Now drink your water.”

“But then I’ll lose the contest!”

“Then you lose,” Braum insists, a second clone popping into existence to help her hydrate while she protests. “I hope you didn’t bet away anything important this time.”

“I don’t believe we agreed on terms before the challenge commenced,” Lark answers simply. “Best I can tell I’ve been competing in order to win the amusement of my squad, which I seem to have accomplished handily.”

She motions to us, flashing Braum a closed-lipped smile. Xavier laughs and claps a few times.

“You have indeed!” she confirms.

“I’m afraid I’m no expert on the nuances of vrothizo biology,” Braum hums, “but considering your propensity to ignore other toxins would I be correct in guessing you’re incapable of getting drunk?”

“That’s correct,” Lark nods.

“WHAT!” Cassia yelps, spitting out a mouthful of water. “FUCK!”

“Language,” Lark chides.

Braum actually chuckles at that, guiding the mug of water back up to Cassia’s lips, where she proceeds to blow indignant bubbles in the drink.

“I think we’ll be going now,” Braum announces. “Would it be acceptable for me to return the mug later today, when I return to pay off her tab?”

“Of course, sir,” the tavern owner allows, and Braum nods his thanks.

“Captain Jelisaveta, It was interesting getting to meet you and your squad,” Braum continues. “Though I believe command will take an unfortunate interest in your decisions today.”

“Well you can tell command that if they have a problem with a Templar going out and acting like a Watcher-damn person during their mandated rest break, they can fucking fight me over it,” Jelisa answers firmly, apparently a little buzzed herself. “I’m not sacrificing my squad’s mental well-being so they can pretend we don’t even exist.”

There’s a pause.

“I will… communicate your opinion on the matter,” Braum answers diplomatically. “If, perhaps, not in those exact words. Have a lovely afternoon.”

He bows, jostling Cassia slightly and causing her to make a few disgruntled noises before they both finally depart. Silence descends on the room for a few dumbfounded moments before Xavier suddenly claps her hands again.

“Well!” she declares delightedly. “I didn’t expect the High Templars to be like that, did you Lark?”

“Braum was nice,” Lark opinies. “Like Galdra.”

“Wait, you think Galdra is nice?” I ask.

Lark shrugs.

“She always cared for me before Captain Jelisaveta took over, remember? She got me into the Templars and taught me a lot. I’m very grateful to her.”

“I guess,” I allow, wrinkling my nose.

“Nice or not, I can’t stop thinking about how much Braum might be spying on us all the time,” Harvey grunts.

“I mean, probably enough to hear you say that,” Xavier answers, wiggling her eyebrows. “You’d better watch out.”

I’d better watch out indeed. Of course, Braum isn’t the only one capable of long-range spying. His soul might not be in the clones he sent to pick up Cassia, but I can still feel his true body within the main Church building, his soul a pleasant mix of exasperation, amusement, and a bit of affection towards his utterly wasted comrade. Cassia returns the sentiment, which I admit is kind of cute. I still don’t like her, but it’s cute.

What isn’t cute is how completely on-the-money Harvey’s worry is. I can see our tavern reflected in part of Braum’s glass-like soul, his attention undoubtedly on us. I assume that attention is due to Lark, and the natural caution any person would have upon seeing a vrothizo surrounded by innocent people.

But on the off-chance it’s because of me, I suspect I’ll need to be a lot more careful.