Vigor Mortis - Chapter 187: Tour Guide

“Explain what you mean,” Queen Galrotta hisses furiously, “by ‘related.'”

“She’s my sister,” I answer, shrugging, “in the same way that The One Below All is my brother. I didn’t just fuse with any old soul, I fused with a sapient portal to the universe mana comes from.”

I release some of that mana from my hand as a demonstration, showing her the annihilation effect. She won’t know what that is and she can’t use mana sight with knowledge of magic having been removed from her soul, but even in the likely event she assumes it’s a spell she’d know that I shouldn’t be able to cast spells without weaving them first. Sure enough, I feel her surprise.

“Nawra and I can communicate via this other dimension. She has been kind and helpful to me, and she considers me family,” I continue. “I had no reason to not reciprocate.”

Queen Galrotta—I suppose I should start thinking of her as ‘mother,’ but it’s weird for someone I barely know—gives me a stare of utter disbelief. I’m pretty used to people looking at me like that, though, so I don’t really care. Ha, yeah, it’s always the same. ‘Getting their worldview shattered’ is definitely one of my favorite emotions to feel in people. Oh, wait, she’s actually getting mad. That’s not a good sign. Oh, damn it, she is getting mad. What did we do wrong this time?

“Is the Progenitor just tormenting me at this point?” Queen Galrotta hisses. “Is this just a fucking joke to her? Doing this to my own daughter, of all people?”

“Uh, what?” I ask, tilting my head with surprise. “Grandmama had nothing to do with this. She didn’t even know Vita existed until she and Malrosa had already been the same person for a couple days. And when she finally found out about the whole Nawra thing, she was pretty freaked out.”

Woah, that’s a lot of emotions. No kidding. She’s suspicious, frightened, angry, confused, conflicted… I guess it’s a lot to take in at once, especially for an old woman who hasn’t really socialized in decades.

“…Who are you, really?” Queen Galrotta asks.

A valid question. Though one we’ve already answered. Shush, Zoi, elaborations are helpful.

“I am the the memories, emotions, and experiences your daughter had contained with this body’s brain, combined with the soul of a Lich that was raised as a human on The Plentiful Wood. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still Malrosa… I’m just also more than that now. I love my sister, Talanika. I love automation crafting, though I haven’t had much opportunity to indulge that hobby in a while. And while I don’t remember you well, mother, I’m here because I regret losing those memories and want to make new ones. I am your daughter in every way that matters, and I will continue to be even after I leave this flesh.”

She stares at us, and for a moment my heart seizes in fear of rejection. Even though I barely know her, even though I’m used to being demonized and shunned and hated by nearly everyone I meet, the terror over this stupid little thing takes hold of me. But ultimately, Queen Galrotta’s eyes signal assent. No… my mother’s eyes do.

“Alright,” she says. “I believe you, Malrosa. And I love you, no matter what. It’s just… do you understand how evil Nawra is?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I shrug. “But also, Liriope tried to genocide the island the non-Malrosa half of me comes from, and if I can forgive that then I can forgive Nawra for creating the tools of that genocide in the first place. Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m not thrilled about the fact that she’s a terrible person, but what exactly is anybody supposed to do about it? She’s substantially more powerful than the Progenitor. Why wouldn’t grandmama negotiate peace?”

“Is that all that matters to you?” she asks. “Power?”

I sigh, absentmindedly scratching my chest setae. I didn’t really want to get into an argument today.

“What matters to me right now is that I’m getting to see my mom again,” I tell her. “Honestly, I’d just rather shelve the whole thing about big sis. I’ve had a really long and terrible couple of years and I’m looking forward to just being able to relax for a while. Is that okay? Or are you going to have to focus on this conversation? There’s a lot of other things we can talk about instead.”

She seems bitter about that, but I get the impression that she’s a pretty bitter person. Still, she ultimately assents.

“…Of course, Malrosa,” she answers. “How about you tell me of these new memories of yours?”

I nod and get started. Honestly, this is a huge part of why I love Liriope so much: they get it. My fellow Queens have been experimenting with animancy for longer than Valka has even existed. When I explain that I’ve fused my soul with an immortal Lich, not everybody likes that… but everybody understands, and nobody is out for my head over it. I’m still Malrosa, even just in part, and that’s what matters to them because they’ve seen this song and dance before enough times to respect the personhood of those who change. It’s a shame they don’t really respect the personhood of other species, but I’ll take what I can get. Our standards are extremely low!

To my mother’s credit, she is disgusted at the appropriate parts of my story. She does actually seem to care that Skyhope is a cesspool of exploitation and hunger, despite the fact that it doesn’t concern Liriope. She even stops calling the humans savages when I ask her not to. I suppose being locked up in here by the Progenitor for so long gives a person plenty of time to introspect, and I suppose mother wouldn’t care about Nawra in the first place if she didn’t care about evil things done to people of other cultures. Considering the genocides Liriope gets up to, though, Nawra seems like a weird hill to die on. Why protest her so vehemently when there are so many other problems much closer to home? It seems weird to me, but I was the one who said I didn’t wanna argue about it so I leave it be.

I depart a few hours later, glad that we talked. My family is getting comically large, but that family is important to me. From the moment I first thought of Lyn as my mom, the moment I first trusted her with everything she’d already said and proved she would do for me, family became essential to me. I want to be able to support my family and give them everything they need, and I’m powerful enough to do that for a lot of people at once. I guess that’s pretty much my life goal, when I think about it. Feels weird to acknowledge that.

I fly towards where I feel Tala’s soul, which turns out to just be her house. Her servants let me in and it doesn’t take long for her to be running down the hallway towards me.

“Mal-Mal!” she cheers, crashing into me for a hug. “Or, uh… Taal? Zoi? Sorry, I should have asked…”

“I… huh. I don’t actually know who I am right now, so it’s fine,” I assure her. “I guess I’m just sort of a Malrosa stew. It doesn’t really matter anyway, both of us like it when you call us Mal-Mal.”

“Huh, okay,” Tala says. “Does this mean you’re merging again?”

“No, this just happens sometimes,” I shrug. “We’ll stop being a stew pretty soon, probably.”

“Okay,” Tala agrees. “How’d things go with mom?”

“A lot better than I was afraid of,” I report. “We talked a bit about Nawra, turns out mother was really mad about something she did. We mostly just talked about everything that happened to me, though.”

“Yeah, that’d certainly take a few hours,” Tala laughs. “Well, what do you wanna do now?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “…Hmm. Actually, would you be offended if I just went home and tinkered? I know I just got here, but I’m gonna have to be social all day tomorrow with Penelope showing up, and… y’know.”

She pouts a little, which is a pretty complicated expression on an Athanatos, but it twists into acquiescence soon afterwards.

“Yeah, okay,” Tala confirms. “I know how you are, Mal-Mal. It’s almost reassuring to see that you’re still a complete recluse.”

I chuckle, shrugging awkwardly.

“Can you believe my social skills got worse when I merged with Vita?”

“Not if I hadn’t seen it firsthand,” she jabs. “Alright, get out of here. But be prepared for me following you and your girlfriend around all day, tomorrow!”

“Aww, Tala! All day? What if we wanna go on a date?”

“You’re not going to have any time for that tomorrow and you know it,” she smirks. “You’re going to be stuck introducing the human progenitor to everyone you lock eyes with.”

I tilt my head in confusion. The what? Oh, gosh, wait. Penelope is a dramatically altered, biologically superior human who intends to bring immortality to the human race and will probably end up ruling it in some capacity. Which is… pretty much what the Progenitor did with us.

“…Do you think people will like her more or less if we introduce her that way?” I ask.

“You definitely don’t want to call her that, Mal-Mal,” Tala says firmly. “Everybody will be thinking it, but don’t say it out loud.”

“Gotcha,” I nod. “I mean, no I don’t gotcha, I don’t get why we shouldn’t say something everyone is thinking, but I’ll trust you and just not do it.”

She laughs and gives me one more squeeze.

“Thank you. I look forward to meeting her. Now go de-stress, Mal-Mal.”

I give her eight thumbs-up.

“Will do!” I agree cheerfully.

It doesn’t take long for me to walk home, where my own servants are waiting and overjoyed to see me. Everything is set up in case I might want to partake—food, bath, massage, and everything in between. It’s so good to be home. Of course, I ignore all of that and go to my workshop, which has very dutifully been dusted and cleaned but not organized, just the way I like it.

I’m very clearly Taal now as I take a deep breath, basking in the familiarity of my silly little mechanical toy room. I love this shit, and I don’t really know why. It’s always been calming to assemble and disassemble things, messing with the minutiae of gears and axles and funky bits of engineering to make useless do-nothings. When I was in Liriope last time, I was too busy to work on much in this room other than my armor, and back on Verdantop I don’t really have the materials to make any of this stuff, not unless I wanna try making it from wood and chitin. Which… hmm. I mean, I guess I could do that, but it’s less fun if they aren’t enchanted to keep moving on their own. …Still could be pretty fun, though. Maybe I’ll do that.

Anyway, my point is that I’ve missed this. On a whim I start putting together a simple gearbox that’ll periodically reverse the direction of the axle it drives and the next thing I know it’s the middle of the night and I have the half-assembled skeleton of a toy bird figurine that’ll rotate its head back and forth. I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. I don’t really make them for a reason other than the fact that I like making them. Maybe I’ll start giving them away as gifts? I’ll have to avoid using metal, but that’s doable. Lark might like the bird one. Her name is a bird, so it makes sense.

I barely manage to extract myself from my workshop and curl up into my bed (holy shit I forgot how comfy this bed is) before falling asleep. It takes me a little while to get my bearings when I wake up, but it doesn’t take long for me to jump to my feet and giddily fly to the teleport platform. A quick order from me is all it takes to get authorization and connection to Verdantop, and moments later I’m hugging my big, wonderful dragon.

“You made it, Penelope!”

“Of course I made it,” she grumbles. “You, on the other hand, were late. An hour after first light, you said.”

“I… might have slept in a little,” I admit sheepishly. “Maybe. Um… y’know, just as a completely unrelated question… what time is it?”

“You are three and a half hours late, darling,” Penelope answers blithely. “But I more or less expected that so I suppose I can forgive you.”

She gives me a small smile, and I pull back from the hug to actually take a moment and see how she’s doing. Her scales are mostly gray with a few swirling patches of blue dancing around, and that basic emotional state—mostly depressed but with sparks of joy here and there—is reflected clearly in her soul. As I was afraid of, she’s still not doing great, but Penelope is a noble through and through and won’t tolerate more than a day’s delay on this. She’ll push forward and get things done.

“Alright,” I tell her, nodding. “Let’s get going, then. Our first stop should probably be grandmama.”

“Is there any special title I should be calling her other than ‘the Progenitor,’ as a dignitary from a foreign state?” Penelope asks.

Oh gosh I don’t know.

“Uh… I don’t think so?” I hedge. “Just be unfailingly polite and it should go mostly fine.”

She nods.

“I can do that.”

We exit the teleportation building, Penelope looking around the basic tunnel with a curious frown. Other than the magical lighting there’s not really anything of note here: it’s just a simple rock tunnel, large enough that Penelope doesn’t have to stoop but completely unadorned, designed only for transporting goods to and from the teleportation platforms. We’re not in Liriope proper yet. I smugly watch my girlfriend’s expression morph to shock as the tunnel finally opens up into the capital city and the majesty of my home becomes apparent.

God’s Avarice burns at the top of the massive cavern, the lush greenery and beautifully crafted walkways branching out to every corner of the city. Much like To-Kill’s work on Mimas, every building and every street is expertly planned for both function and form, the ease of navigation though the city rivaled only by the beauty of the walk.

“Why is there so much green?” Penelope asks.

“…Huh?” I manage.

“Green. It’s a terrible color. Besides, isn’t it dangerous having so much soil around?”

Oh, right. The people of Verdantop kind of have a vendetta against forests.

“It’s safe, none of the plants here grow even a single percentage as quickly as Verdantop plants,” I explain. “Most cultures find plants quite relaxing and beautiful.”

“I see,” Penelope says flatly. “How do you all not suffocate with all that fire burning at the top of the cavern?”

“Uhh… God’s Avarice isn’t really fire, it just looks like a giant ball of weird liquidy fire for some reason? I’m not actually sure how it works, we’re mostly just told to never fly too close to it.”

“Well that just makes me more curious,” Penelope mutters, her massive tail flicking back and forth behind her.

“Uh… yeah, maybe we can ask someone about that,” I hedge. “Are you ready to go see the Progenitor?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Do you want to walk or fly?”

Penelope thinks on that for a moment, glancing around.

“…Walk, I think,” she decides. “Seeing things from the air is always far more awe-inspiring after one has first explored them from the ground. The perspective is humbling.”

What, and my awesome magical hometown with no hunger or poverty isn’t? Bah! I take her on a scenic tour anyway, earning us a fuckton of curious stares from the workers on the streets. I can hardly blame them, of course, since Penelope is quite the uniquely beautiful sight. Today she’s wearing a short blue skirt with tight leggings underneath, leaving her taloned feet bare. Her top is a duller gray—which, yes, means she literally matched her clothing to her mood—and has a low-cut front that shows off her breasts to precisely nobody that cares. We’re all chitinous bug people, so the shape of her chest is a confusing curiosity at most. Not sure what she was going for there.

We don’t run into any Queens on our way to the Progenitor’s home, which is pretty normal since there aren’t a lot of us. Still, it’s relieving: while the workers are confused, they see Penelope with me and therefore have nary a negative thought about her presence. A Princess is escorting her, therefore she belongs here. Easy. It’s a good palate cleanser for the xenophobia to come.

I request an audience with the Progenitor when we arrive at our destination, and we only have to wait outside for about ten minutes before we get permission to enter. I’ve told Penelope what to expect inside, but she’s still suitably impressed by the artistry on display, from the magical weaves on the walls to the masterful mosaic on the ceiling. The Progenitor herself is sitting on her usual throne when we arrive in the audience chamber, and while she’s probably about an inch taller than when last I saw her, she’s still miniscule and adorable. Penelope keeps a careful lock on her expression, but I can see in her soul that she, too, wants to pick up the fluffy little god-queen and squish her adorable little fuzzy body to bits. …And since this is Penelope we’re talking about, that visceral description almost certainly isn’t a metaphor. Dang it Penelope, don’t fantasize about killing my great-great-grandmother! She might notice!

Fortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case. The Progenitor barely even looks at my girlfriend before focusing on me, delight blooming in her eyes.

“Welcome home, Malrosa,” she says.

“It’s good to be back, grandmama,” I answer her. She chuckles.

“I don’t let people call me that once they get to a certain age,” she warns, “but I suppose you have gotten younger recently.”

“It is the duty of the eldest to spoil the youngest,” I agree sagely, and she barks out a quick laugh before her expression becomes serious.

“So, I heard the reports regarding supply intake yesterday,” she says. “Good work.”

“Thank you, Progenitor,” I answer, because she’s very much the Progenitor right now more than she’s my grandmama.

“Let’s talk about your methods, however,” the Progenitor continues. “It’s important that these intakes are stable, and I know you’re not using workers for labor. I’d like you to outline your methodology and your estimates as to the sustainability thereof.”

“Yes, Progenitor,” I report. “I’ll start with sustainability, as I believe that to be the most salient issue myself. Both food and lumber are plentiful, and they restore themselves faster than we can remove them as long as there is enough water. However, because Verdantop’s stores of water are underground, we don’t currently have the ability to properly survey the exact amount available, and based on average rainfall it’s very possible that we’re draining the aquifers. I’d like to request a worker team…”

…And so it goes. We talk about Verdantop for nearly two hours, mostly in regards to how I’m ‘handling the local populous’ and ensuring a reliable intake of the resources Liriope needs, though there’s the occasional more personal question mixed in here and there about how I’m doing. Most notably, of course, is the fact that the Progenitor does not so much as look at Penelope throughout all of this. It’s a very deliberate snub, and clearly a test, but not even a peek into her emotions gives me any hints on what exactly she’s testing. Penelope, for her part, stays patient and silent the entire time, seeming almost comfortable with the situation, or at least very experienced at dealing with this sort of thing. The way her mind churns with social calculations indicates that she certainly isn’t bored. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’s plotting, and something about that makes her nostalgic enough to start turning more of her gray into blue. Only after we’ve finally exhausted every possible minutiae about island material management does the Progenitor finally focus her eyes on the non-Athanatos in the room.

“…By the by, I appreciate that you’ve chosen someone with actual patience to help temper you, Malrosa,” she says blandly.

“Oh, uh, haha,” I chuckle awkwardly, because what else can you do when the god-queen of your civilization disses you with a backhanded compliment about your girlfriend. “Penelope is a woman of many talents, for sure.”

“Yes, with a soul like hers I assumed she’d be a lot more unstable,” the Progenitor continues. “Thankfully, I can see that she has some measure of basic temperance, so I suppose we can discuss the dragon in the room, so to speak. Introduce yourself if you’re able, girl.”

Penelope bows her head in a manner that would be polite for a human but means relatively little to an Athanatos. But she knows that, so it’s probably purposeful?

“I am Penelope Vesuvius, leader of Mimas and former First Lady of Valka,” she says in Liriope’s language, her accent near-perfect.

“I care not for your meaningless titles,” the Progenitor dismisses. “I see Malrosa has taught you to speak, at least.”

“No, Athanatos Progenitor,” Penelope answers, her head still bowed. “Malrosa is quite possibly the worst teacher I’ve ever had the misfortune to request information from. A soldier by the name of To-Kill-From-Above was my instructor, given the task after a few failed attempts at comprehensibility from your great-great-granddaughter.”

Uh. Wow. Rude. Grandmama actually laughs at that, too! Super rude!

“Patience, confidence, and even wit!” the Progenitor chuckles. “My, my. I suppose I’ve met worse upstart children playing with eternity before. You’re the one who wiped out the lower levels with a plague, aren’t you? You’ll share every last thing you know about the exploits you found in worker and soldier biology.”

“Of course, Progenitor,” Penelope responds easily. “Would you prefer the report verbally or in writing?”

“Writing,” the Progenitor answers, her eyes giving the slightest smile. “Now then, child. What happened to that mess of a soul you have?”

“A series of unfortunate circumstances, overestimations, and mistakes,” Penelope answers simply, standing up straight. “The short of it is that I was captured by a hostile Pneuma mage and had to circumvent their alterations in order to kill them. I’m still recovering from the consequences, spiritually and mentally, but we determined it would be wise to take things slow until we could get input from someone more experienced.”

“I see,” the Progenitor hums. “And is that why you are here?”

“No,” Penelope answers, shaking her head. “I am certainly not opposed to receiving the wisdom of your people, if any deign to offer it, but I am here because I love your great-great granddaughter, and she wished for me to see her home. No more, and no less.”

The Progenitor leans forwards, resting her chin on a fist.

“…You are a skilled manipulator for someone so young,” she says.

“Thank you, Athanatos Progenitor,” Penelope says, smiling genuinely. “I am honored you would think so.”

“You have my blessing to stay in Liriope,” the Progenitor decrees. “Though I expect your written report at least a day before you depart.”

“Um… speaking of departing,” I butt in hesitantly, earning me a mild glower from the Progenitor but not a demand to stop. “…Nawra requested my presence on her island and told me that you would know how to get there.”

Confusion. Frustration. Even a hint of fear. The Progenitor’s reaction to hearing that is… less than heartening, to be sure.

“I see,” she mutters. “To her island, she said? Why?”

“She just wants to meet in person,” I shrug noncommittally.

“Well, it’s true that she treats you with an unusual amount of affection,” the Progenitor muses. “It will… probably be safe. You get along with her, yes?”

“More or less, yeah,” I confirm. “She can be a bit creepy, but she’s nice.”

“Nice, you say,” the Progenitor sighs. “Well, if nothing else, this trip should disabuse you of that notion. You be very, very careful with her, you understand, Malrosa? Stay on your best behavior.”

“Yes, grandmama.”

“Alright, I’ll arrange passage. When did you need to arrive?”

“Um, I was hoping to stay here for ten days or so with Penelope, then bring some of my other friends along to go see her, I guess?”

“I suppose that’s doable,” the Progenitor nods. “How many friends? Are they mortal? It’s probably best to leave the mortals at home.”

I glance at Penelope, and she shrugs.

“Lark, in her traditional self-destructive fashion, did want to come. Jelisaveta will likely feel the need to accompany her.”

“Is Lark mortal?” I ask.

Penelope blinks.

“I… that’s a good question, actually. I’m not sure.”

“Grandmama, are vrothizo immortal?”

She seems just as surprised by the question as Penelope was.

“I assume so?” she hedges. “Clear Ones are, and there’s no reason vrothizo wouldn’t be.”

“Is Nawra going to kill any mortals we bring or something?”

“Probably not, she keeps plenty of her own,” the Progenitor answers. “They’re just going to be… rather distressed by the experience, I feel.”

“Jelisa will be right at home then!” I nod. “Alright, so there will be four of us, probably.”

“Zoi, we’ve talked about this,” Penelope sighs. “It’s not okay to torment someone just because they’re ‘used to it.'”

Aww, she guessed my identity right! It’s sort of obvious when you say things like that, you know.

“It’s not like I’m going to force Jelisa to come!” I protest to Taal and Penelope at the same time.

“Okay, run along you two, you can bicker at home,” the Progenitor dismisses affectionately. “Enjoy your stay, Penelope.”

“Thank you, Athanatos Progenitor,” Penelope bows, and we depart together, staying silent until we’re well outside the Progenitor’s home and down the street.

“…You okay?” I ask when we’re several times out of earshot.

“Of course I’m okay,” Penelope shrugs. “Older people always think they’re better than people our age. It’s a simple matter to feed their ego on the matter, make them feel respected, and earn their appreciation by establishing yourself as a useful lesser who knows their place.”

“It, uh, sounded like she knew you were doing that, though?” I hedge. “Isn’t that bad?”

“Of course not,” Penelope insists. “A manipulator wants to be manipulated. It’s how they see all social interaction in the first place. And even if she isn’t like that, the beautiful thing about appealing to someone’s ego is that it tends to work even if they know you’re doing it.”

“Huh,” I grunt. “I honestly don’t think I’ll ever understand this stuff.”

“Well, that’s what you have me for, darling,” Penelope answers, leaning down to kiss me on the top of the head.

“Malrosa, what is that and why are you letting it touch you?”

Who the actual fuck? I turn to face the voice, looking at a Queen I… honestly do not recognize. I guess I don’t recognize most of us anymore, though. She’s about my height, with a similar build too, and I kind of like her skirt. It’s a nice, sparkly purple. I hate her soul, though. The memory core smells like burnt grease.

“Honestly, I’d heard you’d let a savage get the better of you, but I didn’t think you’d go native,” she continues. Wow! I wonder if the Progenitor would forgive me for killing her…? I guess probably not.

“What is happening?” I ask Penelope.

“Well… I think we’re getting bullied?” she hedges. “She’s not doing a very good job of it, though.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve probably heard that I’ve been having memory troubles,” I say, turning back to the Queen. “Who are you, again?”

She scoffs.

“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten me, Malrosa! I’m Queen Zalrenza. Remember? We were Princesses together, three decades ago.”

Huh. Okay. That kind of rings a bell. She’s the bitch that was always mocking us about dating Bahregar. Oh yeah! Jeez, I could have gone without remembering her, honestly.

“Right, yeah, Zalrenza,” I say, signaling understanding. “Welp, um, I don’t like you, so I’m going to leave now. Bye!”

I wave and turn around as Penelope starts laughing beside me, following my lead. The shock and bafflement radiating behind me are pretty amusing, but like, what the fuck did she expect me to say to that? People are so weird. She sputters something indignant at me but I ignore her, just opting to walk away. If I can’t kill her, there’s nothing else I want to do with the woman. We’re really supposed to be getting better about this whole murdering thing. Okay, yes, you’re right, but—

I stop as a hand touches my shoulder. Zalrenza’s hand. Touches. My shoulder. I think I’ve really gotten a lot better about the whole ‘being touched’ thing, overall. I give and receive a lot of hugs and cuddles these days, after all, but it’s always with someone I like, someone I trust. Not this stuck-up xenophobic little bitch.

“I said, don’t just walk away from me, you stupid child!” Zalrenza snaps, still not letting go of me. “You don’t have to be so rude, I’m just worried about you! It was one thing watching you indulge that Clear One, but this? Come on, Malrosa, this isn’t even a person. It’d be one thing if you were into that, but we both know you prefer to be ordered around.”

“Ooh, you’re going to regret that,” Penelope comments, though she doesn’t say it like it’s a threat. She says it like she’s excited.

“You be silent,” Zalrenza snaps at her. “How dare you speak to me.”

There’s a sickening crack as part of the chitin on my chest breaks open, a blue light spilling out for a moment before I cover it up and start to repair the damage. Nope, nope nope nope. Can’t do that yet. We’re not ready. I take a deep breath, focusing on that disgusting sensation instead of the one on my shoulder for a while. I need to destroy this woman, but I’m not actually allowed to hurt her. This is way outside my area of expertise. Is there some way I’d just be allowed to kick her ass, or…? Ah. Right. There is something.

“…Wanna play Hoopball?” I hiss, my tendrils uncurling.

“What?” she asks.

“You seem insistent on hanging out,” I growl. “And you don’t seem to think my choice in partner is up to your standards. So. Let’s have a match. Me, Penelope, and Tala versus you and our old teachers. I need to introduce her to them anyway.”

“You want me to team up with Queen Venatila and Queen Nagatilka… to play you in Hoopball? Really?”

“We used to play, didn’t we?” I ask. “You still like it?”

“I’m just surprised you’re so eager to get beaten,” Zalrenza sneers. “Fine. I can go ask and see if they’re interested in your little challenge. It seems rather unfair for three Queens to go up against two Princesses and a pet, though.”

I am going to fucking eat her. We are not going to eat her! We’re just going to make her suffer. Ugh! Fine!

“We’ll be at the courts in an hour,” I growl, and then smack her hand off of me as lightly as I can convince myself to. Which, unfortunately, isn’t actually enough to hurt her.

“See you then, I suppose,” Queen Zalrenza says dismissively, finally turning to leave. “It’ll be cathartic.”

I certainly hope so. Penelope and I watch her saunter off as I finally remove my hand from my chest, the chitin back in one piece like it’s supposed to be.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter to her. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Penelope nods. “That sort of thing will probably get old as the days go on but right now I’m mostly just… mildly bemused. Sort of a novel experience, really. Some things cross cultures, I suppose. Incidentally, what’s hoopball?”

“A full-contact sport.”

Her scales go full blue, with just a little hint of purple. Purple can sometimes be dangerous, but I don’t really mind, given the circumstances.

“Oh Watcher below, I’m going to get to choke her,” Penelope rumbles. “I love you so fucking much.”