22 - Fiona's Rope

GM: You are led a short distance, perhaps skirting a pool to poolhouse showers. The girl enters with you, pulling the curtain shut behind you both. She lets you stand under warm water a while.

Helena: "Water, to drink. Please," I gasp out immediately when the clean shower water first hits me.

GM: Her hands urge you to wait, just a moment. A pause, and then she leans you from the flow of water, and a straw gently brushes your lips

Helena: I drink as slowly and normally as I can force myself to do, finishing it all unless it sickens me. I nod to her in thanks.

GM: There is a flush of electrolytes, and a hint of fruit taste. Perfect. It disappears within you effortlessly, leaving you refreshed. When you finish, you hear it be set aside, and then the girl eases you back into the water and then begins washing, using gentle sponges and pleasant smelling moisturizing soaps. She is not hurrying, but keeping you to Fiona's intention.

Helena: I find the wall with my hands, leaning so she can do what she is doing.

GM: The girl's attentions are indiscriminate but gentle, and she treats all of you well without excess intimacy. She is very close, yet quite professional. After a long pleasantness, the water is shut off, and she encircles you with a soft towel. Drying you now, equally gentle.

Helena: I stand quaking under her ministrations.

GM: When you are dry, you feel a skirt being adjusted around your middle, and then a halter raised and tied behind your neck. Fine silk, cut like a sun dress. A broad hat covers your baldness, and then she leads you out of the grand shower, back the way you came. Dressed like for a polite poolside garden party

Helena: If there is something in it for this woman to dress me like a doll, I will let her. My mind is on other things. Does it cover my emaciated ribs? That would be sufficient.

GM: You are led back to Fiona's presence, and seated on a chaise lounge. A small turn, and you could recline or even sleep. The dress likely does not cover enough to disguise your starved frame, but you are decent, and the weather warm.

Helena: I hold my arms around myself, to remind myself to stay sitting up.

GM: "I have hidden you, and Gerard will report you dead; victim of his excess."

Helena: "Julian will be... very angry."

GM: (You are rocking yourself like a child at this point)

Helena: (if I notice, I try to stop, until I forget again)

GM: "Gerard will survive it." Said with dismissal and maybe even amusement.

(you cannot stop, but you can make the motion less)

Helena: "Are you sure?" but I might have said that to myself.

GM: "We plan to end Julian soon, don't we? Gerard will play his part."

Helena: I shake my head, not even knowing what to say.

GM: "Is it in you to kill your father, Helena? That may well be required, and I will gladly return you to your fate if you lack the stomach for it."

Helena: "I gave my word I would not."

GM: "Gerard returns your word to you."

Helena: "I would hear it from him."

He made me swear... on Saras, on his grave.

GM: "You are in a poor place to hold to that, Helena, and I would not tamper with Gerard more than I have to."

Helena: "He did not return it, did he?"

GM: "Right now, he believes that he struck you for some choice word while he raped you, breaking your starved neck. He mourns over your body, even now. He does not recall your promise to hold you to it."

Helena: Oh, Serpent... I mourn for Gerard, also in the claws of power.

Helena: "His love destroyed him." I don't know who I mean. "He would not have done that, from his own mind."

GM: "I'm sure you turned him from it, but it was within him to do so, to see you torn below for his brother's sake." But you feel her consider your other meanings

Helena: Slowly I nod. This was true as well.

GM: "Will you eat at my table now?" Powerful question

Helena: "I have nothing to give you except what I know."

GM: "I do not need what you know."

Helena: "Then I have nothing."

GM: "I know. But I will give you a few things that you may have use of."

Helena: I can't keep up. I just nod dumbly. I feel like I just fought for my life and must now fight the same battle on an unknown field.

GM: Her voice eases its pressure. "May I feed you, Helena? I'd not have you make much decision with an empty body."

Odd diction, there.

Helena: "I need to eat. Yes. Please."

GM: The girl takes your hand again, leading you from the lounge to a shaded table. Plates are already sat out as you are seated and Fiona sits across from you. Smell of dainty meats and succulent fruit and fresh pastry and bread. You hear Fiona pick up her utensils too clearly for it not to be a hint.

Still you shake

Helena: "Am I out? Do I imagine this?" I say quietly. It seems so absurd.

I feel the table for something like a fork.

GM: "Please, eat," not answering your question. You find at least three forks, all in the proper order.

Helena: I locate the edge of my plate with the edge of my hand, and with a brief brush get at least the idea of the layout. I wipe that hand on my napkin, and from memory begin to collect things with my fork and bring them to my mouth.

GM: It is not so difficult to remember, but to work the fork with trembling hands.... "A drink first, Helena? To ease your nerves? You have nothing to fear here...."

Helena: That seems easier. "More water... or what that was the girl gave me.

"Please."

GM: You hear a glass set down clearly enough for you to locate it smoothly. More of the brew from before. Your added polite word brings a small, girlish giggle from Fiona. "You were well raised, Helena. Clearly not a ranger."

Helena: "What?" I ask in bewilderment. I'm not sure if she wants me to follow what she says or just let it go by.

GM: "A compliment, kind neice.... Be at ease."

Helena: I nod. But it's ridiculous. I can't be at ease. Several of my vital organs are completely missing.

GM: She seems to ignore any incongruity.

Helena: I master the fork for the few bites it will take me before my diminished stomach is too full.

GM: Your construct seems intent on your last instruction, letting you run hot until you are compromised and die. You can eat only sparely, as you assumed

Helena: ...perhaps she knows better than me, and knows we are still captured.

GM: (perhaps indeed)

Helena: ...but, it all seems real. I can't bring to mind some other reality beneath this one. Or perhaps the table is still below me and the metal is still in my mouth, and I've lost that battle.

It does not seem so unrealistic, that Gerard, enraged as he was, desperate as he was, is not even now breaking my neck as this Fiona said.

…but that he rapes me? In that man's mind... afterwards, that will be what destroys him.

GM: You feel Fiona looking at you, considering what she can gather from your demeanor. Slowly, she rises, moving behind you, and her dainty hands come to rest on your shoulders. "You are here. Shhh...."

Helena: I jerk hard under her unexpected touch.

GM: Something mutes that reaction, so you only just stir. It is as if her will holds you in place.

Helena: That would be... so restful.

GM: "There is only one more thing before I can let you sleep. Can you stay with me a while longer?"

Helena: One half of me whimpers no while the other half nods, clinging to consciousnes. I have the clear notion that I thought I was trained better than this, but I suppose one does not know until one is tried.

GM: "When Julian comes for you, you will have some chance, and you must take it. Do you understand?" It seems almost a disjointed thought. Something cold in her voice, almost like Trump.

Helena: I am back to where I was before. I have thought this thought before. When he comes I will have some chance.

Is this before Saras dies? Or after again?

I clear my throat to try and speak.

GM: Your construct responds at last to some unuttered command, and your shaking eases. Fiona is offering you something. You think she can hear you....

Helena: "When I kill him, they will kill me, yes?"

GM: "No. He goes against the King's word to try. Your plea of self defense will be heard, and you will be released," like reading from a play she has written.

Helena: "They won't... come after my House. Or my people, or my family?

"Anymore," I add.

GM: "No. No more splendid funerals in Hendrake or Jesby." Like she was there for Saras

Helena: I am gutted again when I thought I could not be. I… can't.

GM: She waits for some clarification, some objection she could sweep aside.

Helena: I search for something. "Is it true, he wasn't always like he is?" But I realize I shouldn't have asked. I don't believe anything she has said to me. Not anything at all.

GM: "Oberon's laws against incest were written for Julian's sake."

Helena: Is that yes or no?

GM: Even the tower of Fiona shudders slightly at this. Sounds like she thinks he was always bent, and always will be.

Helena: "Why did the old king's will let him live?" It is a thing of amazement to me. Poor Gerard.

GM: "The laws against fratricide were written first, and too well."

Helena: That didn't stay Julian's hand, or Brand's, or Caine's. Not well enough, I'd say.

GM: "Oberon is dead, and Random too much a coward by half.

Helena: "I'm really... I swore. Why do you think I can, when I could not before?"

GM: "Because you need not succeed to have him driven from us at last." I will be rid of him slips from her mind

Helena: I laugh. "Your justice will set upon him for the crime of coming for me, an escaped prisoner condemned by him and by your laws, when they would not for his hand on that sword in Benedict's chest?"

GM: "Benedict will come for him, and that will be enough for (the child-king) Random. I have forseen it." And you will play your part.

Helena: I have nothing else to do.

GM: "Do not be bitter," she tsks. "You were cat's paw before. This is not so much more."

Helena: I am not bitter. I am done. I have not even his seed to carry him on in honor. "What is my chance?"

GM: "Fight and live. You are not done." Her presence both grows and shrinks in your mind, growing colder.

Helena: "I will do what I have it in me to do." I realize this has not changed at all, and that in the tower or out, with Fiona or without, delusional or not, this is still true.

GM: "Good.

"I have given you a sword, should you be willing to reach for it. Your mind is such a fascinating place. I love what your sister has done with it." Distant, tinkling laughter.

Helena: My roar of anger and anguish does not reach my eyes. "There was a time I had my own swords. How do I reach for this one?"

GM: "You burned your man with it, not so long ago. It is bright in your memory. All I have done is move the gem where you might reach it. Bide your time."

Helena: I have a brief moment when I imagine I might kill her. Perhaps she is the cancer that eats them all? And then I realize, that, too, is ridiculous. They are all sick in their own ways. To blame one or the other bypasses the point. "I'm sorry for that," I feel compelled to say out loud. I am not myself.

"I don't understand how that shape is a weapon."

GM: "I have eased your suffering a bit. You may be cross with me for that if it motivates you. I don't mind," spoken like 'I don't care.' "You are well versed in combat in Chaos form, as a Demon. Julian is not."

Helena: "Changing to that form is slow. More than a full second."

GM: "No longer."

Helena: "Why that, and not my full ability to change?"

GM: "Because I do not care to disassemble you, Helena. Why send an army when a single soldier will do?"

Helena: ...but it's right there, behind the door...?

GM: Fiona waves off your question, not really caring. "I hope you are rested now," she says softly... and you awaken on the cruel floor of your cell.

New shift, old shackles. You feel yourself blink over blank, sightless eyes. How much time has passed? There is a meal of hardtack near you, but you are not hungry.

Helena: My head is shaved?

GM: Yes. No hair on you but your eyebrows and a day's hint of growth

Helena: ...but how does this fit with Gerard's dream that he killed me?

GM: You have no idea. A lie, to get you talking?

Helena: "Why would Saras trump you, stupid bitch?" I wonder, very distinct from myself, and ignore it.

…but it seemed she knew everything she wanted to know.

GM: How could a mind like that NOT? is the answer your petulant self offers.

Helena: ...so why any ruse at all? I have no idea.

Is my position really different, then? I wait for some release, or for some threat to what little of value I have left, and I have to be prepared to fight that threat.

GM: Take further stock, or just rest and wait and be prepared within yourself?

Helena: Taking further stock, I suppose, is part of preparing. I look for any track that is not a circle. And force myself to eat a small amount more.

GM: You slowly are able to recall a coldness as Gerard took you by the throat... a sense of dream when he asked what you might swear to.

Your stomach finds room.

Helena: Agh, I moan. I feel my injuries. I feel between my legs. Has something happened to me that I have missed?

GM: You are shaved, but unviolated. Your throat is all one bruise from collarbone to jaw.

Helena: So I was not healed.

GM: Yet you feel stronger than you did. And the bruise is a day old. If it had been anyone but Gerard, it would be healed by now

Helena: If enough time passes, I can go to the room, and see what changes have been wrought.

GM: When you try, you are suddenly a demon, the demon's eyes running down your face from the silver orbs that will not move. Pain, maddening, but not unbearable.

Helena: Well, fuck. she didn't plan that very well, did she? Can I go back?

GM: A thought, a longer moment, and you are you again... though slightly more to the Entity's form. You imagine how gross you must look, getting closer to those proportions on a scarecrow body.

Helena: I try to call on the other Helena.

GM: She seems even more distant. Do you risk sleep and / or total concentration?

Helena: yes. quickly as I can

GM: It seems to take hours, but you are able to worm your way back - all the switches out of place; as if they were fragile toys brushed from a table by an angry child.

Helena: Help, I ask her. I need to be back as I was fast, back like Helena...

GM: The dials are right - at 101-101-0-4. Semi-right, anyway. She can try to adjust them, but she seems even more broken now.

Helena: (How is it I am doing okay with 101 101?)

GM: (you seem fine)

Helena: …but, getting distracted... "Like when you helped me before, get back to my shape, without the entity's shape imposed on it. quickly!"

GM: She asks that you bring the Pattern to mind, to fuel what you both need to make the changes

Helena: Did I have to do that before? I do it. As best I can. I don't think I've ever done that before.

GM: It is a challenge of extreme proportions, and you are fairly shaking when you accomplish it. She touches, and -pop- you are back in your body, with your proportions

Helena: I get up and move towards the door to feel if it is open.

GM: Shut tight.

Helena: In the room, had I lost my construct of Julian I'd been building?

GM: It was kinda scattered around the jumbled storeroom, but you could probably reconstruct it with time and effort.

Helena: I have no idea how much time I have, so I go lay down, and rest, and try to concentrate on that, and not on Saras.

GM: That is not easy, but you are motivated. The Julian construct begins to reassemble. Some things from Fiona's touch seem to make the work easier, or more real perhaps.

Another meal arrives to interrupt you, but you are not kicked to it, at least

The Julian in your mind has begun to mumble things, but isn't really clear yet.

Helena: Interesting that the meals arrive, things seem back to ... normal, for the tower. So what happened to Gerard? I put that mystery out of my mind, and go back...

GM: No sign, no word, no one to ask. Back to work. The Julian in your mind finally says his first complete sentence: "Fiona is so beautiful."

Helena: Yes, well.

GM: The Saras Helena is put away to make room at the moment, so it's just you and him

Helena: His purpose was as an analysis tool, to help me know how to goad him to show me what I need to know to open the locked room.

GM: He may serve that

Helena: "Is she the only one?" I ask absently, still assembling bits.

GM: "Benedict threw her out, and she loves me now. One night, and I have won her. She is so beautiful."

Helena: He could not have mistaken that... distorted thing for Fiona, could he? "What does she look like?"

GM: No way. He shows you the Entity's form... calls her 'Lissette' with puppy dog eyes.

Fiona is too short, too slim, too... smart??? Not that he'd admit the last.

Helena: "Why love this thing, then?"

GM: "It was a perfect night, and to have won against the eldest surviving son of my father. To be best, just once."

Helena: "That's not new," I grumble. I'd guessed that motive. "But what went wrong?" I expect this construct cannot show me that, but it seems to know a bit more than I gave it.

GM: "Benedict told me she was a fake." His face contorts with rage. "It was all a game, a bait, a ruse." (you know enough from your shared memories from Alma to let the construct piece it together pretty well)

Helena: (yes, but these guesses at what happened are not enough)

GM: (yeah, not a memory - just data)

Helena: (right. I need the memory, so I'm hoping the data I have can help guide me if I ever come in contact with the man himself.)

GM: What would you do to refine them?

Helena: "Hurting her did not fix that, did it?"

GM: "No. Pain just redoubled." It must have been some loving memory, to turn so wounded, you think

Helena: I wonder if he was given his own set of dials by the entity, dials that it manipulated to make what was bad about him worse.

GM: Could it do that? You don't know.

Helena: I put together all the pieces as best I know how. Learn from it as much as I can. And very gently take it apart again and put it away, as it has been useful.

GM: It disassembles less quickly, but more completely. Almost have to make an effort to keep the pieces.

Helena: I help the Helena as best I can, too, if she can be shored up. But it does not surprise me that she is as broken as I am.

They want me to be so angry I would try to kill him? I already was. But what if they didn't know for sure? What if they needed me to be more willing to throw my life away? It might still mean my Love is dead, but the fault may be less clear.

GM: She responds well to your attention, losing her stutter and coming back into focus.

Helena: …why would he trump me?

GM: The question echoes in your mind, unanswered.

Helena: As much as there can be physical contact in this place, I spontaneously hug her. Because it is the only touch I have not had or given in anger in what seems an endless time. Even from Fiona. And her servant, kind but neutral. Maybe Gerard's touch upon my brow, his one apology... even that tainted by what came before and after.

GM: A sense of merging for a moment... not a hug, but a connection. Then she is so bright, almost real. "I can only love you as you love yourself, but anything you ask, I will do."

Helena: "I love myself very little, but what is useful about myself I love a great deal right now.

"We are back to the place where we can only be ready, and wait."