SMOGWALKERS: A COLLABORATIVE DIESELPUNK ROLEPLAY
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Prologue: On the Subject of Falling Fairies
Rumors of fairies falling from the sky have existed ever since the first generation of the esoterically designed cyborgs began to die. It would be difficult for rumors not to catch on when a once living doll of flesh and polymer goes splat on the local harvester’s scrap shop. Even harder if that doll was chalk full of cutting edge technologies. When it happens more than once, well let’s just say most Grimelin’s consider it a possibility. It didn’t take long for folks to figure out where the things were coming from; word of the elusive working class of the Sylphs who’d abandoned them had already spread far enough.
See, a Fairyfall can be a good thing for a gremlin, sure. Plenty of tech to harvest, right? But keep in mind - an adult sized corpse falling from that high up - it could do some REAL damage when it hits the ground. Quite a bit of that tech you might be interested in is just as likely to be splattered just the same as the poor things guts. Not to mention,even if you get your hands on the stuff you’ll be spending every waking moment trying to keep it from every opportunity-eager Gremlin who thinks they can take it from you. So the truth is, Fairyfalls are rarely anything but trouble.
They say when a fairy dies the Sylphs drop the thing from the spheres so that they might return to the earth, so aligned to nature that they are - it’s only right they’re returned to it when they die. The good news is, The Sylphs at least know what they’re doing. They want the corpses hitting the earth, not the towers. The only time you're going to end up seeing a Fairyfall is if the weather just so happens to blow the cadaver so far off trajectory - or if the poor thing simply dropped dead while it was working.
No matter which way you cut it - you’d have to have VERY bad luck to end up with a Fairyfall right on your roof.
Chapter One: Ania Has Very Bad Luck.
Ethel was slipping in and out of consciousness as she plummeted to what was increasingly seeming like her encroaching death. Suffice it to say, she was not having a GREAT day. Each time she came too, she struggled in vain to regain control of her descent, before once again blacking out and waking up again moments later. The next time she opened her eyes, rusted metal ground was approaching at concerning speeds. With the best of the reflexes her slipping mind could conjure, she splayed her wings out, in a desperate bid to alter her lethal trajectory. The force of her fall, too much for the wings so suddenly, caused her to spiral out of control, even with her slowed descent. The last thing she felt before blacking out for good was her side slamming into a nearby section of wall and her left wing breaking with a sickening ‘pop.’ Her limp form tumbled down another story, hitting some antenna on its way down before landing on the ‘roof’ of the Lamplight bar. Her unconscious body laid prone, her breathing shallow.The Lamplight bar could be called a lot of things. Gross, Damp, Sticky, always smelling of mold. it was not a clean establishment,and it was not a quiet establishment- nothing in the towers ever was,background a constant clank clank *thunk* whirr clank of heavy machinery that never stops. However, it provided a valuable service in the mid-levels, which was alcohol and a semi-safe place to spend a few hours. more importantly, it was reliable. Ania made sure of that. She opened up at 6 every single day-for the post work crowd- and today Ania had been awake since early in the morning fiddling with the antennae on top of the bar, making sure the music she pirated from some old world classicals radio in the upper-levels wasn't unbearably staticky.
Work was going well. No fights yet, the music actually sounded decent-thanks to her earlier hard work- it was generally shaping up to be a quiet day, just the kind Ania liked. She might even get a bit of cleaning done, what a miracle! Of course, she was immediately broken out of her happy thoughts by a loud *THUMP* on the roof, followed by the music cutting out completely.
“Fuck.” a few patrons look up, but seeing no damage or other reason to care, hunker back down into silence. Her lack of sleep was for nothing, it seemed, and she yelled out “back in a few, noone touch my shit” before heading in the back to don her mech and see what needed fixing.
Ania heaved its metal body onto the roof, and immediately noticed something a bit more concerning than just a broken antennae.
A dead body. A body without a suit, no less. They didnt look….normal, and apon moving closer, it noticed the broken wing, the pale, almost metallic skin… a horrible realization was sliding into place. “A fairy?” it whispered to itself, feeling weird just saying the words. This was the Absolute last thing Ania wanted, a fairyfall only brings trouble, something she had worked so hard to stay out of, but yet….
Noone could know, obviously. Noone *would* know, if she was quick enough. It hurried to pick up the body when finally ania realized that they were still breathing. Now what? They couldnt stay out here for long, someone would surely notice, especially if ania didnt get back inside soon. Using the toe of the mech’s feet, ania lightly kicks the body, trying to jarr them awake.
Ethel was finding being unconscious to be a particularly distressing experience. She felt her awareness sharpen and unfocus with little input from her. Her eyes don’t close, not fully anyways, making it difficult for an outside observer to tell if she was responsive. She couldn’t quite make anything out, finding herself unable to force her eyes to focus in the daze of pain and shock. She felt bad. Like really bad, potentially the worst she’s ever felt. She tried to speak but all that came out was some sort of pitiful groaning sound. The longer she felt cognizant, the sharper the pain came into clarity. It was easy then, to let herself fade back into the blinding comfort of the abyss.
In other words, with the exception of the aforementioned pitious moan of pain, she did not rouse at the Grimlin’s attempts. It was right though, the closer it would get the starker the bizarrities. They were unlike any cyborg you would find on the towers. It was impossible to tell where its flesh ended and machine began. Even its proportions, while at first glimpse seemed fine, were upon closer inspection unnatural, closer to a doll or a mannequin than a person. Limbs too long for its torso, lines running through its skin like indents in metal. Its skin was so pallid you could see blue and green lines like veins running just under its skin. Its eyes were large... too large to look natural on a humanoid face. But they didn’t seem mechanical either, too wet and fleshy looking. Sphere’s of pure shining black, with dots of white floating near the edges. One of delicate constitution might have found it difficult to so much as look at her.
Ania had hoped… something would happen. Maybe they would wake up, fly away, and she could go back inside. Ania had never seen a fairy before, didnt know what to do with one, and didnt know what to do next, a rare feeling for her. But fairies, well all she knew is they came from above, and were supposed to be like the gremlins. But this *thing* looked nothing like anyone she knew, they were too…wet, shiny, small. Dainty, a word she has never onced used to describe *anything*.
But this quiet contemplation is making her anxious. Any moment now, someone *will* come to find out what that noise was, no shortage of scavengers eager to take whatever they find as soon as they see it. It had to make a decision. This was an opportunity, no matter how ugly, and Ania raised herself to take every one that came her way. fairy tech is useful for a reason; her mind goes to her lungs, that feeling of inhale exhale and the rattling pumps that come with it, the pain, always short of breath. Then again, they dont seem…dead. That wouldnt stop any other gremlin, but Ania likes to think of itself as moral, and is it really kind to pull this creature apart? Isnt it kinder to at least…try something? It’s likely nothing she does will help, then the tech is hers anyway.
Again, too much thinking and not enough time. It hears the tell-tale sounds of scuttering, knows it has to act now. It bends down, grabs the fairy with its large, mostly static hands, fumbles, and throws them over its shoulder, jumping down from the roof and into the backroom of the Lamplight bar. It took a few minutes fumbling with the hatch, and itll be half an hour before the smog clears and its safe to leave her suit, but they are inside now, at least.
Ania lays the fairy down on a small cot and slips her fingers into the gloves in the elbow of her suit. She knows she has a respirator around somewhere, and once she finds it she-very clumsily- slips it on over the fairy’s face. It doesnt seem to fit right, but they are breathing, so its probably fine. And now all there is left to do is wait.
The next time Ethel felt herself float back into consciousness she felt… dryer. Warm. What was once cold hard concrete had been replaced with something softer. She groaned, trying to force her eye’s microbes to focus so that she could see something more than the current fuzzy blur of colors. No luck. The microbes twitched uselessly, and the strain of effort was causing a sharp pain in her forehead so she gave up with a huff. She thought then, she had heard someone speak, a blur of colors shift in her peripheral vision, but whatever damage was keeping her vision impaired, had affected her hearing as well. Slowly, she felt herself drift back off into unconsciousness.
Fairies look fragile. Like a faun, just looking at it you wonder how its legs don’t snap. But the truth is - they’re more hearty than they look. Their regenerative abilities are far quicker, and far superior to your average human. She was dressed only in a loose fitting white canvas dress, so thin it was almost translucent. Beneath their skin colors could be seen… moving. Shifting to and fro, you could watch the strange chemical augmentation which governed its healing process. The colors shifted towards their wounds as their strangely green blood began to coagulate, and the wounds scabbed over. The bruises though, strange meshes of blue in green blending into aqua, didn’t fade as quickly. When Ethel finally awoke for good, hours had passed. She felt better, a LOT better. Her eyes twitched, as her microbes floated into action permitting her a clear look at her surroundings at last.
The room ethel finds herself in was the stock room of the Lamplight bar. It was dirty, greasy, smelly-so pretty normal, all things considered. There were two rows of wire shelves in the middle of the room packed with boxes of *stuff*- broken bottles, random bits of equipment, and of course lots of alcohol. The boxes werent just relegated to the shelves, crates were everywhere. It was all completely useless to anyone not trying to run a bar, however. More interesting was the personal effects Ania put up around the place. A cot, the one ethel woke on, there for the times when ania didn't feel like going home (very often). A tool shelf, useful in all cases, but used mostly for doing small repairs on herself or her mech. In the corner sat the mech in question, hollow, empty, but very imposing nonetheless. Across from that was a shower head and drain. The hatch to the outside was beside it, securely locked, and ethel could definitely hear the sounds of gremlins beyond the backroom door, see shadows moving. The room itself was dingy, starkly lit by a lone overhead bulb that buzzed annoyingly. Almost everything but the stockroom door was either metal or concrete, and the door was a rare material-wood!- and frosted glass.
Ania, fortunately, had a job to do and couldnt just wait around for her new guest to wake up. The rush came and went, and ania as always made herself as busy as could be, throwing glances nervously to the back room every now and again. A few patrons were pissed about the music, but honestly she felt like she couldnt concentrate on anything with what was basically a bioweapon in her stockroom.
Ethel sat up slowly, rising to a stand not long afterwards. Slowly taking in her surroundings as a sense of awe filled her heart. She had never, in her life, been somewhere so … so… greasy! The muck and metal and RUST and GRIME. Crates stacked full of weird garbage - just as gross as the room that surrounded them. It was such a far cry from anywhere she had ever been. The lush augmented gardens and thrumming tech of the sphere’s undersides couldn’t have come close, and that was the underbelly of her home! There was no doubt in her mind this must be some sort of grimelin's den… She hadn't had the chance to soak in the novelty of her surroundings when she had been plummeting to her death! But there was no mistaking it. She was in the tower.
Oh gods. They were in the TOWER!!! This was so so so terribly, awfully, and spectacularly BAD. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Their sisters had been RIGHT they WERE pushing themself past optimal health for their duty. They must have fallen unconscious in flight, and it had nearly cost her her life. It STILL might… the gremlins… EVERYBODY knows they’d tear a fairy apart the first chance they get. Steal their skin and harvest their preciously crafted organs. But… why were they still alive?
Had one… dragged her back to its den thinking they were dead? It was possible. They took a step forward, Fairies naturally walked on the tips of their toes, like a ballerina. Their feet were internally reinforced in such a way that it was painless. So their steps were inaudible over the natural thrum of the Towers. Approaching first the wire shelves in front of them. She needed to find a way out of here… but… poking around first would be okay! It would be SMART even. The more information the better.
With dainty hands, they gently lifted a milk crate off the shelf and placed it on the floor, lowering themself and she sat on her knees to inspect its contents. Inside was what most people would call garbage. But to Ethel they were like holy relics - fascinating pieces of ancient civilization - like a museum! A glass bottle - no wait, as she lifted it from the crate she could see- it was a broken glass bottle. She set it gingerly on the floor. Next she dug out - some sort of primitive chipset? They slowly ran their fingertips over it, letting the sensors embedded in each of her fingerprints fill their mind with information. It was a component for some kind of… telecommunications. One way by the looks of it? At least this component was one way. They set it down on the floor as well, and now satisfied they stand up to further to sate her curiosity towards the room.
Turning back towards her cot she caught sight of some sort of little… stall! She slowly stepped into it, reaching forward to inspect the strange knob. Once again their sensors echoed information into their mind, it was an actuator of sorts! A kind of a manually operated opening mechanism. She mindlessly turned it, before their sensors could continue to inform them of what exactly that might cause. Suddenly, with a loud sputter, cold water was pouring on her head.
“EEK-!” Ethel yelped, as she stumbled backwards, her head swiveled around in mindless panic, looking wildly around the room. Right behind her, on the other side of the room some sort of giant metallic creature was looming in the corner. A grimelin!! She yelped again, scrambling away for fear it must have spotted her, she trampled right onto the broken glass bottle she had left on the floor and stumbled over falling on top of the crate she had left out with a third, final, and loudest yelp.
Ania had been waiting for the other bolt to drop for a while, so by the third yell she had, as calmly as she could, set down the glass she was wiping at and, as non-alarmed as possible, sped into the backroom, where the fairy lay, clearly awake, in front of her mech. *her mech*! She knew she shouldnt have left that thing alone. Not wanting to alarm anyone in the front, she whisper-yells, “Hey! What are you doing!” she makes sure to close the door behind her, and then waves her arms, taking a few steps closer, all the while cursing herself for ever bringing a fairy into her home, her work! “Stop yelling! Dont make so much noise, are you crazy?” only just now noticing the open crate on the floor, she squats down, trying to pick up and put away whatever the fairy had touched, seeing if they had stolen anything. It was a pretty ridiculous thing to think, looking at ethel it was clear she had probably never even heard of sensible clothing with pockets before, but old habits die hard. Not a single part of ania is uncovered, in stark contrast to this fairy, with her thick, full length rubber apron, thick rubber gloves, respirator and goggles. It was like a layer of grime coated her to her bones, wherever her bones were under the dirt. The only color to be found anywhere was her massively thick and poofy orange hair, neon blue shocks framing her head like a halo. The sounds of the tower seemed to come from within her, something on her body was definitely ticking, and it might have been her lungs.
The door across from Ethel opened suddenly, some sort of smaller grimelin stalking in and shutting said door quickly behind it. Harshly whispering recriminations at them. Ethel lay tangled in their own limbs, glass in their foot, and slightly damp from the shower(which was still left running.) They attempted to scramble away, shifting behind the wire shelf, and clinging to its side, as if putting an obstacle between them and the grimelin might protect them from whatever they think Ania is going to do. It was scolding them, demanding they be quiet. Ethel was confused and scared, but she blindly mimicked the Grimelin’s stage whisper, as one is wont to do.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t steal my skin!” they ‘whispered’ back, the white spots floating freely in the pools of their black eyes began to swim around wildly, as she looked desperately for something to defend herself with. Focusing on the first vaguely weapon shaped thing her eyes landed on, she grabs a cordless hand dremel from the shelf she had been clinging to. She wildly alternates between pointing it ‘threateningly’ towards the smaller Grimelin and the one made of metal as she scooted desperately away into the closest unoccupied corner, which unfortunately happened to be under the running shower head. No longer surprised by the torrent of water, she allowed it to coldly pour down on her. It was, however, deeply undermining any chance she had at appearing threatening.
Finding nothing missing, and perhaps realizing she was being a bit silly, (though, ania thinks this fairy standing in the cold shower for absolutely no reason is also, a little silly) she takes a deep breath, metal in her lungs rattling.
“I don't want to steal your skin, but you can't scream like that or someone *will.*” Ania is not going to admit she was actually thinking about stealing her skin-or the tech that makes it up, at least- because her plan was to scavenge them only if they were dead, and this thing is…very clearly alive. Alive and only getting better, if the way they look now is any indication. If ania hadn't seen them before herself, she probably would've thought the fall was some kind of trick.
Regardless of how anything happened, She now has a very scared creature in her stockroom, and she knows she has to calm them down before…figuring out what to do next. God, she doesn't even want to *think* about next yet. “Listen,” she starts a bit more calmly, still sitting a ways away from the fairy.
“You fell on top of my bar. If i didn't move you, you would've been ripped apart by now. If you're fine, I'd really like you to go back wherever you came from,” -she gestures vaguely upward- “so i can get back to my life.” she doesn't exactly seem happy, but isn't freaking out anymore, and gestures behind ethel, to the shower knob. “And can you turn that off? You're wasting water.”
Would it were possible Ethel would pale at the warning. Instinctively covering their mouth, as if scared she might inadvertently yelp should they not prevent it physically. The hair on the back of their neck bristled,but Ethel nodded slowly while the little Grimelin spoke. The situation was like something out of a scary story her older sister’s use to tell. Trapped in a Grimelin den, unable to scream, lest they attract the attention of one to tear off their skin and rip out their bones. But this Grimein had… saved them for some reason? THAT sort of twist hadn’t been in any of the stories. The idea that ANY grimelin would do anything but tear a fairy apart on sight had never even been joked about.
If it was telling the truth anyways, but they can’t think of any reason it might lie. Potentially just to toy with her, but that seemed needlessly cruel. Ethel slid upwards into a kneeling position, standing on her knees on account of the glass in her foot she had yet to remedy. She let her hands slip from her mouth, reaching up she twisted the knob backwards, slowly shutting off the downpour.
“I’m not wasting water, I’m just… drinking,” she commented peevishly. It was technically true, she was just as much plant as machine, so she could intake her needed water in a multitude of ways. Some of the white dots floating in her large black eyes,(her microbes) swam in the direction of the larger one who still hadn’t moved, allowing her to glance at it without turning her vision away from the smaller more talkative one, as the rest of her Microbes still focused in it’s direction.
“What about… that one,” she whispers as she points to what she believed to be another Grimelin in the corner, “It won’t hurt me either?”
It takes her a moment to realize she means the mech, like its alive in that hollow state. Ania shakes her head. “Oh, uh. No thats mine.” this fairy was so weird, the way their eyes moved was like oil and water. Again Ania wondered how the two of them were supposed to be the same. She could hear someone yelling her name, probably wanting a refill, and knew she wouldnt be able to stay back here too much longer, at least without all her attempts to maintain order going out the window.
“I'm not planning on hurting you. Can you move?” Ania was still a bit iffy on whether the thing was hurt still, and the weirder their anatomy became the less confident Ania was in her ability to do anything about it if they were, So she is hoping everything is fine.
Ethel squinted, (as best they could) at the other grimelin. She was trying to figure out its deal. The way Ania was talking, it sounded like it might not be another Grimelin after all, but she’s unwilling to ask any probing questions on the subject, for fear of making themself seem any more stupid than they already have. They were a fairy, damn it. They can’t be stumbling around like a dumb child, just because of novel surroundings. They winced slightly, hearing someone shout from the other room, but they stayed quiet.
Ethel pulled her legs in close to their chest, hugging their knees. At this point, they had no choice but to believe the Grimelin’s words. They still can’t think of a reason it might lie to them. Plus the way it’s acting… nervous they might get caught? It seems genuine. Something petulant crawls up the back of their mind at the thought of being an inconvenience.
The multitudinous white dots in its large dark eyes all suddenly fixated towards the floor. “I… stepped on one of your glass bottles,” they stated dryly, feeling inexplicably like each time they make themself look like an idiot they’re losing some sort of ground, “So there’s… glass in my foot. It’s fine. I can fix it.”
The white dots flicked back upwards towards the Grimelin, “Your name is… Ania?” That was the name the voice had called, they were fairly certain.
everything Ethel says makes Ania’s head hurt, but she nods. all the things she thought she knew just kept getting thrown out the window. “uh, yea. this is my bar, that was Colin yelling for me. you….you gotta stay back here, ok.” wait, shes forgetting something. “hey uh, whats *your* name then.” it seems as if the more distressed ania is, the more flat its affect. another minute passes and ania adds,quickly, probably cutting Ethel off if she thought maybe the pause, logically, meant an ending. “i have some bandages in the box beside my mech if you want, also.”
theres another yell from the front. she stands up, eyes flicking from the door to ethel and back again, though it was only partially visible behind her goggles. her whole body is tense and she is clearling waiting for ethel to (hopefully) agree with her, so she can safely run back out there. “…”
Ania was a pretty name, Ethel thought. Colin… not so much. An ugly name for an ugly voice, they suppose. They hold their knees close to their chest, face lowered down so that it’s partially obscured by their knees, their posture dripping with defensiveness and also literal water because they were still pretty wet.
Ethel didn’t know what a bar was, well I mean… they know like metal bars, of course, the sort they might use in construction. But they had never heard of a bar as a location. Still not wanting to admit a lack of knowledge and lose face to the gremlin they now know as Ania, they decide not to ask. Instead they sit up slightly and acquiesce, “Stay here, stay quiet. Right.” There is audible hesitance in their voice but they swallow any protest down. They don’t know yet if they’re going to follow this Grimelin’s instructions, but they know they’d rather the Grimelin thinks they will.
They squint at Ania as it asked their name, “My name is Eth-” they began to respond before the offer of bandages was spoken over their words. Ethel makes an offended looking pout, with them and the other Fairies being so in sync, Ethel had never been interrupted by someone who hadn’t intended to interrupt them. So she takes it rather personally. “Right,” she says curtly, making no clear indication of what might have upset her. Before suddenly her expression changes when the one they now know as “Colin” shouts again. Their expression weakens to uncertain fear, wrapping their arms tighter around their knees.
“Just go,” Ethel whispers tersely, fearful the “Colin” Grimelin might find them if Ania didn’t go give them whatever it was they wanted.
Ania recognized something was wrong with the fairy, but her brain was already elsewhere, and after the hesitant confirmation, it decided that the future would have to be in the smog's hands; she'd worry about it later. Ania nods, running out of the room. Before the door swings closed, she sticks her head back in and gives the fairy a stilted, awkward thumbs up. there, something to show she is…nice, and this is ... .fine. all so completely normal.
the door swings closed, and ania is yelling at colin, already grabbing his regular drink of choice, grabbing his mug and filling it to the top. “cant go five minutes without a refill, huh. and you said you werent an alcoholic no more.” he groans and his friends all laugh, the mood is restored. for now. Ania seems nervous, and more than a bit jumpy, but thankfully the few times its noticed, it’s able to come up with some snark to shut it down. the only thing on it’s mind is the clock, slowly counting down to when she can finally get this whole mess done and over with.
Chapter Two: The Whole Mess Continues.
As it turns out, sitting in a dingy room and being quiet is actually really boring. She got the glass out of her foot and that was where the excitement ended. Eventually she got brave enough to poke at the metal figure in the corner. It was basically an exosuit! (An Exosuit being something a Sylph might pilot in order to work on the exterior of the Sphere’s. A rare occurrence, but not unheard of.) But it was SOOO big and bulky. Part of that was because the Sylphs of course had FAR slimmer tech, none of the bulky metal and diesel power that seemed commonplace down here. They had to admit, the inelegance of it all was charming.
The other issue with being stuck back here alone was it gave them plenty of time for their mind to wander. In such a dangerously unique circumstance it was hard not to imagine all the ways things might go wrong. What if they were discovered? What if Ania was lying? What if they were already dead and this was actually all a dream they were having while they were bleeding out? They would have continued spiraling like that for some time had they not been distracted from their swirling thoughts by a sudden noise from outside the walls. It was different from the thrumming ambience of the Towers that already permeated the room. It was like a consistent gentle battering. As they got closer to the hatched door, they could hear it clearer. They pressed their ear against the cold metal. The white noise was so calming, like the showers back home. It didn’t take them long to hypothesize what it might be. They had heard stories of the rain.
Ethel shouldn’t open the door. They knew they shouldn’t. But she might never get the chance again. They glanced across the room at the other door, the one Ania had left through. Then back at the hatched exterior door. Just a peak wouldn’t hurt. With a slight grunt they crank the valve unsealing the door and push it forward. Suddenly the muted trickle was a downpour. Drops of water falling from the heavens beneath their home, splashing against the metal plating of the Towers exterior. It was cacophonous. It was beautiful.
Ethel knew they were making a mistake the second they outstretched their hand. When the contaminated water hit flesh, the systems which augmented the fairy began to warn them, prolong contact with the substance would be dangerous, even for one augmented for extreme conditions such as themself. Yet they stepped out into the rain anyway. One step, then another, then another. As the downpour hit her skin, she wasn’t even sure when she started to giggle. Her thin dress clung to her skin, more so than that inadvertent shower, and she began to twirl mindlessly in the shower. It was a lazy sort of dance, two steps and then a pirouette. She had wandered far from the door, but was still easily visible from inside the storage room.
The day passed about the same as the morning, except where before Ania was enjoying the quiet and peace and even rowdyness of working, now she couldn't wait for it all to be over. Routine was crucial for Ania. It was what woke her up every morning, the idea that she knew exactly what was coming next. Even a late delivery sent her into a spiral of anxiety, so sure that the smallest of deviations would be the end of everything she's worked for. And she did work hard. Didn't she deserve peace and quiet? Isn't that what all of it was for?
Time seemed to stretch into syrup, and ania kept getting distracted. She wouldnt let herself check on the fairy, so whenever she had a moment of peace, where typically she would turn to the menial tasks of running a bar, cleaning, fixing, now she stood dead-still, staring intently into nothing and trying to figure out if anything’s happening, if someone got wind of her having a fairy, if it somehow escaped and is currently being ripped into shreds, or worse, kept alive.
The last hour is the hardest, but last call comes and finally, shes stacking the last of the chairs. The stockroom has been silent since she had to leave, and Ania is so incredibly curious what the fairy has been up to.
The first thing she notices is, of course. The hatch is open. This sends her brain into “shits fucked” mode pretty quickly. Theres not much smog in the room yet, but the fact that there is any at all is a burning red flag. Something mustve happened, a reasonable gremlin wouldnt just *leave a hatch open*. Ania runs over to her mech first off, ready to jump in when she notices ethel, swaying outside in the rain like this was baby’s first day outside.
“What the actual fuck are you doing! Get inside!”
Ania has it’s mask and gloves on, so the danger isnt imminent yet, but every single second the door stays open is an hourglass slowly falling to zero. The zero being Ania’s life, obviously. Ania cannot believe this. Death, murder, stealing, all in the realm of what she expected, but standing out in the *rain*? Fairies must be either bat shit crazy or stupider than sin, but unfortunately it’s still ania’s responsibility to deal with it.
In as quick of a motion as it is capable of, ania reaches out with it’s gloves into the rain, grabs ethel’s shoulders, and *yanks* them back inside, dropping the fairy to the ground as Ania swung the hatch closed and sealed. She was furious, that both this fairy came in and turned her world upside down and that she let it happen.
“Do you know whats out there? That couldve been the death of everyone this side of the fucking pipes. Just leaving it open like that! When its raining!” she was not even trying to be quiet now that the bar was closed, stalking back and forth through the cramped room. She seems to be breathing heavily, clicking noises coming from somewhere in her chest. The shower is turned on, the gloves come off, along with the apron, and both are thrown under scalding water.
They knew they couldn’t stay out for MUCH longer. They were pushing it as was, the rain wasn’t as deadly to them as it would be to a human, but prolonged contact wasn’t going to do them any favors either. But it was rain. Real actual to goodness rain. Splashing against her skin, falling down like the heavens themself had cracked open.
Ethel had just finished another twirl when they were violently snapped suddenly from her reverie by their savior and or captor shouting at them. Ethel turned to face them with a guilty enough if not slightly confused expression. She was just about to sheepishly respond, ‘dancing in the rain?’ before they were interrupted by Ania roundly yanking them back inside and onto the floor.
Ethel was filled with an indignation she had never felt before, and a burning shame she was quite a bit more acquainted with. eating her shame, she tried to let the fancy new emotion win out, “DON’T put your hands on me!!” She started, and what a start! They haven’t snapped like that at someone since they were a Changeling. In the Sphere’s anyone who might boss or push them around were their superiors, unquestionable in their decisions, in the right by default. Ania here was an equal at best. “F-first of all if THIS door being opened would be enough to do all that, then that’s terrible design! You should have WAY more airlocks in here. Redundancies save lives.”
“Secondly I-” she stopped, noticing how labored the Grimelin’s breathing had become, “Are… are you okay?”
No, she was not ok. Ania tries not to move fast, or breathe too heavily, or be around smog for this very reason, which was that her lungs were ... overheating. Impressively, she did not stop moving for a second, switching out her now clean rubber work exteriors for some thinner canvas exteriors. Smaller gloves, shorter apron, all that good stuff.
Number one rule of living in the towers, you don't comment on people’s ...oddities. Everyone gets weirdly touchy about weirdly specific shit, and it was best, if you didn't want to piss people off, to politely ignore whatever it was. Ania’s face flushed red under the respirator (something that was not really helping, at this point) and she finally turned to face the fairy.
In a raspy voice, much more labored than when she had stormed in, she responded, more than a bit rhetorically, “and what’s it to you?” her anger dimmed to a dull flame, now much more embarrassed to be caught vulnerable like this.
“If you…if you can be outside just fine, what’re you doing waiting around here? Just…just leave.”
Ethel’s expression falters, confusion knitting her brow. Of all the things to throw Ania off they hadn’t expected their brief concern to do it. Maybe it thought they were being disingenuous? They didn’t have much time to interrogate where they might have gone wrong, because the next thing to exit Ania’s mouth was far more pressing.
Now their expression fell to pure panicked fear, how had they managed to mess up so quickly? Spoil the good will of what might have been the only grimelin willing to stand between them and getting torn apart. All of the newly felt pride and indignation melted at the threat of being left alone.
“No. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” They scrambled into a slightly more upright position, offering their hands up in supplication as they pressed their back up against the wall, “Please don’t kick me out! I didn’t mean to … endanger anyone I just!”
She starts fidgeting with her hands as she continues her panicked simpering, “It was just - I heard the rain and - I’ve never. Never actually SEEN rain before. And I just got curious and -” she takes a shaky breath before continuing, “and I KNOW curiosity is unbecoming of a fairy,” she added pointlessly, it would hold no meaning to Ania, but it was an aspect of her personality she had gotten used to apologizing for, so it just naturally slipped out. “I’ll do whatever you say! I’ll follow your orders to a tee. Just don’t- please don’t throw me out ther-”
For some insane reason, the fairy immediately starts whining and apologizing, and Ania really doesnt know what to do with that. She lifts a hand and interrupts them before any more weirdly pathetic and flowery words could fall at her feet.
“Woah. woah woah woah. Woah. just stop.” she pauses, trying to wrap her head around what exactly is happening. The fairy opened the door, ania stopped her, and now shes crying? “Dont do…that again, ok?” another pause, and then a huge sigh. Her lungs have finally started to cool down, and the oxygen in her brain is really helping the thoughts come. Ania pushes her goggles onto her head and sits down on the cot, a good few feet away from ethel, just in case.
“Do you really not know how to get out of here? You came from the spheres, right? Can you just..” she makes a prissy little flying gesture. “Go back?” another pause as shes starting to understand a bit about just how different the two of them are.
“Im not kicking you out. But i do want you gone. What do we need to do to make that happen.” if it thinks of this fairy as just a problem to be solved, then none of her emotions will matter!
Ethel swallows the ping of irritation that flares up at once again being interrupted. In this case, they figure it was probably deserved. They were kind of carrying on. They take the chance, as Ania lays it all out, to catch their own breath and try to clear their own head. They let out a little sigh lowering themself into a sort of squat, propped against the exit hatch.
“I won’t,” they responded quietly, sensing that Ania still had more to say, they kept it brief.
Ethel, unaware of the significance of a grimelin removing an article of shielding like that, instead simply thinks that it’s eyes are rather pretty, and it is a shame it seems to keep them hidden beneath those grimey goggles most of the time. They think now is far from the optimal time to voice such a compliment, so they keep it to themself.
Once Ania had finished, Ethel was staring at the ground with a slightly pained looking expression. “I don’t just want to go back. I need to. They need me up there I’m…” there goes that pride again. The coven father always warned her that individualism was the path to the unseelie. “...We, the Fairies, are integral to the sphere’s operation. I still have so much work to do.”
“But I can’t… at least not yet. My… my." This was the hardest part to vocalize. “My wing broke.” They pause for a minute, as if finished, before realizing that a Grimelin would potentially not understand the severity of such a situation.
They decide a demonstration might better help communicate the point. They part the elytra in their back and let their wings unfold outwards, wincing with pain as they do. One wing looked whole, if upsettingly natural looking to the uninitiated Ania. Somewhere between flesh and plant, but weirdly translucent allowing glimpse at some of the fleshy looking tubes inside. But the other has been all but snapped in half. The tubes inside burst like giant blood vessels oozing some strange green substance. With a shaky voice they continue, “That won’t. That won’t heal like the rest of the injuries. Breaks in general are… harder. And… wings are… delicate.”
Ania is much more comfortable with this line of conversation, and sits quietly listening, but not really understanding. It occurs for her, not for the first and certainly not the last time, that fairies and gremlins are so incredibly different. Not just their bodies, but the idea of being a small part of a whole is incredibly foreign to her. Individualism rules in her world, and she feels like she is missing important pieces of context to understanding the fairy…..speaking of, Ania does not think she ever got their name.
When ethel unfurls her wings, Ania gasps, and resists heartily the urge to grab at them. They look so….real, just like a beetles. This is a perfect example of how advanced and valuable fairy tech is, and even broken they look so beautiful, dainty, useful. Shes tilts her head.
“Does it hurt?” already her mind is buzzing with questions. Regardless that she doesnt know *how* to fix it, it can be solved, and solving problems is easy. “Can you move it?”
At the question of if it hurt, Ethel flashes a smile that looks strikingly more like a wince. “A bit,” she says with such a tone that it is fairly obvious it actually hurts quite a bit, “But I can manage,” they finished with a cadence that might imply they’re used to being in pain. That, at least, seemed to be common ground between the two. Soldiering through pain.
"I can,” they respond to the next question, “I’m trying not to… when I can help it. It might heal better that way.” She sniffs, taking a moment to pause as they collect their thoughts. “If I were back up on the Spheres it would be easy… I could go to the Sculptor Sprites and they could cultivate it back to working shape in no time…”
She grips her arm, and grits her teeth slightly as they sheathe their wings back into their elytra. Their working wing returns easily, her movements with the still oozing bursted wing are… slower. Occasionally stalling. When in place, the elytron smooths out so that it barely stick out from her back.
“Down here I’ll have to try and grow it out myself. It wouldn’t be easy… but it should be possible.”
It is kind of gross, but if it werent for how much pain it seemed to cause the fairy, Ania would ask her to do that…sheathing motion again. Everything about them was so fluid, it was hard to believe all that was just tech, the same stuff ania had. Her legs are so heavy and complicated, and the interfacing with her hips are clunky, obvious, littered with scars. What she would give for the simplicity of controlling her limbs as if they were organic.
Ania steeples her hands together, leaning forward on the cot. “If you can actually fix it, thats great. Do you know how long something like that takes?” it's a bit callous for her to ask, but she is not thinking with kindness in mind. She has too many questions. “Does it need ... .parts?” the fairy said *growing it back*, but ania doesnt really understand where the flesh ends and the tech begins. It is thinking that might not be a hard line.
“Um…” Ethel starts slowly. There were a lot of factors to consider, lack of sunlight, she wouldn’t have the fertilizer feed that Sprites would pump into her during the process. But if anyone could do it, it would be them. The truth of the matter was, as much as she might deny it, Ethel has always trusted herself far more than her peers. It was something they had been shamed for, but never quite shaken from. That aforementioned pride of hers.
“It could take a while. It would depend on what… resources I could access.” They don’t like giving such a vague answer. But they’d also like to avoid admitting to Ania that nobody has ever tried what they were discussing. At least, as far as Ethel knows. They would be the first.
“With the tubing burst… motor control of the wing will remain… shaky. There’s not much I think I could do about that. But if regrown properly, it would keep its aerodynamics. As for tools…” they paused, lifting their thumb to their mouth and chewing on the tip. Such was their habit when lost in thought.
“Do you think you could get me a UV emitter? Like um… a ‘sun lamp’,” they struggled to recall the layman terms.
“Could you replace the tubing? Ive done it before, though…” she pauses, again vaguely gesturing at ethel. “I dont know if my tools would be compatible.” The way her lungs work lend to frequent replacements, and she has a port on her side for tubing that connects to her mech or the breathing machine she has at home. Staying unhooked isnt great for long periods of time, but she’s doesnt exactly have a choice at the moment. Making drinks is…hard to do with a great big metal body.
Ania nods at the fairy’s request. “Yea, i think ive got one at home.” it tries to avoid it’s home as much as possible, but its looking like a visit might be inevitable, soon. She lapses, deep in thought, then looks directly at the fairy, a bit sheepish.
“I think I forgot your name.” more like never learned, but ania forgets things so often it might as well be the case.
Around when Ethel’s thumb gets far enough into her bite that her sensors start informing her about the material make up of her teeth, she decides it’s probably time to quit that. Withdrawing her thumb and instead worrying the edge of her lip with her left canine.
“...maybe,” they mumbled at the suggestion of replacing the tubing. It COULD work, but they aren’t sure how they feel about putting any Grimelin tech in their body quite yet. It’s just… it all seems very… well… grimey. Plus they really would have to figure out a way to test how compatible the forms of technology would even be. “We’d have to … peel back more of the wing to try and replace the tubing. Might not be worth it…”
Ethel smiled a sort of crooked smile at Ania asking for their name. Forget was certainly one word for it, but they think they’ve had enough of being combative for one day, so they let it pass. “Ethel. My name is Ethel.” They offer a hand to shake, “It’s nice to meet you, Ania.”
Ania stares at the hand. It does not know what she is doing, but it is trying to be more friendly, so she confusedly taps her hand against ethels, like a slow and weird high-five.
“Uh, ethel. Nice to meet you too.” it really was a nice name, not that ania knew what made one good or not. It felt nice to roll around her mind, so it must be a little cool. She stands up and puts her goggles back on, softness gone and replaced with the good hardworking girl she is typically.
“Ok, so until we get this whole thing sorted out,” she once again gestures vaguely to ethel and the room around them, “we need some ground rules.”
Chapter Three: Ground Rules
Rule number one, as it turned out, was ‘Don’t let yourself be seen.” This rule, in Ethel’s humble opinion, was fairly self explanatory and didn’t need to even be one of the rules, considering Ethel themself was a big fan of not getting their skin stolen. But they suppose they’d earned a lack of credulity at this point.Rule two was much the same. Don’t leave the hatch door open, or everyone in the immediate vicinity will die, badly. Ethel had already picked up on this rule and didn’t think it needn't be restated, but Ania seems to prefer clarity over brevity. Plus, once again, Ethel figures they’ve sort of earned it.
Rule three is “Don’t touch Ania’s stuff.” This rule lack’s the aforementioned clarity as apparently there is SOME stuff Ethel IS allowed to touch, as long as they don’t break it. Ethel assumes this means most of the weird garbage in the storage room is fair game, but the things needed to “run the bar” shouldn’t be messed with.
Rule four is another self preservation one. During “hours of operation” Ethel has to stay in the storage room, and can’t go in the “front of house.” This rule was a pleasant surprise because it implies Ethel IS allowed in the front when the bar is closed! So that’s a win!
Rule five is don’t drink any of the alcohol. Ethel isn’t sure why ANYONE would drink alcohol. It’s poisonous for most human bodies, so outside of medical use they wouldn’t personally be PARTICULARLY tempted. However, upon further inspection, their sensors have indicated the alcohol content is so low, and it’s all so… dirty with plant matter they aren’t even sure what the point of the stuff is.
All that to say, Ethel is fairly confident in her abilities to follow these little rules for the time being. After all! Ethel has always done their best been a rule follower and there were WAY more rules on the Spheres. They were sat now at the ‘bar’, resting their head on the cool metal of the counter. Honestly they didn’t have the energy to do much of anything, which as it turns out was pretty conducive towards following the rules.
With no sunlight, and no fertilizer she hadn’t been able to photosynthesize much in the way of nutrients since they got here, and they were beginning to get a little light headed. Ethel is presently occupied with dreading the implications of this. They HAD been spending the night poking around the entire additional room they had been allowed to explore. Poking being the operative word, as they had been using their finger tip sensors to ascertain the purposes of the various techs, or the material make-up of the various surfaces.
Ethel pushes themself up off the counter and to a standing position, they wander over towards a particularly noisy section of all and press both their hands against it. The tower thrums with the sound of active machinery, but all of it is behind thick metal walls. It was driving them mad with curiosity. They could spend hours focusing their sensors into that wall, trying to echolocate some of the purposes of the various technologies sealed within the guts of the tower. But they aren’t getting very far.
Since moving out to the bar, ania had occupied herself as she always did with menial tasks, wiping down various surfaces, sweeping, counting. The place was never clean, at least a small layer of grime was constantly coating wherever you were in the towers, including yourself, but she tried her best. Laying down ground rules helped ease it’s anxiety a bit, but knowing this situation was going to continue still made it uneasy, so it using chores as a way to distract itself.
Ania did not trust ethel. A kind interpretation was that ethel was very *green*, as it were, and just hadnt gotten to learn all the social skills ania had as a result of growing up here. A meaner one was that the fairy was dumber than a bag of rocks and very likely to get themself and ania killed. Still, the naivete was a little refreshing. The fact that, for whatever reason, they didnt seem to lie (or even be capable of it) was also reassuring.
The lamplight was a small bar, booth seating along the walls, large bar/countertop, a small dartboard against the wall. You could see everything everyone was doing, if you positioned yourself right. Every so often, Ania would look up from what it was doing, glance at the fairy, then return to work. Mostly they just stayed quiet and still, but at some point they had gotten up, staring at the wall and…touching it.
“I guess i never thought about it, but it must not be as loud up..there.” she doesnt want to talk about the spheres, it feels like tar in her mouth. She imagined it like some quiet, still utopia, where everything is dainty and fragile, like ethel. She imagines a lot of things are different about the towers, but the noise….
“Youll get used to it.” an attempt at reassurance. Soon, everything will be familiar and routine, which is of course the best thing to hope for. “Can you feel the humming?” this is what shes assuming ethel is doing. Theres a near missable neverending vibration everywhere you go, and if you run your hands along the wall and focus real hard, you can feel it. Its like a great big beast, purring. At least thats how ania sees it. Comforting, in a way, like her home is alive, and theres some sort of reason for what happens and why.
It takes a moment for Ethel to respond. Lost in focus on trying to suss out the mechanisms just barely beyond their sensors reach. If they could just… reach a little further. Push a little deeper. It’s not like reaching an understanding of whatever the mechanisms of the tower actually DO would be particularly useful, but… Ethel is wont to get curious. Their white microbes, which HAD been concentrated into one spot, like large white pupils staring intently at the wall, explode outwards within their eye, once again spread out in a way that would resemble a night sky full of stars…. You know… to those of us who have seen such a sight, anyways.
They made a humming noise as they eventually caught up with Ania’s question. “Hmm. I think it might have been quiet inside the spheres. I can’t really remember.” Some of the white microbes begin to congeal in the center once again, suggesting Ethel might still be focused on the strange task at hand, “It was quite loud outside. You could always hear the rushing of the wind. Deafening at times. Luckily Fairies don’t really need verbal communication to understand each other…”
Speaking of verbal communication, Ethel doesn’t really bother to explain they aren’t just feeling the vibration, though that is certainly part of it. They just… can’t help but wonder how it all ticks. “This place - the tower - it’s like it's all one big clunky sputtering machine, filled with smaller clunky machines... It’s like a spaceship made of cogs and gears. Fascinatingly beautiful …but such a strange way to accomplish the desired task.”
“Well thats ‘cuz there wasnt a desired task. How much you know about the towers?” ania imagines at least a little bit. After all, she thinks bitterly, they’re the ones who left us, left to get up to whatever godawful nonsense happens in the spheres. If ethel hasnt learned by now, most of ania’s questions are largely rhetorical.
“It was your people who built this place too, at least the beginnings of it.” she says your people in reference to the sylphs, but to be honest, she doesnt really know what the difference is. Shed never seen any of it before today-yesterday, now, since it was well past midnight. She should be sleeping, but its not uncommon for her to spend a sleepless night or two at the bar every now and again, she can truck through it.
“It was all gremlins, back then. Just making shit up, trying to stay alive. Noone had a plan and now…” she pauses, watching ethel watching the wall, just standing, taking in the vibrations. She always liked better to be in the background of people, just listening, watching. It was why she liked bartending. Noone paid attention to her, so she got to pay attention to them all she liked.
After Ania mentioned Ethel’s people, (the sylphs presumably) having a hand in the construction of the tower their head slowly turned towards Ania with a tilt, wearing a slightly puzzled expression. Everything Ania was telling them was news to Ethel, “The Sylphs did? Helped build the tower…?” Based on her tone, it seemed like it wasn’t exactly blowing Ethel’s mind either. Like it was just some interesting piece of trivia they had never heard before.
They turn back to the wall and continue as if they hadn’t just casually dropped that they seemingly have no comprehension of basic history. “That makes sense though I suppose, if you’re just trying to keep the smog out you might not have time to make it perfect. Still. One could always do some redesigns…”
Ethel starts muttering to themself as they press their hands firmer against the wall, “mm… some sort of pipe or… industrial catalytic converter? But it… no… could be…”
Ania was confused. “Wouldn't something like that be a big deal?” she was feeling a little bristly, and why not? They helped build this tower, but they just get to pretend it never happened? They were never here? She sets the broom down against the counter and slides into the booth next to where ethel was standing, carrying a bucket full of wet but clean dishes and a rag. Always a work-a-holic, ania is.
She's deciding to ignore the muttering for the time being, as well as the absolute nonsense about redesigning, because what good would that do. Ania takes a glass and begins wiping it, setting it on the table when it's dry. “So what’d they tell you then, about us? Did you even know we were down here?” she feels a bit acidic, but it was just like a sylph to forget it all happened. It being ...well honestly, ania didn't know. She knew they had a better life than the gremlins, she knew they used to *be* gremlins, but why it all stopped….there's only rumors.
They can’t help but giggle at the assertion, NOT that it’s a big deal, but that it being a big deal meant Ethel would know it. “Ania, I’m a fairy. Why would I know stuff like that?” But then, it reoccurs to them that Ania wouldn’t necessarily understand what being a fairy truly entailed. Ethel was getting the distinct impression this conversation was steering towards the direction of discussion, so they took their hands from the wall, scooted over so they were facing Ania.
“Listen, it’s not that stuff isn’t… a big deal. I’d bet they even teach it in sylph history classes. You know, to the normal kids and stuff. But fairies… we don’t need to know the context, or the big picture stuff. We get taught how to use and repair machinery, how to maintain and manipulate the augmented vegetation, and all the overlap therewithin! Us Fairies our charge is to keep the spheres floating… so the people on the inside can worry about the big deals.”
She scratches at her chin tube, “As for what they DID tell me about you guys um… mostly that you… lived down in a tower… and… would steal my skin if you got the chance?” She smiles faintly, “I know my big sister Lilith… she used to tell all sorts of scary stories… about how Grimelin bodies were made of heavy steel and you all billowed great clouds of burning smog...”
Ania sits quietly for a moment, and if ethel could see beneath the goggles and mask she would find complete confusion and disbelief. Ethel talks like she isnt one of them. Which, yea sure ania knew fairies were different, but….
“What makes a fairy different. Aint yall all just weird flying slyphs?” which themselves are weird sky gremlins, ania thinks to herself. And then she hears *grimelin*, and the stories, and laughs. gremlins dont really have a high opinion of themselves or the towers, because who would when you live in a horrible, smog choked, always breaking down tower of starvation and death. Everyone knew it sucked. Including the sylphs, apparently.
“And why dont you want to know anyway?” Ania wouldnt call herself “educated” by any stretch of the imagination, she can barely read, but she always took the time to listen to elders about their history, where they came from, most importantly *why* the towers were the way they are. It feels like common sense to be curious about the place your living in. it feels like ania is missing a crucial bit of context, but she doesnt even know what it could be or how to ask for it.
Ethel giggles again, this time at the question of the difference between a fairy and sylph… and also at being called ‘weird’. They suppose it makes sense, why would a Grimelin ever have seen a Sylph anyways. “Fairies are just as different from Sylphs as we are from you!” She says trying to bite back her giggles.
“Gosh. How to explain this..” she mutters, having never in their life even had to consider explaining the differences between a Sylph and a Fairy. Where they came from it was just such an unequivocal fact. Perhaps they should just start from the top, “Fairies… are born among Sylphs. They live amongst the Sylph children for the first five years of their lives. Then, it will be revealed to the children that they are not truly sylphs, but changelings! Charged with a great and noble purpose, that they will come to understand through the years of education to come. At the same time as their education, they begin their metamorphosis. The metamorphosis is a 15 year treatment which turns the child from a changeling, to a fully formed fairy.” Well… a fairy, a sprite, or a pixie. But they figure that might get too complicated for Ania, so they’ll stick with just Faeries for now.
She smiles a beaming expression as they use both hands to make a sweeping gesture to themself, “That’s how we end up like what you see before you today! We are reshaped into the perfect maintainers of the Spheres. Through our noble sacrifice, a life of servility to the sustaining of the Spheres, the Sylphs are able to live in a perfect utopia!”
“That’s why I didn’t need or care to know about that sort of thing. It wouldn’t have helped me with my purpose, does that make sense?”
For her credit, ania sits and listens very patiently as the fairy explains where fairies come from, and doesnt interrupt once, despite the myriad of questions racing through her. She fidgets, alot, pulling at the ends of her gloved fingers-somewhere during the explanation of sylphs and changelings she forgets shes supposed to be cleaning- and rocking back and forth. When ethel is done, however, she cracks, once again pulling off her goggles to make sure ethel can see the horror in her eyes.
“Well, uh. No.” she doesnt know where to start. “Treatment? Why dont the changelings just live as changelings the whole time then, why wait? Can anyone just..be a changeling?” more words are just going to keep coming now, the dam has broken. She shifts in her seat, leaning closer, gesticulating a bit frantically. “Whats the point anyway? If fairies are better tech-wise, if they-you- can do all this stuff, why wouldnt everyone want to be like that? I mean theres not a single person down here that wouldnt want to live without a suit-” thats not entirely true, but its real enough, “-or flying! And whats this *noble purpose* anyway? Fixing the spheres? Just like, forever? Why do the fairies have to do it?” it almost makes her more angry. The idea that the sylphs made this…other class, this other group, just for *making things better* as far as she can understand, but just for the sylphs? “So what, you never had any intention of fixing things down here?” her voice gets bitter again, and quiet. “You…you all really did abandon us.”
Ania starts asking a lot of questions VERY quickly, and to be honest only some of them really make any sense to Ethel. They can tell Ania seems to be getting um… heated? Upset, again? Gosh, they had no idea that Grimelins were so… sensitive? They had always gotten the impression they were a more steely bunch… Maybe Ania’s just different…? Could explain why it didn’t tear Ethel apart on sight.
“Well. I don’t really know anything about um… abandonment? To be honest! I didn’t realize you all needed saving? I was under the impression you all were just… doing grimelin stuff in your tower.” Ethel tilts her head again, pressing a finger to her lip as she continues, “As for why they don’t just turn everyone to Fairies. I’ve never really thought about it? For one, you know… you have to be a changeling. There’s something special about us, I think. Secondly… Most Changelings don’t survive the metamorphosis! Such is the burden of our sacrifice. Some survive the metamorphosis, but die young regardless.”
“Um…” they’re struggling now to remember the totality of Ania’s questions, “And… It’s not really fixing persay. Because the Sphere’s aren’t broken. It’s more like… we operate it. We keep it FROM breaking! Make sure everyone is fed, the air stays clean and the power stays on.”
“Didnt know we needed…what are you talking about? We sent,, there were messages, we….” she trails off, thinking. Of course, it wasnt actually alive back then, when all the communications stopped. But it knows the gremlins used to hear from the sylphs frequently, it knows that the gremlins asked for help. It knows help never came, clearly, or it wouldnt be dying, slowly, painfully.
But ethel looks confused, and honestly, if they are telling the truth, its not like its ethel’s fault. Ania sighs. Why couldnt a slyph fall into her bar? Then she could really let em have it, maybe get answers for once. Ethel isnt going to tell her what she wants to hear, anyway.
“Being a changeling sounds kind of fucked up, sorry to say. And why do you keep calling us *grime*lins? Thats not how you say it.” she decides switching to a new-ish topic is probably safer, though she feels a bit deflated.
Ethel get’s the distinct impression they’re being disappointing right now. They can tell there was something Ania was hoping for, that they aren’t living up to, though they can’t entirely follow why. They aren’t a stranger to disappointing people, but they hate feeling this way. Still, Ania moves on to other subjects and the feeling gets swept away for new ones.
This causes Ethel’s confused expression to dip into bewilderment, “Oh. Yeah I guess I had noticed you say it kind of… different. That’s just how everyone says it up there. But…” They pause, trying to parse what exactly Ania could have possibly meant. Their thinking is they must have just explained something poorly. Once again, they’ve never had to EXPLAIN this before, because to them and everyone they grew up around it was all doctrine. It got taught to them constantly over the course of years, it was like explaining to someone that the sky was blue. So if they ask what Ania’s upset about, it would be easier to explain it away, “I don’t… what’s … messed up about it?” they respond, carefully dancing around the use of crass language. That was the sort of thing that used to get their sisters labeled as ‘future unseelie.’ It was unbecoming of someone of their stature. They can however, easily imagine that’s not something Grime… uh GREMlins have to worry about.
“Well, do you get to..choose being a changeling? And is it adults doing all this stuff?” ania has been raised to believe children raise other children, that adults really don't have any business around them unless its family, but the way ethel is talking makes it sound like the adults are making all these ... .bodily changes.
“How would these kids, the baby fairies, ever learn how to take care of themselves if the sylphs are the ones modifying them?” It is not unfamiliar with the concept of non consensual body modification, its pretty common, especially when your a kid. But the difference is they (gremlins) *have* to change themselves, or they will die. It seems like this is a choice, and it doesnt make any sense to her. She never wouldve *chosen* to do what she did to herself.
“I just dont get it. Here, usually one of the kid gangs around will take a baby and raise it, and work on it if it needs.” which it always does. “I dont get why your sylphs cant just leave the changelings to themselves, i guess.”
Ethel is trying to remain patient here, because once again, they’re from like… completely different worlds. So she bites back any huffing that’s starting to flare up in her chest. She isn’t even really sure WHY she’s getting upset. The questions are harmless enough, but for some reason it feels needling - like she has to be on the defensive for some reason.
“Well, no of course we don’t choose, we’re chosen. Without the faries, the Spheres would fall to ruin and the Slyphs would all probably die! What kind of choice is that?” Ethel pauses, they’re not doing a great job of not sounding huffy. They let out a quiet sigh and steel themself before continuing, “Yes. Adults do all the modifying… why would…” Ethel pauses to really soak in what Ania is saying to them.
“Wait… you’re telling me grime- gremlin children raise other children down here?!” They suddenly sat upright with their OWN expression of horror, “That’s… That’s TERRIBLE? How could a CHILD know better than another child? You need adults to raise children, they’re older and have more experience!” Ethel is mortified at the thought, if they hadn’t had the Coven Father and the rest of the elder fae they can’t IMAGINE what sort of useless villain they might have grown up to be.
Now it’s Ania's turn to get defensive. It leans back in the seat, suddenly regretting taking it’s goggles off. It feels exposed, with this stranger critizing the only way it has ever known. Kind of like how it made ethel feel.
It squints at the fairy. “What are you talking about, who knows more about children than other children. Why would a grown gremlin ever take the time to…look after a child? That could get it killed, and we already dont have enough adults as it is.” ania, very dramatically, rolls it’s eyes. “If you had raised yourself, im sure repairing that wing of yours would be alot easier.”
“I wouldn’t HAVE a wing you- you smog-huffer!?" Ethel throws their hands in the air in frustration, “If we did things your lots way we’d probably be living in a rust covered DUMP like this place!” They stand up, driven to movement by the indignation burning up their neck, “We all take care of eachother on the spheres. It’s called collectivism.”
“So MAYBE instead of blaming my people for YOUR problems you should be taking notes.” They turn as if about to storm off into the stockroom, but then turn back to face Ania, “And for the RECORD. The only thing more INSANE than having kids RAISE each other is having them PERFORM SURGERY ON EACH OTHER.”
Ania stands up, matching the energy of ethel quite heartily. “Yea, you sure know alot about taking care of each other. Wheres the other fairies then? Why havent *your people* come and gotten you yet?” she ends the sentence quite primly, smiling beneath the mask, though her fists are balled.
“Oh, wait. I’m the one who found you. This is not your home, *fairy*, so dont think you can judge us for the way we live. I didnt have to save you, and i dont have to keep you safe, but if you think all gremlins are dirty monsters, you know where the door is.” she gestures to the front door of the bar, standing stock still, angry.
‘Why haven’t YOUR PEOPLE come and gotten you yet?’ Ania’s point rang through Ethel’s head like a bullet through the chest. It was right, the other fairies weren’t coming, of course. The Sylphs wouldn’t save her. The idea that they might hadn’t even crossed her mind. It was a simple fact as immutable as the rest they had tried to explain to Ania. Vestigial tears puddle at the edges of their dark eyes.
For a moment, Ethel looked so angry, like they might actually attack Ania. It wouldn’t be that out of character for them. As a changeling she HAD had a reputation for being prone to bite other changelings when frustrated enough. But, they weren’t a kid anymore, and the expression passed through their face giving way to exhaustion. They fold back into a squatting position, wrapping their arms around their knees and hugging them close.
“It’s not … like that.” They’re staring at the floor now, trying in vain to will the tears back into their ducts. Their voice is small, it sounds exactly how a person trying very hard not to cry would sound, “They’d come if they knew. Fairies don’t survive on their own. They don’t survive falls like that. They’d come if they knew.” Ethel is lying, …to themself more than Ania. Nobody comes back for fairies. When they disappear, they’re assumed unseelie or dead.
Ania knew she was being a little too cutting, too cruel. She knew, because last time they started…wobbling, and as soon as the words left her mouth, again, she saw them wobbling. She longs for the comfort of her goggles, but instead ania shoves her hands deep in her pockets, clearing her throat, trying to not scare them.
“Uh. i didnt…” she wont say she didnt mean it, she did. “Im sure they will. Itll, i….im not gonna let anything happen to you. I know..” fidgeting, standing awkwardly in the middle of the bar, she has to keep starting again, looking for the right words, something ania has never been good at.
“As soon as we can get you back to normal, everything will be fine.” a definitive statement, and one that ania sounds much more confident saying than she actually feels. “I..promise.”
Ethel sniffs wetly. Her white microbes slowly rise back up to look at Ania, though her vision is still clouded by tears she can’t exactly blink away. Ethel doesn’t even know why Ania cares. It’s being a lot kinder to them than they think they might deserve at this point. They keep blowing up and starting fights, they aren’t used to being this… temperamental? Back on the Sphere’s they were the golden sheep, but down here…
“... I don’t think you're a dirty monster.” Ethel says quietly after a brief moment of quiet reflection on the words they had both just exchanged. “Or a … smog-huffer,” they cringed a bit at the choice of words they had used for insult in the heat of the moment.
Ania, quite suddenly, realizes that its past 6 in the morning, and with all of the events of the day and those yet to come, she might want at least a few hours of sleep before opening. It sighs, now dedicated to making nice between the two of them,and cracks a smile-not that ethel could see it.
“We actually call em free-breathers, down here, but i dont think thats what you meant.” she takes the glasses and the tub and sets them behind the bar, giving a cursory last wipedown of the counter. “I know this isnt want you wanted, it wasnt for me either. But we are just going to have to make the best of it.” she winks. “Its a gremlin specialty. Uh, i think im going to sleep in the bar tonight….” she trails off purposely, unsure of how to ask ethel to stay in the stockroom, or if she even should.
Ethel sits up a little further, not quite smiling yet, but the hopelessness is clearly leaving their face, “... Free-breathers doesn’t sound particularly insulting. It’s actually kind of nice sounding…” Another sniff, this one a little less wet. “Make the best of it…” Ethel glances at their fingers, now worrying themselves against their knees, “Yeah… I think I can manage that. …and um. Thank you,” they say a little sheepishly, “I’m not sure I’ve said thank you yet…”
Ethel tilts their head confused, ”You can take the cot if you want. I slept so much when I was unconscious… I probably won’t need to again for a couple weeks or so...” A difficult statement to believe, but they said it so plainly it didn’t really seem like a joke. Fairies. Weird folks.
“Well then uh…” she cant come up with a good enough reason to argue with her, so she just nods. “Alright, dont go anywhere. I’m leaving the backroom door open so…” she trails off for a second, then nods again, mostly to herself. Making sure to take her goggles, she lingers in the doorway for a bit before heading into the stock room to try and nap for a little bit. She doesnt even take her shoes off and is out in a few minutes.
Chapter Four: The Coming Days
Ethel, as it turned out, got very bored of feeling useless very quickly. They had seen Ania do the pre opening chores enough times to do it of their own accord, so that’s exactly what they decided to do. Ania was asleep, last Ethel had checked, but would likely be waking up soon enough if pattern recognition was to be believed.So Ethel set about doing the cleaning and the prep themself. It was far from difficult, honestly it was kind of relaxing in a weird way. Not as fulfilling as their work back on the Spheres, but it was something to do. Clean the glasses, wipe the counter, sweep the floor, ect ect. Once you run out of the basics, Ania usually seemed to just start cleaning whatever jumped out at it as dirty.
Quite honestly, everything jumped out at Ethel as dirty. So they just started scrubbing the floors.
It was not easy, working alongside another person, even if it was (mostly) in secret. Ania had never done it before, and she honestly felt a bit…stifled. Shed go to do her chores and find them already done. For example, this morning. Ania wakes up and pulls on her goggles as she does every morning, heads out into the main room and reaches for the broom only to find…
“What are you doing?” her voice is scratchy from having just woken up, but theres nothing angry there, just confused. She had…not expected this.
Ethel, having vaguely enhanced hearing, had actually heard Ania waking up. It wasn’t like Ania was sneaky… It made a lot of noise between its weird clicking lungs and metal legs, it was easy to hear coming. So they greeted it with a quiet, “Goodmorning,” without even looking up from its task.
When Ania itself spoke up, Ethel did spare a few microbes from the floor to glance in its general direction, “... Cleaning,” their response had a touch of sheepishness. Were they doing something wrong? They were just on their knees scrubbing the floor with cleaning solution and rags, sure they had never seen Ania do THAT exactly, but they had seen it clean plenty of other surfaces the same way.
She nods, slowly. “I…see that. Well, i’m here now so..i can..take over?” Ania does not know why it’s asking, its *ania’s* bar, but this has thrown her for a loop. “You dont uh..” she takes a look around, thinking she can maybe just do the rest of her chores. Unfortunately, the place looks as spotless as it can be, honestly better than usual.
“Did you clean *all* of this?” left unspoken is a quiet *what do i do now*, hanging in the air between the two of them.
Ethel sits up, turning to face Ania. The white microbial dots of its eyes all joined together to form what reassembled large white bumpy pupils, all singularly focused on figuring out what the heck was Ania’s problem this time. No such luck, it was already wearing its goggles so what little glimpses of facial expression they could occasionally glint were a no go. Body language was stiff, but not angry. “Oh… uh. If you’d like.” They respond, limply offering the wet rag up towards it.
Luckily for them both, it wasn’t like Ethel was expecting thanks. Typically up on the Sphere’s fairies were heaped with plenty of praise, but it was more of a vague ‘thank you all for your sacrifice,’ the ‘good job, Ethel”-’s were a LOT more rare, only saved for the best of performance. Thanking them for cleaning such a small space as this would be like thanking them for breathing.
But even still they weren’t expecting this reaction, “Should I have… not cleaned the ‘bar?’ …That wasn’t one of the ground rules…”
It takes the rag, before realizing that bending down isn't something it can really *do*, on account of the way their legs are, so it wanders over to the sink behind the bar and hangs up the rag, Feeling quite stupid.
“No i…you know you don't have to do that, right?” she almost seems embarrassed through all those layers. “Its my job, so.” somehow, this is the thing that has flustered her the most so far. Not the weirdness of having a fairy living in their bar, or the nervousness of being found out, it was waking up and finding nothing to do.
“Uh..so im going..back in there, uh, gotta do some stuff.” she turns and abruptly walks out. In fact she did not have anything else to do, so she tinkered with and replaced a few messed up screws on her legs until opening.
So CLEANING was apparently a bust. But idle hands were unbecoming of a fairy and they needed to keep their edge. Ethel figures maybe messing with the bar is off limits, but the next day they try something different to alleviate their boredom. Ania had been busy manning the bar, it was open hours which meant Ethel wasn’t allowed out of the storage room.
They decided they were tired of the way all the garbage back here was just… pointlessly intermingled. There was an easy fix to this, just simply reorganize the entire room. While staying as quiet as possible, of course. So they went about taking down each box from each shelf, and separating them into various piles, before putting it all back in a MUCH more logical system.
They had the grace to at least leave Ania’s precious tool shelf and the suit untouched. But the way they saw it the rest was fair game. When they were done, from left right front to back everything was organized by functionality and purpose, with most of the broken stuff now relegated to the loose crates surrounding the cot, which they would have LIKED to take the liberty of moving to either side of the shelves, but that would have likely made FAR too much noise.
This wasn't something they had ever seen Ania do, so surely it wouldn’t upset it the same way.
The days had become a lot longer, alot more stressful, and alot busier, seemingly ever since the fairy showed up. Today, when ania finally closed, she was relieved to have a bit of piece and quiet, maybe unpack some of the last stockboxes so she could go ahead and put another order in.
What she is greeted with when she enters the storeroom is…chaos, to put it lightly. Everything on the wire shelves and around the cot had been moved, and changed, and she wasnt sure where anything was-least of all the rest of her stock.
Shes quiet for a moment, then glances at ethel, who is clearly the culprit.
“Did you do this.” shes breathing heavily, the click-click-click of her lungs more pronounced, almost pointed.
Okay, well this seemed like another swing-and-amiss. Ania was angry this time, they think. “I just reorganized. The broken stuff was touching the stuff that works.” They try their best to keep defensiveness from their tone, but consequently, they come across as a little too confident. “This new system adheres more to traditional organization.”
They think on this and decide maybe that explanation isn’t good enough, “I can show you where everything is, now. Your tools are in the same spot as always!” There we go, that's WAY more agreeable. “I also sorted more of the tech by function. So the things that serve similar or the same purposes are all closer together. That’s good, right?” They are pretty sure that maybe this ISN’T good, but closing with optimism certainly couldn’t make things worse.
Ania can feel herself getting pissed, and this time she knows it’s not exactly the fairies fault. She listens to her explanation, and nods at all the right times, fists balled up in her pockets.
“No, its..fine.” she sounds pained. A beat, then two. “....thank you.” she didnt *want* anything to change or be moved, but at least *her* things werent touched. “Show me where the unopened stockboxes are.”
“Oh. I opened them all and sorted the contents. It’s all non-perishable so I didn’t really get why you kept them in boxes. …Is that okay?”
It sighs, huffs really, and shakes it’s head. “No. its..fine. i need the wine and the sponges.” she pauses for a moment and adds, for clarity, “the red bottles.” she is standing stock still, if she started moving she would not be able to be this calm.
Ethel is fairly certain Ania is being incredibly patient at the moment. So they’re very grateful for that even if they aren’t entirely sure what they did wrong, and are actually pretty certain they did everything right pretty much always. Regardless, Ania is showing a remarkable amount of self-control and kindness which somehow makes Ethel feel MORE guilty than if Ania just yelled at them.
Ethel makes a face of vaguely concealed distaste, “Oh… the fermented berry drink. Yes. That’s over… here.” Ethel walks around to the back shelf, indicating with a pointed finger, “All your strange dirty drinking alcohol is back here. This shelf is mostly nutrients and recreational poisons. Um. The front shelf is mostly tech. Cleaning supplies start at the end of the front shelf… continue to the… sorry, do you know the dewey decimal system? This would be easier to conceptualize if you knew the dewey decimal system.”
Ania was exhausted. A week, now, of living at the bar with this…fairy. A week of little sleep, of having someone else in her space, in her business, talking to her. No privacy. On top of all that, she was terrified someone would find out about her stowaway. Every minute the bar was open, she worried about ethel accidentally making too loud a noise, someone seeing her, something happening.
As much as she loathed going home, she needed a break.
Ethel had done good with the rules, and maybe she shouldve waited longer, but it was all too much. They were both trying, but ania had never in her life been around someone this much, except maybe her mother, if that even counts. Besides, she needed to be back in her mech, soon, if she wanted that horrible clicking to stop for a while. So before the bar opened, she called ethel out to the front room.
“I need to go home for a few days.” a pause. “I’ll get the sunlamp while im there. You need to stay here. Do not open for anyone.”
Sometimes it had felt like one step further and two steps back between Ania and Ethel. Every time Ethel thinks they’ve done right, they had messed up. Each time Ethal was CERTAIN they had gone too far and were bound to get kicked out, Ania was surprisingly kind. The inconsistency was mind boggling, and they were beginning to fear it would never end.
To be perfectly candid, Ethel had sort of forgotten that Ania lived somewhere other than the Bar. It had definitely mentioned it before, now that they think about it. But it had completely slipped their mind in the following week of coexistence. The mention of the UV lamp, however, got their attention. Ethel had asked about it many times before, but Ania always seemed keen to push off the retrieval. They needed that thing if they were ever going to fix their wing, which was still very much something they wanted to accomplish.
As much as Ethel was growing to enjoy Ania’s strange company, they needed to get home. Their home needed them and they had no intention of letting their people down. Even if it was… strangely fun at times, this little vacation was nothing but detrimental to Ethel’s skill as a fairy. It needed to end sooner rather than later. “Don’t open for anyone,” they repeated obediently. “Got it.” They gave a little nod.
After pasting up a sign to the front door of the bar that said “KLOZD 4 NOW” with a myriad of X’s, ania locked the door and turned to ethel one last time. “Do not open for anyone, if anyone knocks do not answer, if they break in….” she thinks for a moment. “Kill them.” another moment passes, and ania decides thats all thats relevant to say, though it feels like somethings missing.
“Goodbye.”
The process of getting into and powering on a mech is not always easy, especially if it has been off for a while, so it is maybe thirty more minutes before it actually left, and then ethel was alone.
Ethel’s expression raises at the instruction to kill any trespassers. Was this a bad time to mention they had never killed anything in their life and were in fact taught that killing so much as a plant was a difficult thing for a Fairy to be forgiven for? Mm. You know what, probably it is too late to say that thing. So instead they just stand there awkwardly and watch.
Ethel had never before really properly watched Ania climb into its mech and start it up. It was a shockingly slow process. Ethel had to bite her tongue to prevent themself from commenting upon the ways they might make the process a bit simpler. “... That unsynced dual ignition, huh?” They comment plainly after watching Ania work with the mech long enough. Ania does not comment back. Ethel, thinking that maybe they’re being too subtle and is about to comment, `Doesn't it make you wish… it was synced instead?` when the mech finally starts, saving Ania from Ethel’s nitpicking. Sitting on the Cot with their legs crossed, they watch as the lumbering mechanical form makes it exit.
Huh. Alone. Alone, alone, alone. That’s fine. Ethel’s been alone before. Sort of. Well… there was TYPICALLY other fairies around, back home, even at the most dire of times. It was a rare occasion that Ethel was TRULY alone, but it really did happen from time to time. For example, that time Ethel had worked themself to exhaustion and plummeted down to the tower. Nobody around to catch them. In a way, everything that had happened was entirely their fault, and they’re sort of a sorry excuse for a fairy who has always had too much pride and now the proverbial fall has left them stuck mooching off a poor Gremlin who had enough trouble just surviving by itself.
Wow, being alone is bad and terrible, actually. Ethel needs something to do right now. Ethel climbs off the cot and out into the bar proper. They walk with purpose to a section of the wall, and sit down once again. Pressing their hands against the particularly noisy area they had been inspecting the first night they had spent here. They had been getting a clearer and clearer hypothesis about what mechanisms lay behind this patch of wall, and a growing suspicion it was in fact, not working.
Ethel inspected the wall itself, fingers coming to rest on the bolt heads surrounding a jutted section of wall. Ania had been very clear that Ethel was NOT to touch its tools. …But they doubt they could do much harm borrowing a single screwdriver.
the walk home was long, but it gave ania time to think. about the past week, about this fairy who literally dropped into her life. it was kind of nice, sometimes, to have that other person in the back. it made her feel the way she feels watching people hanging out at her bar, but closer, and that closeness was the problem. even when she was young, she was alone. even after her siblings were born, or her mother became fully mechbound, or after taking the bar over from an old man she barely knew, she had always been alone. the only person she relied on was herself, and occasionally the boy who made her deliveries.
as such, she wasnt good at voicing her thoughts and opinions, wasnt good at asking people for theirs. anytime she had tried in the past it failed, often spectatularly and with a high amount of danger. she just didnt get people the same way other gremlins did. she never felt connected to anyone. sure, she held a pride for her culture, the way that the gremlins pulled themselves up-literally!- fashioning lives out of scrap metal and smog, she was fiercely defensive of it. But it was never enough to carry a conversation, not with her bluntness and tendency to trail off, forgetting to explain herself because why should she? She has never owed anyone anything, regardless of the fact she never got close enough to try.
But this fairy, *ethel*, was posing a real problem for it. She literally *couldnt* go away, her life was in ania’s hands, and ania didnt want that. It wanted peace and quiet, and routine and simplicity, it wanted to be alone until it choked to death on the diesel in its lungs. She didnt know what to think of ethel, because besides being vaguely annoying and kind of stupid, they were so full of life it was hard to not to envy them.
Ania had never had hope of seeing the sky before meeting ethel, but now…she was worried she might be dreaming.
Luckily ania did not have to continue that train of thought, because it arrived at the hatch of it’s/mother’s house. Less of a house in the traditional sense, and more of a slanted shack, the door was big enough for it’s mech to squeeze in and not much else. It didnt bother knocking, the door was unlocked, surely. They open the hatch and step into the dark, beeping and chirping coming from another room.
“Mother?”
Though it was far more grungy and greasy than they were used to, in a strange way Ethel felt more at home in these service tunnels than they had for the entire week prior. THIS is what they were crafted to do, squirming around in an 18” tall service tunnel covered in filth. It’s so nice to have a purpose, you know?
As far as they could tell, from the rust and paint that had accumulated on the entrance into the crawl space, whomever had bolted the thing shut had done it LONG before Ania could have reasonably gotten its hands on the place. Based on the state of things in here NOBODY had been in this section of the service tunnels in a long time, assuming any gremlins were even bothering with them ANYWHERE on the towers.
Oh what fun, there would be so so so MUCH to repair here. Already they were getting a greater appreciation for the craftsmanship of the towers. Now truly touching the guts of this place they could use their sensors to truly get a sense of those aforementioned guts function. It was a diesel powered grimey temple to imperfection. A haphazard beacon of panicked evolution, like a plant left to its own devices. There wasn’t anything natural in sight yet still the place felt just as alive as every augmented vegetation root system they had ever wormed their way inside of. Felt just as much like being cradled inside some great living being, some benevolent titan cradling the remnants of what was once called man.
Here it was now, the main focus of Ethel’s critical eye(Or, fingers more properly) the catalytic converter, industrial sized of course, as one would have to be for this place. They imagine it was one of hundreds, but this one was clogged, jammed full of black oily gunk of the accumulated disel, likely acidic to the touch to any but a fairies deft hands. The gunk hadn’t just clogged it, but eroded some of its essential mechanisms. If ethel could repair it, get it working, Ania wouldn’t have to be QUITE so precious with the opening and closing of their hatch door. It never made sense to Ethel, the design of the situation, open the hatch door and simply risk the death of the entire sector should you forget to close it?
This beautiful hunk of metal and pipe made it make sense, a filter to clean the air far more effectively than time. It STILL would have been far better with an AIRLOCK system, two hatch doors instead of one, but once again, the place wasn’t designed for perfection. It was more like a strangler fig, growing wildly to live, vestigial vines threatening itself like a cancer if not carefully pruned. Who better to prune than themself? But they were going to need a LOT more than a screwdriver. They’d need some of the scrap from the back room for starters, and a FEW more of Ania’s tools. But it would be so incredibly worth it, the satisfaction of a job well done. They’d take the brunt of Anias anger because even it would admit in the end how much better it was when the place was actually functioning.
“Hey sweetie.”
She was in her mech, slumped on the ground of what could reasonably be called a living room under different circumstances. Thick cables ran from the robot out of sight, all sorts of colors, pumping and hissing emanating from the corner. She looked like a spider sitting fat in the middle of a web, waiting for her next meal to come. At least to ania, anyway.
“You havent been home in a while, didya get hurt or something?” the head of the mech lights up when ania’s mother starts talking, and ania feels like familiar prickle of annoyance that comes from having to deal with her.
“No, im fine mother. Just got caught up at work.” maybe if ania moved fast enough she could leave the room before-
“Well then could’ya go ahead and clean out my feeding tube? Its filthy, since *someone* thinks that damn bar is more important than it’s own mother.” there it is. She waits to respond, just to show she can, and too impatient, her mother makes some sort of piteous whine. “I know you love me dear, you wouldnt let me starve, would you?” ania sighs.
“No, mother. Ill get right to it.” the worst part is she *wouldnt* let her mother starve, no matter how horrible she got. It just wasnt right letting anyone suffer, and ania had accepted that taking care of this woman was her responsibility a long time ago.
“You couldnt move any faster, could ya?” the motionless mech remarks, after ania once again commits the cardinal sin of standing still. “I swear, you lot want those mech’s to do everything for you. Thank god I taught you the value of a little hard work, at least.”
Ethel, unfortunately, was tracking quite a bit of filth onto the floors they had so painstakingly cleaned only days before. But, they could clean it again, and you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Whatever an omelet, WAS anyways. Back into the storage room they hunted down the pieces they might need, cleaning and returning the screw driver EXACTLY where they found it. They hope, by using the tools, but returning them to the exact state they were found in, they might prove to Ania that they can be trusted with such things.
Which is exactly how they are justifying the fact they are about to borrow QUITE A FEW MORE of Ania’s tools without asking. Ethel had never before heard the phrase “better to ask for forgiveness than for permission” before, but for the first time in their life they are at least familiar with the feeling behind the words. They help themself to a cordless drill, some wrenches and gaskets, a bit of welding epoxy… and a few other tools that catch their eye. Loading it all into a metallic basket which they then place to the side.
Next they’re taking some spare pipes and other metallic scrap from the wire shelves. This junk, they’re more or less certain allowed to do with whatever they please, so they’re much more liberal with what they yoink, figuring they can put anything they don’t end up using back. Once they have packed it all up ready for transport they set off back into the bar proper, down onto their hands and knees and back into the service tunnel crawl space.
Whenever Ania gets one task done, her mother ‘reminds’ her of another, and it continues like that until late in the night, when her mother-her name is Angie, not that Ania ever calls her that- beckons her over and informs her that “You should really take a break sweetie, you always work too hard.” Angie then informs Ania thats shes tired, and is going to take a nap, leaving ania to return to her room and sit for the first time in hours.
She leaves her mech first, and as she pulls herself out if it she gazes around what has been her bedroom since she was born. Its dirty, the walls grey with smoke as all things are, no furniture save for a metal cabinet and a mattress, a closet stuffed to the brim with nonsense, clothes scattered about everywhere. It was filthy, but ania was glad to have it.
She sits on the bed and gets (mostly) undressed so she can power down and pull off her legs, sighing in relief as the weight is removed. Whenever she wears them without taking breaks, she gets bruises on her hips from gravity wanting to pull her legs down, and they are so heavy that it just plain hurts after a while. She flops back onto the bed and feels a bit freer, though cranky and irritable after having to do chores for Angie for so long. Its always been like that, and maybe its Ania’s fault. She avoids her mother as much as she can, so it only makes sense shed have to catch up on chores whenever she does come home, but its frustrating. Staring up at the ceiling, she wonders what ethel is doing right now, and is hit with an unexpected pang of….what is that emotion? Like wishing you were there with someone. It’s probably just because of the bar, it never feels good to close it, no matter how short the stay is, and she is always itching to go back.
That must be it.
Chapter Five: Returning
It felt like forever, but ania had only been gone three days, and she honestly didnt feel any less stressed than she had previously, but her lungs stopped clicking and she had the UV Lamp for ethel, so she accomplished everything she set out to.
Coming in through the front door this time, having traveled through the pipes on her way back, it made sure to pull the sign off the door before heading in. the first thing it noticed-and only one who spent so much time at the lamplight would- was there was dirt on the floor that was not there before.
“Ethel?” Ania called out, though through her mech it sounded echoey and darkened. The stockroom door was open, but it didnt look like much was disturbed, so she headed in, giant metal boots shaking the ground ever so slightly.
Potentially to Ania’s disconcertion, Ethel was nowhere to be found in the stock room either. Though upon close enough inspection, one might notice some of the tools are missing, but now might not be the time for close inspections. After all, a fairy was missing.
Unluckily still, Ethel, being deep in the service tunnels, was unable yet to hear Ania’s call. See, they had long since fixed the catalytic converter, but GOSH once they really started crawling around in here they REALLY got a feel for just how much was broken, or at least functioning suboptimally. For example, the hatch door in the storage room actually has an automatic closing function, but the motors have long since rusted over. But repairing the motors wouldn’t actually fix it, because the power seemed to have been rerouted years ago, and half the fuses were completely busted, they’d need to be replaced, or at least moved around.
PLUS this whole sector is powered by a diesel generator, with the intake for the actual fuel being somewhere up above in the halls Ethel wasn’t allowed in, but the generator itself was so patchworked at this point, it wasn’t outputting nearly as much energy as it could at optimal operations. GOODNESS, not to even touch upon how many of the pistons needed to be cleaned or outright replaced, GOSH. But baby steps. They had just wrapped up putting the finishing touches on the rotor of the gear motor for the door itself.
They heard something heavy bumping around up top, must be Ania! It’s probably driving its little robot around in the storage room above them. They ought to go ahead and squirm their way back out of the shafts so they can go say hello.
The fairy is not there. Ethel is nowhere to be found. Ania’s anxiety spikes, and instead of taking off her mech, she takes a look around, rummaging around the storage room to-what, exactly? See if anythings been stolen, see if someone broke in? The dirt on the floor was strange, but as she looked around, nothing had been….
Oh. some of her tools were missing. She still wasnt familiar enough yet with Ethels ‘organizing’ so she didnt know if anything else was gone, but her tools were important. She calls out ethel’s name a few more times,leaves the UV lamp on the cot, then stomps out to the main room, again shouting her name. Ania notices a piece of wall has been removed, and she bends down as much as she can, the mechs large frame completely covering it, and shines it’s chest light into what looks like a small service tunnel, though not one ania has ever used.
“Ethel?”
Ethel had made it back to the maintenance tunnel leading into the bar just soon enough to have her dark-acclimated eyes blinded by the headlight of Ania’s mech. “Ow-” they cover their eyes slightly, waiting for their microbes to adjust and restructure better suited for the inward light, “Welcome home Ania!” They call in return from the back of the tunnel. “Sorry about the mess out there! Um… It will probably get worse once I’m out of here. One of the outflow pipes was so rusted it burst after just a bit of inspection, but it was so clogged, I could repair it before we had any MAJOR spillage.”
Ethel worms their way closer, pulling the metallic crate on wheels behind them, which housed the majority of Ania’s stolen tools, not that Ania would be able to see that from their angel, “Move out the way, won’t you? I wanna come out and say hi!”
Ania takes a step back, and turns the light off.
“Where are my tools.” the adrenaline that flooded her body on finding the fairy missing has oozed its way into annoyance, though ania cannot help but be a little glad nothing horrible happened when she was away. It looks like ethel took it apon herself-yet again- to fix things she had no business fixing, and however pissed off ania got about it, it seemed a welcome change from dealing with her mother.
“Uhm. hi, also.”
Ethel wriggled out from the entrance to the tunnel, and stood up dusting themself off rather pointlessly. The fairy was… filthy. Absolutely covered in oil and grime and god knows what other gunk. Some of the inky dark filth coating them looked fresh, but enough of it looked old enough, and the rest of the Bar left so thoroughly undisturbed that it implies Ethel had done nothing for the last three days but work in the maintenance shaft. On Top of it all, Ethel was beaming the biggest, most genuine smile Ania had ever seen the little fairy wear.
“GOSH. Sorry,” they begin, “I’m tracking oil all over the bar floor.” Their smile turns sheepish, “Don’t worry, I can clean it up if you like… oh. Or I guess, let you clean it up if you prefer.” They shake their hands like one might after washing them without a towel to dry, but instead of water it’s dirty oil. “Before I catch you up on what you missed - How was your trip??”
Ania backs up a bit more, then stands and watches ethel as she absolutely gunks up the place. Its honestly impressive. “I would have thought you didnt like getting dirty.” shes still in her mech, and thats its own brand of filth, but its also massive and imposing-still just manages to reach ethel’s height, funnily enough.
Apon seeing the crate with her tools inside, she grabs it-a bit rudely- and sets it on the counter, checking to make sure none of them were hurt, er, damaged. While she looks them over (using the rubber gloves of course, her mech hands were far too powerful to handle tools), she talks.
“Mgh. it was fine. Got your sun lamp. Whered you put my screwdriver?” it is easy to attribute her lack of words with anger, but honestly she did not like talking about her home.
Ethel laughs at the assertion they might be adverse to getting their hands- well… entire body- dirty. It’s a proper laugh, not the girlish giggles they had sounded in the past, “What did you think my job was up on the spheres? I spent most of my time crawling around in muddy roots sticking my hands up to the elbows in bionic plants and synthetic flesh!” They pause and reflect on it, “I’ll admit, all this gunk is probably less than great for my skin, but I was crafted to withstand the smog when I need to, I imagine this stuff can’t be much worse.”
Ethel pulls themself up so they’re sitting on the unused forearm of Ania’s mechanical form, watching it work on its tools, “Screwdriver should be where you left it. Cleaned-up too. Because I am oh so good with tools,” they say the last of that sentence in a sing-song tone, it’s pretty clear they had been enjoying themself. They were accustomed to Ania being less than forthcoming, so they pressed onwards. “You wouldn’t BELIEVE all the broken stuff in there. Gosh, I could spend months working on this place and never run out of stuff to do!” Ethel is happy to hear the UV lamp had been retrieved… that means they could get to work on fixing themSELF. Which they suppose, is what they should actually be preoccupied with. Getting home. It’s almost a shame really… there’s just as much to do down here as there is up on the spheres. Maybe… maybe they should put in a word for the gremlins when they get back. Surely some fairies could be spared to maintain this place. Surely they were getting ahead of themselves. Need to fix their wing first regardless.
“I guess your right about that, nothing is worse than the smog,” Ania flinches when ethel climbs onto her. She knows by now that the two of them are so different that ethel wouldnt really understand, but still. She freezes, and since all of her tools have been looked over and deemed to be ok, (dirty, but shes trying not to dwell on it), she pulls her arms back into her mech, unlocks her shoulders, and very gently has ethel slide off.
A bit flustered but moving on as best she can, Ania asks, “What, uhm. what were you fixing?” she heads into the backroom with the box of tools, ready to dismount from the mech and get to work cleaning them all off. She doesnt motion ethel to follow, but assumes she will anyway. “Is it pointless to mention that whatever you did probably wont change much, and it is also…not your job?”
Ethel gracefully slides off the mech onto the floor, she had picked up pretty early that gremlins didn’t seem quite as… keen on physical contact as the fairies they had grown up around. Fairies were INCREDIBLY physically affectionate with each other, they were all siblings after all, and it was weighing on them now being able to touch the one other person they ever got to see. They had been hoping that maybe just touching the mech would have been fine, but nope that’s not allowed either. Oh well.
“Well, I STARTED with the catalytic converter in there-” Ethel pauses, not sure if Ania is going to be familiar with such a technical term, and an OLD one at that, “Um. The air filter. It was all stopped up! So it couldn’t properly clean any of the smog that got in here, with it running using the hatch door will be SO much easier.”
Ethel DOES indeed follow Ania and responds to its next point in kind, “Hey, weren’t YOU the one who said the Sylphs and us Fairies should help out down here as well,” Ether retorts, knowing full well Ania hadn’t been speaking in an instructional capacity at the time, yet being pedantic about it regardless, ‘So if annnything I was just doing as I was told.”
Ethel glanced at the shower, and then down at their now absolutely ruined canvas dress. On practiced instinct Ethel simply tore the filthy and flimsy dress from their skin. Then a beat. They look down at the now ruined AND ripped canvas material and realize they cannot, in fact, simply toss it into the recycler and grab another off the line. That was the only piece of clothing they owned. The only remnant of their home they still had beyond themself.
By the time ania gets out of her mech, for some ungodly reason, ethel has discarded all of her clothes, what little she had to begin with. Completely blindsided by this, ania squeaks, then jumps back.
“What are you doing!” just think about this ania, solve the problem. Turning her head so that she is not seeing any of ethel-not that theres anything there, at least different from herself- ania starts pacing back and forth.
“Right. You need…clothes, im guessing?” she gestures to under the cot, where a small black bag has some extra clothes in it. Nothing fancy and all sized for the funsized girl ania is, but it is better than nothing. An undershirt and pants, socks, etc.
“J-just take whatever you want, uh. I can leave you alone?” she very deliberately avoids looking anywhere near ethel as she scoots out of the room.
Ethel is broken from the sobering realization they had just destroyed the only object tying her to their home by Ania’s rather high pitched reaction. Luckily for them, now all those complicated and sad emotions can get replaced by mild annoyance!
Right. Sylphs were weird about nudity, after all it wasn’t like the fairies wore these flimsy dresses for their own comfort. They guess it only makes enough sense that the layer obsessed gremlins would have similar reservations. Plus, because ANIA was embarrassed by it now ETHEL was getting embarrassed about it, “Oh grow up, don’t make it weird. It’s not like this,” they shake the flimsy remains of the fabric dress they had once been wearing, “was THAT obscuring. If you hadn’t noticed there isn’t much to see."
Ethel turns to actually get a look at Ania and realize it’s both shielding its eyes and looking in the opposite direction. They sigh and decide to give Ania a break. “Right, yeah,” they respond to Ania’s offer of clothing, “I’m going to take a shower first if that’s alright.”
“Uh, yea, sounds good.” it refuses to look at her, even with the light chastising. Ania grabs her work attire and stares at the ground for a minute. How to make this as normal as possible, despite the weirdness, because it seems they both would enjoy it.
“Dont touch my stuff, then. I….am going to go open the bar up, don't come out when your done.” good, sufficiently normal. She leaves the stockroom and puts her gloves and apron on, putting herself to work cleaning first the mess ethel made, then fixing the hole where the service tunnel hides. Her regulars have surely heard she is back by now, and she’d like to open on time.
Ethel had ended up going with the baggiest clothes they could find, because they looked the least silly on them. They had never worn pants before (or more properly hadn’t since they were a changeling) and found the experience to be altogether rather constricting. If Ania were not so itty bitty maybe they could have found a shirt long enough to serve as a dress, but no luck.
Regardless, the day passed uneventfully, and after… however long they had fixated upon working in the tunnels they had found themself to be running low on energy. They decided to sunbathe… as best they could… with the UV lamp. They could use the pick-me-up. They go to unsheathe their wings, and with a painful jolt they realize - oh right the stupid shirt is in the way.
Okay, well forget that. The shirt comes off, they don’t have nipples so Ania could learn to live with it. Once they’re done they unfurl their wings and… ouch. Yeesh that poor wing is NOT looking good. The pain flares up again, and though it's dried it's barely healed at all, if anything it looks close to wilting. No sun, and no nutrients means no healing. They sigh dramatically and wait under their little mock sun, making sure the broken wing gets extra time in the light.
As she expected, ania had to field a myriad of questions as to why she had closed for so long. Gremlins are typically creatures of habit, and Ania prided herself on being reliable, so she was genuinely apologetic everytime someone asked.
“Sorry, had to go home for a bit, im back now.” over and over, but eventually the bar gremlins got the message, and things mostly went back to normal. It wasnt too busy being the first day back, either, and by the end she felt mostly refreshed mentally, albeit physically exhausted. After cleaning up, ania heads back into the stockroom to find….Ethel, still not wearing a shirt. She’d like to be normal about this, but do they really have to keep doing it? Just looking at them makes it feel exposed. “Oh, uh.” she clears her throat. “Using the. Uh. sunlamp?” she notices the broken wing and winces, stepping closer, curiosity winning out over embarrassment. “It doesnt look mechanical at all, it looks like..” it tries to come up with a suitable metaphor. “Like…cabbage?” one of the only plants ania is familiar with, since it doesnt require really anything to thrive. “Like moldy cabbage.”
They sit up a bit, their white microbes swimming up from the corner of their eyes to refocus as Ania enters the room. Ethel nods lazily, her eyes half lidded in a disturbing reminder that they in fact, cannot close them completely. Their microbes miss their mark, sort of flying past each other before refocusing on Ania.
“It’s closer to a plant than a machine I suppose. But really, what’s the difference? S’a… genetically modified. Same as you or me,” their words are slightly slurred and their posture slumped. They take a deep breath through their nose, rousing themself, shaking their head so that their hair gently sways. “It’s controlled by my nervous system, same as any limb. There is just as much …augmented plant matter in me as flesh or polymer.”
They turn to Ania and tilt their head, “Uh… does that make sense?” They’ve gotten into the habit of asking. When they explain these things, they always have difficulty avoiding the words Ania might not know.
Oh. well this is certainly new. Since ania has known her, ethel has been bright eyed and curious, almost hyper, now, if she wasnt mistaken, this was..tired? Either that or that sunlamp is making her drunk, which is a tank of diesel she does not want to get into right now. “Yes, but…” she waves a hand in front of ethel’s face, watching the white bits float lazily all over the place. “Are you ok? You seem a bit…out of it.” maybe she had more questions, but now she is mostly concerned.
Ethel scratches at the back of her head sheepishly, “I”m alright. Just… I think whatever combination of adrenaline and novelty that’s kept me going is starting to crash. It’s…” Ethel struggles with how to explain this, “It’s like… I’ve got so long without sunlight now… so I haven't been able to photosynthesize. Fairies have this… weird thing where our bodies can sort of tolerate being starved of energy, but once we get a source it can… catch up with us just how long we’ve been running on empty…” Ethel explains, unaware of the fact that they are essentially describing the way ANY humanoid responds to prolonged lack of food.
“Basically… until I sat in this UV light… I hadn’t realized just how long it’s been… Plus I haven’t… haven’t..” Ethel trails off, only just realizing they nearly admitted how… well… ‘hungry’ they were. They suddenly start avoiding eye contact… something a LOT more noticeable when you have a LOT of pupils.
The thing is, Ethel hadn’t had to eat since they were a changeling. Fairies don’t typically EAT, they get those additional nutrients they can’t photosynthesize through what they call ‘fertilizer.’ Basically it’s injected in liquid form into the requisite places, skipping the digestion process all together and saving quite a bit of energy. That and saving time, since unless they’re injured and on a constant drip feed, they only need to do it about once a week at most.
Ethel is clearly avoiding saying something, and for a moment Ania is confused as to what shes implying, and more importantly, if theres anything that can be done about it. She bites her lip, though it cant be seen under the mask, and *hmms*.
“Could…can you like, eat? Food?” it occurs to ania that fairies might not eat, which she quickly dismisses because thats kind of insane, even for how weird ethel is.
“I dont have anything hot, but..” she turns around and begins rummaging around the boxes on the wire shelves. “Howd you say you did this again?”
Ethel winces as Ania puts two and two together. They stop just short of groaning dramatically, but they do slump down further into the cot they were sitting on, into a position so slumped back they honestly looked rather uncomfortable
“Other side, Ania…” they say in such a painedly dry tone you would think they were reluctantly being dragged to a doctors office, not offered food. “Machinery on this side, remember?”
She feels chastised, but in a show of extreme restraint, is choosing not to comment on it. “Right.” ethels instructions dont really help, but she is too stubborn to ask *again* to explain, so it takes her longer than it should to pull out a medium sized, sludge colored pack out and toss it on the desk-area where the sunlamp sits. For the convenience of the non-smogwalkers out there, it resembles a squeezable applesauce package, the tubed open perfectly sized for attaching to a feeding tube or eating straight up. She rummages around and grabs one for herself as well. “Here, its supposed to be ‘cheddar broccoli rice flavored’, but it mostly tastes like cabbage.” she says, clearly not knowing what cheddar, broccoli, or rice is. “The ‘flavors’ were created a long time ago, i think they’re supposed to be like, old human food.”
Ethel, to their credit, only flinches slightly as the plastic lump lands with a soft thud on the desk-adjacent furnishing. With a curious hand, they poke at the package, their equivalent of sniffing it practically. They… they don’t know how to eat this. They don’t entirely remember how to eat in general. “Broccoli. Yeah. I’ve heard of that…” they mutter pointlessly. They didn’t really have Broccoli on the Spheres, per say. All the sphere’s crops were bespoke fruits and strange vegetables especially genetically engineered to fill all a humanoids nutritional needs. Not that Ethel had any memory of having eaten any of THOSE either.
The outside is plastic, so presumably they aren’t supposed to eat that part. They prod it with enough of their fingers that they figure out how to twist off the top and set it to the side, they hold the thing gingerly, like they expect it to explode in their hand. “So it’s… mush, right? I don’t have to… um… chew it?” They look up to Ania, seeing that it has collected it’s own it hopes that maybe they can watch IT eat its first and glean some information without having to outright admit they do not know how to eat.
The way ethel looks at the packet is really funny to ania, and she stifles a giggle at the question. “No, you dont gotta chew it.” she pulls the top off of her own packet, and then has the uncomfortable realization that she is going to need to take her mask off first. A few moments pass, and ethel is looking at it expectantly, as if waiting for it to eat first. Pretty reasonable, it could be poison. She’s just going to have to bite the bullet and do it. Taking a few steps back, she kind of awkwardly turns away from ethel and removes the back straps on her mask, hooking it onto a belt loop. The lower half of her face is much like the upper part ethel had already seen, aside from the large necrotic patch on her right cheek. It was unclear if that was the reason she was so uncomfortable or not, but regardless, her face burned as she started drinking, glancing over at ethel occasionally and making a sort of “mmm, this is so good and not poisoned’ noise, whatever that sounds like.
Did Ania just… laugh? Ethel knows it was technically AT them, but for once they don’t really care about looking stupid. They’d look as stupid as they needed if it meant getting Ania to laugh like that again. Speaking of firsts for Ethel and Ania…
Ethel had not considered the fact that Ania would of course need to take off its mask to eat. Suddenly, they were a lot less concerned with re-learning how to eat and a lot more invested in getting to actually see Ania’s face. Ethel’s white microbes all congeal into bumpy pupils fixated on watching Ania’s impromptu face reveal. It was very pretty, which wasn’t particularly surprising to Ethel who had figured that would likely be the case. Ethel was overcome with the desire to cup Ania’s face, something quite regular amongst fairies, but DEFINITELY was out of the question in this case. “Huh…” Ethel begins to mutter, struck by a realization, “You look just like a Sylph.”
“...Why DO you wear that mask all the time anyways?” Ethel asks a little more bluntly than they might have had they not been so low on energy. But if they’re honest with themself they kind of might just be blunt in general. “You’re perfectly cute. Why hide your face so often…?” They have completely, totally lost the plot on the fact they were supposed to be observing how to eat.
Ania freezes, staring at ethel with a deer in headlights expression. It had never been called cute before, and the sensation was terrifying. It was like a rock dropped into her gut, or being shocked by faulty wiring. She kind of wanted it to happen again.
Ania stutters, and if she wasnt red before, she is now. “Uh-uhm. Well. uh. So….” because her face is covered the majority of the time, hiding her emotions does not come easily, and right now she can be read like a book, which isnt helping her embarrassment. She turns fully away from ethel, hiding her face in her hands. When she does finally manage to speak, she sounds smaller. “I-it’s. A safety thing. You know how, uhm. You said there were no redundancies, if. Uh. a hatch opened? With my mask i would have more time to find somewhere safe. Its, its uh. A respirator.” thats one of the reasons, the most logical one. She mostly just plain doesnt feel comfortable without it at this point.
Ania was suddenly staring at Ethel like it was expecting them to bite. It looked scared, Ethel stopped and rewinded, trying to reassess what they might have said wrong this time. Was cute the wrong word? It was a compliment amongst Fairies. But it would make sense if maybe Ania would rather be imposing than cute, based on what they’d gathered about Gremlin culture.
“Cute in a tough way though,” They amended hopefully. But now Ania wasn’t looking at them at all. Its face had gone red like Ethel had embarrassed it and they started to figure that perhaps it just wasn’t used to compliments at all. Compliments about appearance, they supposed, were the physical affection of words. Something that was commonplace for Fairies, but maybe not something Ania was used to.
Ethel pouts and resolves to relent for now, though they couldn’t pretend they weren’t upset about it. What was the point of seeing a cute face if you weren’t allowed to vocalize your appreciation for that fact. They try instead to focus on the response, “That makes sense, I suppose. A sort of… better safe than sorry situation…”
Ethel’s eyes wander back down to the tube of food paste and this time they DO sigh dramatically. Ania had made itself vulnerable by removing its mask so they decide that it is only fair they themself try and be equally vulnerable through the form of what will likely be very amusing honesty, “I genuinely don’t know how to eat. Fairies don’t have to do it normally.”
Due to how embarrassed it already was, ania jumped on the chance to take the attention away from itself. “Thats,... ok.” moving her hair in such a way that it covers part of her face, she turns back around to ethel, grabbing the packet in their hand and twisting the top off.
“If you, uhm, if you had a G-tube you wouldnt really have to. Its pretty common down here. But uhm.” she is trying her hardest to seem cool and collected, but the stuttering and the way she keeps covering her face is a bit telling.
“Its not that hard. Just, here, put this to your mouth and kind of…” she hands the packet back, demonstrating with her own. “Sluuurp,,,?” she looks over at ethel for an understanding.
Ethel watches Ania with a curious expression and a head tilted slightly to the side. They had never seen someone get caught off guard by, what seems to them, such light praise. Ania was pretty enough that they would think that it got plenty of compliments, but then again with the mask and all perhaps now. Or maybe cute really is just an insult among Gremlins? Who knows. Certainly not Ethel, and Ania seems keen enough to move past it all together.
Ethel looks down at their own packet with a squint, their microbes focusing mostly on it, with a few spared to keep an eye on Ania’s expression. They had sort of figured that part would be easy. What’s evading them is a bit more… difficult to describe. “Right… so. You just. Put it in your mouth and then… flex the esophagus? Wait… no… the tongue is involved at some point… right?”
It took a second for her mind to catch up with what ethel was saying, and then she was more confused than ever. “Oh. uh..swallowing?” its a little absurd, how can she explain something shes never consciously done? Furthermore, your mouth is usually closed, so how would she even show her? She giggles, and then covers her mouth once more.
“Sorry, i just. Heh. uh, i never thought about how to explain something like this before…” shes quiet for a moment, then sticks her tongue out and points vaguely towards the back of her throat.
“Ok, so-” she sounds strange trying to talk like this, but it is in complete earnest. “Basically you wan’ the pas’e to go down he’e?” she then overexaggerates a gulping motion, along with a weird sort of “ta-dah?” noise. Lots of noises coming from this girl, she is trying.
Ethel is trying to concentrate on Ania’s demonstration, but staring so intently at its tongue and the inside of its mouth is making Ethel feel weirdly self-conscious. Which is… strange, after all it’s not ETHEL’S mouth on display here. They try to ignore the weird feeling, along with the light color it brings to their OWN cheeks. Luckily for them, fairy blush is a bit harder to spot due to the… stranger spectrum running through their veins and the thicker polymer making up most of the skin on their face.
Ethel’s confused emotions soon give way to simpler ones when they can’t help but burst out laughing at Ania’s attempted ‘ta-da.’ The whole situation is so ridiculous, once they start laughing it takes them a minute to stop.
“Eheh..heh. Okay. Okay,” they look down at the tube of paste with a mixture of hope and apprehension, “Guess I’ll give it a try.”
They raise the packet to their face, and experimentally squeeze a bit into their mouth and - OH GROSS THEY FORGOT ABOUT TASTE. Oh that’s AWFUL it’s like their fingers but TERRIBLE AND WEIRD. It’s all TEXTURE and OVERWHELMING smell but… not quite smell? They have to cover their mouth to keep themself from spitting it out altogether, swallowing hastily and messing it up like a champ. They make a choking sound like some of it went down the wrong tube.
“That,” they sputter, “Is the worst. Ever. Evolution was wrong. Eating is BAD.”
Ania had started giggling when ethel did, a sort of release of anxiety. This whole situation was so fucking *weird*, and everything seemed so tense, that getting to laugh like that changed the tone in the room immensely. She only laughed harder when ethel tried eating, actually snorting at one point,
It takes more than a couple minutes for her to settle herself enough to respond, wiping a tear from her eye. “I think, maybe in this instance your right? Maybe next time we can try hot food, you might like it more.” Ania is smiling now, and honestly having a great time when she suddenly remembers that she has been talking to a woman WITHOUT A SHIRT ON this entire time. Her eyes go wide and she very purposefully covers them.
“Ohmyholysmogcanyou Please put a shirt,uhm, on!”
Chapter Six: Fight
In the end, they had settled on Ethel wearing a shirt which she had been allowed to cut the back out of. This way she could still easily unsheathe and sheathe her wings whenever she was tending to, watering or sunbathing them.Her broken wing was admittedly looking better, though not much progress had been made outside of the wound scabbing over. Some light growth, but nothing much yet. The days had been a lot of eating(gross), drinking(which she could do through her skin so, that was fine.) and resting. Healing a wound meant she needed more fertilizer than normal, i.e. nutrients, and in this case, food. They probably needed to eat at least one thing a day and that was going to be terrible. Needless to say Ethel was losing her mind. Sitting still and not working is completely counter to a fairy’s nature.
Infact, on the sphere any time a fairy was so injured it needed a day or two's rest as a part of its repairs they would often have to tie the things down to prevent them from attempting to escape to go back to work. But down here, without the skilled hands and tools of the Sculptor Sprites it could take weeks and weeks for Ethel to repair themself.
So by day two of “regaining their strength” Ethel was pacing around in the backroom during the open hours of the Lamplight trying to figure out how they were going to go about asking Ania if it would let them go back into the service tunnel once the bar was closed. They had fixed a fair amount but there was STILL so much they could do.
Blessedly, ania had found a routine in all the excitement, especially once the two of them got more settled in with each other. She still felt a little… ill at the thought of having to share so much time and space with another, but it helped that she could trust ethel to not mess up the place if she needed a bit of metaphorical air.
Besides everything fairy-related, something *very* exciting was coming up, and had consequently taken over Ania’s thoughts the last couple of days: Deliveries! Twice a month (sometimes less) a small boy-child called Oil would come and bring alcohol, cleaning supplies, and food packets, as well as anything specific Ania asked it for. He was a delight, someone Ania (though she would never say as much) really looked forward to getting to talk to. Anytime it would come, it would regale her with it’s tales of delivery all over the tower, and ania always learned something new when it came around.
All this being the case, ania had acquired a new brain worm-maybe oil would know something about faeries. It wasnt that ania thought ethel would *lie* about where she came from and what she was made of, but it never hurt to hear it from a gremlin.
The delivery was coming tomorrow, and until then she would have to wait, keeping all her buzzing thoughts close to her chest as she always does.
Another uneventful day had came and went, and she knocked on the stockroom door a few minutes after closing.
“You can come out now.” she was sitting on a stool at the bar, cleaning glasses.
It had been a long several hours of contemplation. Ethel eventually stopped their pacing and went back to sunbathing their wings. But they couldn’t stop thinking about the issues still left to solve in the nearby area ALONE. Ania was always… weird about Ethel doing things that “weren’t their job” but I mean, they’re staying here out of Ania’s good will they might as well do something in return right? Plus it’s their entire PURPOSE. They figure if they try to explain it like that, Ania would eventually get it.
Ethel slowly opened the door to the back and stepped out tiptoeing (as always) around the bar and taking a seat on one of the stools. Their expression wasn’t NERVOUS per say, but she looked contemplative as she sat down and watched Ania work. They had spent so much time planning their approach that somehow they were getting cold feet about actually pitching it. Still, no time like the present.
“So!” they started, steepling their fingers as they spoke, “...how was ‘business’ today?” They say business with the lilt of someone not used to using a word, because after all, it was a new one to them. Ethel figured starting elsewhere and working their way up to asking Ania how it would feel about them entering the service tunnels again to do more work. It was a pretty standard tactic. But Ethel, unused to wanting something that wasn’t expected of them, felt fairly clever for coming up with it.
If ania noticed ethel seemed off, she didnt comment on it, nor did she look ethels way, focusing on a particularly stubborn stain. She grunts in response to ethel’s question. “Fine enough. You been..quiet back there. Wing still givin’ you trouble?”
She sneaked a glance at ethels back, but they were put away, or whatever it’s called when they arent fluttering about, so she wasnt able to tell if any progress had been made. She initially wanted to just leave the healing up to ethel, since she clearly knew more about her body than ania would, but as time went on and nothing changed she wondered if there was more she could be doing.
The stain came off and the glass was stacked neatly with a growing pile of clean dishes.
Ethel hummed in contemplation. Sitting up straight they reached an idle hand up to their chin and scratched at their cheek before responding, “Not… trouble per say. Regrowth is… steady! I just have to keep nurturing it.”
Ethel watched Ania working away on the stain, and so desperate was she for something to do, her mind was telling her to snatch the cup and clean if FOR Ania. She could do it so much more efficiently she could set up an entire system she just KNOWS she could. Instead she starts lightly tapping her fingers on the desk, adverting most of her little white microbes away from their focus on Ania and the cup and putting the thought out of her mind.
They smile at Ania, “And I was quiet just because… Gotta follow the rules, you know! Don’t want to get caught…” Etel had, in actuality, attempted to be as quiet as possible in hopes it might better her chances of swaying Ania. “So… I’ve been wondering… you know the service tunnel I found?”
Ania nods, prompting her to go on. “Yea, what about it?” its not something she put alot of thought to after the fact. though the idea of having something in her bar she didnt know was there was kind of unnerving, Ania figures it was her bad for not giving the place a thorough run-down when she took over for the old man.
Ethel fidgets further with her fingers, averting her eyes only slightly, “Well… I was wondering how you would feel if… maybe when the bar is closed I went back into the service tunnels and maybe fixed more stuff?”
“It’s just… There was SO much more to fix… and you know the stuff I already fixed - it’s been nice, right?”
“Oh, uh…” Ania is quiet for a second. She never really told her *not* too, and it is helpful, sort of. The only real issue ania can come up with is that it…bothers her. The fact that someone else is doing work she should be responsible for, that is.
She breathes out a sigh. “I guess…? Just dont go crazy, or too far, you might end up in someone elses building or something…” she tries to think of who would be next door, but its always quiet over there. Maybe they moved out.
Ania shrugs. “I really dont care.”
Ethel jumps up from the bar in very evident excitement, “Oh, thank you Ania! I promise I won’t let you down!” A certain light comes back into her eye, the same that had shown up every other time they had excitedly taken on some task without permission. “Oh! There’s so much I could do, did you know that your hatch to the outside used to have an automatic closing function? I want to try to fix that next, but I’ll have to repair the burned-out breakers first…”
Ethel hadn’t sat back down, and was instead pacing about excitedly, talking with her hands, “I’ll have to borrow your tools again - I hope that’s also okay - I treated them very well last time, you might recall.” She pauses her pacing and starts stroking her chin absently, “Oh… I guess I’d also need to pick out clothes that it’s okay to get dirty… I suppose you might have some objections to me doing it without clothes on, right? Maybe some rubber stuff that’s easier to clean?”
She turns away, pacing again, clearly thinking aloud at this point, “Though I suppose some of the time you’d be asleep, so it really wouldn’t matter…” She jumps suddenly and claps excitedly, “OH I’m so excited I want to get started right away!”
When the fairy jumps up and starts fluttering around, for lack of a better word, ania wonders how much she is actually supposed to be listening to. She nods and “mhm’s” at appropriate intervals, and when ethel mentions borrowing her tools again, she winces. After all, they were *her* tools, damn near her closest friends, however embarrassing it was to admit.
“You can use anything else *but* my tools, actually.” everything else she was fine with, but the distinction between *stuff* and *her stuff* was a very thick line, one she intended to keep intact.
“I dont really care what you do, beyond that, just dont break anything.” she finishes wiping off the last glass and stretches, standing up. “You want clothes or anything like that, be my guest. But dont touch anything in my tool shelf again.” it wasnt intended to be a threat, more of a statement, but the defensive tone in her voice betrayed how intense she was being.
Ethel halts suddenly, turning around slowly, to look at Ania. She doesn’t exactly look angry or sad, so much as confused. She is silent for a beat. Then a beat more. “But…” she starts before trailing off, now a bit of sadness is creeping into her expression, or maybe disappointment was a better word. “But… It’s not like I could repair anything without the tools!”
“I treated them very well before, don’t you remember?” she continues, defensiveness now leaking into her own tone. “I was even going to clean them before putting them back had you not come back so-” she almost says, ‘soon,’ before recalling Ania had APPARENTLY been gone for three entire days. Time flies when you’re actually doing something, she supposed. “Had you not done it first! And- and- fixing this stuff would help YOU too. It would help the ‘bar’ in general!”
It was so, *so* ridiculous. She was being immature, she knew that, but ania was also stubborn, and the way the fairy was arguing with her only made her double down. Feigning nonchalance, she shrugs. “The bar worked just fine ‘fore you came around.”
Ania picks up a stack of glasses and starts putting them up behind the bar, not looking at ethel, head down and eyes on the work. “I dont care about arguing. Ill see if i can get you some other tools, if you tell me what you need, but you arent touching my stuff.” she wanted this conversation to be over, and some part of her was wishing that the fairy would just leave her alone.
Once again, vestigial tears were threatening to spill over, these ones however had nothing to do with fear or desperation. Ethel, as it turned out, was also an angry crier. She makes as quiet a wet sniffing sound as she can, trying not to let herself cry. If she was honest with herself though, there was more than just anger, there was a different kind of hurt that was threatening to bubble over.
She should just accept the offer for other tools, but it’s boiling her insides that Ania still isn’t willing to TRUST her with ANYTHING. “You’re a bitter jealous. You KNOW I’m better at this than you. Better with the tools, better at repairing because I was BUILT to do it. You’re like a child getting mad at a calculator for being BETTER at math.” She starts blindly recriminating, blithering the most hurtful things she can think of instead of acknowledging her own hurt. She knows she would be better than this, she was trained to be better than this, but she’s never had to work like THIS.
What the fairy says hurts, and ania’s childish defensiveness morphs into cold anger. She has tried *so hard* to be nice, and kind, and to give the benefit of the doubt to anyone she meets, despite knowing for a fact any one of them would rather see her bleed. All she has wanted is to be left alone, but somehow she gets dragged into fifty different kinds of shit. Ania sets the glass she was holding down, walks out from behind the bar.
“and how does it feel, to throw a tantrum at a machine gun?” her legs whirr and clank horribly as she runs and jumps *on top of* ethel, pinning her down, this close she sounds just like a broken down machine, her insides creaking and clanking and ticking, she smells like gasoline and diesel.
Ania is sick of this flouncy little fairy being dropped on her, just one more responsibility that isnt even grateful for all she has already given; her time, space, her safety and the safety of anyone she knows if this whole charade is discovered. All it takes is one nosy gremlin to turn ania (and the fairy) into corpses. And they think they can make up for it by “fixing” what wasnt broken?
“I shouldve ripped you into scrap when i had the chance. Since you wanna be *useful* so bad.” she growls into ethels ear, and the mask only makes her sound darker.
Ethel could tell she had taken it too far, the second the words left her mouth. There was… a shift in the air, Ania’s posture, SOMETHING. She might have even taken back given enough time. All of that went out the window the minute Ania was on her. Ethel had not always been the golden child. Infact, as a changeling she had almost been something of a trouble maker. She was obedient and willing, sure, but she had quite a bit of trouble getting along with the rest of the changelings, and quite too great an eagerness to let things come to blows. She was a biter, a kicker and a screamer. Like a blade in a forge, these things had to be very strictly hammered out of her.
All those years of pietistic reprimand from her Coven Father, nights spent crying locked in the solitary well, all the self-loathing begot self control went flying out the window. Oh they were fighting now? Okay! Alumina ceramic teeth meet simple flesh, and Ethel’s feet are pulled up and kicking at any part of Ania she could find purchase in. Legs, sides, stomach. Ethel wasn’t even thinking anymore, she didn’t know who she was fighting, all she knew was she was going to win. She was crying openly at this point, angry tears streaming down her face with little reason, she didn’t care. Weeks of stress, of pent up anger and fear. Years of being the best she could be and her only reward being falling from the sky for trying too hard. Like a feral cornered cat she was going to bite and kick until she felt better.
“Ow, fuck!” there is nothing in ania’s brain but blood, and drawing lots of it. As ethel attacks it, so too does Ania, until the both are just a writhing pile of fists and teeth on the floor of the lamplight. She punches, she grabs and rips and tries to tear off as much as she can, wanting to make good on the threat of tearing ethel apart, completely sick of being worn down and lacking everything needed to live but being expected to anyway. It punches ethel in the chest, rips at their hair, so pumped on adrenaline it doesnt care how badly some of those bites are bleeding. The mind is willing, but the flesh is always too weak, and it’s innards are heating up enough that it can no longer draw real breath, just great gasping attempts at staying alive.
Seeing spots, she pushes ethel off of her enough to crawl to a fetal position and begin (metaphorically) hacking her lungs up, though the longer the attack last the more unclear it becomes if that will actually be the result.
Somewhere, when Ania’s breathing became more and more desperate, Ethel’s brain turned back on and genuine concern began to overtake the desire to hurt. Suddenly, everything came catching up with them in a terrible cacophonous crash that sounded suspiciously like the closest thing they had to a friend down here choking to death on whatever strange thing was wrong with it. Ethel wasn’t dumb, they had picked up on the ticks, the sounds, and the few times they had bared witness to another one of Ania’s attacks. Something was wrong with it. And what was Ethel doing? What was Ethel DOING?! They’re better than this, they're better than this, they’re SUPPOSED to be better than this. “I’msorry-I’msorry-I’msorry-” panicked repetition pouring out of Ethel’s mouth as Ania pushed away, crawling away probably to die because Ethel was a terrible excuse for a fairy and also now a murderer probably. Ethel makes the Sign of the Fae (splaying one's thumb, index and middle finger) over her mouth in panic, a gesture of repentance, beaten into habit.
However, even in this state Ethel is not one to wallow in self pity when a life was so clearly at stake. Seeing as physical boundaries had been so helpfully demolished by their pointless little scuffle Ethel had zero reservations about rushing to Ania’s side, trying to figure out what, if anything, they could do to save it. Ethel once again, wasn’t a sprite, they didn’t have medical training perSAY, but every Fae knew the basics.
“What’s wrong, what can I do, wha-” she starts to ask, more to herself than her would be patient. She wraps her arm around Ania’s back gingerly lifting it up so it was in a sitting position. She presses their free hand carefully but firmly against Ania’s sternum letting their finger tip sensors probe Ania’s chest for whatever defect or injury was causing this, “Wh-.. what the FUCK have you done to your LUNGS!?”
Chapter Seven: Dawn Breaks Like Fury
Eventually, after much struggle and panic on Ethel’s end, Ania regained the ability to breath, and made excuses to leave and bandage herself up. She was embarrassed, and confused, and absolutely did not want to talk about whatever the fuck just happened, so she didnt. Avoiding ethel as much as you can avoid someone in a 600 sq foot building with only three rooms, she cleaned herself up with little fuss and went right back to overworking herself.Eventually, the bar opened, and the rotating cast of patrons was almost enough to clear her mind of the issue. Almost. She could still feel the sting of ethels bite even under the bandages and isopropyl alcohol, just another in the long list of distractions ethel has created since falling into her life. If she was honest, it felt better knowing Ethel could actually defend herself if push came to shove, even if the way she learned that wasnt very pleasant.
The bar was as busy as it ever was, which was reasonably so. As previously mentioned, ania was not the first owner of the lamplight, and as such, she had been blessed with the gift of already having a presence in the neighborhood. Alot of older folk, used to coming here after work that now the bar is a part of their routine, some young’uns, looking to unwind after hard construction and repair jobs, and anyone who’s idea of a good time involved sitting and drinking while complaining about nothing.
Infront of ania sat one of her regulars, colin, and a few of what she always assumed was his friends, though none of them seemed to like each other very much. Colin was a weaselly man, prone to getting violent when drunk, and always trying to worm his way out of paying a tab, but he was polite enough to Ania and had some interesting stories, one of which he was sharing currently. the crowd gathered all laughing and joking, ania only half listening as she mixed a drink for another patron.
“And the thing was, we’d been on that godamn wall for 6 hours, no breaks or nuthin. And this bastard wanted us to keep on going till the fuckin’ pipe was repaired! So i says to him, buddy, you try hanging off the side of the tower with nothin but a godamn rope holdin you there and see how much *you* get done!”
The sound of boots, a steady precision of heavy feet falling in rhythm, was the first omen of things to come. Then, it darkened the doorway to what was just moments ago was the bustling Lamplight Bar, a hush fell very suddenly. To say Morningstar struck an imposing silhouette was like saying a nuclear blast might dampen the mood of a party. It was 7 feet tall, obscured by a cloak of some waterproof rubber. Her helmet was a militant looking thing, almost skull-like in shape, haloed by a series of red lights which might have once served as sort of headlights, now striking the shape of its helmet like great horns. Spiked pauldrons of scrap metal, it was backed by two shorter figures, dressed in similarly militant and imposing garb. From outside could be heard the sounds of parked mechs, motors purring like a threat.
Morningstar and the Demon Gang themselves reputation preceded them quite infamously. They were the scourge of the tower's middle layers, and their territory and power was only growing with their numbers. From protection rackets to outright extortion to cutting down any rival gang or misguided good that might try to stand against them. Morningstar, the once adopted child of the former leader, fancied itself a warlord, and the title was becoming dangerously close to being earned. It scanned the room slowly, head turning, the red spotlight of its halo moving turning with it. Clearly soaking in the fear choking the room like a performer might soak in applause.
Nobody looked particularly happy to see the Demons making their appearance, fear was worn plain on nearly every gremlin’s posture, but Colin in particular had gone as still as death. Finally, finishing its sweep, its gaze turned back to the barkeep. A beat. Then its blinding red flood lights shut off, and suddenly its posture shifts into something more relaxed, it makes a sweeping gesture with its right hand, which peaks from behind its long cloak which parted in the middle to allow easy switching between imposing pillar to mobile persons.
“So THIS is the Lamplight? How quaint!” How to put this delicately… to anyone who had yet to hear the famed Morningstar speak its cadence came across a bit more… faggish than one might have expected. It walks to the bar, it’s gait confident and unnervingly playful, like a hyena circling wounded prey. “And YOU must be the famous Ania,” she leaned over the counter, but even folded so she towered above the other Gremlin. “I’ve been meaning to come give your little establishment an… appraisal. It’s quite the cute little venture you’ve carved out for yourself here.” The lilt of her voice combined with the… bizarre modulation of her helmet… her tone was saccharine like cyanide. Each sentence the sort of mockery which laid plain: one wrong move and she could kill everyone in this room. The sort of playfully restrained viciousness only present in those dangerous sort who was already certain who held the cards, and felt no need to raise its hackles.
The two other enforcers, nearly as imposing as their boss, had not yet moved from the exit to the pipes. Between the two of them, any patrons who felt the need to potentially make a quiet exit were unfortunately left without a chance for egress.
Ania looks up when Morningstar and it’s cohorts come in, and immediately can tell they mean trouble. Its a long held theory of hers that trouble always comes in the form of boredom, and theres no way around it, morningstar looks bored. "whatll it be?"
both a question of drink and of intentions, ania tried her best to seem nonchalant, non commital, as if the leader of The gang coming in her bar was anything less than terrifying. she was a tough thing, no doubt, but ania had carved a place of safety out of the Lamplight, the one place she and many others had where decisions were rarely driven by fear. she steeled her nerves, though many questions ran through her mind, namely if this visit had anything to do with ania's guest in the backroom.
Colin had abruptly shut his mouth, and kept it closed, eyes staring past ania, lost in his own fear. It seemed he had fucked up someway, and ania couldnt help but wish that he had had the decency to keep that fuck-up away from her bar. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now, she will talk to him later. The air is tense, everyone is quiet, and a bit annoyed, she barks out a quick, “whatchall doing listenin in, huh? go on about what yall were doin.” it works, but only barely, as noone rises above a whisper even as they resume their conversations.
“Oh I shouldn’t,” it comments languidly, “I’m on the clock after all. You know how it is.” As it speaks, it trails the fingers of its left hand playfully along the bar counter. It is, of course, under the cloak, wearing bulkley military padding that completely obscures its skin. It wears black rubber gloves but inset on each of the gloves fingers are metallic claws like false nails. The claws rake gently like an understated threat. It is worth noting that this entire time her left arm has stayed obscured by her rubbery cloak.
She makes no comment in reaction as Ania shouts off the fretfully listening patrons. Though he tilted his head, as if estimating the other Gremlin, just slightly. Almost intrigued at Ania’s insistence upon staying calm. She leans in further, making a rather flagrant display of intruding upon Ania’s personal space as he looms over it. “I’m afraid this trip is business, not pleasure,” the purr in its voice was audible even though the layers of staticy modulation. She touches a single clawed finger to the chin of Ania’s gasmask, tilting her head up towards her in another blatant powerplay. A bid to provoke a rise or reaction out of it. “You see, a little debtor of mine thinks it might skirt my …enforcement… if it were to hide out in your little bar.” She tilts her head, her tone acerbically gentle, “See, this place is gaining something of a reputation for sanctuary. But I’m CERTAIN you never intended to harbor such disreputable sorts from their due justice. Isn’t that right, pet?”
Colin has the fear of god in him, and it is so blatantly obvious that he is the one this gremlin is talking about that Ania uncharacteristically is a bit protective of him as a result. She pushes morningstar’s hand away, leaning against the back wall of the bar in an effort to put as much space between the two of them as possible, glaring through her goggles.
“i think you got the wrong idea. this is a bar, i dont vet my patrons ‘fore they come in, and i dont care what they do out there-” she gestures out the door “-long as they pay their tab in here.” Ania doesnt feel tough in this moment, more like a child being scolded by an adult stranger. confused, defensive, but knowing it doesnt matter what they say, as they are not in control of the situation.
“whatever reputation ive got, uh, aint one i had any say in, and if you aint here to drink, i uh, suggest you move along. this bar’s for p-paying customers only.” not entirely true, but ania isnt about to make any exceptions for someone so obviously provoking. her eyes glance around to the other patrons, knowing none of them plan on speaking up, though she desperately wishes someone else could handle this.
Morningstar is silent while Ania speaks. Face unreadable behind its metallic combat mask. It’s slapped away hand returns to the underneath of its cloak, rising up once again to its full height as it impassively observes Ania making its shaky stand. Once Ania is finished it tilts its head back and laughs, raising a splayed hand to coly (though rather pointlessly) cover its already masked mouth.
Once it has finished laughing its hand falls to its side covered by its cloak once again, “Oh, you poor thing,” she croons sharply, “well then, let’s put this undesired reputation to rest, shall we?” It turns only slightly, raising her voice to speak to the whole room, not just Ania, "There is nowhere. Absolutely nowhere on this whole tower you are safe from The Demons’ wrath.”
“And for you, little cowardly innkeeper,” It turns back to Ania, at some point in the action reactivating the headlights of its halo, bathing the room in a foreboding red light, “There is no such thing as neutral ground,” her voice returns to that sickly sweet tone, “so be good and step back in line…” her voice falls back to the threatening tone, “or stand your ground, and I’ll raze this little bar, gut you for scrap, and string your innards up like so much tinsel.”
What can ania possibly say, to make this go away, to turn back time to when she was the barkeeper of the Lamplight and not a coward steamrolled by a deadly gang? nothing. it is silent, opening and closing its mouth several times but finding nothing coming out. it is scared, and helpless.
“i-i uh-”
someone speaks up behind morningstar. its colin, shaking though standing tall, puffed up and trying its best to seem intimidating. noone else is even looking at its futile display of confidence.
“Leave ania out of this. leave this place out of it. It’s a good gremlin who never did nothin to noone, and noone is gonna let you fuck up the only good thing we have on this smog-forsaken tower.”
his hands are shaking, his whole body, and he smiles at Ania, who looks at him like he is fucking crazy. despite his cries of noone else letting the demon gang get away with hurting her, not a single gremlin wants to say anything. you could hear a screw drop, the only sound being the constant grinding all around them.
“Colin, baby!” it entones with acidic flare, “I was WONDERING if you were just going to sit there and let the poor cowardly lion take YOUR heat.” It cocks its head with such sacrine malice, “I must admit I’m almost awed you didn’t!”
Quick as a gunshot, in one solid movement Morningstar both throws off its cloak entirety - flicking it back to a caped position, reveals and yanks the pull cord on the crimson and brass beast it calls a left arm. It is a bulky thing of steel and iron, so massive it should be impossible for any person to support its weight, growling suddenly to life like a revved chainsaw, smoke pouring suddenly out of the pipes built into its bicep. It moves with a swiftness and articulation that would have been impressive on a MECH, and seemed IMPOSSIBLE for a prosthetic, the arm’s large and terrible three clawed hand was suddenly wrapped horrifically around Colin’s face, which was then swiftly slammed into bar counter with a ferocious crack. His nose was definitely broken, he’d lost a few teeth by the looks of it too - embedded now in the counter - and he was certainly knocked instantly unconscious.
Then Morningstar handily tossed his now limp form onto the ground behind it, and turned to its two goons, “Take him,” it said with a finality that made aware everyone in the bar they would never see Colin again. The purr of her motorized arm slows to silence, and she lets it fall limp again, covering it with her cloak. They turn back to Ania, the playfulness now returning to their voice, “That was such fun. Until we meet again, pet.” With a frankly obscenely flashy flick of her cloak she turned and strode out of the now silent bar, as her goons collected Colin from the floor and made their own egress.
ania made a horrible strangled noise in the back of its throat, but nothing could stop the horror unfolding in the only safe space she has ever none. everything is still until the Demons leave, and once the door closes, everyone sits for a minute, before making excuses for leaving.
As for ania, everything has taken on a dreamlike quality, that not quite real distance from everything, her eyes glued to the blood and teeth on the counter. she cannot breath, and her goggles have fogged up from the hot tears. someone clears their throat, and it knocks her into action.
“n-nothin to see. bars closed, everyone go home.” she barks it out roughly, but theres a lump in her throat she cant get past, and she turns and stalks into the stockroom without waiting for anyone to leave. they will, shes not worried about *that*.
she doesnt acknowledge ethel or anything, running straight to her mech and climbing inside. quiet sobbing can be heard from the chest cavity.
Ethel, having overheard the strange commotion from the start, had been glued next to the door in fear. For a terrible moment, they had been convinced that the cruel sounding bully had been there for them. Though, even after it became clear that was not the case, they couldn’t bring themself to do anything but listen with a terribly sinking feeling. They start, as Ania pushes by, timidly trying to ask in a hushed tone if the other girl was alright. But Ania either couldn’t hear them or didn’t care to answer.
To be fair, Ethel was obviously aware that Ania was anything but alright. They approached the mech slowly, they knew that Ania would have rathered above anything in that moment to be left alone, but for some reason Ethel could not bring herself to comply. “Ania,” they said louder this time, fairly certain whatever stragglers remained in the front room would not be able to hear them, “...can I come in?” They ask deliberately, not wanting to cross a boundary but not leaving Ania by itself either.
“no.”
after a few moments, the head of the mech pops off, and Ania can be heard more clearly. “I k-killed him, ethel. they are-you have to get out of here.”
she was ashamed. ashamed that she was too cowardly to stand up to Morningstar, that she had so foolishly believed she could just *stay out of* whatever horrible drama the gangs of the tower engaged in. as if she could just keep her head down, work hard, and everything would be fine.
and now on top of that, ethel was in more danger than ever.
“its not safe here anymore, y-you you have to fix your wings and get out, i, i cant do anything to keep you s-safe here.”
Ethel was… unconvinced by that no… but… even Ethel in her strange immaturities could recognize how many of Ania’s boundaries had just been smashed by those violent crooks, and couldn’t stomach the idea of crossing any of them themself. So instead they stayed right where they were, standing in front of the mech. They even brave a gentle hand placed on the headlight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” they said with a firmness and finality that in all honesty even surprised themself. “At least… not without you,” they said with less finality and more in keeping with their self image. “We’ll- we can-” they stop short, having no idea what sort of plans they could make next, they instead backtrack.
“You didn’t kill Colin. You did everything in your power to stop that bully,” they say the word ‘bully’ with all the venomous spite one might bark a slur. “You didn’t. It’s not your fault.”
Ania, not wanting to argue with how totally she fucked up (because she had already decided this was her fault), instead takes a tone of acid, choosing to get mean to hide how horribly hurt she was.
“what? where the hell would we go?! *you* can go back home, this is all there is for me!!” she mutters more quietly “it was stupid to think i could avoid it.”
the stomach hatch of the mech falls open, and Ania is seen curled inside, no mask or goggles. “you said the gremlins are barbarians, and your right. we, we are.”
Ethel huffs at the venomous tone Ania was taking, but swallows any tit-for-tat down. Ethel gets angry when they’re scared too, Ethel has lashed out plenty at Ania, and used to lash out a lot more. They think, down here, it must be terribly hard NOT to lash out, nobody to tell you you shouldn’t. So that’s all. Ania isn’t REALLY angry at Ethel, so why should Ethel pay it any mind?
“I never said that,” she said gently, though to be fair she probably implied it. “...I don’t think you’re a barbarian. …I don’t think Colin is- was a barbarian. I don’t think… any of your patrons who stayed quiet are either… they were probably just scared. I don’t know WHAT those jerks were… but I know… I know…” they trail off, “People liked your bar. They liked to come here… and ignore it all too.”
“I think Colin was right… I wish… I wish everyone else had been brave enough to stand up with him…”
Ethel is quiet for a moment, “...And… it’s… it will take a while… for my wings to grow back. So I’m with you. Whether you like it or not.”
She takes a step forward, not quite crawling into the now open chest hatch, but still closing distance between them and Ania, “And when they DO grow back. I’m not just going to leave you down here! I’ll…. We’ll figure something out, but I’m not just going to forget you.”
Ania sniffs, hugging herself inside her second metal skin. “why..why are you doing that.” It has never known someone with such hope and belief in anything before, and even if they are just as scared, it is confused as to why ethel wouldnt want to leave.
“i’ve hurt you, i, i am basically keeping you prisoner here. why stay with me? you could leave all this behind, get back to your life, i just,,,” she trails off, wiping at her eyes. a few moments of silence go by, as she thinks of how to properly express herself.
“i dont know. you, you arent like anyone on the tower, i dont want to see you…crushed.”
Ethel swallows, fighting back the empathic urge to cry, fairies were TERRIBLE about that, once ONE started they’d ALL be crying soon. She steels herself, making a determined expression and taking a step closer, pulling up and resting her knees just on the edge of the mech’s open hatch.
“You’re wrong,” she says assuredly, “I know there’s someone on the tower like that,” the white dots of her microbial pupils all congeal, focusing in an intense eye contact with Ania. “Why did YOU not tear me apart for scrap from the start? Why did YOU take me in? Stick your neck out for me? Why didn’t you… kick me out when I was … when we disagreed? When we fought? Why did you keep letting me stay?”
There’s a silence for a moment, then a sort of sheepish smile creeps into her expression, “As for… hurting me. I mean…” she glances at the visibly blood stained bandages, “I did bite you. Like… a lot. So we’re pretty even.”
Another pause, “If anything I sort of won that fight. So you would have to hurt me again before we were even even…”
Ania rolls her eyes half-heartedly. “Youll have to forgive me if i dont take you up on that right now…” she takes a deep, shuddering breath, she cant cry any more, no matter how much she wants to. In a rare show of vulnerability, she sets her hand gingerly ontop of ethel’s knee.
“Uhm. thank you.” she opens her mouth a few times like shes going to speak, and eventually stutters out, “i k-kind of, uh, dont mind the company. uhm, “ her face turns red. “I mean just, you asked why i didnt k-kick you out? Well its…weird and a little horrible to have someone around all the time, but…i dunno, i got a bit used to it….”
its hard for ania to vocalise her feelings, always needing to have logical reasons to back everything up, always trying her best to be rational and make smart decisions. The idea that she might like someone’s company on that merit alone seemed in blunt language, pretty stupid to her. People existed to serve a purpose, to fill a need, but for the life of her she cannot think of what need ethel could fill, and the fact that Ania wants her around anyway? Its weird, and kind of wrong, and in any other circumstance, Ania would chalk it up to stupid impulses and be on her way, but after seeing what she just saw, the way colin tried to stand up for her, the fear in his eyes as he *defended* her, even after, after his head cracked open all bloody on the counter he had spent countless hours drinking and laughing at, the way he didnt seem to regret it……it made her a bit sentimental.
“So i just mean, i can be a bit selfish, i guess. Dont get the wrong idea.”
Ethel does her best to not look like there are fireworks going off in her mind when Ania puts it’s hand on her knee. They’re fairly certain this is the first time Ania had ever willingly touched the fairy in a nonviolent context. Ethel smiled though, another brilliant genuine smile. It made perfect sense to her, living all by yourself in this bar, like it seemed Ania did for most of the time, she can only imagine it to be terribly lonely. As someone who had spent such little time alone at all, it seemed almost unthinkable.
“I like being around you too, Ania,” she responded gently.
Ok, well that was not exactly what she meant, but luckily for her, she has the perfect exit to this conversation! She removes her hand, crawls out of the chest cavity of her mech and seals it up. Her face is still red, but not visible for long as she slides her mask and goggles back on like a second face. “Uhm, so. I have to go clean all that mess up now……” she trails off. “You can stay here if you…uh, want, but ‘bars closed for a while, i think. So…no worries, at least, uh. Yeah.” shes flustered and stuttering, words coming out all mangled the way they do when she’s over thinking em. Ania walks out the door without a second glance.
Ethel follows without a second thought.
Chapter Eight: Dreaming
“I should’ve ripped you into scrap when I had the chance. Since you wanna be useful so bad,” in the dream, Ania says this again, the first departure from reality was: in the dream Ania was not wearing her helmet. Ethel could feel the heat of its breath as it growled this in her ear. In the dream, it wasn’t quite anger that had driven them to tangled blows, but some unnameable impassioned hunger. In the dream Ethel was wearing one of her usual thin white canvas dresses which, as they are designed to do, ripped with ease under Ania’s vicious clawing.In the dream, Ethel fights just as hard, and bites just as hard, but Ania is unshakeable, unyielding and ferocious. It’s fingernails roughly force under the collar bone divots in Ethel’s polymer plating skin and roughly tears the flesh of her chest away. Ethel could not stifle the quavering whimper that sounded as Ania roughly pushed its hand through her muscle tissue, under Ethel’s rib cage, digging into her innards. Deeper and deeper as if she was searching for something. Deeper, and deeper and-
Ethel awoke feeling dehydrated, ashamed, and all together too hot in her own skin. She sits up with a start, having after the events of the previous day decided it was time for one of her rare sleeps, she found herself sat upright in Ania cot. Ania was, (thank the coven) in the other room, and the door was shut. Ethel sits up properly, putting feet to floor and running her fingers roughly over her face. Gross. Gross, gross, gross. She hates sleeping and she HATES dreaming.
That one was particularly inexcusable. She hadn’t had such an… obnoxiously unbecoming dream since well… her stupid childhood crush on Lilith. There had once been a time when she was young, looking up to Lilith she had felt she hadn’t truly understood beauty until she had gotten to know Lilith. Nowadays all she felt when thinking of Lilith was grief. That’s besides the point. The point is: fairies weren’t supposed to feel… that … sort of thing. Whatever THAT sort of thing even IS, she KNOWS fairies aren’t supposed to think like that.
She huffs botheredly and tells herself it was just her mind obsessing over the unresolved tension from their fight and heads to the shower to water herself. She hopes Ania is having a better morning than she is.
Ania has not slept in 36 hours, and is currently scrubbing the floor for the second time that night-turned-morning. The events of yesterday was not the first time blood had been spilled at the lamplight, but it was one that made her feel particularly unclean. She had put a closed sign up, and was planning on opening the next day, but for now, she needed to remove everything that reminded her of colin's face.
His teeth was in a bag in her pocket, and she would absentmindedly fidget with them whenever her hands were free, which was not often, as she didnt like feeling them. It had created a bit of an orobouros, constantly reminding herself of what had happened, then working harder to forget.
Hearing the shower turn on shook her out of a particularly dark train of thought involving losing her source of income and having to crawl to the demons, mask in hand, for a shot at staying alive.
“Ethel? Are you washing?” she knew that just because the girl was under water didnt necessarily mean she was bathing, that Ethel also would stand under it, “drinking”. Fairies were weird, is what ania was learning, even more so that what she had imagined before actually meeting one.
Ethel made a slight ‘eep’ noise when Ania called out to them. They should have been listening out for it, but their mind was preoccupied with attempting to drown out any lingering unease from their stupid dream.
“Just watering myself…” she called back dryly. They turned the valve and shook some of the excess moisture from their hair before turning around approaching the door, as the events of the previous day came back to them in full their already uneasy mood became downright anxious. They’d rather not be alone currently.
They pull open the door and join Ania out in the bar, “...How are you feeling?” They brave first.
Ania pulls herself off the floor, her metal joints whirring angrily, aching with the effort of being on her knees for hours. She looks haggard, wearing just her mask, her eyes ringed with dark circles and it honestly looked like if she sat down again, shed fall asleep.
She grunts in response, taking the sponge and soap solution and heaving it onto the counter.
“Place is almost clean, still waiting till tomorrow to open, how about you?” she rings the sponge out, the soap solution runs black, but she makes no move to clear it out.
“Saw you were sleepin. Thought fairies didnt *do* that?”
Ethel wordlessly takes the bucket and begins replacing the solution. Even if they hadn’t seen Ania mix it the night before, they could tell the exact make up just by holding the bucket, (minus all the grime inside from use) and could replicate the exact portions of each little cleaning chemical used to make the stuff. Though, they got the impression Ania just eyeballed it.
As they were pouring the soaps and the chemical bottles into the now freshly watered bucket they responded, “We sleep. Just not nearly as often as Sylphs or Gremlins,” they pause for a moment, trying to recall a detail from their changeling schooling. It was a little piece of history they hadn’t had to consider for a while, “They tried to make it so we didn’t have to sleep. Couldn’t work… It’s too important to the memory process.” They shrug. “It’s unfortunate. Wastes time that could be spent working but, I guess somethings can’t be helped.”
Ethel recalled the way their sisters would always tease them for resting so much less than the rest of their cloister. Eventually… the teasing became outright worry from those sisters they were closest with. She always thought they just didn’t understand her passion, her dedication. Now it seemed they were right. Now here they were practically having to beg Ania to let them help most the time.
“Speaking of sleep… why don’t you go get some rest? I could finish up cleaning out here…”
“What, you think i cant handle it?” the bite with which she responds is unexpected, even for her, and she groans, shaking her head.
“Fuck, i didnt mean it to come out that way.” she leans over the counter and sets the sponge on a drying rack. Ania was tired, sure, but suffering was part of her DNA, and besides, didnt she owe it to her patrons, to colin? Rest felt like giving up, to say nothing of the nightmares that were sure to come the second she laid her head down.
Ania sighs, leaning against the counter.
“I dunno. Theres a lot i gotta do still. It aint your job to run this place.”
Ethel stares into the now (mostly) clean bucket of cleaning solution. She doesn’t really react when Ania blows up, but she smiles wearily when it apologizes. They feel strangely… strung out? But, if the fight seemed to be weighing so … heavily… on Ethel’s subconscious they supposed they might as well hash this out here and now.
They take a deep breath in, and then out. Then they take another just to be safe, before looking up to meet Ania’s gaze, “Ania. How do you think your tools would feel if one day you just left them on the self, and stopped using them altogether?” This was, a frame of reference they had been conceptualizing since after the fight cooled off. They were honestly pretty proud of themself for coming up with it, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that Ania tended to treat it’s tools like people, which was something Ethel could appreciate as a tool which was a person.
That…was not was Ania was expecting her to say. Like, at all. She thinks for a moment, and then responds a bit confusedly.
“Well, i wouldnt do that.”
“Maybe you disappeared. Entertain the hypothetical for me.”
She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Sure, maybe. I guess…” shes chewing her words, trying to work up the nerve to be a little bit stupid.
“I guess theyd probably be sad. Maybe confused?”
Ethel nods, smiling with a smile she in this moment considered to be especially patient, “Bored, even maybe? Purposeless.”
Ethel points to themself, “That’s me, Ania. I’m a tool on the shelf, gathering rust in your storage room. I need things to do, other than sitting around waiting for my wings to grow back, or I will genuinely go insane.”
Ethel sighs, dramatically, “Like. I’m GOOD at working, Ania. REALLY GOOD. And… I’m not saying you AREN'T. But I was created to HELP people, to do this kind of work. It would… mean a lot to me. If you let me help.”
Ethel’s microbes had started to wander as they spoke, a starry sky in their eyes looking everywhere but at Ania. A few stray microbes congeal and focus back on the other participant in the conversation as they ask, “...Does that make sense?”
Ania is listening, really, but she is still caught up on one little detail.
“But… my tools…” she splays her hands out a bit helplessly, unsure of how to explain how she feels.
“I under..stand. That you need to keep yourself…busy. But,if they get hurt, or lost, i…ive had ‘em for a long time, i-i cant just replace ‘em.” she looks at ethel with a cross between puppy dog eyes and the distant look of someone who is exhausted.
“Im sorry, i….i dont know.”
Ethels smile grows, to something while still weary, looking distinctly more fond. “Well… let’s just start with letting me finish cleaning up out here for you, huh?” She gently picks the sponge up from the drying rack, “We can worry about the tunnels… some other time. Just… go get some rest, alright? I can take it from here.”
This may be something she’ll regret later, but right now she is too tired to argue. She grunts, nodding a bit sadly. “Uh, yeah. Im gonna…” she points to the stockroom door, and heads to the cot without finishing the sentence. She is knocked out before she can take her boots off.
Most of her dreams start out with long dank hallways, pipes and steam and clanking are just the background, the set dressing. In this one, like many others, she is running, trying to find her mech. She doesnt know what she is running from, but if she can just get to her mech, everything will be alright.
The walls twist and distort, the light getting further and further away as she is forced to climb up, still running. Her legs hurt, and slowly they break into pieces, falling down in great chunks, as she tries to pull herself up anyway.
Finally, she is out of energy, stamina, ability. She falls, and lands on the roof of the Lamplight Bar, crashing through the ceiling into a twisted .EXE file of her beloved home.
Blood drips down the walls, and there is a single guest waiting at the counter. They are tall, and imposing, and have great horns fashioned out of headlights glowing atop their head.
Ania gets behind the counter to take their order. They tell her they would like 2 whiskey-on-the-rocks, and one vodka sprite. The drinks are in Ania’s hand, but as she slides them down the counter the mask of the stranger melts away, and in its place is ethel, in a simple cloth dress. The glasses crash to the ground and they are red, but ania doesnt have time to notice because Ethel’s eyes are so beautiful, and her skin is softer than anything ania has imagined, and Ania can hear something whispering next to her to take the softness, let the kindness in, she wants it so bad. Ania, being in a dream, has no choice but to comply, and she leans over the counter, face inches from ethel, eyes closed, oh god, closer, closer…..
“Why’d you let me die for you, Barkeep?”
Her lips crash onto colins bloody toothless mouth, and she awakes screaming.
Ethel had finished the cleaning a while ago. Truth be told there wasn’t much left to do, and they suspect had they not intervened Ania would have just kept cleaning the same things over and over again until the sponges had run red with her blood instead of… well… Colins blood. Ethel wants to think that maybe he’s still alive. Ethel doesn’t want to think about death at the moment. Where do Gremlins even go when they die? Fairies go to the earth… Ania talks about the smog in a way that borders the zealous, maybe gremlins become one with it?
The moral of the story was Ethel had spent most of her cleaning time finding strange spots colins blood had somehow managed to stain itself. Their hope being if they’re the one to get rid of the last of the blood it needn’t come to haunt Ania later. Once that is done she spends alot of time trying to… buff out the… dents… left in by the violence rendered on the bars counter. Trying their best to smooth it out so its harder to spot.
Point being, they had finished up cleaning in time to be able to go to the back and engage in their guilty habit of watching Ania sleep. Listen. For fairies… resting is a SOCIAL activity. It’s WEIRD for her… not getting to sleep with her sisters, cuddle with them, and watch their microbes twitch during REM sleep. This… she has learned helps ease some of that loss just a bit. The only reason it’s a GUILTY habit is she knows Ania would die from some combination of embarrassment and defensiveness, and then promptly kill Ethel as well.
All this to say, Ethel is present when Ania suddenly wakes up screaming. Instinct takes over, and Ethel rushes to her side, stopping just short of placing her hands on Ania’s shoulder to ground her, she instead just sets them on the cot near it.
“Hey. You’re okay, you’re okay. It was just a bad dream, I promise!” She starts muttering the empty nothings, same as she would had one of her sisters woken up screaming (peculiarly not uncommon for fairies. Go figure.)
Ania’s first instinct apon waking up was to thrash wildly at whatever was trying to hurt her. She bolted upright, tears streaming down her face, her outstretched palm smacking right into ethel. She continues screaming until her brain wakes up the rest of the way, tapering off into nothing.
A short list of Ania’s thought, in order:
Capital F Fuck. Did ethel hear that? Ethel is right in front of you. She totally heard that. Are you crying? Oh smog you need to run, or hide, or something. Oh my god im going to be killed. Was that dream…..
Her face turns red.
“Oh smog, how long was i…..” She tries to pull herself up all casuallike, but her hipjoints squeal in protest and she is forced to sit back down and endure what should be classified as torture: the aftermath of a nightmare when you share space with another person. At least until she can take off her legs and oil them.
“Did i,,, are you ok?” Maybe its the guilt attached to the ethel portion of the nightmare, or maybe she is just Like That, but she is more concerned, for some reason, with the idea of accidentally scaring/hurting Ethel.
Ethel doesn’t react to the accidental slapping beyond a sort of half blink. Ethel takes one of her hands from the cot and uses it to carefully push a strand of their hair from their face. Ethel looks back to Ania with a gentle expression not dissimilar from the one she held during their last conversation.
“Not too long. Just a few hours or so…” Ethel had many gifts, but successfully keeping track of time had never been a particularly strong one. Ethel’s expression of concern deepened at seeing Ania attempt to sit up and seemingly find itself unable to overcome the task. Something to do with those legs of its. Like most technology in the Tower, the legs designs were… suboptimal, but making any attempts towards alleviating that would certainly be met with rebuff from Ania. Ethel would rather conserve their “try to get ania to let them fix their prosthetics” energy for the terrible beast of iron Ania was currently using in place of lungs.
They did their best to school the look of concern, knowing how it might be received. They weren’t much good at it. Though they can’t help a sort of bemused smile at the question, “I’m alright. …you had a nightmare?” They say it like a question they already know the answer to. Typically people do not wake up screaming after a pleasant rest.
Ania nods absentmindedly, brain not yet caught up with being awake. “Few hours isnt bad…” theres a few seconds of silence before slapping her thighs definitively (though still not getting up.) it seems she is looking to move past the embarrassing ordeal as smoothly as possible.
“Alright, well uh, would you mind handing me handing me my wrench, screwdriver, and that can of oil on the toolbench over there?” a bit of an olive branch, letting Ethel handle the tools at least. “I need to do maintenance on my legs before we open in…” she thinks for a moment, not looking at any timepieces. “Three hours? Three and a half?”
She is thinking about asking Ethel to leave the room, but doesnt know how to do that in a way that doesnt set off ethel’s “ania is a prude alarm”.
Ethel nodded, with a ‘hm’ at the instruction to retrieve Ania’s tools. Another head nod and accompanying ‘hm’ when Ania asks the time. Though, Ethel is not in reality confirming Ania’s estimation of the elapsed time, and instead simply agreeing that three and a half hours from now seems like a perfectly pleasant time to open the bar. Though… truth be told they are a touch surprised Ania was intending to be open today.
They plainly recognize the request as the Olive Branch it is, or at the very least they are preened at the explicit instruction to touch some of Ania’s tools. They go to the bench which once and never was a shelf with that swift yet purposeful way Ethel always seemed to carry themself when they had a job to do, returning just as swiftly handing Ania the specified tools with the same careful precision a nurse might hand a surgeon their requested scalpel.
Then they return to the bench taking the can of oil and returning once more. Ethel did not pick up on Ania’s hesitance to perform self-maintenance with Ethel present, and in fact instead was staring at Ania’s prosthetic legs with such an intensely interested expression that would make ANYONE blush, not just prudish gremlins.
Ania is nothing if not stubborn, and if Ethel will not take the (not very clear) hint, she will plow forward. If she is being honest with herself, (which she most certainly will not) she is kind of…curious. She sets the tools on the ground beside the cot, within arms reach, and unfastens her pants. There is nothing to see under there, unless hopelessly obsolete tech does something for you, in which case she is packing.
In an effort to pretend this is anything less than mortifying, she rambles.
“I dont know what fairy tech is made of, but this right here-” she taps the part of her hip where flesh meets metal, “- is probably the most similar to what you have.” she neatly folds her pants and sets them beside her, a whole heap of nuts and washers falling out in the process, which she will not pick up. Her legs are silver and blue, unusual in the sea of black and brown and grey that dominates the towers color palette, though it matches ania’s hair quite nicely.
“The rest is just a regular prosthetic, mostly self sufficient except for cleaning and what not. “ she reaches under both her thighs, clicks something, and with a hiss they separate from her hip. The joints are somewhat rusted, and probably very clunky looking to ethel, but ania looks sort-of-proud as she sets the left one down and sits the other in her nonexistent lap, grabbing the screwdriver and the oil.
“Made these myself, actually. Just a scaling up of the first version, but it was my first project all my own, so…”
Ethel watched the entire process with nothing short of awe. She would give anything to be allowed to touch… She can’t get a good understanding without use of her finger sensors. Where the flesh meets the prosthetic hip is of particular interest, she would run her fingers gently over the flesh - probe the crevice … she could get a better understanding then… of what was UNDER the surface as well as inside it… insides were always something of a fascination for her. She’d graze them ever so lightly over the colored welts and bruises left by the weight of the legs. Bruises were especially fascinating to her… they always faded so quickly on Fairies. One touch and she’d be able to ‘see’ each burst little leaking blood into the interstitial tissue. Feel every tiny chemical signal sent by Ania’s body as it slowly repairs itse- She huffs. A simple sound to derail her train of thought.
She was getting very off track. By Ethel's estimation Ania was displaying a great deal of trust in Ethel by allowing her to watch this process and they’d do well to not make it weird, themself. She wants to know the alloy in question. She hadn’t seen the material used anywhere else on the tower. But there was really no possible way to ask Ania if they could touch her pelvis, so that was right out they supposed.
Ethel watched Ania set the other leg to the side proudly, and begin work on the other. Ethel gestured, very carefully towards the currently unoccupied leg and asked very gently, “May I touch your leg?”
There was no doubt in Ania’s mind that this had the possibility of turning very weird, very fast, so to keep everything tidy, as it were, she chose to think of her legs as machinery and nothing more. This was work, no different than repairing a broken vent or something in the bar.
She thought for a minute, but couldnt find a reason to say no other than her own fear, and she was honestly a bit too tired to give a damn at the moment, so she nodded. “Just…be careful.”
Simple spring powered pistons were what made movement easier, hidden in her ankles and calves, and almost every part except for what connected her leg to her hip was analog. The hips were the complicated bits, consisting of a pelvis system holding what was essentially a small diesel powered battery, and large metal balls that she had written programs for to move independently depending on different movements in the rest of her body, letting her kneel, crouch, bend over with quite a bit more ease than the average prosthetic. The same kind of metal ball let her knee rotate, and was one of things she was now wetting with oil. She was muttering to herself as she worked, noticing a bit of strain on a few places, a screw she needs to replace.
“The best part,” she grins wrly, acknowledging the irony, “is theres veins and nerves in the metal part of my hips, still.” She taps the side of her pelvis, taking a break from fiddling with a loose covering. “Its not something i understand very well, but from what the kid who put it in said, the metal is kind of a proto-version of what your skin is, i think? Basically i can feel it, kind of.” more of phantom sensations for anything but the most excruciating pain, and only really useful for knowing when shes pushing the machine too far, but its…..something.
“Always,” Ethel responds easily to the request for carefulness. Ethel gently took the prosthetic leg in her grasp, running her fingers slowly from the thigh down to the knee, cupping the knee for a moment, before running her hands down the front of the lower leg. Looking, to anyone unaware of the mechanics of her touch(such as Ania), as if she was randomly groping and feeling up the prosthetic leg.
“Mmm. Spring-Pistons…” she comments plainly, despite having no visible way to have ascertained that. “These are… reliant on some rudimentary processor aren’t they?” Ethel mutters, mostly to herself, and resumes feeling up the prosthetic. After more gentle probing of the prosthetic they look up with a slightly stary look in their already star-resembling eyes, “You’re beautiful,” they say, which is already way too much, “The craftsmanship is… remarkable.” Their brow furrows as they look back down towards the leg, “The only real shame is the materials,” and the reliance on diesel as a power source but Ethel would cross that bridge another time, “Heavy metals. If only there were lighter alloys down here… Aluminum would have been perfect.”
The legs, the legs are beautiful, is what ethel meant to say. Some weird fairy thing surely, and Ania *was* proud of them, so she would take it as it was clearly meant and move on. A more interesting point was how exactly did ethel know what the parts were made of?
Ania continues busying herself with the work while talking, switching the screwdriver out for the wrench. She hadnt gotten to use this particular wrench very often and was very pleased at how nicely it played with her. “Uh, so, how did you….is this a fairy thing? Can you see through shit?” she gestures a bit at the leg and ethel, all the while focused on what she was doing.
“Not that your wrong, just…i dunno.”
Ethel can’t help but laugh, at the assertation she might be able to see through metal… well, with her eyes anyways. “Eheh. I wish! That would be incredibly convenient.” She looks back down at the leg, running her fingers over it slower in a more demonstrative capacity, “It’s… my touch I guess? Though, it’s honestly more of a sixth sense altogether.”
They held their hand out to Ania, splayed so that her fingertips were close enough to be observed. Each had a pattern of four little dark dots indented into the tips. “These. The little dots? Are… sensors of a sort. By touch I can sort of… probe into things? Feel how they function, their make-up, that sort of thing. I’ve heard it compared to… a sort of echolocation? If that helps?”
They look back down at the leg, placing the hand on it once more, “The diesel power is the other biggest flaw… another one you can’t account for. I wish you had access to the things we have on the Spheres… I think you could do great work…” Ethel worries she’s being too critical so they run their fingers over the leg again looking for something else to praise.
Ania shrugs. “Sure, in another life.” It doesnt see any sense in worrying about things that would never happen, and as it finishes the repairs on the right leg and sets it aside.
“Here, switch.” she takes the other one and begins working on it much the same as the first, though the left leg needs quite a bit more attention. Ania takes a brief pause to admire ethels hands, just barely squashing the urge to run her own fingers over the strange black dots, her hands hovering over them for a moment before getting focused on the task at hand.
“Is that just a fairy thing, then?” she scrunches up her face in confusion as a thought crosses her mind. “Uh, what *is* different about the fairies and the slyphs.” it’s not like gremlins have such distinct castes, everygremlin is for themself, and DIY is the majority of their culture.
For a moment, Ethel thought Ania was about to go so far as to hold her hand. But, it was not to be, and Ethel tried to not be disappointed. Ania was letting Ethel touch its legs, that was a big step. They ought to not ask for more when they already had gotten more than they expected. It was unbecoming.
Ethel could now confidently reply, “I think Sylphs and Grimlins are more or less the same. Biologically speaking? Like I told you before, Sylphs don’t go through the Metamorphosis. Everything that makes me so… different from you, makes me different than a Sylph. My eyes, my fingers, my skin. Sylphs don’t really get modifications unless they really want them. As children, Sylphs don’t get any modifications. Well, unless they need them medically. So yeah… It’s fairy stuff.”
Ania nods at first, but catches the small jab at gremlins way of using body mods and scowls, briefly glancing at ethel.
“Y’know, we usually only have mods when they’re needed, too. And at the very least, we get a choice in the matter.” she pauses for a second, focused intently on rubbing out a small stain on her lower calf.
“Seems like y’all fairies dont even get that.” it was said very casual-like, but underneath is a current of unease at how fairies were created and why, despite the very little she understands of it.
Ethel sighs, she hadn’t really meant anything like that by it. But then, they can’t pretend they don’t find the idea of children operating on each other as anything but an astonishingly bad idea. She could shoot back with a, ‘at least the person who modified me was a trained adult.’ But she actually, really, truly, doesn’t want to fight anymore. Maybe never ever again if she can help it. “Sorry,” she says instead, “I know you wouldn’t have your modifications if you didn’t need them…” They leave the choice conversation in the dust where it belongs. They could try and explain it, but it's hard to put into words. It's a sacrifice… their way of life.
They take the chance, however, to circle back to that subject of conversation, “Who were they, anyways? The kid who did your hips…? How did that … come about?”
Ania perks up a bit, actually taking a break to explain. “Oh, uh, well, its kind of funny actually…i never got it’s name.” she looks a bit sheepish, but continues, “it was a friend of a friend of a friend, the only mechanic we could get on such short notice…”
Ania begins to recount the story with a bit of a faraway look in her eye, kind of the same look a veteran would have talking about old friends long lost, except if said veteran had been a child.
“I was maybe 7 or 8, and usually when your that old your supposed to have already formed connections, try to get yourself set up with a gang, but i was a bit of a loner on account of havin to take care of my mom. I climbed the tower and looked for scrap to sell in whatever free time i could find, had a few friends who did it with me.” Ania rolls her eyes at her childhood stupidity. “It was dumb, i knew the machine had a chance of turning on while i was standing on it, i just thought if i could get a *little* higher….” she trails off as a dark look overtakes her, which she shakes off after about a minute has passed. “Like i said, dumb kid stuff. I got caught in some gears, and uh….” she gestures to her legs as if to say *this is the result*.
“I dont remember much before the surgery was over,someone got help eventually, i was kind of out of it, but i remember it telling me that *this was no big deal, it’d get me fixed up in no time.* I dunno, i never really saw the kid again after that. It wasnt like i didnt try, but the towers a big place, and it wasnt so soon after that i started workin here, so….” she shrugs. Life is hard and horrible sometimes, just the way it is. She has always been strangely proud of the story however, like it was proof that the towers werent *always* bad. There were good gremlins, and there was kindness you could rely on when you really needed it.
She jolts out of storytelling mode with a start, realizing how long she had been talking. Her face turns pink, and she grins, Which can only partially be seen over her mask. “Oh, uh. Sorry, got a little caught up, i think.” she returns to fixing the leg as if she was just caught slackin off on the job.
Ethel can’t help the faint expression of pity creeping into the edges of their expression. It was in Ethel’s opinion, a very sad story, and reminded them of how the tower itself was filled with nothing but sad sorts of stories. Children in life or death situations. One could argue the life of a changeling wasn’t much safer, but the complications that could arise during the metamorphosis of fay folk didn’t scan as violence to the indoctrinated Ethel.
Seven or eight was too young to be fending for yourself… The idea that Gremlins were fending for themselves at even younger than that was heartbreaking. No adults to take care of them, protect them, or teach them. That was something alien to Ethel and it sounded like such a terrible and damaging way to grow up. Ethel smiled a weak little expression, “I’m glad your friends were able to save you. That must have been… a terribly scary thing for all involved parties.”
But… there was ONE part of that story that had caught in Ethel’s mind and wiggled like an unexpected worm, “But… you uh… you have a mother?” From the way Ania had spoken before about the virtues of children raising gangs of children, she had assumed Ania grew up much the same way, and didn’t know her mother.
Ania is well aware by now of Ethel’s opinions on gremlin upbringing, and it doesnt really care to bring up the way shes looking at it. It tilted its head, slightly confused.
“Oh, did i not mention….? Thats where i was, when i went home those few days. Its technically both of ours, but mother can be…tricky,” she grimaces. Tricky is an understatement, “So i tend to…stay here, much as i can.”
It is true that ania had known and lived with her mother throughout her life, which was mildly unusual for the average independent gremlin child, but Angela had always been a bit needy, and one could even say the two were more than a little codependent up until ania met the man who would later give her the lamplight.
She finishes up what she was doing, giving the leg one final polish and a little pat of fondness, a job well done. The thought of mothers, however, sparks a question in ania.
“What about you? Do you-did you have a mother?” she isnt sure the best way to ask that, but from the way ethel has talked in the past, becoming a fairy changes things, and one of those things is probably family dynamics?
Ethel’s eyelids flutter as close to closing as they could several times at the revelation. Not only did Ania know her mother, it STILL knows it. Even lives with it technically. Ethel wishes they could say Ania was better off for it, but by the sounds of it the situation is fraught. Not to mention it sounds like it managed to still grow up living just as dangerous as any of the other Gremlin children.
They’re almost tempted to ask further questions, but they falter considering how …intense the subject of childhood could be between them. They didn’t want to say anything inflammatory. But before they could pick their words, Ania hit them with its own question on the subject. Ethel fidgeted their fingers as they spoke.
“Oh. Well… There aren’t really parents at all on the Spheres. Not in the traditional sense. Reproduction isn’t done through intercorse. Or any sort of internal fertilization. The eggs and sperm cells are joined in test tubes,” Ethel explains with a clinical bluntness. “There’s only so much room in the Spheres so they can’t really afford to leave those things up to chance. Children are assigned in groups of family units typically consisting of at least 6 adults. Different responsibilities divided up among them.”
“I don’t really remember my family unit from before I was revealed to be a changeling,” she shrugs as if this doesn’t bother her. Though to be honest they worry they’re giving a rather boring answer, so they amend; “I suppose you could consider the Coven Father and the Elder Fae to be my parents!”
She clicks the leg back in place, grabbing the other and doing the same. The idea of controlled population is almost enticing to ania, if impersonal. It seems to her that everyone on the tower breeds like rabbits, and noone has enough of anything. Still, just the whole concept of fairies being picked out and changed makes her more than a bit uneasy.
“Right,,,,” she cant say she feels bad exactly that ethel has no “real” parents, considering shed give anything for that to be her. So she just stands up, pulls her pants back on, and goes to put away the tools.
“Uhm well..” Ania feels she should say something about the moment they just shared, but she cant find any suitable words other than a “right then, best to not sit here any longer, huh?”
“Ive got to get opened for the day, but,, uhm. Yea. this was fine.”
Ethel finds herself smiling at Ania’s admittedly slightly awkward acknowledgement of the moment they had just shared, “Yeah,” she responds warmly, “It was nice.”
Opening went much the same as it always was, with the added anxiety of a distinct lack of customers. A couple people came in here and there, but noone stayed for long. The place was quiet, and Ania was bored. Luckily for her, with all the excitement she had forgotten about a special visitor, and when the door was kicked open by a tall stack of boxes with legs, she was almost worried the Demon Gang had returned.
“Barkeep, help me get the rest of this in, would’ja?!”
The pile of boxes revealed itself to be a small boy, carrying far more than a small boy looks like it can carry. Behind it, still outside the door, was a little red cart carrying plenty more boxes. Ania perked up, running over to help Oil the delivery boy carry the packages in. When they had finished, and everything was in piles on the counter and floor, ania returned behind the bar to fish out some money and pour the kid a shirley temple. Oil hops onto a bar stool, and his little legs dangle as the two catch up. The two share niceties, and eventually the subject turns to the lack of customers.
“I dont think ive ever seen you this busy, miss Ania.” he is very clearly being sarcastic, and ania rolls her eyes.
“Well, we had a bit of…trouble, yesterday. ‘Think people are spooked.”
Oil nods sagely. “Mm, seen the demon gang more ‘n more on these side of the pipes. They arent givin’ you trouble, are they?”
Ania fixes him with a mostly stern look. “And what would *you* do if they were, kid?”
Oil grins, sipping on the drink with a straw ania keeps especially for him. Its a mold of some ancient straw design, and it looked positively silly. “You say that, but i know alotta people who owe me alotta things, and your always so nice to me, miss ania, id hate to see this place go under.”
Ania shakes her head, then pauses, thinking. “Actually, if anyone’d know who knows this, itd be you, uh…” her voices lowers down to a whisper, despite there seemingly not being anyone else in the bar. “...you ever heard anything about…. *fairies* down here?”
Oil leans back, thinking for a minute.
“Well, and you know i dont like to spread around the business of my other customers, but uh…” he pauses again. “Well, this is about the demon gang stuff right? Tryna get your hands on some tech would be the smartest thing for someone in your…..” he trails off, but ania knows what it was going to say, and would rather have oil believe shes getting curious about defending herself then telling him about the *real life fairy* in her stockroom. Sweet as oil can be, Ania know it is dedicated to its job, and doesnt want to put oil in a position where it would have to betray her.
She nods. “So?”
Oil takes its time, sipping on what was now the third shirley temple. “Well, there was this guy,,,,it doesnt do business with me anymore, but it used to have me deliver parts all over the lower tower. A mechanic, y’know? An well, it used to talk alot about having a stock of fairy parts, y’know, for the high payin’ customers.” another pause as Oil finishes the drink. “I dont know if it would still have anything, but id say its your best bet.” it whispers in as close to anias ear as either of them could stomach the name and last known location of this mechanic, then pushes itself off the bar.
“Alright, so i think its about time to settle up, huh?”
The two of them go through the stuff Oil had brought, and after haggling a bit, came up even. Ania was to give all the old bottles in the backroom to oil for reuse, which was honestly a steal, considering Oil had gotten it’s hands on some fine whiskey that Ania was sure would be a hit with patrons. Oil wanted to go in the backroom to pick up the bottles itself, but Ania assured it that it was fine, that she needed the exercise. As such, it took a bit longer than usual for the boy to finish up business and leave, but when he was gone, the bar went right back to being empty, and ania sighed, knowing she was in for being bored again.