AtomicEmperor

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Mood Music

Moriah

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Mentions: Bryn Woods| Direct Dialogue: "Little Sister", A Few Freaks/@NoriWasHere | Location: Boschetto D’Sylvia > Lugar Apartado 3 / Vance Head Station

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Boschetto D'Sylvia - 08:00

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Each day must begin with something joyous. The only rule one must follow for a happy, satisfied life is to maintain that same spirit with which the day begins, all the way until it ends. Consistency comes from understanding the process, and loving it as a pleasure rather than a duty. One does not need, for there is no need. One should be pleased, overjoyed at the idea that their life has been chosen for something more than breathing, eating and shitting. Necessity is only equal to the outside influence of life's peripheries, and to that outer influence, one must present the same spirit with which the day begins and ends. There shall be no pain in that life, for life itself is joy.

It is satisfaction, love, fulfillment and exploration. Victory in loss is found as easily as joy in success, and the ownness is upon the individual. One's life is exactly what they make it, even in the darkest moments. One's purpose is joy. Be thus, unto each and every other you meet, as you shall be their joy should you find it in yourself to become your own. That joy is the Mother's gift. It dangles from her antlers like ornaments in the branches of a tree, or like the lights in the night sky. Distant worlds, imperceptible until they're within grasping distance. A joy which the modern world consumes. But you will not be swayed by the darkness surrounding the joy. You will radiate, and that will be the contribut-

"Ma'am?"

The dimly lit room was smokey, a small draft traced through the haze as the sliding door rolled open not but a few inches. Just enough for a voice to come through without the present attendant's position compromised. Not that they had anything to worry about this morning... Moriah was dressed in a deep green robe, her body hidden under the layer of thick cloth. In one hand was a long-stemmed pipe from which rings of smoke curled up and out into the air when she puffed, and in the other was a small black leatherbound book which was beyond worn from years of usage. The private library of the residence hadn't been stripped and returned to the Ashram of Untouched Glory, leaving Moriah with tomes on tomes of knowledge and wisdom...

Yet she consistently returned to this book. The teachings of her Twin Grandmothers Allegra and Bella Motta. It was something like a guide to success, and was at the very least a clear and distinct picture of how her beloved Grandmothers thought about the world. As Greater Dames of the Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh, both were born the same way she was: Saturated in Joy. It was a crucial ingredient in making a Powerpuff- No... A Matriarch...

Moriah smiled as she heard the voice calling her attention.
"What troubles you, Little Sister?"
She hadn't adjusted any sort of makeup or skin affect, so she was at her most base form; olive skinned with warm features and deep green eyes beneath a well groomed mane of black hair. A thumb slipped into the bowl of her pipe, stuffing down the hot burning tobacco until she felt the last ember die beneath her finger.
"Your cellphone... A message."

The young woman behind the door slid it open a little wider, a dark cloth blindfold over her eyes as she entered. Training, meant to feel the world with her Lux rather than see it with her eyes. Everything that had ever lived still reacted in some way to the green of the Deer, thus it was common for young Matriarchs to live without their eyes for several years after being born. She was here to study, but for all intents and purposes, she was simply a servant. Not a lot of hope, as her contributions were subpar at best. Moriah felt sorry for her and any other born as a Lesser Dame... But she recognized that the girl had the spark for Joy. She was one with the Deer no matter her circumstance.

Her feet took her across the room gracefully, her hand sliding out to Moriah to pass off the little glass piece of technology.

"shit bad mo b rnd l8r”

Bryn Woods

That wasn't a normal message. There wasn't much thought in the reply, her thumb flicking up to the "k" key and sending the simple reply off. She took a deep breath. The girl heard, and felt the Lux of her mistress ripple in the dark behind her blind.
"Bad news?" she asked innocently, reactively stooping to kneel at Moriah's feet like any student would before their teacher.

She waited for wisdom and guidance, but felt a familiar hand grace her cheek and swipe upwards. Without hesitation, she stood back up.
"I really don't know yet. But we'll find out soon, won't we?-" Moriah said calmly, planting a kiss on the girl's forehead. "-Never you mind it... Now, come. It's time to get dressed and shine upon the day."
"Have you eaten, Mistress?"
"Lugar Apartado... I've business."

Wordlessly, the girl nodded. Four steps separated the two of them as Moriah slipped from the room and up the stairs, her flesh already reacting to the influence of Moriah's Green Lux as she began her mobile breathing exercises. Pulling the pigment from her skin, by the time she reached the top she was already pale and paper white. Her skin was cold to the touch, blood vessels pulled down to the lowest possible part of her flesh. Melanated skin cells crawled across her lips and eyelids, turning them brown before settling on a deep and dark black and letting natural oils build up to give them a glossy sheen.

The robe came away, a gentle whooshing noise prompting the young Dame to reach her arms out. The cloth fell between them perfectly, and she turned to bring it to its place while her mistress gathered herself. Admired herself... Choosing the tiger-stripes of the day. Fully nude, she stared at herself for longer than was necessary as she artistically reconstituted parts of her flesh into a design. The genetalia swinging from her pelvis was flushed with blood the moment she took it into her hand, standing on end as she hoisted the attached package to examine the tattoo-style design that painted itself across her skin.

Just in time, the attending sister passed off a bundle of clothes, not the least of which came from a friend whose magical aptitude came in the form of enchanted clothing: Orange and Purple came together to make a line of undergarments capable of hiding and supporting the heavy frontal weight, letting everything slip into a pocket which only existed on the inside. Aesthetically, she was smooth and flat, able to slip on any short skirt or tight pair of pants without some Blind questioning her orientation. In Culla, and among the faithful abroad, it wasn't something necessary... Though, she wore them anyway, as they were comfortable and prevented the otherwise uncomfortable sensation of being crushed by equally massive and muscular thighs.

And they brought her joy... Nothing could deny that. A pair of black slacks, tight at the waist, were tugged over her lower body and followed by some socks well suited to the included boots. Lifting her arms to allow access, the attending Dame began to bind Moriah's chest as she would to herself once it was her chance to serve in the Commendatoriate. Though unnecessary, it always felt more comfortable to Moriah to have firm support for her chest, the flesh trained to tense up and hold itself in place once applied. Over the wrapping, which extended just below her diaphragm, a plain black tank-top was followed by a soft and slightly oversized sweater, most of which Moriah then tucked into her waist. A little tug brought a comfortable amount of fabric out to break up the two-piece silhouette without restricting her movement.

On her feet, dark and laceless leather boots crept up over the tapered ankles of her pants. The heel and toe were a single part, solid and heavy; something she'd be able to run in if necessary, and wouldn't break as easily as a stiletto heel. The girl was already standing to the side with a small velvet pillow, and atop that pillow was a karambit-style blade still in its sheath. It was the kind of sheath meant to be subtly hidden on a person, and Moriah affixed it underneath the fold of cloth made by her sweater. As a test, she flashed her hand forward, snagging the handle to let the blade sing into the air with a satisfactory clicking noise. Nodding, the blade was again sheathed before she readjusted herself again.

A deep breath, then a nod.
"What is your Oath, Little Sister?"
"My Oath is my life in service to my Progenitor, Clan Motta, and the Mother Deer."
"And why do you live?"
"To improve upon that which I have inherited, and ultimately to flourish in divine Joy."

Moriah turned herself, boots thumping off the hardwood floor of her room as she made for a wardrobe, opening it and retrieving a deep red single-breasted peacoat. Its collar was exaggerated, covered in fur with a notable right-hand bias. Similarly, she took a thin-clothed scarf and closed the door as she wrapped it around her neck, tugging it out and over her mouth like a makeshift bandit's mask. She let it then settle as she slipped the coat on, leaving it unbuttoned.
"I want you to take some time to study. Let your eyes see light. I don't know when I'll be home, so Luciana will be around to administer your daily treatment and test you on what you've gone over."
"Yes Ma'am... M-may I-"
"Free yourself."

Almost giddy, the girl ripped at her blindfold and opened her eyes to look up at her teacher. She could only smile as Momo smiled back in a soft and matronly way.
"A contact has warned me of troubles that I don't know the nature of... So be safe. Remember the emergency plan if anything happens."
The girl nodded in return, and Momo planted a second kiss on the top of her head before heading for the stairs.
"Be good. And no television."
The door opened and closed without ceremony, Momo's hand only lingering to snatch the bag hanging by the door. A half-dazed young woman was left standing at the top of the stairs with a dreamy smile...

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Mood Music

Lugar Apartado Three - 09:30

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The facility was dark, quiet besides the gentle electric hum of the medical grade freezers keeping this particular safehouse's stash of materials fresh as possible. There was a dull shaking that rumbled through the concrete as the nearby tram system operated in its daily run from the surrounding suburb into the city's financial district. Properly packed with business people, Momo imagined their dissatisfied aches and pains. Her mind passed over the ingrateful nature of Blind Humanity, most unable to recognize just how beautiful the ignorance of their situation really was. It was like raising children, or stewarding long-lived animal companions. Another joy of being among the Mother Deer's most astute guardians...

There could be no negativity here. Not in the presence of her Unborn. The forming pool here, given the proximity to the nearby tracks, was suspended and cradled by a series of pads and springs that held it up and away from the regular vibrations while converting any stray energy into a gentle rocking motion. Around it, Momo had lit a number of candles whose places were kept by the wax melting down and pooling around their bases.
"Latenna? It's Mummy...-" she spoke gently, looming over the open mouth of the thing with wide and excited eyes.

It wasn't standard to name the Unborn- Those sorts of things were usually left to one's Sisters in the Commendatoriate, or on your first visit to Culla for a proper grading. But as far as she was aware, her own Mother had already named her before she was born, so to Moriah, it was a tradition all its own for Newbreeds. She had a particular confidence in this one, having a fellow Matriarch from another clan as a main contributor and partial sponsor of the secret project.
Of course, the body within didn't respond. It wasn't alive. Not in the same way a gestating Baby was alive, at least. Connection to a parent meant a Naturalborn had its life constantly breathed into it. But here, there were things to do before the energy could be expelled to jumpstart the consciousness locked away in the developing mind. However, she knew they had thoughts. They imagined, and dreamed, living out moments of their donors lives carefully selected by the Progenitor in control of their growth.

Personally, Moriah vividly remembered dozens of memories from Dames who had contributed their Matriarchal essences into her as a project of holistic unity. Within her, there was an entire council of intelligently gathered constituents- Not so active, but their memories were just a breath away from her mind's eye no matter the time spent without recollection. And, if she tried terribly hard, she could remember Cadenza... Whispering sweet nothings, powerful impressions, battle cadences and songs; things that had probably brought her great joy. For Momo, just seeing the face of the small child developing and aging week by week in the deep emerald pool brought that joy to her mind.

After all, she looked like Fiora... Loretta being from the same clan as Elizia, and the unmistakable red hair of the Guerra was already growing in long locks around the little girl's head and face. It made her giddy just to watch the unmoving body take slow breaths within the amniotic pool. However, today was strictly for feeding... Several vials of fully-deconstructed material were pulled from the freezer and slid into a curious machine. Similar to a centrifuge, each vial was heated to liquify its contents into a central vessel before being thoroughly incorporated into one another. The central container was then pulled from its slot and placed into a secondary contraption. Two handles on either side allowed Momo to grip it tightly, and the copper fixture began to oxidize rapidly.

She was thinking of Elizia... Of the only other person she wished could be here. But it wasn't mourning... She couldn't do that here. Not while she was preparing the sample. Instead, it was a moment that all three people involved shared:
Loretta and Elizia playfully bantering about philosophy upon a green-filled terrace in Culla. They were both in their uniforms, red hair tied tight and slipped under their caps. Their smiles were obviously the same, and it was almost hard for Moriah to remember which was which... But Loretta had a scar she wore proudly on her left cheek, and in that moment Moriah could feel herself reaching out to Elizia through that memory. The woman's face turned to hers, and she really smiled. Like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day.

Then she broke from it, feeling a tear running down her cheeks as she grinned like an idiot. Like she was smitten.
Oh... The Joy...
Her aura was pulling air through the filtration system of the little bunker, and as she stood, she felt the immediate fatigue. The lack of sustenance wasn't usually too much of a concern, save for the fact that she'd gotten rather used to a sense of security. Like things weren't going to pop off at any moment. She spent the first year after the Cataclysm on high alert, intaking so much quality material that she'd managed to make a dent in the Coven's coffers... Conscious of it, she'd since cut back. Her body was leaner, not so full, only taking in after moments of strain like this.

Still, Latenna had to eat first. At least the preparation was done. She brought the container of glowing green biological material steeped in joyous Lux to the pool. Circling it, she dumped the container out slowly and gently, a low mantra leaving her throat.
"Blessed is the child without weakness. Blessed is the child without fear. Blessed is the child without weakness-"
This continued until the container was empty, and Moriah dipped it into the pool to shake off any bit still clinging to the sides. Her stomach growled as she did so, and she took a deep breath before letting the vessel empty out again. Then it was back in its original space, and Moriah was browsing the shelves for something to eat herself. A few more vials than before were stuffed into the machine, everything emptying into the center as a pale liquid mostly uncharged by magic.

It was a full month's worth of food for the girl being grown, but Loretta's next contribution was due soon anyway. Their agreement was once every three months, so once December rolled around there'd be more. Plenty more, as Moriah was confident in Loretta's personal level of output and the party in question was happy to take her money in turn. As the machine incorporated everything together into a frothy slurry, Moriah took her tumbler from her bag along with the small container of protein powder. A thick and frothy slurry formed as the two substances mixed further together in the plastic container, then Moriah gave it a minute in the blast freezer before pulling it out again. It wasn't frozen, but it was cold; pleasing to the mouth as it went down like melted ice cream.

"Augh! Delicious, isn't it? My sweet girl?" she asked to the quiet nothing. She'd taken her coat off, but upon finishing her beverage she began to pack back up.
"I know you want Mummy to stay and read to you, but those crazy cave ladies are going to interrupt my day sooner or later, so I can't really focus on it right now. I promise I'll make it up to you later. Now, you be good."

Candles were blown out. The integrity of the pool was double-checked. The coat was back on, and the bag was under her arm.
"Mummy loves you, Latenna. I'll be back again in a few weeks."
Momo checked the monitor by the door for any passing subway workers or random underground vagrants who may be loitering in this part of the subway... Seeing nobody, she turned her body and pulled the door open, stepping out and tugging it shut with a satisfying hiss as the locks engaged. She was underneath one of the stations in a maintenance tunnel that lead back to the main platform now. It was dark, save for the few runner lights that lined the ceiling at vaguely regular intervals. The sound of her heels thumped against the stone floor, leaving behind the door covered in signs warning against attempted openings.

It was a short walk at least, only a few minutes around a winding bend before the gate to the stairs which lead up to the platform itself. Even when she wasn't going to check on Latenna, she usually parked here and took the tram across the North to the NLB and Sin Sisters'... It was a simple convenience. So, as she crested the top of the stairs, she found herself on a mostly empty platform. Nobody really lived in this part of town, and all the businesses were already full of their employees; it left Moriah in a fairly peaceful space as she waited for the line she knew would take her to her destination.

“It’s always so nice when the station is empty, isn’t it,” a voice broke the silence behind Moriah.

“Oh yes, yes, I think I like the silence before the train,” a second joined in.

“But safety would be a concern. I don’t think I could be all by myself waiting like that. Not with everything going on,” a third voice added.

Moriah would see three well dressed men had suddenly appeared behind her. They were dressed in suits, carried briefcases, and each was well dressed and looked professional. The only thing amiss was a fist sized hole on the right side of the chest on one of the men. Each looked at Moriah with a wicked smile.

At first, she didn’t turn. It wasn’t nice to stare, after all; but they seemed to be insistent. Everything going on was a statement that just begged for an interaction.
"Oh yeah? What’s been go-”
As she turned her head casually, she was immediately caught by the fist-sized hole. Struck by the state of it, her matronly instincts still echoing from the moments spent with her Unborn, she was compelled to turn.
"-Holy shit, sir!? You need medi-”

Again, she cut herself off. The three of them… Tight formation, somewhat circled around her, everyone smiling. The hole… It gaped, oozed, and practically screamed at her. Her trained perception was to check them with Green Lux, finding vague Apparitional Emotional Fields. But the green still crowded around them… They were alive?
It wasn’t worth thinking too much about.

"Ahhh… alright… I guess you freaks have to do with what my little Cave Bat mentioned?”
Moriah’s shoulder drooped slightly, letting her back slide off her shoulder and hit the ground. She thought about the jacket too, cracking her neck and raising her arms to loosen it from her shoulders before letting an arm slip through the hole.

“Oh we don’t have to do anything,” the tall one joked.

“Anything at all,” the short one continued.

“But that wouldn’t be any fun,” the one on the middle added.

“Do you come here often,” the tall one asked as he began to circle Moriah.

“This station in particular,” the small one continued.

“Are you protecting something,” the one in the middle finished. As it did the ambient temperature in the station dropped quickly until it was freezing. The normally drab and bring beige walls seemingly began to lose what little color they had. Moriah would feel a relentless push against her emotional field begin.

It was a very uncomfortable moment. She didn’t need anyone or anything knowing about any of the quiet places… So whatever the thing prodding against her was trying to pick out, she only had one choice.
Kill it.
But she couldn’t let the Emotional Field waver. It was the first technique they were told to utilize in the Commendatoriate: Absolute Impression. Reading and identifying a threat, and setting a standard in one’s mind that hung the opponent on a lower rung than the Matriarch in question. Most things had to be treated like they weren’t “serious”, because if they were, you had something on the line.

Something made you scared. Shook you. Left a crack that other Adepts could get in through… Or worse.
This situation in particular, however, was getting to the point where violence was starting to look necessary. The coat dropped to the ground at the edge of the platform, the loose sweater covering her upper body leaving her with plenty of movement… The point was usually to avoid giving your opponent the chance to do something dirty like pulling your shirt over your head, so Momo’s first option was almost always the legs.

Hence the sturdy boots with thick weighted heels.
"You can avoid the worst of this if you disappear like a bad dream.” she offered calmly, feeling her Lux beginning to bolster her. The air was cold, but it always tasted fresher in these moments.

The tall one suddenly twitched. Something moved under his skin and the air was filled with the sound of bones snapping and muscles twisting. Yet after a few moments the noise stopped as did the twitching. “You are strong, Moriah,” the tall one grinned. The sound of a train entering the station filled the air.

“There are ways to break that strength,” the short one added.

“Shall we,” the one in the middle asked Moriah, “I think you have a train to catch.” It lunged forward with inhuman speed, reaching out to push Moriah into the path of the oncoming train.

Fight Music

With cat-like speed and reflexes, Moriah’s body tucked slightly and drove her shoulder into the lunging thing’s abdomen. One hand grabbed the collar, the other the crotch, and all the weight immediately drove the first assailant into the crack between the platform and the coming train. At first, she didn’t feel resistance, but as the train twisted it into a pretzel stick, she realized it simply wasn’t giving up its form. However, it was stuck, so she released the thing and let her back leg spring off the floor.

Her heel drove itself into the next one’s chest, sending it soaring across the platform and into a steel support beam which rang out like a bell and shook the entire pylon. The third was too much, however; its smiling mouth opened wider than was possible as it’s arms and legs began to stretch across her, constricting her.
She took a step, then immediately went for the train again. This time, still rolling into the station, she tried to scrape the thing off of her as its teeth sunk into her shoulder. She could only imagine that it didn’t think before its actions, as the initial clamping was only enough to break the skin of a normal person. Hers was already thick enough that it needed some extra effort, and in that moment of disconnect it loosened its grip.

Just enough for her to go for the knife. Still knocking itself against the slowing train, the leech peeled off her body as she spun the blade in her hand and ripped it upwards like she was ripping a piece of tape off of a box. As it whipped upward, the tip caught her cheek before being crammed and hooked into the thing’s skull. Disoriented further, she felt it lighten its grip enough that she could toss it without ripping her own flesh apart.
It hit the ground in a heap, but the one that had been kicked was already sprinting back toward her. Winding up to kick the stupid thing again, a set of spindly grey noodle arms absolutely shredded to fuck from being run over by a train several times now, slithered out from under the thousand ton metal behemoth. They grabbed and wrapped wherever they could, throwing her off balance.

The sprinter smashed into her like a ton of bricks, sending her hurtling into and spinning against the ever-slowing train. Thankfully it wasn’t just a passthrough and its solid, wall-like qualities were far more present now than they were while it was moving quickly. A horrific nightmare was crawling its way out from under the train, face and fleshy bits turning to clay-like gray as the wrapped arms tugged her leg toward a waiting mouth.
She’d dropped the blade on impact, hearing it hit the concrete but losing track of it almost immediately.

Oh fuck.

It had to still be somewhat pinned under there… All she could do was tense her leg and let the grabber think she was trying to get away. As the mouth got close enough, she then released every bit of tension on her leg, letting the gripping arms accidentally slip. It was enough to send the weighted boot and the power behind it careen into the grabber’s head.
Using its own strength against it, there was a loud snapping noise as she caved its skull in against the train. It growled and gurgled, but she had no time to focus. The one still in front of her wasn’t fighting quite like the others, resorting to actual strikes which put dents into the metal exterior of the train wall.

She could generate a significant amount of force from this range, but these things weren’t content with getting knocked around. They had to die. And for that, she needed a little more room. Her front foot stomped down, driving into the thing’s shin and buckling it… But she was quickly shown that wasn’t the right move, as the leg took the chance to begin coiling around her foot and ankle.
In the interim, the one she’d bladed was stirring, body slowly reactivating as it started to push against its half-split musculature.

They have to die, they have to die-

Using her free leg, Momo pivoted hard and ripped the thing coiling its way around her off of its remaining support and whipping it against the threshold of the open train door. Like putty, it simply flattened and mushed out in an unreal way, and it seemed like no matter how many bones they broke, they just didn’t care. It was like fighting a thing made of unfired clay.

Unfired…
Across the way was the opposite platform, still devoid of rail cars and totally open. Her hand reached out, wrapping around the thing’s head and squeezing to keep its shifting neck from getting any advantage. Her free hand did the same to the other creature, snatching down and practically crushing it like an orange.
Both struggled, coiling and wrapping around her while hands tried to claw and rip at her. It left her clothes mostly ruined, and while they were hitting surface skin, they simply couldn’t seem to figure out that they needed to go deeper than instinct told them.

So, in relative freedom, she dragged the two moaning and grunting creatures across the platform and into the pit opposite of her train. She knew, having spent enough time talking to engineers rebuilding the city’s destroyed rail network, that city trains always had electricity running through their lines… You just had to connect one side to the other, and boom- Full power electrical current.
Her hand rammed the face and head of one into the hot rail, feeling the electricity surging through her temporarily as she mirrored the other. Then, with tremendous force, she stretched them across the entire rail until the circuit closed. Instantly, they both began to convulse and jitter and scream as they started to cook.

On reaction, they had let her go, leaving her free to stand and gawk. She reached for her cellphone, but found that it had been smashed to bits when she hit the train, meaning she couldn’t document this… But she really needed to talk to Bryn now. With the platform cold and empty, and a small fire burning on the tracks, there was a small gust of air that gave her a reminder that they’d ripped through her sweater.
The shoulder, the belly… There was a chime that warned the train was about to depart, so she pulled herself back up and made way for her coat. The blade she’d dropped was a few feet away, and she managed to gather her possessions before slipping into the train.

Beneath the train, a gray, muck-like hand snagged the undercarriage, and as the iron horse pulled away from the station, it settled in for a long ride…

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Twin-Hill Coven

THE TWIN-HILL.COVEN
............................................................ "Mother Deer, bless our home and keep our wayward children safe."	Founded almost seventy years ago, the Twin-Hill Coven is a third-stage branch of the powerful Italian cult known as The Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh. Having completed their obligatory service to the Grand Trunk, founders Bella and Allegra Motta chose to utilize their influence to break away from their Mother Branch- The Coven of Untouched Glory. The two sisters, having spent their formative years as officers in the Whispering Flesh's own mercenary company per the traditions of the Matriarchal Lines, were well-traveled and cultured individuals; their globe-trotting deployments took them to places where the modern world was rushing in, and places where it hadn't even taken a breath. Their perceptions and opinions were shaped by a seemingly natural desire for fun and pleasure that came with the coming of the Gilded Age, and the Twin-Hill Coven is the absolute manifestation of their will to keep that feeling alive. As a Coven, the Twin-Hill is still fairly young in comparison to something like its Mother Branch, whose three-hundred year history in the United States can be traced back to the first European settlements in Appalachia. However, the relative youth and low number of adherants hasn't taken away from the fact that it's one of the most wealthy branches of The Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh. Through a tradition called the Biological Tithe, the various branches of The Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh are graded and credited by the ultimate leaders living in the hidden city-state of Culla in the Italian Alps. These benefactors, typically leaders of the founding clans, are responsible for the collection of biological materials gathered by the branch cults which are used in countless rituals and profit-making endeavors which keep Culla afloat in independence of the Italian Government as a whole. Magical pharmaceuticals, prosthesis implants, every single bit of raw material is sourced from thousands of smaller contributors around the world. In turn, those contributors are attached to their benefactors through business-style ties that are kept healthy by a consistent exchange of staff and valuable artifacts important to the branch.

So why is the Twin-Hill Coven so rich? How are they so capable of gathering desirable quality materials? This wealth stems from their willingness to do things that the upper branches aren't willing to do in order to bolster their contribution to the central powers back in Italy. Sex work, hospital and morgue heists; any possible licit or illicit means of gathering human genetic material was worked to the n'th degree, with the city of Cloverfield being ripe as the areas biggest and most populous. At first, the Sisters were somewhat beholden to their previous superiors in the Untouched Glory: They could only go so far, and were primarily expected to contribute their tithe to the Untouched Glory as opposed to sending directly to Culla. But once the Motta clan's leader was presented with the yearly tithe from the Untouched Glory, the source was tracked. Privileges were presented to the Motta twins from there, and their organization was able to successfully crawl out from under their Mother Branch with full autonomy of their Tithe contribution.

In the current age, and in spite of the destruction and slow decay of the city as people fled to greener pastures, Twin-Hill maintains Tithe Apice under the grading scale of the Whispering Flesh. The current leader, Moriah Motta, has long since reestablished the core businesses that kept their high quantity contributions, reducing and refining any material as required. Their wealth and support from the Matriarchs of Culla has given the American Motta clan a great deal of spending power which has been used to assist in the rebuilding of the city. The Blackwood Hospital, New Leopold Building, and many other destroyed landmarks on the North Side were rebuilt with Motta money, as well as "foreign relief workers" who were brought in to break several construction records. In return, the Twin-Hill Coven has insured a quiet but almost complete access to the city's various municipal facilities, and maintains a number of their own secret areas in dark holes beneath buildings one may never expect them to be in.

Membership is loosely maintained, as since their retirement, Allegra and Bella have been elected as a Dual-Head Matriarch of the Untouched Glory. Their policy has long since become one of focus on their pet Coven, feeding a steady stream of its own members from farther South up into Cloverfield's various operations before being sent elsewhere to bolster other fledgling cults with their experience. Most remaining members are Moriah's closest allies and trusted comrades who fought against the Cataclysm at her side. Practices are limited, as Moriah's own upbringing was only vaguely tethered to the traditions of Culla and the Whispering Flesh as her own mother and grandmothers' maverick statuses are well known. Only the most basic rituals in reverence to their beloved Mother Deer are maintained, while new options are often explored by Moriah in the interest of her youthful and curious followers.

Twin-Hill HQ

BOSCHETTO.D'SYLVIA
............................................................ "As it turns out, it was more like a clearing."	Boschetto - Italian for Grove. That's what the Whispering Flesh scouts called the area when they first came across it almost three-hundred years ago. There's a great deal of contextual evidence to suggest that they were talking about The Grove, as treaties with the Keepers of that time can be dated to within a few years of the initial contact. The Boschetto itself is located on a beautiful twin-hilled rise in the far North of town, and is named after Sylvia Motta who settled the pristine hills before ultimately moving south of Roanoke. This is the home of the Twin-Hill Coven, whose members are involved with various local businesses including a law firm, a detective agency, a clinic and- most importantly -the famed Sin Sisters' Strip Club. Its grounds span a dozen acres, and the compound itself is comprised of eight buildings and plots of tilled farmland which are painstakingly tended to. The majority of "dormitory" houses remain uninhabited, and are mostly meant for visiting delegations from the Mother Branch, or less frequently the Grand Trunk. In total, forty people live there on a permanent basis; most notably Momo Motta who inhabits the main household where her Grandmothers once lived.

Sin Sisters'

SIN SISTERS'.STRIP CLUB
............................................................ "We bump in the night."	Built on the same ground as the original building, the Sin Sisters' strip club is the crown jewel of the Twin-Hill's Tithe. As one third of the New Leopold Building, Sin Sisters' occupies the eastern part of the twenty-story hotel's ground floor. The club itself is a sprawling facility with a multi-tiered entry scheme to separate Blinds from their money, as well as the majority of the paranormal happenings. Like its predecessor, there's a long and winding entry hall separating the entry doors from the rest of the building, insuring privacy and sound dampening for the more respectable portions of the facility. In the deepest bend, there's an elevator leading to the upper floors of the hotel, allowing those staying in the upper floors to migrate freely and privately between the hotel and the club... A fairly important feature considering some of the shadier practices allowed by the Proprietress. On entry, attending members are given an identification band dependent on their Paranormal status, with the more "specialized" areas of the facility locked except to those who meet the requirements for attendance. Given that the facility is on the ground, one would not expect the level of verticality unveiled on entry. Styled in an industrial-gothic aesthetic and utilizing a massive hole left in the ground from the destruction of the old Leopold Building, the new Sin Sisters' boasts four floors of debauchery and pleasure. Starting from the top, one can find private rooms separating blind VIPs from the rest of the world, where groups of up to twenty can book private shows and events. Outside of these rooms, you can look over the balcony and down to the absolute ground floor. It's there that the general mass of regulars and Blind guests are corralled, as well as anyone who wants to utilize the space for the "Club" aspect as opposed to the "Strip" aspect.

While not obvious from the top, as you descend to the ground floor it becomes obvious that the space is actually widening, rather than maintaining a solid cylindrical shape. It's dome-shaped facilities allow for the bottom tier to act as a massive open space where multiple stages can host a variety of different featured dancers without taking away from guest space. The outermost edges are dedicated to guest seating, with large booths capable of fitting six people at a time, and in the absolute center of it all is the main bar.

The round counter fills out the center of the dancefloor and is completely devoid of seating arrangements. Any patron getting booze must stand to do so; an intentional choice to prevent drunkards from getting too comfy at the tap. Otherwise, it's a massive affair on a slightly raised platform, polished black wood brought in from the forest surrounding Culla at great expense to the Proprietress. Most shockingly, there was still room beneath to fit a "cellar" which is more like a four-by-four room where restock can be kept handy and the more expensive bottles can be kept secure... Hence the raised platform to ensure headspace for staff.
There are multiple "lifts" which can accomadate small groups looking to quickly move between floors; a necessary addition for the Third-Eye Open guests invited to the various "VIP" stages throughout. Mostly found on the floor below entry, these special areas are practically miniature clubs in themselves. On busy nights, they're typically jam packed with the city's Paranormal population who can find any manner of fetish being catered to through the prodigious application of magic. Many dancers in Sin Sisters' are paranormal themselves, and as such qualify for work in these upcharged areas where it's expected that their unnatural talents will pull in the Third-Eye Opened who crave the magical aptitude that they simply can't attain themselves.

On the floor separating the Third-Eye VIPs and the bottom dancefloor is the most illicit area... The absolute private rooms, where guests can buy a bit of one-on-one time with the dancer of their choice should they be available. These are usually made by appointment, but one can buy their way in if they can deal with the upcharge and the fact that they don't have a say in who is attending them. While being treated to this special experience, guests of all types can expect a skilled host or hostess service, with each qualified staff member having earned their stripes both on stage and behind the bar. Classier individuals may request dinner services, inviting a delivery from the restaurant connected to the other side of the hotel, while others can get a simple private dance and be done with their night... Charged by the hour and upcharged for each special service beyond, once you have a room, you decide how it's used.
While it's frowned upon to use these private rooms for anything more intimate than a dance, those with the deepest knowledge and connection to the Proprietress can wind up "accompanying" their host or hostess "after their shift". These lucky wallets guests are treated to an even deeper level of VIP treatment, including a private suite in the hotel as well as a non-disclosure package insuring total anonymity and non-disclosure from professional parties involved.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Moriah Bella Motta

"They just don't make 'em like me."

_______________________________________________ Moriah Bella Motta She/Her | 33 | Italian American | 6'2" (188cm) | 160lbs (72.5kg) _______________________________________________ Liberated _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Matriarch is more than just a title to a Motta." ___________________________________ [+] Matriarch of the Motta ⫻ Due to the unique circumstances surrounding the Matriarch Program, Moriah was hand crafted as a specimen outside the natural biology of Humanity's standard. Unnaturally strong, fast and durable, Moriah's body plays host to innate Green Lux reserves that make her an excessively capable Adept. Hundred-Fold Inheritor ⫻ As the latest of the Motta Clan's Matriarchal lineage, Moriah has full access to her family's pool of resources from mundane business ventures to the Spellbook of Sylvia de Motta, curated over the 300 years spent in isolation among the hills of Appalachia. The New Breed ⫻ Traditionally, Matriarchs of the Whispering Flesh are expected to join the Children of Alezia as members of the Commendatoriate: The officer corps of the Coven's in-house mercenary company. Moriah not only excelled in her duty as a leader of Men, but as a strategic powerhouse with little remorse or consideration for her enemies. Pole Queen ⫻ On her return from service in the Children of Alezia, Moriah inherited her family's main business: The Sin Sisters' stripclub. Having grown up there, she was already well acquainted with the ins and outs of hands-on operations. Everything from mixology to management, and even performances, aren't below the Queen's station.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I don't even need to try... But I still do." At the surface, Moriah is an unnaturally striking woman whose height and stature would typically intimidate the average suitor. In reality, due to the functionality of her fleshcrafting abilities, Moriah's outward appearance is only limited by her overall skeletal structure: The soft and semi-soft structures of her anatomy are entirely malleable and beholden to Moriah's abilities as a Green Lux Master. That being said, in a neutral and unaffected state, Moriah's facial features are generally soft and rounded, sporting green eyes and a relatively small but similarly rounded nose. Her skin is often intentionally pallid and pale as an aesthetic choice, though because of this, her skin is often cold to the touch. Otherwise, her figure itself is generally toned without reaching the point of overtly masculine: As Matriarchs of the Whispering Flesh typically do, Moriah closely relates to and identifies with her femininity. Thus, striving for perfection in the same way a sculptor may, Moriah has spent many years perfecting her "neutral" figure. Now, no matter how many changes she may make in a day or a week, her form will naturally return to solid and densely packed muscle fiber hidden under a thin but softening layer of subcutaneous fat. As for her fashion sense and general aesthetic, Moriah continues the trend of her family by following boot-covered footprints toward the nearest Hot Topic (The old one, not... Whatever it is now.). Call it punk-chique, vampire goth, whatever label one assigns to the combination of military wear and otherwise scandalously chopped and screwed band tees and denim is what she loves. Crosses, rings with skulls, deep black hair and thick makeup, tattoos: Anything she can do to look like a member of a clan of bloodsuckers, including false fangs, she's happy to be caught in. Another quirk of her powers is the ability to form and shape stains on her skin, giving off the impression of makeup and tattoos that are said to dance across her body like moving pictures.

_{Psychology
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"Matriarchs don't break. We're meant to bend in weird ways."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ As a living legend among her peers, Moriah's level of freedom to experiment as she desires is only limited by her ability to maintain the expected quality and quantity of the Genetic Tithe. The Tithe is a payment of genetic materials made directly to the Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh - The ultimate originators of the Matriarchal lines which Moriah can trace her ancestry back to. The Matriarchs of Culla, their capital city in the foothills of the Italian Alps, maintain lines of credit which Matriarchs are able to call upon based on the quality and quantity of their provided Tithes. As such, those who are most successful find themselves to be both wealthy and powerful, garnering influence based on the perception of loyalty and dedication which consistent Tithes represent.
As such, in order to maintain as much autonomy as possible, Momo's only real goal in life is to maintain the highest grade of Tithe she possibly can. After all, she's long broken from the most traditional methodologies espoused by her teachers, in favor of far more experimental efforts in the furthering of the Matriarch Program.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Moriah is a surprisingly laid back individual for being so intimately involved with the daily grind of business ownership and coven leadership. This is mostly due to confidence and self-assuredness, which she had the opportunity to develop over a youth spent totally conscious of her purpose in life. Additionally, there are hypnotic anti-triggers locked in her manufactured brain which prevent overreaction. Any impulse that would unseat her stability is snuffed out before she can process it with a roughly 99% chance of efficacy. Therefore, her only true intention is to be the best Matriarch she can be: Fair, even-tempered, thoughtful, accepting and gracious.
Though, notably after an altercation with her direct progenitor, Momo has made subtle alterations to her behavior. Among them, she's far more hands-on in just about everything she can be than she was previously. Frustratingly, she's become something of a micro-manager because of it.

SECRETS ⫻ Moriah has a deep-seeded and desperate need for excellence and the recognition that it brings. Such is her fervor and need to accomplish this that she has completely divested herself of any rules and regulations set forth by the Coven of the Whispering Flesh in regards to the continuity of the Motta line of Matriarchs. Of note, a regulation stating that a Matriarch will only ever prepare a single replacement has been completely done away with, as Moriah began work on a simultaneous batch of ten "Unborn".
The process of preparing even a single Matriarch Unborn is a grueling and resource-intensive endeavor, especially given the requirement of constant genetic source material to pull from. While she does her absolute best to responsibly acquire said source materials, not all donations have come willingly... But if Moriah sees qualities and traits that she wishes to express through her Children, well... She can't help but fixate. One can only hope that a monthly blood donation is the least of their concerns.

SEXUALITY ⫻ One of the many quirks of the Matriarch Program's earliest days is the simultaneous coexistance of both types of human sexual organs. While she finds pleasures of the flesh to be accurately named, Moriah was born with a built-in drive to spread her genetic lineage as far and wide as possible while simultaneously storing and integrating any genetic material she happens to alternately receive.

FEARS ⫻ Prior to the Cataclysm, Moriah had been working on a single Matriarch. Over four painstaking years, Moriah had put her heart and soul into a single Unborn which had, in her mind, a strong potential for a split- Twins. Her ultimate goal, ripped away from her in a single instant of destruction. Her laboratory, her personal sanctum wasn't just crushed: It was swallowed whole. Since then, she's put a great deal of focus into making sure something like that never happens again. Thus, not only has she broken her Coven's laws by forming more than one, but she's also obsessively hidden locations in which her Daughters are kept all throughout the city and surrounding area. Something so wretched as loss of her Unborn can never happen again.

WHAT DID THEY DO DURING THE CATACLYSM? ⫻ Coordinating efforts to both mitigate damage and maximize the effectivness of her Coven's small but capable fighting force, Moriah was quick to align her forces with the Keepers of the Grove and other likeminded local groups. Her main goal was, at the time, recovering what she thought would be her safe and well-protected Unborn from an otherwise catastrophic lapse in defendable territory: Of course that didn't happen, and many got to see the brutality of a Matriarch in mourning first hand.

FLAWS ⫻ Unlike normal humans, Moriah was born with purpose and destiny pre-programmed into her psyche. While she is a thinking, feeling, living human with real hopes and dreams, her course and destiny were somewhat predetermined. As such, while others may change the course of their lives over and over again in order to better themselves, Moriah treats every brick wall she meets as just another obstacle. She is unflinching, unbending, but also inflexible when faced with something that will affect the overall positive status of her goals.

_{Backstory
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"In line for the ol' song and dance, huh?"

Moriah's story starts in a plague-ravaged village at the foot of the Italian/Swiss Alps nearly a thousand years ago. An isolated village, one where the only people left alive were the feared Strega, who were rumored to toil over bubbling cauldrons deep in the forests. Before the destruction, many of the locals tried and failed to uproot this secretive Coven, only to be turned back as the forests themselves came alive. They all believed that the disease came from those cauldrons, whose sickly green trails could be found weaving their way through the fields and streets after particularly dark nights.
La Sorellanza della Carne Sussurrata: The Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh, who came to the villages at night to take their Tithe... Being sick in the Motta Monad Valley wasn't just a death sentence in those days; it was a guarantee that your home would be invaded, and your loved one would be taken. Lo, more and more fighting men were sent to end the percieved threat. Consequently, less and less men were seen walking about the Valley. Eventually, less and less men were seen throughout the region as sickness took the weak, and the Flesh took the strong.

The ignorant couldn't have understood what they were trying to do: That the magical plague which was spreading across Europe had it's origins in a war so ancient that even the Sisterhood was infantismally small in comparison. The Sisterhood were healers, or at least attempted healers, as their Coven toiled in service to the Deer whom they deeply worshipped. They closely monitored local infection rates, and would attempt to minimize the spread by isolating the sick from their villages. Those "dark nights" were the result of a gentle -albiet still fairly disturbing- preemptive gassing of the locals with a sleeping agent. Their stilt-walking cauldrons were typically the last things that the townsfolk would see before the darkness fell around them; and those unaffected were typically the scant few magically-inclined individuals who had some sort of Emotional Field to protect them.
So naturally they'd be targeted. Hated. Suspected of creating the sickness to steal the sick and sacrafice them to the Devil. And naturally, with money harder and harder to come by, fighting Men would seek out the paychecks provided by mercenary groups. The very same who would find themselves traipsing through the Motta Monad Valley on the hunt for Witches of the Wilds. Of course they would, in turn, defend themselves.

By the end, one could count the amount of men in the surrounding region without an abbacus. When cities like Venace and Naples came to claim their soldiers, they found villages devoid of life, save a few pox-free women and children who somehow managed to escape infection. They never found their men: Those men weren't found until recently, when a logging operation in that same valley turned up trees whose cores were the mummified remains of long-dead mercenaries, still clad in their armor and clutching their weapons for dear life. Rather, unable and unwilling to push their luck in the dark forests, the famed city-states of Italy condemned the valley in all but the most blatant of wall building. Those who could flee did, and those who couldn't threw themselves from the nearby peaks.
Only the Sisterhood remained. And while they were alone, they had not been idle with those who they couldn't save: Instead keeping their essential parts in biological stasis until a time where a cure for their sickness could be achieved. It's said the Deer itself called to them through the forests- "Mankind has failed. Go, and and do as they have, o' Sisters of the Flesh. Maketh of a New Man in thine own image." And with the Deer's instruction, the Sisterhood learned to craft flesh from flesh recycled. Their cauldrons became wombs into which the lives and memories of the sick were poured.

Each sister would craft a mirror of herself, and each would inevitably crawl into their own creation in order to spark new life. These creatures, made of pure arcane biology who were born from their cauldrons as grown things, transcended the boundaries between the biological poles. Each then learned and taught and understood one another intimately; and the first of the Matriarchs were born. From them, more would come in generations upon generations, the technique being refined as the Matriarchs joined and split throughout Europe's checkered history. They would eventually weave their way into the fabric of European high society, expanding the genetic pool far beyond the picturesque hills they came from. With this influence, Matriarchs would then return to the Motta Monad bearing mortal followers, materials, resources - All in the service of giving back to the land that had cradled them. A city which would remain outside of time, outside of the realms of Blind Humanity, and deep in the Deer's most sacred of mountain groves.
The city of Matriarchs: Culla, the Cradle of Mothers, where the eldest and wisest of their kind would rule the forests and guide the evolution of the Coven of Whispering Flesh into a global effort. A practicing plan to replace the follies of Mankind with the pure, natural expression of Maternal love and tenderness.

Culla remains hidden in the Monad Valley, even as industry and modern technology move back into the lower parts of the landscape abudding the Cerva River. The revival of humanity, and the eventual repopulation of the area by the Blind Majority, were always part of the Whispering Flesh's plans after all. Importantly, due to that consistent slow prodding, defenses had to be erected. A garrison formed, made up of the mortal followers and biological Sons of the Matriarchs of Culla, dubbed the Children of Alezia. Purely practical at first, it was a way to put the otherwise mostly useless and heavily scrutinized menfolk of Culla to good use: Living and dying for their mothers and Matriarchs, their loyalty was supreme. As more Matriarchs were born, however, and many came to Culla from the far-flung branches of the Whispering Flesh, a new purpose was given to the otherwise mostly ceremonial "police" organization. The Commendatoriate was formed, essentially as a college for younger Matriarchs to come and hone their skills. With the leadership of the Sons more closely controlled by the Commendatoriate, the Matriarchs of Culla were free to begin selling their magical mercenary company to the surrounding areas, and eventually further abroad as conflicts became more global and widespread.

Now, with the origins covered, we can talk about the New World: A Matriarch named Sylvia, born as a noble Matriarch of Culla and carrying the bloodline of one of the Originators, was an especially gifted and talented individual among her peers. Selected by her Matriarch and the ruling council of Culla, Sylvia uprooted herself and her closest followers to make passage for the New World, recently reborn as the United States of America. A few lesser Sisters made passage first, returning letters detailing a mountain range with suitable connection to The Deer's influence: A perfect place for Sylvia to settle and take advantage of the burgeoning diversity of the newborn Country. Peoples of Europe, Asia, Africa, and the native peoples who had called this "New World" their home for thousands of years prior, would all be available for them to easily pull and create from. Especially fascinating was the Native American's particular closeness and affinity for the natural environment most closely associated with The Deer. It was believed that their natural connections would make particularly quality contributions to Matriarchal bloodlines of the future.
As such, a branch was formed at the feet of the Appalachian Mountains: La Congrega della Gloria Immacolata, the Coven of Untouched Glory.

It's been three-hundred years since the founding of Untouched Glory. Unbroken for nearly all of it, the Sisterhood has been nothing but successful in their quest to perfect the process of Matriarchal Unbirth. Their claim to fame: Learning how to break the cycle of Reclamation, which prevented Matriarchs from needing to sacrifice themselves in order to birth the next generation. The phenomena of Twin Matriarchs, once seen as a blessing of fertility, became secondary to the new and modernized Unbirthing process. Now, it's merely seen as a good omen; a preferable outcome to see two Matriarchs born from the effort of one. Sisters no longer crawl into their own cauldrons to provide the spark of life: Thus, the number of Matriarchs in the world swelled from dozens to thousands within a few generations.
The unprecedented boom in population has since forced the Whispering Flesh to classify their ranks even further, creating less and less significant positions of authority and bureaucracy for those "honored sisters" who just don't stack up to their peers. Most don't even see the City of Culla now, and frequently these "Lesser Dames" choose to break with tradition altogether in favor of free lives among the world.

This process has since broken up the very Coven which created the situation in the first place: Sixty-five years ago, the renowned Matriarch twins Allegra and Bella, "Greater Dames" in their own right, returned from their time spent behind the forest walls of Culla with a new plan. Immediately, they petitioned for branching from the Untouched Glory, taking little with them and making way for the burgeoning city of Cloverfield not from their Motherland near the city of Roanoke. After all, they both had the chance to travel in the Commendatoriate, and saw far more of the globe than many of their sisters and progenitors before them. Fascinated by the liberation movements and rebellions sparking across the planet, their belief was that there was never a better chance than that moment to slip into modern City life.
Like the Matriarchs of ancient times, the two sisters quickly wove their way into what passed for High Society in the Appalachian South, finally forming the Twin-Hill Coven. Soon, the city's first strip club was opened- Originally a juke-joint and speakeasy in an otherwise dry county, Sin Sisters' became the premier club not only to see beautiful women, but to socialize and party to one's content. Of course, the sisters themselves only had one goal: Gather as much genetic diversity and potential as possible.

Famously inclusive and anti-segregationist, the Sin Sisters' Club became the gold standard for nightlife in Cloverfield's Upper-West End. Allegra Motta especially garnered a great deal of attention as a Texas Guinan-Style nightlife hostess: Her presence in the Club on any given night could reportedly turn the atmosphere from comfortable mellow to an absolutely electric fervor. On more than one occasion, it was said that the revelry would spill from the club into the gilded streets of Cloverfield's ritzy North side, lasting until every last man and woman made it back to their beds safely. It was a golden age, and the sisters prospered as they developed their own Matriarch Progeny.
A concerted effort on the part of Allegra and Bella, the two experimented on further perfecting a single progeny which was allocated double the resource pool. An experiment that's said to have created the single strongest Matriarch to have ever lived: Cadenza Superiore Motta, the first of the New Breed. The trend was not ignored, and while Cadenza's childhood rolled into her own time behind Culla's walls and at the helm of the Commendatoriate, Matriarchs around the world attempted to copy the results without success.

It's said that the bond Allegra and Bella share- Matriarchal Twinhood -was the spark that allowed for such an outlier to exist. Since, only the scant few twin-contemporaries have even come close to replicating the Motta Sisters' results. As such, Cadenza remained uncontested for almost twenty years as the "Arch-Matriarch". It was expected that her own progeny would either be a blessed Twin Unbirth, or at the very least an even stronger specimen than herself.
And so finally, we've reached our hero: Moriah Bella Motta, Matriarchal Progeny of the Greatest among them. Born to Cadenza behind the walls of Culla with only two years of Unbirthed gestation, Moriah was seen as "Uncooked" by those who found her infantile form as nothing more than a premature release. A test for Cadenza's future endeavors, and nothing more. So, it was fairly shocking to the Matriarchs of Culla when this "infant" strode and spoke and thought as if she were fully termed. Typically, a Matriarch would gestate for an entire decade as their Progenitor gathered genetic material from as many sources as possible.

For Cadenza, this process was simple: Why bother with outsiders? Everything Moriah needed to be was already behind the walls, and while most Matriarchs were covetous and guarding of their own personal genomes, none could resist the Arch-Matriarch's demand for their materials. She took whoever she could by charm and grace, and those who did deny her could scarcely prevent her from enacting the Right of Dueling to take by force. Thus, unlike most Matriarchs whose genetics come from a laundry list of Blind, Mundane or otherwise non-Matriarchal Adept tributaries, Moriah Bella was made entirely by the collected genetics of the best and brightest of her kind. Like her Matriarch, Moriah was powerful and gifted- growing faster outside of her artificial womb than she ever would've inside, by her tenth birthday, Moriah took her position in the Commendatoriate in order to travel the world and complete her education.
While most Matriarchs learn to fight and to lead in the Commendatoriate, it was here that Moriah instead learned how to be a human. Gifted as she was, her life as a fully conscious and adult-minded child was spent being taught to control herself and the powers within her. Cadenza was a harsh Mistress, and perfection was never enough to impress her, so Moriah only strove to seek that out. Emancipation from that, her time spent among her Peers as a leader of mercenaries in the modern age of Cold Wars and Hot Conflicts across the magical world, was like Rumspringa.

Moriah would spend the next decade among her peers as an unparalleled warrior princess, earning the highest honors among the Matriarchs in the Commendatoriate that she could before finally retiring to her true Motherland: Cloverfield. While she'd spent the occasional summer there in her early life as Cadenza's needs required, Moriah became especially fascinated by the lifestyle of her Grandmother-Matriarchs. Their oppulent Coven, the gilded Mansion they lived in, were very stark in contrast to the egalitarian and naturalist lifestyle of Culla. She would find later, during her time in the service, that more places were like Cloverfield than Culla: A realization that stuck with her and managed to draw her back once she had the freedom to do as she pleased.
As it was, she was still following her revered Mother, as Cadenza had returned to Cloverfield in order to address conflict within the umbrella of The Untouched Glory. Partly in support, but mostly independent, Moriah began to spend more and more time with her Grandmother Allegra. Learning about becoming a part of the Sin Sisters' Family as both a dancer and ultimately the facility's manager, Moriah became more and more comfortable with the urban highlife of America.

Cadenza eventually returned to Culla, trusting her daughter not only with ensuring the stability of the Coven of Untouched Glory, but the safety and protection of her non-matriarchal Consort and the gaggle of children that the two had naturally: Moriah's many "Mundane" siblings. Some remained with Bella Motta in the Ashram of Untouched Glory, others were trusted to various Covens in the local area. Cadenza was expressly clear, however.
"The only person who matters is Nikki. Protect my Consort. Protect my Love."
Moriah never could've predicted what happened next. How through a slow, subtle chain of events, the woman she knew as "Momma" would be slowly, surely lured through her children into the waiting arms of a criminal mastermind. One whose experiments of Blue Lux hungered for the incredibly durable and power-laden bodies of the Matriarchs. She disappeared one day, and without Moriah even prompting her to return, Cadenza made way for Cloverfield in order to find her missing lover. Before she too disappeared, Cadenza was sure to let her daughter know exactly how she felt about her failure of duty... Though she couldn't be stripped of her titles and rank, Moriah was stripped of every bit of dignity and peace she'd built for herself: Cadenza left no fault or flaw undescribed, dressing Moriah down to the point that when the Arch-Matriarch did disappear, there was no followup. No response.

All of Momo's affection and love toward her Progenitor died alongside her. There was no effort put into into mounting an investigation. Her half-siblings were quickly scattered about the local area, sent to different Covens who would take the orphaned children out of Momo's hands until a time where they'd be old enough to make their own decisions. Allegra, in mourning at the fate of her "Perfect Child", completely retired from public life to be with her beloved twin in the Ashram of Untouched Glory where they'd been born.
Now, she's been left to her own devices: Moriah has taken to her position as Matriarch of the Twin-Hill Coven like a fish to water, contributing a significant Tithe of genetics from her facility to the higher branches. Satisfied with the status quo, the Matriarchs of Culla have asked few questions... After all, despite her power, few wept at the loss of Cadenza Motta. Her impersonal, aggressive and often elitist attitude to those who she deemed "lesser" made her an incredibly unpopular figure across the entire family tree of the Whispering Flesh. By contrast, Moriah is looked upon fondly by the Matriarchs of Culla, as the eldest of their ranks remember the strange little girl for who she had been naturally. The opposite of her Matriarchal Progenitor, Moriah was always the first to rally Lesser Dames to her cause, and to uplift those she could wherever possible.

Momo has become a name that Culla can trust in the United States, while her Grandmothers Bella and Allegra have faded into quiet retirement with the loss of their "Perfect Child". While talks are in the works to push her toward leadership of the Untouched Glory, Moriah has since made plans of her own. Specifically, her own personal refinement to the process of cross-Matriarchal birth. The same kind of development her Progenitor Cadenza had created for her, Momo's intention was to experiment with a longer gestation time under the same process. This meant a ten-year development period for her personal Unborn, who she had affectionately named Fiora before the girl ever could've known.
Life settled into a rhythm from there. Sin Sisters' continued to be successful, and Momo's presence at the club was felt much like her social mentor. Healthy genetic diversity, the currency within the Whispering Flesh, bought her plenty of Matriarchal Material in turn, which provided for Fiora's planned gestation. Things were good, and Momo was at her absolute height in regards to her success. She was able to rebuild herself in the wake of losing her Mother both physically and mentally...

And then the Cataclysm came. It was devastating to the entire area, and even with the combined might of so many different forces coming together to try and stop it, there was only so much anyone could do. Ever the pragmatist, Momo did her best to use the time surrounded by the various covens of Appalachia to both gather material, and solidify alliances. At first, the Upper-West end was more like a breathing crater of destruction. Not only was the original Sin Sisters' club destroyed, but gut-wrenchingly, so had the underground laboratory which Momo had hoped would be safe for Fiora...
It hadn't been. Years of effort and material were wiped clean from the world by the chaos of the Cataclysm. More importantly than any of that, however, was the emotional attachment. Momo had, unlike many of her peers who saw their progeny as nothing but experiments, grown to love her Unborn like a true mother would... As if she'd carried the child in her own body. Maternal instinct gave way to mourning, coincidentally returning her to a closeness with her Grandmother Matriarchs that she'd been callous and cold about previously. But it also turned her into a frothing monster in opposition to Nyrah the Destroyer's nightmarish forces. Some called her bold, others foolish - But in the end, nobody could question that her efforts to reclaim the Upper-West End were pivotal in the overall reduction of Nyrah's capacity to wage war on the city.

And she didn't leave after, either. Despite so many people fleeing the city and the temporary reinforcements heading back to their respective homes, Momo was one of the first people to start putting resources back into the city. She became more than just a nightclub owner - She became a public figure whose contributions to the fiscal, material and labor requirements necessary for the initial disaster relief were recognized by politicians both local and Federal.
She had, after all, already claimed payment. The corpses of the dead were necessary contributors to the war effort... And the various post-conflict clinical facilities gave her plenty of magical and mundane material to send as unbroken Tithes back to Italy. Unbroken Tithes that earned her not only respect, but absolute trust among the Matriarchs of Culla. The kind of trust and respect which privacy can thrive in. As the Upper-West End was built back up to its gilded glory, the various magical groups playing a large part in the city's reconstruction over such a short period, Momo has taken the chance to work her way into various local enterprises.

Ever expanding her Tithe collection and unburdened by the expectation of her superiors, Momo has been free to experiment as she pleases. Because of this, she's divested herself of a cardinal rule: No longer is she restricted to a single Unborn. Instead, having established several hidden laboratories around Cloverfield's Upper and Lower ends, the amount of Unborn she's juggling in various stages of different methods and techniques has ballooned to ten. And each, separated from the rest, require tremendous amounts of time and resources in order to form correctly. Rarely does Momo sleep, for there is simply no time.
It's been almost two years since the devastation wrought by the Cataclysm. It's safe to say that, unlike many, the Twin-Hills Coven has thrived in the rebuilding effort of Cloverfield. Despite her pain and traumas, Momo has come to find joy and fulfillment in her life once again. Now, the only question for the future is: How long will she be able to keep up with the juggling act?

_{Abstraction
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"Green Lux is pretty crazy: It's everything Red Lux is, but better!"

TYPE ⫻ Adept

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Bio-Chemical Equation: Green Lux focusing on Periodic Elements and the part they play in Biology. Moriah's Channeler is a band made of pure gold implanted around the base of her spinal chord.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ There are Adepts who come from long-lived magical lineages, who are almost immediately opened to their third-eye and encouraged in every possible way to kindle early. Expectedly, they make for exceptionally talented individuals whose jump on the magical world around them leaves them overall more studied and capable than their peers who come into that world later in life. But what if one could twist and bend the Lux around the genetics of humanity, forming a vessel through the ebb and flow of magic that could be rendered as a willing host? Alternatively, what if one simply kept that child waiting, growing freely without the concern of lifespan as the constant manipulation of their body in a semi-formed state?

For Moriah, both of these ideas were used in tandem. Born through the Mother Deer's Gift - A process of gestating a child through multiple genetic donor sources by a competent Green Lux Adept - Moriah was created by one of the most skilled Green Lux users of her age. As such, her connection with Green Lux and her ability to wield and manipulate it down to the finest chemical elements found in nature is said to be peerless. Two years of gestation was all it took, and Moriah was born from the viscous amneotic pool in which she was developed with a fully developed mind and body. Cadenza, her Matriarchal Progenitor, had managed to make the unthinkable happen by claiming enough genetic material from the pool of Matriarchs spred across Dazzle to develop her progeny entirely from that source.

Until then, it was a source that nobody thought was possible to tap fully. A Matriarch may have two or three peer-donors, trusted fellows whose power or grasp on their Lux was particularly potent or desirable; but Cadenza sourced a reported five-thousand Matriarchal donors - Practically the entirety of their secret society's upper crust. It's had a potent effect on Moriah, and to this day her ability to control Green Lux borders on Apparitional. Spells, incantations, rituals; these things are only present as guidelines to educate lesser Adepts so they can hope to pull from a shallow pool of creation. For her, they're little more than party tricks, while she's able to call out to and reach for the chemical elements that surround all of us in subtle ways, using only her tremendous Green reserves as the catalyst.

The Mother Deer's Gift ⫻ As the primary building block of the magics utilized by Matriarchs of the Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh, the Mother Deer's Gift was the spell taught to the original Sisterhood who gave themselves to their cauldrons to kickstart the evolutionary process necessary to transcend their humanoid biology. At its most basic, the Gift is a fundamental understanding of the liquidity of Biology, and how the proper chemical compounds can create and maintain life with indefinite success. Understanding organic polymers created by nucleotides, and the further knowledge of how to create those building blocks through chemical elements and the formulation of amino acids, is a crucial stepping stone for every Matriarch.
Thankfully, this knowledge is usually second nature, as in the process of their creation, Matriarchs will invariably program this understanding into their "Unborn" progeny while they're creating them.

This process, the creation of a new Matriarch through the Mother Deer's Gift, is just as much a science project as it is a ritual spell. A great deal of Green Lux is focused into a protein-filled slurry - the components of which are historically recycled biological materials from corpses, but has expanded into pretty much any bio-organic material that can be gathered - which is then seeded by the Matriarch's own biological eggs from their womb. Over time, this slurry breaks all contributory sources down into their most basic elements, and one is left with a pool of resources from which a human can grow just as they would in a normal womb. The only difference is that, in this state exposed to so much Green Lux, every bit of contributory material can be sorted, organized and intelligently allocated to insure the perfect environment for growth.

As a magical side effect, all tributary materials are reliably preserved at a quantum level to retain cellular memory. As such, a properly formed Matriarch child - a process usually taking between five and ten years depending on the quality of materials used - is usually born with knowledge that a child otherwise wouldn't be. How to talk, how to read and write, how to walk and run and sprint and swim; the things that one would often spend those years teaching a child, they're born knowing. Beyond that, the Matriarch themselves typically pass down their knowledge of Green Lux through their own contributions, meaning that a Kindled Matriarch is a naturally competent Adept of Green Lux capable of replicating their Progenitor's own control. Thus, the greater the Progenitor, the more able the Progeny without intervention or education.

Cellular Banking ⫻ Matriarchal culture is all about genetic materials. From the time they're born until the time they die (sometimes hundreds of years later), Matriarchs are plagued by the goblinesque impulse to gather and maintain a stock of genetic material which they can then break down and convert to a more usable form. The most common method is through the ability to self-fertilize, which all Matriarchs are capable of through gamete-reconstitution by usage of donor materials. The goal with self-impregnation is not to carry a child to term, rather to produce a constant stream of high-quality Embryonic Stem Cells through the process of targeted self-renewal. In it's natural division, a fertilized egg will produce blastocysts whose inner walls are chalk full of stem cells.
Green Lux is further used to extract the fresh material, which is then packaged and sealed with a stable shelf-life which can be refreshed by the same Lux which forced it's creation in the first place.

Thus, genetic material of the highest quality can be stored for future use while the lesser quality product is shipped directly to Culla in order to pay the expected Genetic Tithe, alongside similar shipments of raw materials for the Matriarchs to produce their own stem cell banks.

Bio-Engineered Perfection ⫻ As the Whispering Flesh refined their control over the secrets of recycled life, they found that those secrets were equally capable of affecting those already born and grown. What started as simple rejuvenation techniques to prolong the lives of the Whispering Flesh's eldest Matriarchs became far more than the Sisters could've imagined. Rejuvenation became restructuring, the forcing of organs and soft tissue to function similarly using new materials that made them more robust and efficient. Some Matriarchs, unsatisfied with their human forms entirely, spend their own personal time and effort changing bodily systems altogether; developing cutaneous respiration, restructuring the nervous system, improving musculature and durability through various material means.
Modern Matriarchs, Moriah especially, have gone so far as to completely weaponize their forms. Bio-mechanical weaponry, post-human strength and reflexes, entire "Superman" conversions allowing the Matriarch to effectively transform into a far more deadly battery of Green Lux-powered destruction.

Moriah's main focus in this practice comes with a great deal of confidence in the Human form as the most potent vessel for Lux to be channeled through. As such, her preferred method of expressing her power is through the usage of tier-stepped levels of power which she uses to both gauge the power of her enemy, and conserve energy and resources in order to prolong her effective uptime before she requires replenishment.

• Riposo (Resting): Moriah's standard level of existence. Though she's no Hulk, Moriah benefits from an overall improved physique; a more robust musculoskeletal system, highly efficient respiratory/circulatory systems, and a gastrointestinal system capable of converting just about any organic material into its constituent parts.
• Migliorato (Improved): Moriah's primary combat form. This level of improvement is generally subtle, putting as little strain on her form to maximize improvements as possible. The integumentary system thickens, forcing cutaneous nerves under the surface to ignore basic surface pains. Energy and oxygen is diverted to the muscular system, and lactic acid produced by the increased strain is more directly filtered into the kidneys and liver which are improved to efficiently perform gluconeogenesis.
  While she doesn't experience any direct or apparent changes to her outward appearance, the results of study have shown that the transition from Riposo to Migliorato translates to a twenty percent overall increased output of power from her muscles; allowing her to run faster, jump higher, punch harder, and live through more devastating physical impacts without her body requiring any more energy than it was already using.
• Potenziata (Enhanced): Potenziata is where things start to get noticeable in terms of Moriah's overall change. Great reserves of Green Lux go into converting stored genetic materials, resulting in several body-wide mutations that leave no room to doubt that she's built herself for war. To start, the musculoskeletal system undergoes an overhaul as bones and muscles increase in size by an average of forty percent. New organs (called the Peripheral Chemosynthetic Glands, or PCG) form in her throat meant to gather chemical elements and produce compounds not naturally formed in the body. Her skin becomes hard and dense, utilizing the gathered materials from her new organs to inject a subcutaneous carbon-filament layer. Essentially bulletproof, ligaments and connective tissues are also coated in the same carbon layer in order to insure they can handle the increased strain. In addition, organs that otherwise would be used for everyday functions are stagnated as the energy they would otherwise used is allocated to more pressing systems.
  This is a full transformation, and the first sign that Moriah considers what's in front of her as an actual threat rather than a nuisance. Through sheer vanity, her outward appearance doesn't deviate much beyond a near three-foot overall height increase. Most notably, an aura of Green Lux typically surrounds her at this point, as the amount of it she's gathering and expending to maintain the form can be anything but subtle.
• Apice (Apex): At this point, all but the most necessary organs and bodily functions have been converted into pure glucose for energy. Nociceptors are completely disconnected from the nervous system, deadening her sense of pain and relieving her of any potential reactions due to it. The stomach and existent PCGs merge together into a single organ capable of breaking down just about anything into its constituent elements. This allows Moriah to eat damn near anything and repurpose it into her body in some way (a process responsible for her unique nickname and callsign within the Commendatoriate: The Uranium Angel). The skeleton is typically the first bit to be replaced, calcifying to the point that breaking one would require the force of a jet hitting her directly. The material swap usually comes with another size increase, bringing her to nearly eleven feet tall. The skin is further changed, becoming rigid plates of carbon steel wherever motion isn't a major requirement, and additional PCGs form in her arms and hands that are specialized for handling the formation of elements into blasts of incredibly reactive materials.
  At this point, the Lux energy radiating off her is so concentrated that walking about causes life to grow from beneath her feet. Her body itself, a walking breathing chemical factory, is now capable of replacing just about any "lost or missing" piece which may happen to come off during combat; though at a tremendous material cost that would probably still take her out of a fight temporarily as she devours anything she can get her hands on for a reset.
• Sconosciuta (Unknown): This categorization is for the unexpected: Moriah is constantly experimenting and developing her abilities in the search for perfection. The conflict with Nyrah the Destroyer's forces has been a sticking point in her mind for almost two years now: Her pursuit of perfection is rooted in the (self-aggrandizing) belief that one day, something worse will come, and she'll be the ultimate bulwark to stop it.
  Having never seen what her Progenitor Cadenza could actually accomplish at full power, Moriah only has the stories from the Commendatoriate's records to go by, and any first hand accounts that remain. To such an end, she's absolutely sure that her Apice form is anything but an Apex... An subpar estimation of perfection.

LIMITS ⫻ The main limitation in every single part of Moriah's understanding and control of Green Lux comes down to one limiting factor: Material quality. In the beginning, the Sisters of Whispering Flesh were forced to use corpses and materials from the natural world around them: While this mostly worked, living tissue was still required to complete the ritual behind the Mother Deer's Gift. As such, they would most often sacrifice their own lives in order to be "reborn" into the world as new beings. In this modern techmaturgical age, the flesh of the dead is seen as a middling quality material at best, used to pad the quantity in one's Tithe with an overall efficient and renewable material.
For Moriah, this means that eating as a human would is practically useless. As a "New-Breed" Matriarch, Moriah's nutritional needs are incredibly taxing and difficult to fulfill. As such, a great deal of care is taken to ration and control the genetic stock which she collects. There are alternatives, of course... In desperate times throughout history, Matriarchs have been known to cannibalize their "lesser" Adept followers, and even one another should the stakes be incredibly desperate.

Alternatively, the very presence of miasmic Black Lux can throw a Matriarch's entire body into chaos and disarray. The presence of undead, and the necromantic Black Lux Adepts who typically control them, is complete anathema to the Matriarch; the typical reaction is a lapse in control over the systems which are necessary to maintain their battle forms. Thus, Matriarchs either flee the conflict, become locked in a regressive state as their bodies consume themselves, or fly into a berserk rage which is completely ruined by the fact that their bodies are no longer capable of performing the same feats of power as usual.

WEAKNESSES ⫻

The Mother Deer's Gift ⫻ While the process of creating an Unborn no longer requires a Matriarch to sacrifice themselves, the creation and nurturing uses the Progenitor's energy. On days that Momo actively tends to her Unborn she will be more lethargic, perhaps weakened. This side effect can be negated by the consumption of the correct genetic material to fuel herself.

Bio Engineered Perfection ⫻ Each tier of power requires an increasing amount of Momo's energy, and fuel to go with it. It starts as being easily maintainable at the Migliorato level, to requiring frequent nourishment at the Apice level (of anything and everything, preferably higher quality materials). Maintaining it is strenuous, and pushing all the way to Apex level will leave Momo weakened for a couple of days afterwards - and unable to push herself back up to it.

At Potenziata, Apice and Sconsciuta (when its obtained) levels, Momo is giving out an aura of Green Lux powerful enough to start changing her surroundings. While this doesn't seem like a weakness on its surface, it comes with unexpected changes to any living being that comes into contact with it. At Potenziata this is minimal - animals may mutate slightly, Blinds find their cell generation increased. It's at Apice level that it gets dangerous. Her Green Lux aura causes rapid, uncontrolled cell proliferation in any biological creature that gets near her. Animals rapidly mutate, becoming twisted far beyond their natural form. Blinds mutate too. How this happens varies - sometimes they change physically, developing deformities or even growing new limbs. The increased cell growth leads of tumor formation. Essentially, getting near Momo will cause the development of cancer for all Blinds. It can do this for those with Emotional fields too - they're more resistant, but at this power level weaker Paranormal can be effected at a slower rate. This means Momo can hurt the very people she's trying to protect.

Also with each tier, Momo feels more and more uncontrollable impulses to gather material - and an increased desire for what comes with that. This lingers even after she goes back to her resting state. While at the higher tiers, this can be very... painful.

^{Other
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"My Angel fled to the Deer long ago... Funny I get left for another woman."

I missed a part about Momo's affair with a fellow Matriarch, and how she died in combat and Momo couldn't save her. And about how Fiora, her first "Unborn", was made with the stored genetics of Momo's dead lover. It drove her pretty crazy, but I doubt it'll come up ever.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Leon & Kenshiro

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Mentions: | Direct Dialogue: POST HERE | Location: Elysium Island

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Leon had taken some notice of Sloane's passing of the staff. He doubted her intentions in the action, but now wasn't the time for questioning one another. It was the time for action. Time for-

^{"... THE POWER OF THE SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!"}

Jess, unable to keep it in her pants

The absolute power of the sun smiting the hellhole before them was quite the opening flourish. Searing his retina, he instantly began to open Lelou's water and earth seals in order to regain his eyesight. When he did, his gaze was on Jess who had bitten the worst of it. His pack was laden with Temple-made goodies, and rather than break forward, he immediately slid to the side of the Greenwood members. A pack of the neon green gelatinous keylime pie filling slapped onto the ground next to Ruby and Jess.
"Don't feed her all of it! It's a triple pack, three doses, resealable - Just keep it on you in case you need more!"

Ken wasn't so patient. Nor was he concerned about the heat and bright light of the sun blast etching its way across the estate before them. It was par for the course in terms of what he was expecting: Big, extravagant displays of wealth demanded equally extravagant displays of destruction. Death on a wide scale... He only hoped Kari's journals were underground when everything happened. But that wasn't what he'd signed up for. He had some pent-up aggression that needed to be taken care of.
Leon'd explained what some of this stuff the Temple provided was supposed to do. It was interesting, but not something he necessarily wanted to put in his body after what Luca had been talking about... It didn't matter. It was necessary. This "Red-Pepper Jam" was meant to boost overall Lux conjuring, allowing the everyday Adept to pull from a level of strength they otherwise wouldn't be able to. But for someone like Ken, whose life was spent living and breathing the Lux that surrounded him, it was an altogether different level. Not only could he feel the anticipation of Purple Lux roiling up around him to crowd his body with its pressure, but the Gold Lux that came with it was like a folded-steel blade hot to the touch. It was driving his curse mark wild - There'd be no summoning under the influence of this drug. It would be too painful... Too dangerous, especially after the Gloom incident.

But it wasn't necessary. This kind of power was typically reserved for a partial merging through the Emperor's Tanto, but he'd left the sacred blade and it's guardian at home in the 11th Path to ensure his safety. Instead, he came brandishing a slew of alternative weapons. Forged by his clan, each reacted strongly to Purple Lux, holding a spell's influence without effort. It kept them locked in a slow orbit around him, just out of the range of being troublesome while still being in range for him to surge one or the other forward. Two massive kanabo, a dozen kunai, four different katana: He knew things would go flying, missing, break and shatter against the enemy. Better to have backups.
Deep breaths - Uncle Takedo's voice echoed in Ken's head as he began to take a step forward. Deep breaths to let the Lux flow across his skin like rainwater against a window. With the force of a bullet, one of the kunai launched out from the barriered sections. As it flew under Ken's influence, he continuously manipulated its mass and speed until a telltale explosion told him that it broke the sound barrier.

"Enlighten... Send."
In that instant, Ken was gone. Ahead, in front of the whole of the assault team, the ground buckled up into a fissure as he hit the ground with the force of a jet crashing into the earth. There was a massive puff of dirt and debris filled with the limbs and pieces of the undead horde, washing the impact site in sickly brown gore. A single slash broke through the cloud, Purple Lux rushing out from behind it in a shockwave that crushed the soft and supple forms it hit before crashing into the treeline nearby. A tree cracked in half, slumping over in an equal death.
Then it was completely dispersed: A massive purple sphere expanded across the field, creating a safe area with his defensive stance maximized for radius. Holes in the top-rear of the sphere projected his voice backward like a loudspeaker that blew over the sounds of gunshots.
"I will take ground! Move up behind me!"

Leon had already started to move out from where he'd been with Ruby and Jess when Ken made the next barrier ahead of them. It was a much smaller area to hide behind, but there weren't bullets flying through it, so it was safe in his eyes.
"Come on, Aggro! You bastards wanna live forever? Murakin's got the right idea!"
A few openings formed in the rear of Ken's barrier sphere, inviting those who needed the protection forward into his safety bubble, and the crater which it sat inside. As he waited, Ken heard Leon's loud voice behind him and nodded his head.

Slow, deep breaths. Slow. Deep. Breaths.
"Blackmore! Doomsday!"
There was a rush of fetid corpse air that rushed from the back of the sphere as Ken shouted, followed by an echo of a vortex forming. It was the housing necessary for Blackmore's hottest lightning to turn from the unconcentrated power of the sky into a fully realized miniature star. His hands were roiling the Purple Lux together, spinning the air in a trapped inner sphere that was only growing as he anticipated the inevitable heat. Anticipation, and slow. Deep. Breaths.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Moriah Bella Motta

"They just don't make 'em like me."

_______________________________________________ Moriah Bella Motta She/Her | 33 | Italian American | 6'2" (188cm) | 160lbs (72.5kg) _______________________________________________ Liberated _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "Matriarch is more than just a title to a Motta." ___________________________________ [+] Matriarch of the Motta ⫻ Due to the unique circumstances surrounding the Matriarch Program, Moriah was hand crafted as a specimen outside the natural biology of Humanity's standard. Unnaturally strong, fast and durable, Moriah's body plays host to innate Green Lux reserves that make her an excessively capable Adept. Hundred-Fold Inheritor ⫻ As the latest of the Motta Clan's Matriarchal lineage, Moriah has full access to her family's pool of resources from mundane business ventures to the Spellbook of Sylvia de Motta, curated over the 300 years spent in isolation among the hills of Appalachia. The New Breed ⫻ Traditionally, Matriarchs of the Whispering Flesh are expected to join the Children of Alezia as members of the Commendatoriate: The officer corps of the Coven's in-house mercenary company. Moriah not only excelled in her duty as a leader of Men, but as a strategic powerhouse with little remorse or consideration for her enemies. Pole Queen ⫻ On her return from service in the Children of Alezia, Moriah inherited her family's main business: The Sin Sisters' stripclub. Having grown up there, she was already well acquainted with the ins and outs of hands-on operations. Everything from mixology to management, and even performances, aren't below the Queen's station.

Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I don't even need to try... But I still do." At the surface, Moriah is an unnaturally striking woman whose height and stature would typically intimidate the average suitor. In reality, due to the functionality of her fleshcrafting abilities, Moriah's outward appearance is only limited by her overall skeletal structure: The soft and semi-soft structures of her anatomy are entirely malleable and beholden to Moriah's abilities as a Green Lux Master. That being said, in a neutral and unaffected state, Moriah's facial features are generally soft and rounded, sporting green eyes and a relatively small but similarly rounded nose. Her skin is often intentionally pallid and pale as an aesthetic choice, though because of this, her skin is often cold to the touch. Otherwise, her figure itself is generally toned without reaching the point of overtly masculine: As Matriarchs of the Whispering Flesh typically do, Moriah closely relates to and identifies with her femininity. Thus, striving for perfection in the same way a sculptor may, Moriah has spent many years perfecting her "neutral" figure. Now, no matter how many changes she may make in a day or a week, her form will naturally return to solid and densely packed muscle fiber hidden under a thin but softening layer of subcutaneous fat. As for her fashion sense and general aesthetic, Moriah continues the trend of her family by following boot-covered footprints toward the nearest Hot Topic (The old one, not... Whatever it is now.). Call it punk-chique, vampire goth, whatever label one assigns to the combination of military wear and otherwise scandalously chopped and screwed band tees and denim is what she loves. Crosses, rings with skulls, deep black hair and thick makeup, tattoos: Anything she can do to look like a member of a clan of bloodsuckers, including false fangs, she's happy to be caught in. Another quirk of her powers is the ability to form and shape stains on her skin, giving off the impression of makeup and tattoos that are said to dance across her body like moving pictures.

_{Psychology
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"Matriarchs don't break. We're meant to bend in weird ways."

MAIN GOAL ⫻ As a living legend among her peers, Moriah's level of freedom to experiment as she desires is only limited by her ability to maintain the expected quality and quantity of the Genetic Tithe. The Tithe is a payment of genetic materials made directly to the Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh - The ultimate originators of the Matriarchal lines which Moriah can trace her ancestry back to. The Matriarchs of Culla, their capital city in the foothills of the Italian Alps, maintain lines of credit which Matriarchs are able to call upon based on the quality and quantity of their provided Tithes. As such, those who are most successful find themselves to be both wealthy and powerful, garnering influence based on the perception of loyalty and dedication which consistent Tithes represent.
As such, in order to maintain as much autonomy as possible, Momo's only real goal in life is to maintain the highest grade of Tithe she possibly can. After all, she's long broken from the most traditional methodologies espoused by her teachers, in favor of far more experimental efforts in the furthering of the Matriarch Program.

PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Moriah is a surprisingly laid back individual for being so intimately involved with the daily grind of business ownership and coven leadership. This is mostly due to confidence and self-assuredness, which she had the opportunity to develop over a youth spent totally conscious of her purpose in life. Additionally, there are hypnotic anti-triggers locked in her manufactured brain which prevent overreaction. Any impulse that would unseat her stability is snuffed out before she can process it with a roughly 99% chance of efficacy. Therefore, her only true intention is to be the best Matriarch she can be: Fair, even-tempered, thoughtful, accepting and gracious.
Though, notably after an altercation with her direct progenitor, Momo has made subtle alterations to her behavior. Among them, she's far more hands-on in just about everything she can be than she was previously. Frustratingly, she's become something of a micro-manager because of it.

SECRETS ⫻ Moriah has a deep-seeded and desperate need for excellence and the recognition that it brings. Such is her fervor and need to accomplish this that she has completely divested herself of any rules and regulations set forth by the Coven of the Whispering Flesh in regards to the continuity of the Motta line of Matriarchs. Of note, a regulation stating that a Matriarch will only ever prepare a single replacement has been completely done away with, as Moriah began work on a simultaneous batch of ten "Unborn".
The process of preparing even a single Matriarch Unborn is a grueling and resource-intensive endeavor, especially given the requirement of constant genetic source material to pull from. While she does her absolute best to responsibly acquire said source materials, not all donations have come willingly... But if Moriah sees qualities and traits that she wishes to express through her Children, well... She can't help but fixate. One can only hope that a monthly blood donation is the least of their concerns.

SEXUALITY ⫻ One of the many quirks of the Matriarch Program's earliest days is the simultaneous coexistance of both types of human sexual organs. While she finds pleasures of the flesh to be accurately named, Moriah was born with a built-in drive to spread her genetic lineage as far and wide as possible while simultaneously storing and integrating any genetic material she happens to alternately receive.

FEARS ⫻ Prior to the Cataclysm, Moriah had been working on a single Matriarch. Over four painstaking years, Moriah had put her heart and soul into a single Unborn which had, in her mind, a strong potential for a split- Twins. Her ultimate goal, ripped away from her in a single instant of destruction. Her laboratory, her personal sanctum wasn't just crushed: It was swallowed whole. Since then, she's put a great deal of focus into making sure something like that never happens again. Thus, not only has she broken her Coven's laws by forming more than one, but she's also obsessively hidden locations in which her Daughters are kept all throughout the city and surrounding area. Something so wretched as loss of her Unborn can never happen again.

WHAT DID THEY DO DURING THE CATACLYSM? ⫻ Coordinating efforts to both mitigate damage and maximize the effectivness of her Coven's small but capable fighting force, Moriah was quick to align her forces with the Keepers of the Grove and other likeminded local groups. Her main goal was, at the time, recovering what she thought would be her safe and well-protected Unborn from an otherwise catastrophic lapse in defendable territory: Of course that didn't happen, and many got to see the brutality of a Matriarch in mourning first hand.

FLAWS ⫻ Unlike normal humans, Moriah was born with purpose and destiny pre-programmed into her psyche. While she is a thinking, feeling, living human with real hopes and dreams, her course and destiny were somewhat predetermined. As such, while others may change the course of their lives over and over again in order to better themselves, Moriah treats every brick wall she meets as just another obstacle. She is unflinching, unbending, but also inflexible when faced with something that will affect the overall positive status of her goals.

_{Backstory
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"In line for the ol' song and dance, huh?"

Moriah's story starts in a plague-ravaged village at the foot of the Italian/Swiss Alps nearly a thousand years ago. An isolated village, one where the only people left alive were the feared Strega, who were rumored to toil over bubbling cauldrons deep in the forests. Before the destruction, many of the locals tried and failed to uproot this secretive Coven, only to be turned back as the forests themselves came alive. They all believed that the disease came from those cauldrons, whose sickly green trails could be found weaving their way through the fields and streets after particularly dark nights.
La Sorellanza della Carne Sussurrata: The Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh, who came to the villages at night to take their Tithe... Being sick in the Motta Monad Valley wasn't just a death sentence in those days; it was a guarantee that your home would be invaded, and your loved one would be taken. Lo, more and more fighting men were sent to end the percieved threat. Consequently, less and less men were seen walking about the Valley. Eventually, less and less men were seen throughout the region as sickness took the weak, and the Flesh took the strong.

The ignorant couldn't have understood what they were trying to do: That the magical plague which was spreading across Europe had it's origins in a war so ancient that even the Sisterhood was infantismally small in comparison. The Sisterhood were healers, or at least attempted healers, as their Coven toiled in service to the Deer whom they deeply worshipped. They closely monitored local infection rates, and would attempt to minimize the spread by isolating the sick from their villages. Those "dark nights" were the result of a gentle -albiet still fairly disturbing- preemptive gassing of the locals with a sleeping agent. Their stilt-walking cauldrons were typically the last things that the townsfolk would see before the darkness fell around them; and those unaffected were typically the scant few magically-inclined individuals who had some sort of Emotional Field to protect them.
So naturally they'd be targeted. Hated. Suspected of creating the sickness to steal the sick and sacrafice them to the Devil. And naturally, with money harder and harder to come by, fighting Men would seek out the paychecks provided by mercenary groups. The very same who would find themselves traipsing through the Motta Monad Valley on the hunt for Witches of the Wilds. Of course they would, in turn, defend themselves.

By the end, one could count the amount of men in the surrounding region without an abbacus. When cities like Venace and Naples came to claim their soldiers, they found villages devoid of life, save a few pox-free women and children who somehow managed to escape infection. They never found their men: Those men weren't found until recently, when a logging operation in that same valley turned up trees whose cores were the mummified remains of long-dead mercenaries, still clad in their armor and clutching their weapons for dear life. Rather, unable and unwilling to push their luck in the dark forests, the famed city-states of Italy condemned the valley in all but the most blatant of wall building. Those who could flee did, and those who couldn't threw themselves from the nearby peaks.
Only the Sisterhood remained. And while they were alone, they had not been idle with those who they couldn't save: Instead keeping their essential parts in biological stasis until a time where a cure for their sickness could be achieved. It's said the Deer itself called to them through the forests- "Mankind has failed. Go, and and do as they have, o' Sisters of the Flesh. Maketh of a New Man in thine own image." And with the Deer's instruction, the Sisterhood learned to craft flesh from flesh recycled. Their cauldrons became wombs into which the lives and memories of the sick were poured.

Each sister would craft a mirror of herself, and each would inevitably crawl into their own creation in order to spark new life. These creatures, made of pure arcane biology who were born from their cauldrons as grown things, transcended the boundaries between the biological poles. Each then learned and taught and understood one another intimately; and the first of the Matriarchs were born. From them, more would come in generations upon generations, the technique being refined as the Matriarchs joined and split throughout Europe's checkered history. They would eventually weave their way into the fabric of European high society, expanding the genetic pool far beyond the picturesque hills they came from. With this influence, Matriarchs would then return to the Motta Monad bearing mortal followers, materials, resources - All in the service of giving back to the land that had cradled them. A city which would remain outside of time, outside of the realms of Blind Humanity, and deep in the Deer's most sacred of mountain groves.
The city of Matriarchs: Culla, the Cradle of Mothers, where the eldest and wisest of their kind would rule the forests and guide the evolution of the Coven of Whispering Flesh into a global effort. A practicing plan to replace the follies of Mankind with the pure, natural expression of Maternal love and tenderness.

Culla remains hidden in the Monad Valley, even as industry and modern technology move back into the lower parts of the landscape abudding the Cerva River. The revival of humanity, and the eventual repopulation of the area by the Blind Majority, were always part of the Whispering Flesh's plans after all. Importantly, due to that consistent slow prodding, defenses had to be erected. A garrison formed, made up of the mortal followers and biological Sons of the Matriarchs of Culla, dubbed the Children of Alezia. Purely practical at first, it was a way to put the otherwise mostly useless and heavily scrutinized menfolk of Culla to good use: Living and dying for their mothers and Matriarchs, their loyalty was supreme. As more Matriarchs were born, however, and many came to Culla from the far-flung branches of the Whispering Flesh, a new purpose was given to the otherwise mostly ceremonial "police" organization. The Commendatoriate was formed, essentially as a college for younger Matriarchs to come and hone their skills. With the leadership of the Sons more closely controlled by the Commendatoriate, the Matriarchs of Culla were free to begin selling their magical mercenary company to the surrounding areas, and eventually further abroad as conflicts became more global and widespread.

Now, with the origins covered, we can talk about the New World: A Matriarch named Sylvia, born as a noble Matriarch of Culla and carrying the bloodline of one of the Originators, was an especially gifted and talented individual among her peers. Selected by her Matriarch and the ruling council of Culla, Sylvia uprooted herself and her closest followers to make passage for the New World, recently reborn as the United States of America. A few lesser Sisters made passage first, returning letters detailing a mountain range with suitable connection to The Deer's influence: A perfect place for Sylvia to settle and take advantage of the burgeoning diversity of the newborn Country. Peoples of Europe, Asia, Africa, and the native peoples who had called this "New World" their home for thousands of years prior, would all be available for them to easily pull and create from. Especially fascinating was the Native American's particular closeness and affinity for the natural environment most closely associated with The Deer. It was believed that their natural connections would make particularly quality contributions to Matriarchal bloodlines of the future.
As such, a branch was formed at the feet of the Appalachian Mountains: La Congrega della Gloria Immacolata, the Coven of Untouched Glory.

It's been three-hundred years since the founding of Untouched Glory. Unbroken for nearly all of it, the Sisterhood has been nothing but successful in their quest to perfect the process of Matriarchal Unbirth. Their claim to fame: Learning how to break the cycle of Reclamation, which prevented Matriarchs from needing to sacrifice themselves in order to birth the next generation. The phenomena of Twin Matriarchs, once seen as a blessing of fertility, became secondary to the new and modernized Unbirthing process. Now, it's merely seen as a good omen; a preferable outcome to see two Matriarchs born from the effort of one. Sisters no longer crawl into their own cauldrons to provide the spark of life: Thus, the number of Matriarchs in the world swelled from dozens to thousands within a few generations.
The unprecedented boom in population has since forced the Whispering Flesh to classify their ranks even further, creating less and less significant positions of authority and bureaucracy for those "honored sisters" who just don't stack up to their peers. Most don't even see the City of Culla now, and frequently these "Lesser Dames" choose to break with tradition altogether in favor of free lives among the world.

This process has since broken up the very Coven which created the situation in the first place: Sixty-five years ago, the renowned Matriarch twins Allegra and Bella, "Greater Dames" in their own right, returned from their time spent behind the forest walls of Culla with a new plan. Immediately, they petitioned for branching from the Untouched Glory, taking little with them and making way for the burgeoning city of Cloverfield not from their Motherland near the city of Roanoke. After all, they both had the chance to travel in the Commendatoriate, and saw far more of the globe than many of their sisters and progenitors before them. Fascinated by the liberation movements and rebellions sparking across the planet, their belief was that there was never a better chance than that moment to slip into modern City life.
Like the Matriarchs of ancient times, the two sisters quickly wove their way into what passed for High Society in the Appalachian South, finally forming the Twin-Hill Coven. Soon, the city's first strip club was opened- Originally a juke-joint and speakeasy in an otherwise dry county, Sin Sisters' became the premier club not only to see beautiful women, but to socialize and party to one's content. Of course, the sisters themselves only had one goal: Gather as much genetic diversity and potential as possible.

Famously inclusive and anti-segregationist, the Sin Sisters' Club became the gold standard for nightlife in Cloverfield's Upper-West End. Allegra Motta especially garnered a great deal of attention as a Texas Guinan-Style nightlife hostess: Her presence in the Club on any given night could reportedly turn the atmosphere from comfortable mellow to an absolutely electric fervor. On more than one occasion, it was said that the revelry would spill from the club into the gilded streets of Cloverfield's ritzy North side, lasting until every last man and woman made it back to their beds safely. It was a golden age, and the sisters prospered as they developed their own Matriarch Progeny.
A concerted effort on the part of Allegra and Bella, the two experimented on further perfecting a single progeny which was allocated double the resource pool. An experiment that's said to have created the single strongest Matriarch to have ever lived: Cadenza Superiore Motta, the first of the New Breed. The trend was not ignored, and while Cadenza's childhood rolled into her own time behind Culla's walls and at the helm of the Commendatoriate, Matriarchs around the world attempted to copy the results without success.

It's said that the bond Allegra and Bella share- Matriarchal Twinhood -was the spark that allowed for such an outlier to exist. Since, only the scant few twin-contemporaries have even come close to replicating the Motta Sisters' results. As such, Cadenza remained uncontested for almost twenty years as the "Arch-Matriarch". It was expected that her own progeny would either be a blessed Twin Unbirth, or at the very least an even stronger specimen than herself.
And so finally, we've reached our hero: Moriah Bella Motta, Matriarchal Progeny of the Greatest among them. Born to Cadenza behind the walls of Culla with only two years of Unbirthed gestation, Moriah was seen as "Uncooked" by those who found her infantile form as nothing more than a premature release. A test for Cadenza's future endeavors, and nothing more. So, it was fairly shocking to the Matriarchs of Culla when this "infant" strode and spoke and thought as if she were fully termed. Typically, a Matriarch would gestate for an entire decade as their Progenitor gathered genetic material from as many sources as possible.

For Cadenza, this process was simple: Why bother with outsiders? Everything Moriah needed to be was already behind the walls, and while most Matriarchs were covetous and guarding of their own personal genomes, none could resist the Arch-Matriarch's demand for their materials. She took whoever she could by charm and grace, and those who did deny her could scarcely prevent her from enacting the Right of Dueling to take by force. Thus, unlike most Matriarchs whose genetics come from a laundry list of Blind, Mundane or otherwise non-Matriarchal Adept tributaries, Moriah Bella was made entirely by the collected genetics of the best and brightest of her kind. Like her Matriarch, Moriah was powerful and gifted- growing faster outside of her artificial womb than she ever would've inside, by her tenth birthday, Moriah took her position in the Commendatoriate in order to travel the world and complete her education.
While most Matriarchs learn to fight and to lead in the Commendatoriate, it was here that Moriah instead learned how to be a human. Gifted as she was, her life as a fully conscious and adult-minded child was spent being taught to control herself and the powers within her. Cadenza was a harsh Mistress, and perfection was never enough to impress her, so Moriah only strove to seek that out. Emancipation from that, her time spent among her Peers as a leader of mercenaries in the modern age of Cold Wars and Hot Conflicts across the magical world, was like Rumspringa.

Moriah would spend the next decade among her peers as an unparalleled warrior princess, earning the highest honors among the Matriarchs in the Commendatoriate that she could before finally retiring to her true Motherland: Cloverfield. While she'd spent the occasional summer there in her early life as Cadenza's needs required, Moriah became especially fascinated by the lifestyle of her Grandmother-Matriarchs. Their oppulent Coven, the gilded Mansion they lived in, were very stark in contrast to the egalitarian and naturalist lifestyle of Culla. She would find later, during her time in the service, that more places were like Cloverfield than Culla: A realization that stuck with her and managed to draw her back once she had the freedom to do as she pleased.
As it was, she was still following her revered Mother, as Cadenza had returned to Cloverfield in order to address conflict within the umbrella of The Untouched Glory. Partly in support, but mostly independent, Moriah began to spend more and more time with her Grandmother Allegra. Learning about becoming a part of the Sin Sisters' Family as both a dancer and ultimately the facility's manager, Moriah became more and more comfortable with the urban highlife of America.

Cadenza eventually returned to Culla, trusting her daughter not only with ensuring the stability of the Coven of Untouched Glory, but the safety and protection of her non-matriarchal Consort and the gaggle of children that the two had naturally: Moriah's many "Mundane" siblings. Some remained with Bella Motta in the Ashram of Untouched Glory, others were trusted to various Covens in the local area. Cadenza was expressly clear, however.
"The only person who matters is Nikki. Protect my Consort. Protect my Love."
Moriah never could've predicted what happened next. How through a slow, subtle chain of events, the woman she knew as "Momma" would be slowly, surely lured through her children into the waiting arms of a criminal mastermind. One whose experiments of Blue Lux hungered for the incredibly durable and power-laden bodies of the Matriarchs. She disappeared one day, and without Moriah even prompting her to return, Cadenza made way for Cloverfield in order to find her missing lover. Before she too disappeared, Cadenza was sure to let her daughter know exactly how she felt about her failure of duty... Though she couldn't be stripped of her titles and rank, Moriah was stripped of every bit of dignity and peace she'd built for herself: Cadenza left no fault or flaw undescribed, dressing Moriah down to the point that when the Arch-Matriarch did disappear, there was no followup. No response.

All of Momo's affection and love toward her Progenitor died alongside her. There was no effort put into into mounting an investigation. Her half-siblings were quickly scattered about the local area, sent to different Covens who would take the orphaned children out of Momo's hands until a time where they'd be old enough to make their own decisions. Allegra, in mourning at the fate of her "Perfect Child", completely retired from public life to be with her beloved twin in the Ashram of Untouched Glory where they'd been born.
Now, she's been left to her own devices: Moriah has taken to her position as Matriarch of the Twin-Hill Coven like a fish to water, contributing a significant Tithe of genetics from her facility to the higher branches. Satisfied with the status quo, the Matriarchs of Culla have asked few questions... After all, despite her power, few wept at the loss of Cadenza Motta. Her impersonal, aggressive and often elitist attitude to those who she deemed "lesser" made her an incredibly unpopular figure across the entire family tree of the Whispering Flesh. By contrast, Moriah is looked upon fondly by the Matriarchs of Culla, as the eldest of their ranks remember the strange little girl for who she had been naturally. The opposite of her Matriarchal Progenitor, Moriah was always the first to rally Lesser Dames to her cause, and to uplift those she could wherever possible.

Momo has become a name that Culla can trust in the United States, while her Grandmothers Bella and Allegra have faded into quiet retirement with the loss of their "Perfect Child". While talks are in the works to push her toward leadership of the Untouched Glory, Moriah has since made plans of her own. Specifically, her own personal refinement to the process of cross-Matriarchal birth. The same kind of development her Progenitor Cadenza had created for her, Momo's intention was to experiment with a longer gestation time under the same process. This meant a ten-year development period for her personal Unborn, who she had affectionately named Fiora before the girl ever could've known.
Life settled into a rhythm from there. Sin Sisters' continued to be successful, and Momo's presence at the club was felt much like her social mentor. Healthy genetic diversity, the currency within the Whispering Flesh, bought her plenty of Matriarchal Material in turn, which provided for Fiora's planned gestation. Things were good, and Momo was at her absolute height in regards to her success. She was able to rebuild herself in the wake of losing her Mother both physically and mentally...

And then the Cataclysm came. It was devastating to the entire area, and even with the combined might of so many different forces coming together to try and stop it, there was only so much anyone could do. Ever the pragmatist, Momo did her best to use the time surrounded by the various covens of Appalachia to both gather material, and solidify alliances. At first, the Upper-West end was more like a breathing crater of destruction. Not only was the original Sin Sisters' club destroyed, but gut-wrenchingly, so had the underground laboratory which Momo had hoped would be safe for Fiora...
It hadn't been. Years of effort and material were wiped clean from the world by the chaos of the Cataclysm. More importantly than any of that, however, was the emotional attachment. Momo had, unlike many of her peers who saw their progeny as nothing but experiments, grown to love her Unborn like a true mother would... As if she'd carried the child in her own body. Maternal instinct gave way to mourning, coincidentally returning her to a closeness with her Grandmother Matriarchs that she'd been callous and cold about previously. But it also turned her into a frothing monster in opposition to Nyrah the Destroyer's nightmarish forces. Some called her bold, others foolish - But in the end, nobody could question that her efforts to reclaim the Upper-West End were pivotal in the overall reduction of Nyrah's capacity to wage war on the city.

And she didn't leave after, either. Despite so many people fleeing the city and the temporary reinforcements heading back to their respective homes, Momo was one of the first people to start putting resources back into the city. She became more than just a nightclub owner - She became a public figure whose contributions to the fiscal, material and labor requirements necessary for the initial disaster relief were recognized by politicians both local and Federal.
She had, after all, already claimed payment. The corpses of the dead were necessary contributors to the war effort... And the various post-conflict clinical facilities gave her plenty of magical and mundane material to send as unbroken Tithes back to Italy. Unbroken Tithes that earned her not only respect, but absolute trust among the Matriarchs of Culla. The kind of trust and respect which privacy can thrive in. As the Upper-West End was built back up to its gilded glory, the various magical groups playing a large part in the city's reconstruction over such a short period, Momo has taken the chance to work her way into various local enterprises.

Ever expanding her Tithe collection and unburdened by the expectation of her superiors, Momo has been free to experiment as she pleases. Because of this, she's divested herself of a cardinal rule: No longer is she restricted to a single Unborn. Instead, having established several hidden laboratories around Cloverfield's Upper and Lower ends, the amount of Unborn she's juggling in various stages of different methods and techniques has ballooned to ten. And each, separated from the rest, require tremendous amounts of time and resources in order to form correctly. Rarely does Momo sleep, for there is simply no time.
It's been almost two years since the devastation wrought by the Cataclysm. It's safe to say that, unlike many, the Twin-Hills Coven has thrived in the rebuilding effort of Cloverfield. Despite her pain and traumas, Momo has come to find joy and fulfillment in her life once again. Now, the only question for the future is: How long will she be able to keep up with the juggling act?

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"Green Lux is pretty crazy: It's everything Red Lux is, but better!"

TYPE ⫻ Adept

ABSTRACTION ⫻ Bio-Chemical Equation: Green Lux focusing on Periodic Elements and the part they play in Biology. Moriah's Channeler is a band made of pure gold implanted around the base of her spinal chord.

ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ There are Adepts who come from long-lived magical lineages, who are almost immediately opened to their third-eye and encouraged in every possible way to kindle early. Expectedly, they make for exceptionally talented individuals whose jump on the magical world around them leaves them overall more studied and capable than their peers who come into that world later in life. But what if one could twist and bend the Lux around the genetics of humanity, forming a vessel through the ebb and flow of magic that could be rendered as a willing host? Alternatively, what if one simply kept that child waiting, growing freely without the concern of lifespan as the constant manipulation of their body in a semi-formed state?

For Moriah, both of these ideas were used in tandem. Born through the Mother Deer's Gift - A process of gestating a child through multiple genetic donor sources by a competent Green Lux Adept - Moriah was created by one of the most skilled Green Lux users of her age. As such, her connection with Green Lux and her ability to wield and manipulate it down to the finest chemical elements found in nature is said to be peerless. Two years of gestation was all it took, and Moriah was born from the viscous amneotic pool in which she was developed with a fully developed mind and body. Cadenza, her Matriarchal Progenitor, had managed to make the unthinkable happen by claiming enough genetic material from the pool of Matriarchs spred across Dazzle to develop her progeny entirely from that source.

Until then, it was a source that nobody thought was possible to tap fully. A Matriarch may have two or three peer-donors, trusted fellows whose power or grasp on their Lux was particularly potent or desirable; but Cadenza sourced a reported five-thousand Matriarchal donors - Practically the entirety of their secret society's upper crust. It's had a potent effect on Moriah, and to this day her ability to control Green Lux borders on Apparitional. Spells, incantations, rituals; these things are only present as guidelines to educate lesser Adepts so they can hope to pull from a shallow pool of creation. For her, they're little more than party tricks, while she's able to call out to and reach for the chemical elements that surround all of us in subtle ways, using only her tremendous Green reserves as the catalyst.

The Mother Deer's Gift ⫻ As the primary building block of the magics utilized by Matriarchs of the Sisterhood of Whispering Flesh, the Mother Deer's Gift was the spell taught to the original Sisterhood who gave themselves to their cauldrons to kickstart the evolutionary process necessary to transcend their humanoid biology. At its most basic, the Gift is a fundamental understanding of the liquidity of Biology, and how the proper chemical compounds can create and maintain life with indefinite success. Understanding organic polymers created by nucleotides, and the further knowledge of how to create those building blocks through chemical elements and the formulation of amino acids, is a crucial stepping stone for every Matriarch.
Thankfully, this knowledge is usually second nature, as in the process of their creation, Matriarchs will invariably program this understanding into their "Unborn" progeny while they're creating them.

This process, the creation of a new Matriarch through the Mother Deer's Gift, is just as much a science project as it is a ritual spell. A great deal of Green Lux is focused into a protein-filled slurry - the components of which are historically recycled biological materials from corpses, but has expanded into pretty much any bio-organic material that can be gathered - which is then seeded by the Matriarch's own biological eggs from their womb. Over time, this slurry breaks all contributory sources down into their most basic elements, and one is left with a pool of resources from which a human can grow just as they would in a normal womb. The only difference is that, in this state exposed to so much Green Lux, every bit of contributory material can be sorted, organized and intelligently allocated to insure the perfect environment for growth.

As a magical side effect, all tributary materials are reliably preserved at a quantum level to retain cellular memory. As such, a properly formed Matriarch child - a process usually taking between five and ten years depending on the quality of materials used - is usually born with knowledge that a child otherwise wouldn't be. How to talk, how to read and write, how to walk and run and sprint and swim; the things that one would often spend those years teaching a child, they're born knowing. Beyond that, the Matriarch themselves typically pass down their knowledge of Green Lux through their own contributions, meaning that a Kindled Matriarch is a naturally competent Adept of Green Lux capable of replicating their Progenitor's own control. Thus, the greater the Progenitor, the more able the Progeny without intervention or education.

Cellular Banking ⫻ Matriarchal culture is all about genetic materials. From the time they're born until the time they die (sometimes hundreds of years later), Matriarchs are plagued by the goblinesque impulse to gather and maintain a stock of genetic material which they can then break down and convert to a more usable form. The most common method is through the ability to self-fertilize, which all Matriarchs are capable of through gamete-reconstitution by usage of donor materials. The goal with self-impregnation is not to carry a child to term, rather to produce a constant stream of high-quality Embryonic Stem Cells through the process of targeted self-renewal. In it's natural division, a fertilized egg will produce blastocysts whose inner walls are chalk full of stem cells.
Green Lux is further used to extract the fresh material, which is then packaged and sealed with a stable shelf-life which can be refreshed by the same Lux which forced it's creation in the first place.

Thus, genetic material of the highest quality can be stored for future use while the lesser quality product is shipped directly to Culla in order to pay the expected Genetic Tithe, alongside similar shipments of raw materials for the Matriarchs to produce their own stem cell banks.

Bio-Engineered Perfection ⫻ As the Whispering Flesh refined their control over the secrets of recycled life, they found that those secrets were equally capable of affecting those already born and grown. What started as simple rejuvenation techniques to prolong the lives of the Whispering Flesh's eldest Matriarchs became far more than the Sisters could've imagined. Rejuvenation became restructuring, the forcing of organs and soft tissue to function similarly using new materials that made them more robust and efficient. Some Matriarchs, unsatisfied with their human forms entirely, spend their own personal time and effort changing bodily systems altogether; developing cutaneous respiration, restructuring the nervous system, improving musculature and durability through various material means.
Modern Matriarchs, Moriah especially, have gone so far as to completely weaponize their forms. Bio-mechanical weaponry, post-human strength and reflexes, entire "Superman" conversions allowing the Matriarch to effectively transform into a far more deadly battery of Green Lux-powered destruction.

Moriah's main focus in this practice comes with a great deal of confidence in the Human form as the most potent vessel for Lux to be channeled through. As such, her preferred method of expressing her power is through the usage of tier-stepped levels of power which she uses to both gauge the power of her enemy, and conserve energy and resources in order to prolong her effective uptime before she requires replenishment.

• Riposo (Resting): Moriah's standard level of existence. Though she's no Hulk, Moriah benefits from an overall improved physique; a more robust musculoskeletal system, highly efficient respiratory/circulatory systems, and a gastrointestinal system capable of converting just about any organic material into its constituent parts.
• Migliorato (Improved): Moriah's primary combat form. This level of improvement is generally subtle, putting as little strain on her form to maximize improvements as possible. The integumentary system thickens, forcing cutaneous nerves under the surface to ignore basic surface pains. Energy and oxygen is diverted to the muscular system, and lactic acid produced by the increased strain is more directly filtered into the kidneys and liver which are improved to efficiently perform gluconeogenesis.
  While she doesn't experience any direct or apparent changes to her outward appearance, the results of study have shown that the transition from Riposo to Migliorato translates to a twenty percent overall increased output of power from her muscles; allowing her to run faster, jump higher, punch harder, and live through more devastating physical impacts without her body requiring any more energy than it was already using.
• Potenziata (Enhanced): Potenziata is where things start to get noticeable in terms of Moriah's overall change. Great reserves of Green Lux go into converting stored genetic materials, resulting in several body-wide mutations that leave no room to doubt that she's built herself for war. To start, the musculoskeletal system undergoes an overhaul as bones and muscles increase in size by an average of forty percent. New organs (called the Peripheral Chemosynthetic Glands, or PCG) form in her throat meant to gather chemical elements and produce compounds not naturally formed in the body. Her skin becomes hard and dense, utilizing the gathered materials from her new organs to inject a subcutaneous carbon-filament layer. Essentially bulletproof, ligaments and connective tissues are also coated in the same carbon layer in order to insure they can handle the increased strain. In addition, organs that otherwise would be used for everyday functions are stagnated as the energy they would otherwise used is allocated to more pressing systems.
  This is a full transformation, and the first sign that Moriah considers what's in front of her as an actual threat rather than a nuisance. Through sheer vanity, her outward appearance doesn't deviate much beyond a near three-foot overall height increase. Most notably, an aura of Green Lux typically surrounds her at this point, as the amount of it she's gathering and expending to maintain the form can be anything but subtle.
• Apice (Apex): At this point, all but the most necessary organs and bodily functions have been converted into pure glucose for energy. Nociceptors are completely disconnected from the nervous system, deadening her sense of pain and relieving her of any potential reactions due to it. The stomach and existent PCGs merge together into a single organ capable of breaking down just about anything into its constituent elements. This allows Moriah to eat damn near anything and repurpose it into her body in some way (a process responsible for her unique nickname and callsign within the Commendatoriate: The Uranium Angel). The skeleton is typically the first bit to be replaced, calcifying to the point that breaking one would require the force of a jet hitting her directly. The material swap usually comes with another size increase, bringing her to nearly eleven feet tall. The skin is further changed, becoming rigid plates of carbon steel wherever motion isn't a major requirement, and additional PCGs form in her arms and hands that are specialized for handling the formation of elements into blasts of incredibly reactive materials.
  At this point, the Lux energy radiating off her is so concentrated that walking about causes life to grow from beneath her feet. Her body itself, a walking breathing chemical factory, is now capable of replacing just about any "lost or missing" piece which may happen to come off during combat; though at a tremendous material cost that would probably still take her out of a fight temporarily as she devours anything she can get her hands on for a reset.
• Sconosciuta (Unknown): This categorization is for the unexpected: Moriah is constantly experimenting and developing her abilities in the search for perfection. The conflict with Nyrah the Destroyer's forces has been a sticking point in her mind for almost two years now: Her pursuit of perfection is rooted in the (self-aggrandizing) belief that one day, something worse will come, and she'll be the ultimate bulwark to stop it.
  Having never seen what her Progenitor Cadenza could actually accomplish at full power, Moriah only has the stories from the Commendatoriate's records to go by, and any first hand accounts that remain. To such an end, she's absolutely sure that her Apice form is anything but an Apex... An subpar estimation of perfection.

LIMITS ⫻ The main limitation in every single part of Moriah's understanding and control of Green Lux comes down to one limiting factor: Material quality. In the beginning, the Sisters of Whispering Flesh were forced to use corpses and materials from the natural world around them: While this mostly worked, living tissue was still required to complete the ritual behind the Mother Deer's Gift. As such, they would most often sacrifice their own lives in order to be "reborn" into the world as new beings. In this modern techmaturgical age, the flesh of the dead is seen as a middling quality material at best, used to pad the quantity in one's Tithe with an overall efficient and renewable material.
For Moriah, this means that eating as a human would is practically useless. As a "New-Breed" Matriarch, Moriah's nutritional needs are incredibly taxing and difficult to fulfill. As such, a great deal of care is taken to ration and control the genetic stock which she collects. There are alternatives, of course... In desperate times throughout history, Matriarchs have been known to cannibalize their "lesser" Adept followers, and even one another should the stakes be incredibly desperate.

Alternatively, the very presence of miasmic Black Lux can throw a Matriarch's entire body into chaos and disarray. The presence of undead, and the necromantic Black Lux Adepts who typically control them, is complete anathema to the Matriarch; the typical reaction is a lapse in control over the systems which are necessary to maintain their battle forms. Thus, Matriarchs either flee the conflict, become locked in a regressive state as their bodies consume themselves, or fly into a berserk rage which is completely ruined by the fact that their bodies are no longer capable of performing the same feats of power as usual.

WEAKNESSES ⫻

The Mother Deer's Gift ⫻ While the process of creating an Unborn no longer requires a Matriarch to sacrifice themselves, the creation and nurturing uses the Progenitor's energy. On days that Momo actively tends to her Unborn she will be more lethargic, perhaps weakened. This side effect can be negated by the consumption of the correct genetic material to fuel herself.

Bio Engineered Perfection ⫻ Each tier of power requires an increasing amount of Momo's energy, and fuel to go with it. It starts as being easily maintainable at the Migliorato level, to requiring frequent nourishment at the Apice level (of anything and everything, preferably higher quality materials). Maintaining it is strenuous, and pushing all the way to Apex level will leave Momo weakened for a couple of days afterwards - and unable to push herself back up to it.

At Potenziata, Apice and Sconsciuta (when its obtained) levels, Momo is giving out an aura of Green Lux powerful enough to start changing her surroundings. While this doesn't seem like a weakness on its surface, it comes with unexpected changes to any living being that comes into contact with it. At Potenziata this is minimal - animals may mutate slightly, Blinds find their cell generation increased. It's at Apice level that it gets dangerous. Her Green Lux aura causes rapid, uncontrolled cell proliferation in any biological creature that gets near her. Animals rapidly mutate, becoming twisted far beyond their natural form. Blinds mutate too. How this happens varies - sometimes they change physically, developing deformities or even growing new limbs. The increased cell growth leads of tumor formation. Essentially, getting near Momo will cause the development of cancer for all Blinds. It can do this for those with Emotional fields too - they're more resistant, but at this power level weaker Paranormal can be effected at a slower rate. This means Momo can hurt the very people she's trying to protect.

Also with each tier, Momo feels more and more uncontrollable impulses to gather material - and an increased desire for what comes with that. This lingers even after she goes back to her resting state. While at the higher tiers, this can be very... painful.

^{Other
_{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}}
"My Angel fled to the Deer long ago... Funny I get left for another woman."

I missed a part about Momo's affair with a fellow Matriarch, and how she died in combat and Momo couldn't save her. And about how Fiora, her first "Unborn", was made with the stored genetics of Momo's dead lover. It drove her pretty crazy, but I doubt it'll come up ever.

Recollections: Primal Sinister

@Estylwen
You already know I'm down bad for Recollections content!

Recollections: Primal Sinister

@Estylwen
You are simply built different, my friend: How you manage to pump out these characters with such fervor and consistency is beyond me.
But it's impressive!

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Leon

---

Mentions: Linqian Han, Aryin/Aaron Thorne, The 317 | Direct Dialogue: Anya Baksh/@FernStone, Drake Blackmore/@Shin Ghost Note | Location: The Eleventh Path

---

”And what would be the price of the Temple’s help, Leon? ”

Anya

Leon was quick to snap back at this kind of half-assed passive aggressiveness.
"Yeah, you would expect a price... Clearly you don't understand the kind of debt that some of our magical community owes to us. We're Goddamn Heroes, Anya. If we ask? We'll receive."
He huffed, listening in again as Drake expressed concerns over Scott Reese. Octavia's statement about him clearing through their "hulk" along with Aryin and Linqian only made him more interested at the prospect of a fight.

”I'm just worried because, unlike some of ya'll, I got other people on the line here. Other people that can't handle that monster.”[

Drake

Pushing air through his lips, Leon gave a chuckle.
"Hey now, no need to fret, Blackmore! C'mon... 317 ain't exactly the benchmark when it comes to combat Adepts: No offence to you guys, of course, you do what you can. But Linqian was never one of our best either, right? I can handle her and Aryin at the same time, confirmed by several recent tests too. So, I think it's in our best interests that if Scott Reese shows up to play, you leave him to me." he professed, confident in his declaration.
"Just give me whatever artifact you want applied to him that you think would weaken him, and boom: You lose one asshole for one asshole. Equal trade in terms of effort and power."

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Mood Music

Leon

---

Mentions: Layla Hyacinthus, Daisy Hunter, Britney Williams | Direct Dialogue: Amara King/@Blizz | Location: The Eleventh Path

---

Having arrived late, Leon took a noteworthy position somewhat behind Layla. Listening to the group talk about the situation, he was more eager to prove to the group that he wasn't the same guy he used to be. Ten years prior, he'd have been in the foreground pushing for his plan: Full physical infiltration through magic means. Getting under the island with the use of magic, submarinal traversal followed by digging through one means or another up under the facility. Anything was possible with strong enough magic... But he wasn't here for that.
Sycamore's failure didn't mean the end. He wasn't so concerned with how others were going to deal with what was coming.

”Any way you could use your mob connections to get some ammo fast enough for this?”

Amara

Hearing this, Leon chuckled to himself. Having a good sniff of the room before he fully settled in gave him a clear picture of who was and wasn't present, and he figured he knew why Greyson wasn't there.
"Britney's here, Amara... We're trying to reduce the chaos of these meetings by having less people, remember? Besides, you should be asking me about ammo. He'd tell you himself that the Temple produces quality ammunition: We supply half the Western Seaboard's "religious" institutions with good shit. If it's for Sycamore, as much as you all may not want the help, the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals is willing and able to provide. Physical arms and armaments, Lux boosters, healing salves, the list goes on."
He would always do his best to be helpful, of course... Despite some recent tension and problems with certain individuals, Leon was certainly dedicated to the ideal of the Sycamore. It was an ideal that people had fought and died for, and he never wanted that to be wasted.

"Whatever you guys want from me personally, I'm happy to do it: But, I only ask that you keep in mind I may not fully be in control of myself by the end of this. If the worst happens, stay clear of the big, grey and gold wolf-thing... And call my folks, I guess. Worst comes to worst, it's an island I can stay isolated on until I'm dead, or I can be put out."
He was thinking about all the nasty, horrifying entities and concoctions that the Temple had pilfered from Sonnenrad corpses. If the group were willing to take more help, he imagined things would be far easier than what they had in mind currently; but was it worth it? Releasing all that evil? For what, one big push against a group of people who they weren't even sure of the capability of? No, it was his own special mental gymnastic routine. It was all about trying to get things under his own control.

Oh, my Sweet... You'll never be in control again! The vile collar is gone... Feed me, however, and I will let you pretend.
Daisy... The Bind of Mont Ferrad. Lelou's Adjoining was wholly against her will, thus the process of keeping her bound was based on the magic found at the temple on the peak of Mont Ferrad, where an ancient werewolf den was found to contain remnants of Lelou's first kingdom from thousands of years ago. He knew the story of Guillome Richoux, and the Hunts on behalf of the Sun King. Knew about how Lelou's descendents had been tracked and slaughtered in that mountaintop cave, and about the secrets of binding Man and Beast.

It's why they were together now. An enticing host, and the last Bind of Mont Ferrad... But nobody to hold the leash. Daisy was gone, the artifact was gone... It'd take time to attune it to someone else, and even then, he wasn't sure who it could be. Who he could trust to have the kind of steady mentality and collected thoughts of Daisy Hunter. He missed her.
Miss!? You miss prancing about like a dog with your fucking collar and a little bell? Tame fuck... I should rip you in half from the inside: If I see that collar ever again, I'll have your head Leon Richoux...
He sighed, trying his best to keep those around him tuned into his head so he wouldn't miss what they were saying.

Iron and Honey: A Love Story [FernStone & AtomicEmperor]

Home > The Dolly Apartments

Hours later and the sun was once more setting upon a St. Portwell evening. Fall was well on its way and trending toward a typical wet winter; the little beading droplets on the windows of the rooftop abode gently trailed downward with gravity’s pull. There were tiny gutters covered by a thin plastic mesh that allowed the water to travel away from the emerging foundation, though it wasn’t so heavy that they were necessary today.
Casey was standing in the middle of the main room stretching, his work suit unzipped with the top tied around his waist. As he bent himself backwards, the glove on his hand vibrated slightly with the influence of White Lux.

He could see the ice forming in the spots where the water was thinnest, frosting up and blowing away in the wind as a vague cloud of evaporated moisture…
Everything back to the Water Cycle.
There was a certain level of preparation that went into what Casey was best at. In days past, it wasn’t so deliberate. It was a survival instinct that led him to discover that past trauma made up for present discomfort. It was understanding that everything his Father had taught him about war and fighting had all been real, applicable, and stuck to him like hot tar.

Of course, the kind of disconnect he experienced now, getting back into that mindset in order to do things he otherwise didn’t want to… This wasn’t a natural way to live. He felt boiling energy screaming for an exit from his body. Today had been a tease; the Maiden of Murders’ visage stuck in his mind, the rifle in the line of sight. The feeling of the recoil against his shoulder, the adrenaline of the potential fight. The abject fear of death that he railed against every time he had to go back to that place…

There was a gentle chime: The new doorbell that let the two of them know someone was looking for rooftop access. It was particularly intelligent, one of those full-spectrum systems with a camera and a microphone. Knowing Trisha was still getting dressed, he put a stop to his routine and made way for the wall where the main panel was located.
In the image of the camera was Ed… He didn’t have the capacity to be too jovial in that moment, so without flair or humor, he simply buzzed the lock to let her in.

The click prompted Ed to push the door open to head up the stairs.
”Trisha? Ed’s here for you, Babe…”
As Ed approached the bright light of the glass house, she could see Casey in his jumpsuit, and turned her eyes slightly to see the hardware laid out across the kitchen island. She was aware of the situation vaguely, hearing about an internal dispute through the grapevine. One of their partners was delisted, and as far as she knew any product they were holding had been scrubbed from the inventory.

Chalked up to “loss”. Apparently they weren’t lost, or now they were at least found… She pulled open the front door for herself and spared Casey the details.
”Hey…” she said very simply, waving.
Casey did his absolute best to push out a smile in return.
”She’ll be right down, Cuzzo.”
Ed nodded in return. There was no drink offered, no courteous hospitality. Trisha probably would’ve noticed this as the hours had gone on and her usually jovial golden retriever man became less bubbly and more aggressively clingy.

Which only made it more weird when he got pissy that he had to walk away to get ready. Or maybe because he was making her go? His problem could never be transparent; it’d be too unthinkable to explain, and a burden he had to live with.

It was a few more minutes before Trisha appeared, coming down from their loft bedroom with a slight smile towards them both. Her delay had been twofold: fussing about whether she’d chosen the right outfit for an audience she mostly didn’t know, and worry about how Casey was going to act. As much as she’d liked the clinginess, she didn’t understand why he got annoyed in the end. It wasn’t like she even wanted to go in the first place.

It made it difficult to not assume she’d done something wrong. She hadn’t, but…
“Hey, Ed… Guess it’s time to go?” She asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. She went to grab her coat of choice tonight, pulling a white puffer jacket over the casual, black dress she’d ended up changing into. Even though she was feeling nervous over how Casey might be, she gravitated towards that spot right by his side.

“Good luck with work. I’ll miss you loads…” she took his hand in her own, gently squeezing it and looking up at him with a warm smile. Her posture was tenser than normal, showing the anxiety she tried to otherwise hide. Because she didn’t actually understand what the problem was, it was all too easy for her to start spiralling, thoughts getting worse and worse until she reached the same conclusion as always: abandonment. It was so silly… he didn’t want her to leave, right? Right.
“Oh I’ll text you when I get back too, just to let you know I’m home if you’re not yet… Well there’s probably some magical ways to figure that out so maybe that’s not necessary? Do you think you’ll be back much later than me?”

Casey’s hand in Trisha’s certainly didn’t feel like it wanted to leave her. He held onto the last finger as she drifted away closer to the door.
”I’ll take all the luck you can give me… Be good, don’t get into any fights, and try to learn something. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I’ll try to clean up before I come up. And keep her safe, Ed.”

Ed nodded, slipping her arm into Trisha’s playfully. She needed to feel the tension ease slightly, especially knowing that Casey’s look was the same one she’d seen Leon get… Or Gravity… Before the fight.
”She’s the girl, Chief. Snug as a bug.”
Casey nodded to accept her word, and his back turned on them before they were gone. He’d made way for the kitchen island, fiddling with his rifle in a desperate attempt to not watch his beautiful evening saunter off into the darkness.

I refuse to do this forever.
”I love you, Trisha…” his words echoed as Ed had already shifted them both to leave.

“Missing you already.” Trisha’s words were muffled by the door closing behind her. It was cold outside, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her with a slight shiver. As they made their way across the roof, a soft buzzing announced the presence of about fifty bees making their way over from the Greenhouse, landing on various places on her. Most of them immediately crawled under her clothes for warmth… after all, bees weren’t made for the cold, even if hers were tougher than most.

“I don’t know why he thinks I’m going to go in and start stinging or something. I’m not that aggressive…” Trisha muttered light heartedly, trying to ease the grumpiness she could feel settling over her. That wasn’t fair on Ed. She could get through tonight and maybe even enjoy herself. At least she could just stick with Ed and Gin.
“Is Leon already downstairs, or will we have to wait in the cold for him? I’ll need more bees if I’m spending more time outside.”

”Uhhh… With the Layla stuff, Leon’s actually going to be separate from us. I’m pretty sure he’s already at the venue setting stuff up, so… Just us girls for now.”
Like a cartoon character, the Poppy Doll eerily made her way from behind one of the poles holding the walking path awnings.
”Hello, Miss Trisha.”
She was utterly pale, dressed in a Victorian style gown with sullen eyes and manic curls that threatened to cover her face. Her figure couldn’t have been more than fourteen; her expression was truly something to behold as a downturned frown looked eerily like all three of its constituent parents at once. Mia’s lanky features, Ed’s expressive eyes, Hari’s quiet grace, each little piece was like a patchwork of her Mothers, and in turn, she looked at the world with all the love she was given and sighed.

”I like your jacket.”

Trisha was actually relieved that it was just them, as much as she was trying with Leon. There was still that discomfort there, whereas she found Ed easy enough to be with… At least until her Apparition appeared. Trisha stared at her for a moment, putting out soothing pheromones as her bees got nervous at the strange presence they couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t that she was unused to Apparitions, exactly, but she wasn’t used to friendly ones. Everyone in her main group in Sycamore had been Adepts (aside from Jaska), and there were just more of them than Adjoined in the coven as a whole…

“Uh, thanks… Serenity, right? I got it in Chicago, it’s actually from a thrift store. Surprising, huh? It’s nicer and warmer than a lot of my expensive jackets.” The last bit was for Ed, of course, she didn’t expect Serenity to understand why it would be strange for her to wear thrifted clothes. It wasn’t like she’d gone in there herself, or with the intention to buy anything… she’d been physically dragged in by Cass.
“Does- does she come out often? By choice?” Trisha asked Ed, after a brief moment of wondering if it was appropriate with Serenity right there. But she hadn’t seen her own since the day they adjoined…

”Well, our relationship isn’t… I’d not call the setup conventional, right Ren?”
The Poppy Doll took Ed’s hand in a tender, unsure fashion.
”We like to Thrift. Right?” Serenity looked up, the question leaving her lips as light as the air around them. Entering the building to head down, Ed chuckled to herself.
”That’s right, Sweetpea. We love vintage.”
”We love Vintage.” she repeated, inflection placed in a strange manner as she spoke.

Ed cleared her throat, shrugging slightly.
”Maybe we mentioned it, maybe not… But the three of us willed her into existence. I didn’t have any Lux, so I took her as my responsibility. That being said, she’s our daughter. I can’t really look at her any other way besides my sweet little girl.”
Ed’s hand reached up, pinching the ghost’s cheek.
”So, she’s sort of free to do as she likes, so long as she follows the rules that we’ve established with her.”

”If nobody asks to feel good, I won’t make them feel good.”
Ed nervously nodded, clearing her throat again.
”Right… Like that.”

“Right. That is an unusual setup… I think. I wouldn’t really know.” Trisha decided not to dwell on whatever that meant, or question it. She could guess, from the phrasing and what she’d smelt the first night they met. The strange scent signals similar to her own but not… probably from Serenity. But it really wasn’t her business.

“So she’s only a few years old? Young in ghost terms, at least… I can see why you’d have a different relationship because of that. It’s just strange to me, most Apparitions seem to stay inside… At least the Adjoined I knew. The ones that did come out…” She shivered for a moment, thinking about Babylon and The Black Rose Killer. The latter had been especially uncomfortable to be around when he managed to get out of his host’s active suppression of him.
“I rarely talk to mine. I don’t think that’s normal, either… It seemed to be intrusive for most Sycamore Adjoined.”

”Well, when you don’t really have a basis to understand how you should act, everything becomes difficult. I feel bad for people in that situation; at least when Serenity was born, we could fall back on the Temple. If not the physical resources, certainly the lessons of patience and acceptance.”
The elevator came, opened and closed on them. Serenity eerily slipped through the floor of the elevator, sliding down the line to the bottom like a firefighter. It made Ed smile and giggle to herself.

”But, her circumstance is pretty special I’d say. Even if she was around in some other form before, the individual we got? She’s… She’s just a kid. Doesn’t know anything about anything, but she knows that she loves cuddling with her Moms, and their friends… And she likes helping. Making people feel good, right?”
At that, her expression became a little shameful.
”All the addiction counselling… The fuck is someone supposed to do when this is the situation? I ask myself constantly: What am I doing with her? What’s the plan here? So… So I go alone to this meeting once a month. And I talk with others about her, and about how proud I am of us. And I admit my flaws, my personal failures, and people accept us. The judgement of myself fades away for a little while.”

“That sounds… nice. That you can talk about it and accept yourself more for it.” Trisha offered, shoving her hands in her pockets to hide the way they were clenched into fists, nails painfully digging into her palms. Would she have to talk like that too? She expected to talk about the Queen, but about her flaws or any of that stuff…
“I don’t really understand the addiction stuff but… uh… It doesn’t make me feel any differently about you, I guess is what I want to say. Even with her… I’m sure she’ll grow with you.” Her words were pretty stilted, but genuine. It wasn’t a struggle she’d personally witnessed - which was probably part of why she wasn’t particularly judging about it. Not something that had affected her before…

”My apparition is closer to a mom, I think,” Trisha found herself saying. Once she’d said it, she realised it was a bit difficult to explain without… revealing more. What kind of mom spent 80% of the time ignoring their child? She knew her experience wasn’t the normal one. It was such a sore spot. But maybe if she talked a bit now, she wouldn’t have to at the meeting. She could still tell Casey that she tried.
“My mom’s smart, and could be pretty strict.” That was an understatement, of course, but it was better than the whole truth.
“The Queen feels a bit like that when she talks to me. I don’t even know where to start with changing things. Honestly, I didn’t even care to until I met Casey.”

”That sounds a lot more classic to me… The way we're taught, if the Apparition willingly Adjoins, there's a high chance they're malicious. Otherwise, what use would they have for you? So I'd say the Queen probably just isn't interested in what you do, right? Like, she's aloof, right? Probably wishes she was independent and in charge of the bees!”

The door to the elevator slid open, and waiting was something unexpected. Maybe laughable, as the transition clearly made Ed giggle. It was Serenity, or at least as close to Serenity as possible. The eyes were lost behind a set of prissy shades that covered half the Apparition's face. Curly hair was tied into tight braids down the back of her head, and she was wearing a puffy jacket just like Trisha's.

To the latter, this form may've seemed like she transformed into a miniature Tansy. Bitchy rich girl vibes radiated from Serenity as she blew a bubble with the gum in her mouth that didn't actually exist.
”She's probably bored out of her socks listening to you both yap. Come oooooon… I want to see Mr. Weatherman.”

”Go get into the friggin’ car then. I don't know why you bother waiting.”
As Ed's hands waved Serenity off, she tilted her glasses and stuck her tongue out.
”So true, so true… Going pla-a-aaaaces, doing thiiiiings, I love being out out oooout to see th-”

Ed laughed aloud, smile beaming at Trisha.
”It's stuff like that, like… She learns and observes like crazy. It's like having a baby that can backtalk you.”

Trisha found herself laughing too. It was… cute, if an Apparition could be called cute. She smiled, hands coming back out of her pockets and relaxing a bit. A bee crawled out from her hair, tied back at the base of her neck, and onto her cheek. It seemed to wiggle a bit at Ed too.
“Must be exhausting sometimes. Like a kid you can never be rid of.”

As they stepped out of the elevator, she thought about what Ed had said about the Queen. It wasn’t quite right. The Queen had willingly Adjoined with Trisha. But the use wasn’t for anything malevolent. Selfish, maybe, but not evil. A place to rest and regain power without risk of being sealed, and letting someone else raise the bees.

“I actually think I’m just a bed to the Queen. She’s not… trapped or anything. She could unadjoin anytime she wanted to. I don’t actually know why she doesn’t… maybe she hasn’t regained enough power. But you’d think after eleven years of mostly sleeping inside me she’d be strong enough?” Trisha shrugged.
“It was her choice to adjoin with me in the first place. I was only thirteen and I broke one of my dad’s Artifacts. I didn’t even know about magic then…” It was like she was trying to justify the current relationship they had. Or, feel like it wasn’t just a lack of interest. The Queen wasn’t forced to stay. She chose to. The bees chose to…

”Woah, woah… She can leave? I… We’ve always been taught that Adjoining is a life-long commitment! A responsibility, or, like, stewardship! That kind of shit, some noble and high-minded shit!” Ed replied, hands animated as they eventually came to rest curled under her arms. A little self-soothing posture, to prevent the discomforting idea of Serenity simply walking out of her life.

”Not sure what I’d do if she just… Up and left one day. Weird magical cult aside, I… Well, maybe you feel close about the bees? Like they’re yours, you’re constantly with them, they count on you for stimulation… If they all were just gone one day, would-”
As she frowned and looked at Trisha, she could feel a tension building quietly as she suggested the idea of ending up all alone in one’s body.

”Well… I mean… You said you feel like a bed? Like, she’s obscured, withdrawn into her psyche-hold. Not very reactive? I can imagine it’d be hard to know how to please her, or even roust her for that matter… Like, Serenity loves when people are calm; she’s a little somnophile; not in a creepy way, she’s not…-” Ed twisted a little bit as they walked through the lobby toward the side lot.
”-Sometimes, I wake up… And she’s just staring. When I asked why-”

”-The beauty of Humanity can be found in the small peace of sleep. It’s the only time you’re not actively wracked by anxiety.”
One couldn’t consider the ghost “tucked” behind the tiniest blindspot one could find, so much as she was folded into it. As Ed had pushed open the door to the outside, Serenity practically materialized from behind the post of the door to stand in between the two ladies.
”Well, most of you. You sleep with Uncle Casey, right? Sometimes I think he’s more anxious in his sleep.”

“They can leave. The apparition, and anything that comes with them." Trisha said very quietly, not quite looking at Ed.
The thought of the bees leaving her was one Trisha didn't even want to consider… but maybe she had to. Because would the Queen want to stay with her for the rest of her life? If she didn't, eventually she would leave, and the bees would go with her. Then it would just be Trisha. Without the one thing that had never left her. It made Trisha uncomfortable and tense, shoulders hunching up and hands shoving back into her coat pockets. Her bees sensed the agitation and started to move towards her neck, more appearing as they gathered there in what was perhaps a comforting bee scarf. It helped a little bit, but now the idea was in her head. It was difficult to shake. They'd been with her for almost half of her life. All those times completely alone before… there was a small amount of comfort with them there. Even if she still felt so, so alone. But if they left… what would she do?

“Huh? Oh, yeah…" Trisha responded to Serenity after a delay, barely reacting to her just materialising. She forced a smile, trying to appear relaxed. Not thinking about being abandoned…
“Casey has nightmares… but he doesn't have them as much with me. I think his sleep can be quite peaceful right now… definitely doesn't disturb mine. That's not an open invitation to come watch, though." She really hoped Serenity could stray that far from Ed. A Ghost in the room was a perfect way to ruin both her and Casey's sleep… which had really not been so bad so far. Aside from that one time the bell woke them up, and the time she'd gotten out of bed before he woke up. She wondered if she was less anxious in her sleep too. Maybe not right now…

“I know some things the Queen likes. She likes the bees being cared for, and…" Trisha trailed off. Was there anything beyond that?
“It’s just that really, but it's a big one. It's not as simple as just having them. I guess you understand it with Serenity? She's your baby, the bees are mine… I didn't have so many when I started. So I raised them as much as you can raise bees. She definitely appreciates that. As I got better at it she responds more. It's still not often, and it's definitely not like-" she gestured to Serenity, managing a laugh.
“Anything like her. I think I- we've held more of a conversation than I have for a long time with my Apparition. But maybe she likes sleeping so much because it's like Serenity says- peaceful. She doesn't have to worry about her- our- hive because I care for it."

”Sounds lazy to me.”
The transitions this Ghost managed to do were mind bending. Like some strange cartoon character, she would slip behind Trisha one instant and pop up from a different position in the very next. Actual horror movies could only hope to replicate the strangeness of a semi-formed phantom’s habits.
She was like ADHD in ethereal form, and sat cross-legged in the passenger seat as Trisha opened the door to Ed’s car. Her clothes were, once again, entirely different than they had been. This time, it was clear to see there was some kind of pattern going on with her styles.

Maybe she was imitating what she perceived? Some kind of strange desire to connect and disconnect, as she’d somewhat mimicked Trisha’s style only to switch into something more Eddish. Ripped jeans, a beanie hat sagging low at the back of her head, grey-scale flannel with that same slightly inked-in look that the phantom herself had.
Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, and she snapped away at the non-existent gum still present in her mouth.
”D’you ever just, like, fuck with the bees?”

As she asked, Ed opened the door at the other side and tapped at Serenity’s arm.
”Back fuckin’ seat… And don’t ask questions like that.”
Poof- Serenity was sprawled across the back bench seat.
”I ain’t mean anything by it… You know, Trisha. You’re not tight about silly shit, right?”
”Shit, Bro, who are you right now?” Ed laughed, knowing full well what was going on. ”Don’t make it an excuse, ‘kay?”

Trisha got into the passenger seat of Ed's car silently. The question did bother her, but it was easier to handle if she thought about it coming from a child. A young child, really, even though Serenity looked like a teenager. She didn't know any better…
“It’s fine, though you should listen to what Ed says. Most people aren't as relaxed as I am." That was a lie, of course, Trisha was often 'tight' about silly shit. But she was trying to be a bit better. She liked Ed's company enough to clamp down her initial reaction anyway, along with the age justification… ignoring all the younger siblings she'd snapped at before no matter the age.
“I don't fuck with them. I talk to them with pheromones… like scent signals. They can sense mine, and I sense theirs. So if they're anxious I know, but it also affects me. So if I messed with them, then it'd be like messing with myself. We're too connected and affect each other too much." As she explained it as simply as she could, Trisha held out a hand, a couple of bees crawling into it. They let out agitated buzzes, but as Trisha seemed to relax, they did too.

“They could hurt other people too." She then looked over at Ed.
“Can I let them spread out? They like being able to see all around a space if they can."

”Of course, Dude. As long as they’re cool, I’m cool.” Ed smiled as she started the car. It had quite the noise, and the strange seatbelts made it feel a bit less like a car and a bit more like a jet fighter.
”I wasn’t askin’ cuz I want you hurt… Just like, I thought if someone fucked with the bees, she’d come out, right? Maybe it wouldn’t be good, but while she’s awake, you could try to ask her some questions.” Serenity tried to explain as best she could in the face of her nerves spiking slightly.

”I-I… Really didn’t mean to make you mad, s-so,- Please, no stinging?” she pouted.
Ed could feel the spirit’s agitation, and she threw a hand back for Serenity to hold.
”Hey, hey… Nobody’s stinging, nobody is mad. It’s all cool, Susie-Q.”
She was a natural caretaker, comforter, lover of the innocent and meek… It was only natural that Ed bore this spirit as she grew. She could feel the anxiety fade away, and there was an instant where she almost let it all slip.

Too much comfort.

Ripping the hand away, she coughed for a moment. There was a slight scent of repugnant chemical waste in the air.
”Serenity!? No, no!”
Rather than simply retract, the phantom turned its head in a pout.
”It’s not that much…”
”Fir-first off… We’re going out! I’m driving… And SECOND-”

Coming to a stop at a red light, Ed’s brow furrowed tightly, and she turned her head slowly to Trisha.
”Fu-u-uck… G-god… Goddammit, Serenity… Trisha, you-you g-gotta… Drive… I’m s-so-”
Serenity slowly faded away into nothingness, leaving Trisha entirely alone in the car stopped at a red light…

While Ed slipped into a narcotic stupor.

“What the fuck?!" Trisha immediately panicked. The bees panicked, agitated buzzing filling the small space as they crawled out from her clothes and clung to her as if there was some active threat they could deal with. There wasn’t. They couldn’t help at all. It just made her panic more even as she tried to suppress the pheromones leaking out of her, at least curbing the ones that started mingling with the chemical smell in the air and make her panic worse.

What the fuck did she do? She could drive, that was fine, but she had no idea where she was going for this stupid fucking meeting. Did she just go back? Then what? Carry Ed inside herself? She couldn’t even get into their apartment, so it would have to be hers, and then what the fuck did she do? She didn’t want to deal with that. What the fuck.

“Oh fuck off!” Trisha yelled as someone honked behind them, raising a hand to flip them off. She reached over and awkwardly pulled Ed over, trying to get her more into the passenger seat than the driver's seat… At least enough that Trisha could take her place. As the light went red again, she got out, running round the front of the car to get in at the driver’s side.

“Spread out, I can’t have you on me like this,” Trisha whispered, directing the bees through her panic. They followed, flying off her onto the roof, the dashboard, the doors of the car. A few remained on her shoulders where they wouldn’t get in the way. Ready for more orders. Thankfully they were used to taking them under stress, and she was used to giving them…
“Fuck, fuck, okay…” Not wanting to stop at the traffic lights any longer, Trisha started the car again as they went green. She kept going in the direction they’d been heading, no idea if she’d have to turn at any point… the Temple was outside of the city, sure, but she didn’t remember where. It wasn’t even what she was aiming for right now. She kept going until she found a parking lot for some supermarket. She pulled in and parked. Fuck. Maybe she should’ve gone back…

“Ed? Ed? Where the fuck are we- you’re not going to know are you,” Trisha bit down on her lip, reaching out for Ed’s arm. Holding her wrist to make sure she was still alive… of course she was. It was a magically induced high. Fuck. What did she do? Call someone… But who? Her first reaction was Casey, but she couldn’t. He had work. Either he was out, or going to be. Would he even pick up? It would be worse if he didn’t.

And she didn’t want to worry him.

Leon. She’d call Leon first… hopefully he’d pick up. And if he didn’t… she’d deal with that when she got to it. Tense hands pulled her phone out of her pocket, fingers shaking as she went through her contacts. The bees started to fly around the car as she hit call, circling her head as she heard it ring, waiting, growing more agitated. Please pick up.

There weren’t too many rings before a familiar voice picked up the phone.
”Yoooo, what’s up, Trisha?”

“How do I get to the Temple?” Trisha asked immediately, swapping her phone to speaker so she could put it down. Her hands were shaking too much to keep it up to her ear comfortably, and bees kept crawling all over them… The buzzing would be more obvious as she did.
“Can I even get there? By myself? Well, not by myself, Ed’s-” Trisha looked over at Ed, gnawing on her lip more. Just deal with the situation, pretend to be perfectly calm, then she could… fuck, she wasn’t even going home, she’d have to suffer through the dinner before she could even curl up at home. It was fine, totally fine.

“She’s passed out. Serenity… it was an accident but…” Trisha grimaced. There was still that part of her that hated that she couldn’t just get on with it. That she had to ask for help in the first place. Like she wasn’t capable… but she wasn’t. Not here.
“What the fuck do I do?”

”Gods damn that little ghost… Are you in her car?” Leon asked, voice clearly frustrated by the situation.
”I ask her to do one thing for me, and- Sorry, I assume you are if she’s there… Go into the hatch in the back, and there’s like… A rug? Pull it up and there should be a few different boxes of shit. You’re gonna need to jab her with one of those purple epipen looking things, anywhere’s fine. It’ll shock her awake if you don’t think you can get here. But if you’re good to drive, I’ll text you the address; you can put it right into your GPS. We’re not hidden or anything out here.”

“Not sure I trust her to drive even if it’s some high curing magical injection,” Trisha muttered, shaking her head. She needed to not get too agitated. Not before going to a dinner she really didn’t want to where she had to try not to snap at everyone. But it was really, really hard. Fuck. The bees gathered on her again, and she didn’t bother telling them to go away. She wasn’t driving yet.
“Text me the address. I’ll- I’ll see if I can jab her, but I’ll still drive. See you there, I guess.”

Though she didn’t actually hang up immediately. The bombardment of bee pheromones as they got increasingly agitated made it barely a thought compared to calming down. She buried her face in her hands and took deep breaths, trying to even out the signals she was giving out. Fuck.

Without skipping a beat, Trisha’s phone vibrated in her hand, and an address link to press was in her inbox.
”Trisha, I can send someone over if that’ll be better for you: This sort of thing happens from time to time with Ed.- It’s a concession we make. I’m only sad that it was today of all days… But I really don’t want you to suffer for it. We’re happy that you’re coming at all, you know, we can at least try and reconcile the situation for you as a guest…” Leon’s deep and bass-filled voice echoed through the phone in a gentle offer.

“It’s fine, I've seen worse," Trisha said eventually, unfurling herself to check the address. She was talking about the Stygian Snake years of course, and the medical duty that they all had to participate in. There just weren't enough actual healers… Sure, most of the other rich kids skipped it, but Trisha never had - at first at least. When she was still desperately trying to be part of the coven as a whole.
She'd rather deal with it all herself than have some other Temple stranger turn up.
“I’ve got it. I'll get us to the meeting soon as… just make concessions there with how I won't be particularly chatty."

Then she hung up before Leon could actually respond to that. She shoved it back in her pocket, turning her head to look down at Ed. Now she wasn't so much panicking as she was pissed. She couldn't just fucking suppress it. She’d do what she had to to go to this stupid meeting, but she wasn't happy about it at all.
“Never going to this again," she muttered. What was it Leon had said? The hatch in the back… Trisha shoved open the car door and made her way round. Wasn't hard to locate it or the rug, which just as he said revealed a bunch of boxes filled with weird fucking magical shit. Trisha didn't even bother questioning it- Temple of course- as she located what she was looking for. Magical narcotic fixing epipen… she slammed everything shut and got back into the driver seat.

As much as she’d said she could do it, Trisha had never actually stabbed someone like this before. Badly wrapping wounds, shoving alcohol on shit, making sure people stayed awake sure… they didn't exactly have an abundance of magical needles in the coven. Any non magical medication they got was just the stuff they could steal from destroyed pharmacies.
“Alright, anywhere," Trisha whispered to herself, hands shaking as she uncapped it. She squatted in the seat so that she could lean over towards Ed more. Where was easiest? Neck? Shoulder, maybe… somewhere that wasn't too bony or too much effort to get to. Neck seemed too risky. Shoulder?

As Trisha thought about it, one of the bees flew away from her, hovering over Ed as if it was about to demonstrate by stinging her first….

”No, no please!”
Serenity’s hand reached out from nowhere behind the seat Ed was half-slumped into. Only, with Trisha holding the pen, it simply had no effect. This only drove her more wild with panic.
”Please, please Trisha no please don’t make me go away! Please!”

As the phantom sobbed, milky white tears streamed from her face and stunk up the cab of the vehicle with that disgusting chemical burning smell.
”I swear I didn’t mean it, and she’s just gonna nap Trisha please, she needs it! I need it, I need her to… To relax, you know? And you too, like let’s just relax and please don’t stab her and make me go away again… It hurts, Trisha, and they don’t listen to me! They don’t care… They call me bad! I didn’t…”

She reached out again, trying to take Trisha’s hand with no avail as she pleaded. But Trisha would be able to feel the subtle poking at her Emotional Field… Whether it was intentional or an emotional response, one couldn’t know… But Serenity was doing her best to block Ed with a body that simply didn’t exist. At least, not to Trisha…

“What do you mean no?! She's knocked out cold and that means I'm alone- do you even know what that means?! I could get murdered right here and then my blood would be on Ed's hands and it would be your fault! You don't count because you're a ghost!" From the moment Serenity appeared and tried to stop her, Trisha got more and more angry, a harsh banana scent clashing with the chemical burning in the car. In the tight space it bounced back and increased her agitation more. Coughing, Trisha's hand slammed out to hit the button to put down all the windows. The smell and pheromones leaked out… she was able to breathe better, and think better.

Anger lessened, and the heat was replaced by a chill. Please don't make me go away again.. What? Trisha looked down at the pen, then at Serenity. She flinched away even though the ghost couldn't touch her, bees automatically moving to coat her hands as if that would prevent the pokes to her emotional field too. Was it not just a magical narcotic curer…
“She didn't need to relax, she was fine. You- don't tell me to relax. I'm not going to. You're just trying to defend yourself." Trisha's voice was quiet, cold. Different from the heated anger from before - which had come from being pushed to her limits and hitting herself with aggression pheromones. This was normal what she was like. Cold, scathing… and a little bit scared underneath it all. Her hand shook slightly more, hidden by the bees all over it. It was clear from her tone that she wasn't in any way relaxing.

But she was uncertain. She hadn't moved any further forward - she'd flinched back, crouching in the driver's seat and watching Serenity coldly. Trying to suppress the panic that was coming back up again as her pheromones continued to flow out the car. It was just a Ghost trying to justify her actions, a scared child, right? But… Why would it hurt her?
“What do you mean ‘make me go away'?"

As Trisha spoke, Serenity was pathetic with tears and tiny repeated phrases. I’m sorries, pleading for understanding; she couldn’t help but stop herself from shaking and crying.
”You’re a human! You don’t get shoved into a box because you did what came natural… Sometimes I get scared and I can’t help it, so I try and make people relax and they call me a monster! They make Ma take that, and when she does I can’t see anymore, Trisha! I can’t see, I can’t breathe, it’s all dark, I can just… It’s all empty! It always feels like I could fade away, and like nobody would even care because I’m evil and bad!!! Why!? Why, why, why!?”

She was clinging to Ed, like a scared child would cling to its mother with half of herself obscured under the seat of the car.
”It stops everything I’ve done, and it sends me away… And it’s scary, Trisha… I don’t want to go away for an accident…”

“What?" Trisha intoned, voice scarily emotionless. Internally, she was slowly processing what Serenity was saying. It… temporarily sealed Serenity? Severed their bond? That… was possible?

Trisha stared down at the purple filled pen, watching the bees that were crowding to defend her from a threat that couldn't get to her. Her resentful anger still remained but now it was overpowered by panic, and a hint of sympathy. Being judged and punished for doing something that was only natural… forced to be alone in the dark. Scared that no one would care if you disappeared… it hit too close to home. Isolation. She'd been isolated so much, but-

Did that mean it could be used on her?

Trisha shut her eyes for a moment, trying to even out her breathing. If she was jabbed with this, would she be cut off from the Queen? Then she wouldn’t have her pheromones. Her bees. They wouldn’t recognise her anymore. No, they'd still recognise her, but they wouldn't listen to her. Not while she didn't have her magic. But that would never happen. Casey wouldn't let them… but what if Lynette told him to? Then what. Would he really choose Trisha? Then she'd be abandoned without any bees at all.

“If I don't use this, do you promise not to touch me?" Trisha asked, calm and cold. As if she didn't suddenly feel like she was also about to be trapped inside the dark, lonely box… her pheromones switching from aggression to panic, continuing to spill out the car windows.
“And- and you'll tell me more about what it does." Even though she really didn't want to know. She didn't want to believe it was a thing. There was that need to run again. From all of this… but she couldn't. Casey was too good to leave over something she may never have to fear…

”A-apparition Suppressant.” Serenity said with a fearful, almost reverent tone.
”P-please… Keep the bees away, s-so… So I can relax… N-no jab, no sting, no… No sharp pricking objects. Needles. No needles…” she was still very much curled up and visibly fearful.
”No take-backs…”

Trisha nodded.
“It’ll take a moment," she said quietly, about the bees. She put the cap back on the pen, still holding it as she concentrated on calming down enough to call off the bees. It was difficult… so difficult as she thought over and over again about how she could lose them to the thing in her hand. Eventually, that was what worked - the need for comfort had the bees crawling back into her jacket and huddling against her body. Completely hidden from Serenity.

What did she do with the pen? Just put it back… Hands trembling, Trisha stuck her head out the car window. The parking lot was empty. She shoved her arm out and threw the pen as hard as she could at the closest wall, watching it smack into it with some amount of satisfaction. Relief.
“There. You said… formula four. Are there more? Does it- does it work on everyone like Ed?" As Trisha asked, she turned the car back on, pulling up the GPS. If she didn't get going there was always the chance someone would try to find them…

And it was a bit easier to hide her barely reduced anxiety when her eyes were forced to stay on the road.

”Formula One doesn’t get used. It kills the host, so they won’t use it. Formula Two is the heavy shit…-”
Settling into Ed’s lap like a child would, Serenity began to speak in the same cold, absolutely emotionless voice that Trisha would be able to recognize in herself. Someone somewhere else, thinking about something they didn’t want to think of.
”Uncle Lee gets hit by Two, when Auntie Lou can’t control herself. ‘Cept his dosages come in bullets. Last time, he was asleep for a week. Auntie Lou says she likes the dark… Like it’s a vacation to her. B-but, it hurts Uncle Lee. His heart, his brain, he has to get put on oxygen or he can’t breathe.” she explained what sounded like a nightmare… Whatever this stuff was, it was nightmarish in its implicit usage.

”Three is… In between? I guess… I don’t hear much about it, so I don’t know who it gets used on. I’ve only heard that there’s a lot of it, and that it’s good at getting around in the air. Miss Gin says it’s like a virus. But, then… Four is like…-”
She stammered, trying to find the words to use to describe the sensation.
”-Ma has a memory? Where she got surgery? Or something? In her belly; the doctor put her to sleep so it wouldn’t hurt her. It’s like that, except We… I… I dream. I dream about sad things, like if Ma was dead, or if we never saw Mommy and Mimi again… It’s like a show, where it tries to show me what happens if I’m bad.” she explained.

”It’s awful… I can’t move, I can’t do anything. It makes me scared, and my chest gets really tight, and I try to scream and cry with Ma, but I can’t. I have to listen to her confess, and apologize for me. But when it’s all over, everyone treats me like it never happened… Like they didn’t put me away in the box to make me see…”

“What the fuck," Trisha whispered, feeling like she'd been submerged in icy water. Four different types of Apparition suppressants… one that even killed the host. The fourth one was the weakest, and it was enough to do that? It was chilling. The thought of Leon being knocked out for a week like that… she shuddered. They could take out Adjoined so easily.
“I’ll never use it." As if she'd be in a position like this again where she'd have that choice. She was painfully aware that she didn't have the power to stop something like this from being used on herself, nevermind on Ed…

But it was painful to listen to. Trapped in a nightmare. Trisha understood that - she had too many herself. Plenty like that where she was alone. Where she lost the few people she had, or watched the deaths of those she’d already lost over and over again. Even people she didn’t care about but had wanted to. Former covenmates, her dad… But being forced to see all the worst things… like the cats did. Like the Stygian Snake did too.

Then having to confess to and apologise for something that she hadn't even done. As Trisha stopped at a red light she looked over at Serenity, then Ed, frowning. Just like what happened over and over again as she grew up… here it was religious bullshit. What had Ed done to deserve that? Serenity, too. It was just in her nature. She was just scared. Fuck. Trisha was finding a ghost's words hitting far too close to home. It wasn't quite the same, of course, but the similarities… those fears. The helplessness about not being able to do anything about it but accept the blame… but resenting that. It wasn't her fault…

“It’s not your fault," Trisha found herself saying, a hint of emotion slipping through the cold wall she’d put up. They were the words she told herself constantly even though she never believed them, deep down. Used to blame others even though she really knew the problem was herself. She was saying what she'd always wanted to hear herself.
“Even if you make a mistake, you don't deserve that. You or Ed. It's not something she should have to confess to like she's sinned or some shit. Like you're something to be ashamed of. It's like if I had to beg for forgiveness every time a bee stung someone."

She bit her lip, forcing herself to try and remain detached. Otherwise she'd lose herself in the fear… if she lost control of the bees, would that be used on her? Would she be forced into some kind of horrible confessional? To apologise for natural instincts? Would Casey let them do it? Would she be able to forgive him if he did? All roads led to being alone again.
“Do they ever use Four on… non members? People around the Temple who aren't part of it?"

Serenity's face dipped slightly, brow contemplative with eyes looking for something. An answer, maybe.
”I don't know… Probably the first one on enemies: people who won't play nice…”
She sat there for a moment, a blank expression drawn tightly across her face. Every bit of her processing power was being used up as the young ghost tried to put two and two together.

”You… You think they'll hurt you? Then why stay?”
It was a question without weight to Serenity, rolling off her tongue as if she'd just had a silly thought… She simply couldn't comprehend having the option to leave and not.

“I don’t know if they’ll hurt me,” Trisha said quietly, biting her lip. She hoped that Casey wouldn’t let them. She believed he wouldn’t. But she just couldn’t trust that. She was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. That inevitable abandonment… and if it was at a moment she lost control of her magic? Yeah, he’d let them hurt her.

“But I stay because…” Trisha trailed off, seriously considering her answer. The question was insensitive, but Trisha was already so much in her own head it didn’t upset her anymore. She was already thinking about it all… and her anger had already switched off Serenity.
“You don’t like being put in that box because you’re alone and feel like you’ll disappear without anyone caring, right? If I leave Casey, that’s what I go back to. I’ll have no one. I would be completely alone, trapped in a narrow, shitty life. And if I died, I don’t think anyone would care. Not even the bees.” She continued to speak in that detached monotone, even as she told Serenity things she’d never voiced otherwise. Here she was telling a ghost things she hated saying… but maybe it was because it was a Ghost she was talking to.

“I really like Casey, and it’s worth risking getting hurt. He’s the first person to actually love me, I think.”
Not that Trisha could bring herself to entirely believe in that love…

Serenity tried to process the thought. She even tried to wake Ed up, so she could quietly ask questions that may give her clarification on some of the abstract concepts of love and affection… But she was simply incapable of recalling the effect on her own. It took Ed, her personal responsibility and influence, to draw any lasting effects away.

But she was the affected one, and only darkness remained in her unconscious mind. It left Serenity feeling particularly alone.
[Hr]

City driving turned a ten minute distance into a thirty-five minute excursion. Stop and go traffic, Ed's crazy manual transmission car stalling out at most stop lights… Trisha would find herself pulling into a place she'd maybe seen once or twice but never had a reason to enter. The building was nondescript for this part of St. Portwell, its only outstanding feature being the lack of street-side access. One alley and a gate between the buildings barred entry, magically swinging open as the registered vehicle approached closer.

Inside was a small, boxed in parking area that fit twenty or so cars. The main entrance into one of the buildings was wide open, and a few people who were waiting began to descend the stairs. Their approach was toward the car as Trisha parked it.
Looking out, Serenity seemed to get a bit more excited.

”I promise nobody will hurt you here, Trisha… Look! Mr. Weatherman and Miss Felicia!” she pointed out.
”I bet they're here to help Mama!”

Getting closer, the duo looked fairly standard for the Temple. The male had a style that could be described as “Gentle Goth”, not wearing anything overly risque or aggressive while somehow still making all the goth goals. The woman, by contrast, seemed to be going for a much more punk look with chains and patch-covered denim over a sweater and leggings.

“I’m not worried about being hurt," Trisha said, because she wasn't. Not right now at least, when she had complete control… she was pretty confident that Casey wouldn't hold back on anyone that hurt her, even Leon. But that wouldn't happen here. She didn't bother explaining to Serenity that her worries were for something much more distant, just turning off the car and getting out.

“Hey," Trisha raised a hand towards the two with a slight smile, pushing through her want to just not be there. She had to try to be nice… she was used to meeting new people. It just normally wasn't in this kind of situation. Clubs, bars, flirting… but it was fine. She had this.
“I’m Trisha- uh, I'm sure you already know that anyway. I guess you're here to help with Ed? Serenity certainly thinks so." As she spoke she moved around to the passenger side, opening that door too. She was calm and seemingly friendly, but there was a certain amount of detachment.

”Serenity thinks-”
The woman spoke in a clean and crispy voice, about to question what Trisha meant when Serenity made her way from the car alongside her.
”Miss Feliciaaaaaa!”
She ran across the parking lot, diving into the woman’s arms. A burst of static electricity began to create pale blue arcs around the two of them.
”Oh my God! Serenity, stop! Stop, stop, stop!”

The ghost was sobbing, absolutely weeping. Presumably, her powers were being released as the thick scent of melting plastic filling the air before being vaporized by the lightning. Felicia’s face twisted into a mixture of sadness and confusion as she looked between Serenity and Trisha.
The one she called “Mr. Weatherman” approached Trisha and the car slowly, his hands in his pockets. His head slowly cocked between the car with the sleeping Ed and Trisha.

”You… Huh…”
His head spun to look at Serenity, slowly calming now, then back at Trisha.
”Well, I guess it's good you’re not really into her. We’re lucky to have you, honestly.” he said, looking at Ed, one last time before holding out his hand.
”Waldermen. Call me Walt. The living Tesla Coil is Felicia… Uh… Serenity can’t effect you if you’ve never willingly accepted her hand. So, either she didn’t ask for a hug this time, or you’re not the type to comfort a little girl… Kind of funny, right?”

Felicia was hugging Serenity… Ed had held her closely… Yet she passed through walls? She couldn’t touch Trisha because she wasn’t-
”Either way, thanks. Better we wake her up than punish the poor thing… Since, I’m sure you know.”

“Trisha," Trisha said simply, reaching out to quickly shake his hand… though she'd already introduced herself, it was reflexive. Large parties attended where she had to introduce herself over and over again, or forcefully do so when she was introduced as Trisha or just called Miss Vanburen. As if there weren't loads of them.
“You get used to little kids crying when you're the middle child of at least twenty."

But it was good to know that she'd never be affected unless she willingly reached out… which she definitely wouldn't do now that she knew. A long, magically induced stupor wasn't something that appealed to her in the slightest. She didn't like having her body messed around with magically at all, even if this one was ‘relaxing’. She could sympathise with Serenity without ever wanting to be affected by her… it was a good thing hugs were never her first go to, unless it was a partner.
“I know. I'm not cruel enough to use something like that. Ever. You're all lucky I didn't take a detour to throw the rest in the sea." It had been a serious consideration, as the drive dragged on through the city. The only reason she hadn't seen it through was how it might affect Casey… she didn't want to cause unnecessary shit for him, even if she was pissed about the existence of something that could completely cut her off from her magic and bees.

“Can you wake her up, then?" Trisha asked, stepping away from the car and folding her arms. Her tone was still fairly monotonous, keeping herself from falling into a grumpier state that would have her snapping at people she'd just met over literally nothing. A bee crawled out from under her jacket into her neck, forcing her to raise a hand to cover it… just in case Serenity freaked out again.
“Without the apparition boxing and following archaic confessions and begging for forgiveness."

Walt’s face frowned.
”I’m sorry you had to go through this… But it’d be nice if we could do this without the whole… Y’know… It’s not us, y’know? Nobody in this place wants that for her anymore than you do. But we do what we do, and if you can’t at least withhold a little bit of judgement, then you’re just gonna have a worse night…”

As he spoke, he was opening the car door. The jacket he was wearing practically writhed atop his skin as he moved. Serpents, not like snakes, but feathered and winged serpents, slithered from his collar at multiple points. They helped him carry Ed out, holding her against the car.
His hands slowly held her face, and a gentle green haze slowly drew away from her skin. After a few moments, Ed’s eyes snapped open and she stared directly at Walt.

”B-bro?”
Her gaze passed onto Trisha, and the lightning storm behind her.
”Oh, oh fuck! Serenity! Serenity!?”
For an instant, Ed’s entire body pulsed with white… Her face, her exposed arms, looked like the same kind of porcelain doll that Serenity ultimately was. And as quickly as it happened, Serenity was clinging to Ed’s side.

The latter was still trying to figure out the events that passed from then until now through Serenity’s own memories. The two held one another for a long moment; long enough that Felicia was able to make her way closer. A group had formed at the door of the establishment, but seeing the moment’s danger pass, they’d dispersed just as quickly.
”What’s she-”
”The process. Confession. I assume whatever she knew about the serum.”

Looking at Trisha, Felicia frowned and bowed her head.
”Please forgive us, Miss Trisha… Understand, it’s not fair for us to meet you like this either; we really were hoping that you’d be able to just enjoy tonight with us.” she spoke extremely respectfully, despite the punk persona she seemed to display.

“It’s just Trisha." It wasn't that she had a major issue with it, compared to the use of her full name or last name, but… she just didn't like the formality. Ever. As with everything, it reminded her too much of an isolated childhood.

And she was having a really hard time suppressing her agitation. It didn't help that Walt was coming out implying that she was judgemental. Everything from there, no matter how nicely it was said, felt like more along those lines. It wasn't fair for them to meet her like this either… they thought she was being unreasonable. She couldn't stop herself from fixating on it. Once it was in her mind they were viewing her that way she just couldn't get it out.

“It’s fine- and I know it's not all of you. The fact I didn't go home is me withholding judgement." As Trisha spoke tersely, her eyes moved from Felicia to Walt. Her eyes narrowed.
“If you take it as judgement of you, that's not my problem. It's not fair, right, you were all expecting someone who could just integrate and accept all the cultish background- sorry. That's not me- Fuck."
The bees started to buzz again and she took a step back, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a deep breath. It wasn't them she was mad at. Who was it? Leon for suggesting she used that? Casey for not telling her about it in the first place? For forcing her to come? The Temple's fucked up leadership for making this whole situation a thing?

Or herself, for being so easily shaken?
“Don’t judge me and I won't judge you," she said, voice quieter, soft floral scent entering the air as she forcefully calmed down the bees to stop them from swarming out of her jacket. Because that was how she irrationally felt. Judged for her reaction and questions.

”If it matters to you: We don’t do a confession when we’re among our own. There’s no guilt in being who we are among one another. This i-”
Felicia stuffed her hand out, slapping Walt’s chest.
”We’re sorry. That’s all.”
Ed was next to Trisha without a word. Her face was cold, sad, stonelike. As they spoke, she turned her head to meet Trisha’s.

”No luck around here… Try and do right? You get your judgement questioned. Do wrong? Get your head lopped off. The life of the Adjoined Aberration in the Temple. Come on, Trisha… Let’s get you angry at someone who deserves it.”
She started to walk forward toward the golden, glowing light of the open door ahead.

“My anger is at people who deserve it-" Trisha, obviously, didn't mean the group here, as much as they'd taken the initial snap. Leon, Casey, Lynette… all of them were people she was pissed at in this moment.
More so with what Ed had just said.

“But I'll direct it at whoever you think is best to start with," she snorted, following Ed to the door. She looked at Ed, then the open door. The bees were still agitated underneath her coat even as she continually calmed her, and she was incredibly pissed… but Ed was right that nobody here deserved that. But Leon was in there - and in her mind, he sure as hell did. So she didn't even pause before walking right inside, head immediately snapping around to find him.

Leon didn’t give her very long to wait. He was dressed, as she’d seen him now so often, very casually compared to his public image of flashy gothic suits and skin; a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, boots… Like anyone else except nearly seven feet tall.
”Etienne!? Jesus, a-”
Ed instantly threw a finger up. Trisha would never have seen her this mad, but her face looked like pure rage. Evil almost.
”Leon Richoux… Private place. NOW.”

He threw his hands up, instantly turning and making way for a door nearby. It looked like some sort of common area or function hall for… Maybe a restaurant? Or it was some assigned event space, but it was full of tables with people casually talking, drinking food and eating, otherwise with books and games covering the tables.
People seemed to be having a nice time…

They entered behind him, and the door closed. There was enough of a gap for Trisha to start in before Ed could.

“You piece of shit,” Trisha immediately laid into him, tilting her head back to glare up at Leon. While her face contorted into ugly anger, her voice was cold and quiet. No shouting, but that wasn’t needed to know that she was incredibly pissed off. The bees filled the room with a buzzing that she tried to suppress, if only for Serenity’s sake - but it was difficult as anger radiated off her.
“‘Use the purple epipen, it’ll shock her’ - are you fucking kidding me? You seriously told me to use an apparition suppressant on her. What, so you could feel all high and mighty, enforcing twisted justice just like you used to in the coven?”

She was trembling slightly, facing up to a man over a foot taller than her like she was ready to get physical at any moment. The bees were, of course - but she didn’t actually plan to go that far. Rarely did.
“I’m not helping with your fucking religious punishments.”

”This is too much coming from you, Trisha, do-”
Ed stepped up close to him, pointing her finger in his face.
”Leon, you fucking told me you would never do it again… You said anything but that! Didn’t you? You fucking TOLD ME YOU HAD MY BACK!”

”Oh, God fuckin’ dammit! Go ahead, fucking yell. Scream. Get it all out so I can explain it to you both. It’s fine; I’ll wait! I’ve got nothing but time, you know not like this isn’t the place for talking about this kind of stuff, right!? Go ahead, my dearest Adjoined Sisters! Keep up the insults, all that anger on m-”

”Self righteous cunt! Leon!? Are you going to fucking sit here and blame us!?”

Trisha didn’t bother getting as close as Ed did, but her arms folded over her chest as her whole body tensed up. Bees crawled out from underneath her jacket, onto her hands and neck.
“You think I’m yelling? You would not like it if I was yelling- it sounds an awful lot like thousands of bees,” Trisha hissed, volume still barely rising, even as her tone got harsher and even colder.
“You haven’t fucking changed. You tell someone to do something, you expect them to jump, then when they don’t fall in line you get pissy about it. Fuck off. This is on you. You knew there was someone here that could wake Ed up but you still suggested I use that. You said ‘you’re gonna need to jab her’ like it was the only option. Self righteous cunt is right- you think you can just take it all, ignore us like we’re hysterical, then we’ll nod when you fucking explain?”

”Oh, I’ve got this one Trisha… Hang on, let me-”
Ed cleared her throat, puffing out her chest and flexing her arms downward with her fists at her sides.
”-’Nooooooo, but I expect to be listened to!’ That’s it, right? The dog-trained expression that comes out of your mouth every time you think you can just talk away your fucking problems?”

”Am I not listening to you!?” Leon growled out, finger coming up before balling back into its frustrated fist.
”No! You’re absolutely not, Leon, you’re bristiling to get your fucking point across! That doesn’t count as listening, that counts as waiting!”

Leon’s big hands gripped at his hair before sliding into his pockets. He just looked down, apparently breathing deeply.

“Exactly- you think you’re perfectly justified, and won’t let us leave until we agree with you!” Trisha scowled at him, words almost drowned out by the cacophony of buzzing. She quieted them slightly.
“You’re not.”

Leon had a sour look on his face, throwing his hands up again and waving them both off.
”Nahhh, you fuckin’ go ahead then. Leave, I don’t care. Fuckin’ leave the room and try to go have fun with the others, go the fuck back to your home, I don’t give a fuck. I was wrong, I was going to say that, but everyone thinks they’ve got me figured out. That’s totally fine… It’s great, even. I love it.”

He moved back toward the door, body steeping slightly to open it for them.

“Are you fucking with me, Leon? Really? You were really going to say you were wrong, that was your ‘explanation’? Save your self pitying shit.” Trisha didn’t budge, arms still folded and still glaring at him. Sure, she really fucking wanted to go home… but she wasn’t going to. She was far too angry to just leave it, and unnerved by the whole fucking thing. And if she went home… all of her anger would be redirected to Casey when he got back.
“Do you have any idea why I would be so fucking upset about almost using something like that?”

Maybe it was unfair, hypocritical, but she quite frankly didn’t give a fuck. He could be sad they were making assumptions - it all came from how he’d been acting right up until that point.
“We’re not done. If you were really going to say you were wrong, start by apologising to Ed.”

”FUCK an apology. Every single time Cairo or Andy come into the fucking office, I risk getting dosed by Serenity because she’s terrified of them! She knows Leon! She fucking knows that they make the shit, and she’s smart enough to know that they would be happy to use it on her! On all of us! I should fucking go out there and make a big deal of this! Do you want Tamara to hear? What about Mr. Cabrera? Your favorite old man? You think he’d want to hear about this!?”

It was subtle, but the force of Leon crushing the doorknob with his bare hand made the door rattle. So subtle, in fact, that it was difficult to tell what kind of a mood Leon was in purely based on that. Mad? It had to be some kind of upset: One didn’t just crush a doorknob for no reason. And certainly not for a happy reason.
He took a deep breath through his nose, and his voice was clear and steady when he spoke.

”You can… You can be sure that I’m deeply sorry. Sorry for breaking a promise, and sorry for making the wrong judgement call here. You are absolutely right Ed: That I have abused your Apparition Companion and neglected your care.”
”You’ve traumatized the only daughter that I will ever give birth to naturally. She is not an Apparition Companion, Leon, she’s my fucking soul!”

He had feelings about this. Opinions. Things he knew he would be less for expressing to anyone. Only a few knew, and he couldn’t help but feel the shame the two of them were trying to push.
”Unlike most of you, she comes from me! Is it wrong, is it fucking sick that our parents let me become a fucking heroin addict without a care for my supervision and then tried to excommunicate me because I wasn’t a fucking spell-flicker? Absolutely! Is it sicker that she’s everything I thought I hated about myself, and I spent the first few years of her life abusing her myself!? Yes! But now that I’m trying to be good for her and for our family, and you want to start jabbing me now!? Six months ago, you said never again! And I haven’t hit anyone on accident. She’s been incredible! Then she stumbles once and now this!?”

“She was scared of the bees,” Trisha said, almost hollowly. It wasn’t that she wasn’t angry anymore- she was- but what Ed had said was so heavy. She felt like she shouldn’t be there… but she also found herself sympathising. A lot.
“Because of the needles. She thought they were going to sting her- when she hadn’t even done anything. That’s why it happened.”

Ed’s finger pointed at Trisha without her head turning. She was still looking dead at Leon.
”I hope you heard what she just fucking said. I hope you heard her loud and clear, and that you understand what the fuck that means from now on. More therapy. More behavioral work. She is a child Leon! A fucking CHILD! The same scared little girl that I was… That same person your little Brother was! But you have no fucking sympathy, Mister Perfect Magic Man… Mister Give-it-up! Big fucking sacrifices for the good of our people, right? Save St. Portwell alllll by yourself right? The Adept who gave it all up for his people!”

Ed’s hands slipped upward, gripping into her hair before she turned to face Trisha.
”I’m so fucking sorry to you, Trisha. I’m sorry that you have to put up with this, and that you were asked to deal with us… I’m so fucking embarassed that I’m sick to my stomach, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to make this up to you… Especially not after all the other shit that’s happened…”

Leon cleared his throat. Her head didn’t turn.
”Nobody was fucking talking to you Dog.” the phrase left her mouth with such deep and hateful venom that even he knew this had gone beyond what he thought it would. Leon simply kept quiet.

“It’s not your place to apologise.” Trisha looked back at Ed, lips moving from a harsh scowl to a lighter frown. Her eyes were still dark with anger, but it wasn’t towards Ed. It hadn’t been since she found out what that thing did, and how scared Serenity had been. She got it. As much as she hated that she did… because that required admitting that she was just a little bit broken herself.
“You can ‘make it up to me’ by still spending time with me after this. Don’t leave because of it- because unlike him, I sympathise. I understand. I’m not upset at you or Serenity.”

Her arms tightened around herself, going from being folded to closer to a self hug. As she did, the bees withdrew back into her jacket. She hated the anxiety it brought out in her… because her bees were her soul just like Serenity was Ed’s. She hadn’t grown up around magic, but she’d grown up practically alone, then abandoned by the only person who gave her even a little bit of attention over something she couldn’t control. She was never good enough. She’d been the scared and abandoned child… just like Ed, just like Casey, just like Serenity. Unlike Leon.

“But I’m here by choice. Here at this meeting, because I told Casey I wanted to learn more from other Adjoined. And here dealing with the Temple at all by my own choice. But-” she spun around towards Leon, eyes narrowing back into a glare.
“I’m not part of it. I’m going to get fucking angry over every shitty thing done. You, or any others, I don’t care. I’m not just going to fucking roll over and accept it. Don’t think you’re special and the only person I’m pissed off at right now.”

For a second, Leon’s eyes narrowed.
”There’s nobody else to be mad at, Trisha… The buck stops here.”

”Leon, don’t fucking cover for them. Your fucking Adept friends. The people who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire except to laugh at it? Why won’t you… Fucking actually treat yourself like you’re one of us?”
He didn’t look so good after that. Just frowned, shook his head… Didn’t speak for a few moments despite both ladies still staring at him.

”I’m sorry… I panicked. I wanted a better impression of this for Trisha, and my judgement completely lapsed. It’s not an excuse, and it’s not a redirection; just me trying to explain my mindset. I thought there’d be no way you’d come if one of ours didn’t get you here, and Casey has been hounding me about how important it is that this went well… And it’s nine thousand things piled up on top of one another, and I wouldn’t ever think of bringing a Confessor into this space. I was just going to mark it up as me having a flareup and strike the log for the syringe… I don’t know what else to say. I really don’t…”
As he released the doorknob, it sagged and unhooked from the door, falling onto the floor with a gentle clanging noise.

“Of course he did,” Trisha practically whispered, nails digging into her arms.
“I called you asking how to get here. I wouldn’t have called at all if I was going to go back- but that doesn’t matter. Remember this. Remember how fucked up it is to do this whole apparition suppression and confessional thing. You even have Confessors, or whatever? What the fuck- but both parts are fucked up. Ed’s right. You’re adjoined like us, so put yourself in our fucking shoes for once. Think about how fucking terrifying it is to find out the thing you’re holding could completely cut you off from your magic. Think about that.”

She took a deep breath, head tilting back.
“And don’t tell me who to be mad at. Maybe if you try to understand, you’ll see why I’m not just going to calm down about it.”

How could he protest? How could he even think the thought that crawled through his head? The creeping, gnawing feeling…
Oh, Baby… You’ll never be rid of me.
His hand wriggled slightly. A nervous tick.

”I w-was… Cut off from my magic, Trisha. I had to Sever before I could accept Lelou. I know the feeling of the void it leaves: That decision wasn’t made with a light heart. I empathize with the fear, and… And I’m extremely sorry.” he hung his head, bowing in front of them as much as a giant could bow to normal sized people.

Trisha was shocked enough by Leon bowing to them that she didn’t say anything for a while. Just stared, and thought. She was still upset by the whole thing, but she couldn’t keep going round and round when he was apologising. She wasn’t used to the apologies. Up until this point almost everyone just saw her as unreasonable.
“Then you understand… and remember that for us-” she gestured to herself and Ed.
“- we lose company too. Serenity, the bees… but I accept your apology for the shit that affected me. Up to Ed whether she does too.”

Her arms finally unwrapped from around herself, only to pull forward her ponytail and start fiddling with the thick waves.
“And I guess I take back a bit of what I said. You have changed. You wouldn’t have apologised before.”

”I can only do what I can, Trisha… I spent a lot of time-”
”Yeah yeah, your fucking virtues. Can you go? I’m still utterly fucking furious with you, and if it weren’t for the sanctity of this group and this space, I’d go out there still looking like it. But for my daughter and for my people, I’ll stand the fuck up and be a Woman. How about you be a man in return.”
She was prepping to spit at his feet, throat rolling to catch phlegm before she stopped herself and spun her entire body around. Having to swallow it back up just pissed her off more.

”Ooooh, Leon, you’re so fucking lucky dude… So fucking lucky that I still have some sort of familial love toward you or I’d so- So… Fuck! Fucking, fuck! Just, just go! Get out, give me fucking ten minutes to not see your stupid fucking face!” she growled, her hands gripping in and out in front of her, pointed toward him.

He cleared his throat.
”Sure, fine.”
With that, he spun, hooking his finger into the half-destroyed door knob and pulling it open. The door closed behind him with an equally frustrated snap.

For a moment the two women were alone in the dark, the quiet. It was only broken by the gentle whimpering of a child.
”Y-you… Both are… S-so a-aw-esome…”
Serenity was there again, clinging to Ed and holding her tightly. Milky tears still filled her eyes, and they turned to look at Trisha.
”T-thank y-yo-u… For l-i-ste-ning…” she expressed between sobs.

As Serenity reappeared, Trisha made sure that all of her bees were once again hidden in her coat. Her hand enclosed into a fist around one that refused to leave her fingers.
“It’s… no problem. Of course I listened. I-” Trisha bit her lip, carefully depositing the stubborn bee into her coat so she could clasp her hands together.
“I listened like I always wanted to be listened to when I was a kid. Nobody ever listened to me either.”

It wasn’t something she’d really expressed before, but in that moment she felt comfortable enough to. Maybe it was because Ed had bared so much of herself - or maybe because she hadn’t forgiven Leon. She was holding onto it in a way Trisha often did, and got so much shit for. Enough similarities for her to feel like she wouldn’t immediately be judged for it…
“Hopefully one day you’ll be able to be around the bees. I think you’d get along with them.” She spoke softly, before moving her gaze to Ed.

“Oh, uh, Ed? I don’t know much you got of what me and Serenity talked about, but please don’t tell anyone about the… last bits…” She was talking, of course, about admitting to never having felt loved before Casey.

Ed’s stony face turned warm like an ice cube melting on a hot surface. Her hand slipped upward, stroking Serenity’s head and hair.
”My girl keeps her secrets. I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.” she said, winking slyly.
”Thank you for listening to her like nobody in the Temple does. Even around here, sometimes there’s a little judgement given her birth. The circumstance doesn’t sit well with some of the older folk. They don’t understand, and I don’t really expect them to; so, maybe if they say something to you, cut them a little slack? For us. They… They’re no better than little kids sometimes…” she giggled.

”If not, I understand… But at that point, I mean… I guess I’d be in your corner for arguing with Casey to let you stay home. Only if it gets that bad. There’s probably still good you can get here. Like, I guarantee Gin’s outside that door waiting for you.” she implied.

Trisha had to laugh at that. She was sure Ed was right and Gin was right outside ready to ambush her. The thought… filled her with a bubbly warm feeling that let her push down the still simmering resentment. Hidden away, for now. It would come back out later, she was sure.
“She’s probably waiting to bombard me with a million questions about the bees…" she smiled, hands unclasping. One still crept up to tangle in the bottom of her hair, playing with the strands. Just a slight anxious tic.

“I’ll try, for you… much as I'd like an excuse to go back to my warm bed," Trisha openly admitted, hand tugging her hair slightly.
“No promises, but I'll try. I do want to talk to other Adjoined… learn how to control my magic more, yknow. There were plenty of us in the coven, but most of them… had just adjoined. I was one of the most experienced. There's some things I just won't be able to tolerate but… I'll look past certain comments for that, and you, Serenity and Gin." She really would try. Really, she already had been - there'd been so many opportunities to run and she'd resisted them. So she could cut people slack if they said stuff about Ed and Serenity… so long as none of it hit a nerve.

“And I'm pretty sure if I get into a fight Casey will be the one keeping me at home, no arguments needed," Trisha joked, as she tried to fully relax to face a whole room of mostly strangers.

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Tarantula Hawk: Casey Interlude One | Home > Worthurs Labs

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She took the sun with her, down those stairs and out into the parking lot. Into the car that he watched from above as the turbo-charged engine spooled up on their way out. The sun was setting over St. Portwell, and with it, all good things left the eyes of Casey Richoux. Only the last moments of preparation were left between him and work.

Courage and Nostalgia were both easy to dredge up… A small shrine was all he needed to commit to ceremonies which he’d not participated in for the years since the final battles outside of Berlin. There were no singing men, no clergy, no preacher upon the pulpit to channel their fervorous rage into boldness in the face of horror. Only his voice, which did not waver as he prayed.
Before him, candles. Ten. And the picture which Trisha had taken such interest in beforehand. That place, that moment, was his magical forge. The intricate weaving of Orange Lux across each piece of equipment he touched: pads, vest, the plate within, the jumpsuit around him…

And the gun… And the rounds. Twelve gauge in all sorts of funny colors, each he’d made for himself for a different purpose. Where he was headed, any kind of resistance was possible. Casey knew the Worthurs Group as a Coven: A small one, with some very smart and talented Adepts who knew their way around some pretty complex formulae. Their main point of contact with the Temple was Clarissa Natale, who would be accompanying him; recently she’d been tasked with integrating their work into Project Eden in a more direct way.
It wasn’t going well. Blame was cast on both sides…

But Mary Worthurs went to Lynette over it… Suggested someone else should run the project.

Lynette intended to oblige, but not in the way Mary imagined. New management, new staff. How were they expected to handle it? Like a sick animal. You kill it for its own sake. All this preparation was in the event that something went wrong. The intent on the other hand, was far more sinister.
He begged her to warn them. Part of the prayer meant he had to be brave, and ready to take on any threat. He wanted them to be a threat. To have a fighting chance.

But they were technomancers. Machine-oriented Adepts who rarely, if ever, spent their time on developing and using magic to defend themselves. He almost wished that the security team assigned to the property was still going to be there, just so there’d be someone there to really put up a fight.

But life didn’t always work that way. He’d learned well enough in Italy that people crave their doom. Inexorably, one will march ever on toward their demise, and only the guiding hands of Fate herself would mark the path. Everything else was just the illusion of chance and choice.

They fucking earned it. They fucking earned it. They fucking earned it.

So he prepared like he hoped there was war. The plate’s protective properties were applied across the rest of the clothes, making him highly resistant to bullet penetration across his body. Impacts, obviously against the softer surfaces, would still do a tremendous amount of damage internally… But broken bones and internal bleeding actually healed faster than flesh wounds under the influence of the Key Lime.
A small camel-bag system held three different Temple-made cocktails meant to assist in Anti-Magical operations: the eponymous, sweet green treat that heals wounds, a fruity, peppery jam to boost Lux capacity, and an Emotional Field-bolstering banana custard. Flicking the nozzle at the base of the bag swapped which the straw pulled from, with an option to open up all three at once.

He didn’t want to drink any of them, knowing what they were doing to him slowly… He’d already started getting cravings for it, which only made it harder to keep from opening it up to have a pre-mission parfait from a plastic tube. It was a truly sick organization, who made such dangerous magical substances taste dangerously good at the same time.

He tucked the setup beneath the back plate of his carrier as it came down over his chest and gut. The weight was crucial… To make him feel that he was doing something. One more mental checkmark toward murder…

Wretched twisting and snapping metal noises ripped through his sanctity, the home he had only recently come to call his own. Familiar noises that brought a new wave of nostalgia, causing his potent White Lux to ripple across the air.
Casey hadn’t ever seen what Clarissa’s work outfit looked like… Everyone had one; some kind of persona, almost. It was fitting that the Crone of Violence would be this… She stepped from the portal she’d ripped open with the thumping of tall boots, and he quickly realized that he could've guessed…

Like a nun, she was garbed in a full Habit; a square-shaped veil over a bandeau and coif, covered like a crown in different fineries. It was all wine-red, and he could feel the long-lasting enchantments of his Father radiating from each piece. It was a fully functional battle garb, even bolstering her Emotional Field through particularly interesting hexagrammic placement of certain jewels and metals across the headpiece.
Though, he could tell that the habit itself was mostly for modesty… The vague stretching and tugging noises gave up the presence of the skin tight leather bodysuit beneath.

She was carrying her channeler; the .38 snub-nosed revolver she'd always called “Sadie”. For a long moment, she simply stood staring at him. Sizing him up as he shuffled around with his equipment. For Clarissa, anticipation was the only sensation required to push her forward. Casey knew, and he knew that just like Furio, she reveled in the act. The taking of life was something to look forward to… She thrived happily during the war against Sonnenrad, taking life and giving birth to grudges that would be settled time and time again with the blood of “lesser” folk.
He noticed she hadn’t said anything like that since he’d come home… Assuming Leon was the reason, he’d not asked. He didn’t want to know where her prejudices went, frankly.

Donning a ski mask, then a ballistic mask over it, Clarissa could only see her sweet Nephew’s eyes. In her own mind, he was still that little boy; the timid and shy one, the one who needed the extra help that never came… And she could tell that he wasn’t that. He wasn’t even the man who lived in her old home now.

There wouldn’t be words tonight. Only blood between them. This situation between herself and the Worthurs Lab wasn’t conducive to business… She needed full control. Needed something new to do. The portal-based manufacturing methods they employed in their productions had been Mary’s idea, sure, but Clarissa did it better. And the only reason things weren’t going well? Mary. At least, in Clarissa’s mind… So, with Lynette’s express permission, she was going to handle it.

And Casey was going to handle it. Whether he wanted to or not, this was partly his jurisdiction: The summary execution of Temple members. Wordlessly, Clarissa opened the portal again as Casey stepped forward with his weapon. Letting him step forward, she followed behind without hesitation, and the portal closed behind them. Only the dark, empty apartment remained.