Slumbering Stone

A Strip Mall in Erenvale

Few could tell you who or what occupied the third unit from the left. The hand weights piled in a corner suggested to most that a gym leased the unit, albeit one keeping very odd unlisted hours. Scarce activity led the most curious passersby to speculate on money laundering before shrugging their shoulders and moving on with their day. Frankly, few cared enough to wonder, passing it by without a second thought while on their way into the nail salon or dry cleaner.

 

Crammed into an older strip mall beginning to show its age, the SAI Center (as the sign in the window read) was an altogether inconspicuous place.

 

That suited her clientele just fine. Most of her prospective clients drew from the same playbook. Invariably, a van with tinted windows would park in the front of the lot, they'd hop out in some casual-but-concealing fit with a pair of sunglasses, and they'd make a quick jaunt in.

 

Most.

 

This one had chosen a different approach.

 

Settling into a seat behind her desk, Veronica Karras sizes up her newest prospective client. "Chair's there to be used. Take a seat," she offers, gesturing across the desk.

 

 

She hadn't intended to show off through the gesture, but it doesn't escape her notice that her client's eyes linger on her extended arm, gliding over the ridges of her forearms to settle upon the fabric snugly clinging to her bicep.

 

The woman ignores the instruction, her shimmering eyes transfixed by Veronica's Herculean build. Her mouth hangs slightly agape, the corners of her lips turned up in admiration. "Unfaltering granite fashioned into flesh, how utterly captivating. May I feel?" Valerie finally asks.

 

 

"Go ahead," Veronica replies with a hint of amusement, further unfurling her arm. She watches with some curiosity, silently wondering just how Valerie intends to feel much of anything through those oversized sleeves.

 

"Your permission is greatly appreciated." Serenity etched into her smile, Valerie steps towards the desk, pushing her unneeded chair aside as she approaches. Pulling back her arms and bending forward, she dips her head towards Veronica's forearm with the grace and speed of a dabbling swan. Her cheek squishes against Veronica's muscle, softly grazing against the beefier woman's skin. Her eyes fall closed as she nuzzles Veronica's arm, a single purr away from being confusable for a cat in a woman's body.

 

Veronica raises no objection, only silently glancing towards the clock on the wall. She had dealt with this before. Not nuzzling, exactly, but in taking on wealthy clients, she had learned that the rich tended to have… quirks. After she had received the call from Valerie's agent, she took the time to research the woman. Apparently, those in the know had long called her an eccentric among eccentrics. Once considered an expert on a certain class of those Pokémon critters, Valerie Kawaguchi had stepped back from that role years ago, devoting herself full-time to her eponymous fashion line. She dazzled the fashion world with unconventional designs taking inspiration from fairies; about a year ago, however, she suddenly announced a sabbatical.

 

"Mmmm… Mmm… Exquisiiiite," Valerie whispers, withdrawing her head and standing up straight once again. "You grace me with your presence, Ms. Karras. To imagine a mountain would divert its attention for a mere wisp carried on the breeze is preposterous, and yet you welcome me without reservation. It truly is an honor."

 

"Don't speak prematurely," Veronica warns. "We've only just made one another's acquaintances. There's still time enough for this meeting to unravel." She had seen it before. There were reasons she insisted on face-to-face meetings before inking any contracts. Plenty of crooks dwelt among mansions, and even those without ill intentions occasionally made demands she couldn't abide. Her reputation – and the considerable sums she had already earned from these jobs – gave her leverage of her own. She'd be nobody's groveling servant, even if they had all the money in the world.

 

"To start, we'll exchange conditions." Every celebrity had personal conditions to add to the terms their agent negotiated. She didn't take issue with that, per se. Everyone had their idiosyncrasies. She needed to know them before striking any agreements, however, and she needed to set down rules of her own. "I ask that my clients follow two simple rules at all times. One, don't wander out of my sight. Two, don't sneak off somewhere without informing me. You violate the rules, and I reserve the right to terminate the contract. Beyond that, you're free to do as you wish, and I guarantee your safety."

 

"Splendid. Your terms are most agreeable. I accept each." The fashion designer's eyes light at the simplicity of Veronica's terms – and not figuratively. Her eyes, devoid of all but a thin slice of sclera, emit a pale light with the softness of the moon's glow. Her arms sway subtly under her sleeves, careful movement causing the wings of her furisode to rise and fall as if truly an extension of her body. "May I now present my terms?"

 

"Please do."

 

Valerie's serene smile twitches at its edge. "A tenet of fashion is the pursuit of novelty. Techniques endure, materials endure, but a designer must renew their essence ceaselessly. We are not to immerse ourselves in stagnant waters. It would not do for one in my company to be seen in an unchanging outfit. I shall have a wardrobe tailored for you, and you shall each week wear a new outfit in my presence. Of course, I shall ensure your range of movement is unhindered so as not to impede your duties. Do you find this acceptable?"

 

"I do not." Veronica replies swiftly and decisively. Firmly, but without annoyance, she elaborates. "If you'll be attending an event requiring formal attire, I'll wear whatever you require of me. Day-to-day, however, I wear what I like."

 

"Oh my, is that so? I greatly desire you accompany me as a bodyguard… What am I to do…?" Valerie doesn't allow the refusal to pierce her serenity, her voice still soft as she muses on the situation. "Were I to double the payment, would you then agree to the term?"

 

Veronica shakes her head, a sympathetic edge to her voice. "It's not up for negotiation. I understand the industry may place certain expectations upon you. If you need a bodyguard who can comply, I'll provide a list of names. As for me, it's a matter of principle. I don't dictate what you wear, and you don't dictate what I wear."

 

"A matter of principle…" Valerie repeats the words, letting them hang in the air. She tilts her head slightly as she probes Veronica. "You would never request a client conceal their body beneath a jacket? Or enshroud their hair in a hood?"

 

"No, I wouldn't. I'm there to ensure their safety whether they choose to go incognito or choose to strap on a neon sign with their name and net worth."

 

"To forego a request which would ease your work, a belief as powerful as your body must underpin this principle of yours. I wish to understand. On what belief does this principle rest?"

 

Is this a quiz? She's clearly angling for something, but just what it is, Veronica can't put her finger on. She glances at the clock again. Beating around the bush is just going to waste time. It's time to get blunt. "Everyone should be comfortable in their own skin. That's it."

 

Valerie remains silent for a moment, contemplating the answer. The smile on her face widens into a grin, catching Veronica off-guard. She had expected disappointment or frustration, not to see Valerie so pleased. "Then you are the one I sought. Your steadfast refusal assures me you are the correct choice. I waive the condition and reserve no others. You will accompany me to Argo, and I will hear no suggestion otherwise."

 

"Wait, Wha-?" Did she hear that correctly? Valerie was hiring her… because she refused the condition? "Let me confirm, you do want to proceed?"

 

"Yes, assuredly yes! Slumbering in the shadow of a magnificent mountain, I shall dream forevermore, and dream no more. With your aid, yes, I will metamorphose!"

 

Still unseated, an exuberant Valerie lifts her arms high, her rising wings giving her the silhouette of a fairy in flight. Whatever she's going on about, she's reaching deep into herself. A pure, unabashed joy buoys her words, as if some long-burdensome ballast has been ejected from her very soul. Her energy infectious, even the stoic Veronica watches with rapt attention as Valerie flutters about the office, elaborating on her meaning.

 

"Years ago, I dreamt of awakening and shedding this body. Emerging from my skin in a new form, I cast aside all to which I had been bound and broke into a sprint. Over rolling hills, I dashed with the ease of water streaming from a peak to the sea. My legs untiring, my running continued until I arrived at a burrow. I descended, slinking through the earth to come upon a cavernous lake. There, I metamorphosed once again. My body dissolved, and I joined the gentle mixing of the submerged waters. One and many all at once, I gathered myself and emerged from the parting waters, returning to unity."

 

"The night passed, and I awoke from my dream, but truthfully I have slumbered ever since," she continues. Her energy dissipates rapidly, her movements slowing as some unseen weight returns. "The dream utterly captivated me, illuminating truth with its radiance. This body confines me; the human form strangles me. That beautiful dream convinced me – I am overdue to emerge from this chrysalis of flesh. Yet, I am only able to metamorphose in dreams… A rebuttal to Zhuangzi torments me as I slumber, for no matter the joy which overflows my dozing heart, I know it to be only an illusion made from fleeting dreamstuff."

 

"You're enveloped in skin that doesn't fit you, and you feel ready to burst at the seams." Keeping up with the particulars of Valerie's flowery monologue may be beyond Veronica, but the bodyguard does manage to snatch that much out of it. The poor woman. It was bad enough she felt trapped in a body that didn't suit her, but to endure such an intense yearning for a body she could glimpse but could not have… She clicks her tongue at the thought. "I take it from all that that this trip to Argo is something more than a vacation." After the conditionals, she usually requested the broad strokes of a client's plans. Getting Valerie to spell out her intentions, well, it's not looking like a difficult task at all.

 

Sensing that she has an earnest ally, Valerie sticks an arm over the desk, shaking it until finally something falls loose from her furisode. The shimmering stone clatters against the wood until Veronica grabs it for a closer inspection. Green and pink hues swirl over the unfamiliar mineral's surface.

 

"Are you perhaps familiar with the work of one Dr. Snoozemore?"

 

"Never heard of him."

 

"No matter. I understand he proved to be a pitiful danger to an audience in a distant land, but it is the research, not the man, which entrances me. This captivatingly beautiful ore glistens like a freshly-made key, wouldn't you agree? The stuff of dreams gathers in Dozing Ore, and emerges on the other side coalesced. With it, I will manifest my slumbering visions and subdue my torment." She pauses, bringing a hand to her chest and resting her palm flat against her beating heart through her furisode. "With it, and with the shade of a mountain under the earth, I shall take a step towards my dream. If," she adds pleadingly, her shining eyes locking on Veronica's own, "you will escort me."

 

Veronica shifts in her seat as she considers the plea, her chair creaking from the effort of bearing her weight. Already, Valerie strikes her as a handful, but what's life without a challenge? Word had it that Argo was hopping with unusual activity lately, too. She'd been meaning to check it out. Besides all that, how could she even think to say no to someone striving to be true to herself? From the sound of it, this job would entail more than merely guarding Valerie; she'd be assisting in liberating her.

 

She had broken plenty of chains in her lifetime, metaphorical and literal alike. Why not break a few more?

 

"I'll be by your side, Ms. Kawaguchi," Veronica replies, rising and offering a hand. Valerie reaches out in return, the pair shaking on it through the fabric of a furisode.

 

All the while, Valerie beams, unable to still her pounding heart as she stands on the cusp of making her dream a reality. Yes, this year, she's finally going to make her dream come true…

 

2026: The Fairy's Dream

 

xxx 

 

 

Chitin and Cellulose

An Abandoned Mining Road, Central Ulimaroa

 

She hadn't procured as much treasure from them as she had hoped, sure, but traveling along the forgotten dirt roads snaking through the Ulimaroan badlands had enriched her in other ways. Whether observing Ulimaroa's striking landscapes up close, swapping tales with fellow adventurous spirits, or stumbling upon structures left behind by the miners and prospectors of yore, she never failed to make new discoveries on these excursions. The constant novelties more than made up for the dangers of traveling so far out into the wilderness, and, she could proudly say, she hadn't died of dehydration or mauling yet.

 

Yes, on all her treks through Ulimaroa, Amita had never encountered a threat she couldn't manage.

 

(temporary faceclaim edited from work of artist yiyippieee)

 

On this day, however, she worries not about any threat to herself, but about the safety of another. Anticipation gripping her heart, she hastens off the trail without concern for the wisps of dust rising in her wake. She hadn't encountered any cats out here before today, but from what other than some lonely, distressed feline can the mewling originate? She can't let down a pitiable, abandoned creature…

 

Sprinting over bare rock, she spots it – a deep fissure in the ground. No, wait. That's no natural fissure. The edges are too neat, and its corners too sharp. That's a trench, purposefully dug out of the ground, and a deep one at that. A mine operated at the end of this road long ago; the miners had likely dug this trench as a trap. Had the cat fallen into it? If so, then…

 

Before her thoughts can spiral into a worst-case scenario, she catches a flash of purple. Following it, her eyes settle onto an unexpected shape. Is that… a woman on her stomach, sticking her head over the edge of the trench? The cat's owner, perhaps?

 

No, wait… Amita cups a hand to her ear, listening intently to the whimpering. It's too loud to be coming from within the trench, and there's certainly no cat in view. The only possible source of the pitiful sound, then, is the woman seemingly peering into the trench's depths.

 

"Hey!" She calls out as she makes a beeline to the woman's side. "You hurt? What're you doing here?"

 

Evidently hearing her shouted questions, the woman jolts. She scrambles to push herself up onto her hands and to raise her head. Looking back over her shoulder, she meets Amita's gaze with puffed cheeks and a deep frown. She tilts her head, looking Amita up and down as her pouting gives way to curiosity.

 

"You're no bandit." The woman breaks the silence, furrowing her brow as she continues to scrutinize Amita. A tinge of indignation colors her voice.

 

"I mean… no? Of course not," Amita ventures. "I asked if you were hurt. You had notice I was coming. What kind of thief gives away their approach?"

 

"An expert thief, so confident in their abilities that they don't require the element of surprise to achieve their aims." Slowly, the purple-haired woman rises to her feet and turns around, drawing up to her full height… of about a head shorter than Amita herself. "Only the most discerning and well-studied of thieves would know to target the current Maiden of Miare, so of course I would assume any bandit targeting me would possess the utmost confidence."

 

"Sure, but," she begins, sidestepping a dissection of that logic, "I'm not a bandit, I don't know who you are, and I'm not sure where or what a Miare is. I pick through old junk, not swipe it off of people. The name's Amita. You wanna tell me why you're out here all alone looking down a hole in the ground, maybe?"

 

At the request for information, she breaks into a grin. As if she had been waiting for someone to ask all along, she tilts her chin up and puffs out her chest. Beaming with pride, she launches into an explanation. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Amita. I am Akyuu of the Hieda lineage – but you can call me just Akyuu!  I am the ninth Child of Miare, and so am I the ninth compiler of the compendium of all knowledge, the annals of all history, the Miare Chronicle! The bearer of the cumulative wisdom of the ages, there is naught I cannot answer, and no problem I cannot overcome! I peer into this pit in the earth on account of my notes!"

 

Watching Akyuu make her grandiose proclamations, Amita stifles a chuckle, unable to keep from smiling. The disconnect between her words and her delivery is almost comical. The girl's pompous as hell, sure, but she seems so earnest about it. How long had she been waiting to rattle off this little spiel? It's less like being talked down to and more like humoring a kid really excited to introduce themself to someone.

 

"Oh, you're taking notes on it?" Amused and intrigued, Amita prompts her to go on.

 

"No, not on the pit itself. I was taking notes on the landscape and climate. I only recently moved here, and no member of the Hieda lineage had ever dwelt here before me, so I'm getting to know the region. Everything was going fine, but then a gust of wind came along and carried most of my papers off with it. I chased after them, but they fell down there," Akyuu says, gesturing over the edge of the pit. "I'd jump down to retrieve them," she adds, her cheeks puffing out once more, "but someone littered it with spikes."

 

Amita steps forward and peers over the edge of the trench. Just as Akyuu said, a bunch of papers and index cards lie scattered amidst the spikes. "Figured it was a Heatmor trap. They should've dismantled it before they abandoned the place."

 

"A heat more trap?"

 

"No, a Heatmor trap," Amita clarifies, correcting Akyuu's over-enunciation. "Heatmor are a kind of fire-breathing anteater. They eat metal ants. They used to consider 'em a big problem for the mines in this part of the country. You'd get Heatmor starting fires in mining camps by accident, so mine bosses would have deep trenches dug and filled with spikes. Since Heatmor are used to searching for ants in disturbed ground, they'd jump down to investigate the glint of metal below, and that was it. The whole trap's a relic of the past now. Not only are they cruel, but they made it worse for the miners. Without Heatmor to keep their numbers down, those ants started connecting their burrows to mines. Whole colonies would drive miners out."

 

"A design with unintended consequences…" Akyuu marvels at the explanation, her eyes shining with wonder as she looks up at Amita. "Did the anteater population ever recover?"

"Dunno," Amita answers straightforwardly. "Ask me about traps, not animals."

 

"You wouldn't mind if I interviewed you about traps sometime!?" Akyuu practically jumps at the thought, her hands curling into fists as she leans forward with anticipation.

 

"Sure, sure. But I thought you said you already have all knowledge?" Amita teases.

 

"All knowledge observed or acquired by the Hieda lineage," she concedes. "We weren't everywhere at once."

 

"Well, if you're still learning… let me see if I can help you out with those notes. We just need to cover the tips. Big jump, but we'll be fine as long as we have safe footing… Problem is, we'll need a way out… I take it you don't have a rope or anything?"

 

"Huhuhu." A smug laugh passes through Akyuu's lips, the chronicler rooting around for something on her person. "I have a tool better than a rope," she reports, flinging an arm above her head and proudly presenting a calligraphy brush. "This is my magic brush – the Brush of Miare! With it, I can replicate any spell, incantation, charm, or magical technique recorded in the Miare Chronicle! I only need to copy the strokes corresponding to the details of a power, and I can wield the power as it was written."

 

Getting more gentle skepticism from Amita than amazement, Akyuu pre-empts Amita's question. "The chronicle is… massive," she admits. "We've recorded so much history, it's next to impossible to unpromptedly recall a power with the level of granularity required to replicate it. It's… I would analogize it as picking out specific blades of grass in a field; the only way to succeed is to devote an immense amount of time to the task or to have a way to narrow the area you have to search through. To help me narrow the search area, I've made citations for certain powers and written them on notecards. Knowing the original caster and the context a spell appears in helps the memory to surface. I know I brought some sort of levitation spell, but the citation for it…"

 

"…is down there," Amita finishes for her, looking again at the notecards lying in the trap. "You can get back up if you get your hands on the cards, but you're powerless to get to 'em safely."

 

"I did snatch this one before it blew away!" Akyuu eagerly thrusts a notecard at Amita's face, delightedly waving it around as if saving a single card were an accomplishment. "It's for a frost explosion developed by the scholar Hiber! According to his demonstration in 1816, by concentrating cryonic energies within himself, he could put them under such pressure that they would explode outwards, leaving all in their range coated in a thick layer of ice!"

 

Indulging Akyuu's babbling, Amita considers the power for a moment. "Couldn't you ice over the spikes, go down, and chip through the ice to get to all your papers?"

 

"I considered it, but Hiber was resistant to ice by a method he never revealed, and I'm not. I'd freeze myself solid if I used it. I only took down a citation because the technique is fascinating."

 

…right, okay. She brought a power she can't even use. This girl needs all the help she can get. Keeping the thought to herself, Amita shrugs. "Oh well, no biggie. If you're sure you can get us up, I can cover the spikes. Give me a sec, 'k?"

 

Akyuu nods, giving Amita the chance she needs to get to work. She takes a step back, lifting her arms slightly and straightening out her spine. Standing tall, she closes her eyes, and a layer of skin begins to peel away from her back. Akyuu looks on with intense curiosity, watching as Amita's skin pulls away as if it's snakeskin, all while still leaving another perfectly intact layer of skin in place beneath it. As more of the upper layer of skin shuffles out of place, the process comes to resemble something between a snake's shedding and mitotic division, it soon becoming clear that a second Amita is budding off from the first, connected to the original back-to-back.

 

After a moment, the division completes, with the second Amita splitting off from the first. Before Akyuu stands Amita, no different than before, and a second Amita, identical on the outside right down to the appearance of her clothing, but hollow on the inside.

 

"It's like a cicada's shell," Akyuu notes aloud, utterly fascinated. "A hollow copy, an image of the original! How'd you learn to do that?"

 

"I didn't really learn it," Amita responds, the process more mundane to her. "I've just… been able to. Went to a bunch of doctors until they found one able to tell me I've got chitin for skin instead of keratin. For whatever reason, it regrows fast." She pauses as she digs into her pocket, pulling out a small grenade-like device and handing it to her clone. "I don't know the how or why of it, but it lets me do this."

 

"You know what to do," she tells the clone, offering it a pat on the back as she assumes her previous position and begins splitting off another. With no further prompting needed and with Akyuu watching it intently, the first clone pulls the pin from its grenade and leaps into the trap.

 

As the laws of physics dictate, the clone impales itself, spikes piercing its chitinous outer layer. Not entirely alive to begin with, it doesn't so much die as go inert. A few moments after the clone's impalement, the grenade goes off, releasing not a conventional explosion, but a misting of peculiar purple liquid. The Ultra-Bitter Spray soaks the inert clone, hardening its chitin to stone – just in time for another clone to jump in to repeat the process. In time, four clones jump in and petrify themselves, forming a semi-stable platform atop the spikes.

 

"They're like eusocial insects." Watching the process unfold, Akyuu muses on the nature of the clones. "There's no self-preservation. It's as if their only instinct is to assist their progenitor."

 

"Pretty close!" Stepping over to confirm they have safe ground below, a chipper Amita affirms Akyuu's observation. Satisfied with the stability of the petrified clone platform, she hops down into the pit, beckoning Akyuu along while launching into an explanation. "As far as I can tell, they basically come with two instincts. If I'm in danger, they'll try to protect me, and if not, they'll go looking for some way to d-, uh, go inert so I can use their bodies."

 

"Is that useful?" Too consumed with questions to be fearful, Akyuu makes the jump without hesitation. Stumbling upon landing, she nearly faceplants onto the stone floor, steadied only by Amita grabbing her and pulling her back fully upright.

 

"I get a lot of mileage out of it. Distractions, making floors or ramps, getting a bludgeoning tool… Plenty you can do." Without further ado, Amita gets down on her knees and gets to work, carefully snaking her arm through the spikes and gathering up the lost pages and index cards. She hands each paper to Akyuu, the chronicler lighting up as she finds them undamaged.

 

Seeing no more around, she soon stands back up. "That all of 'em?"

 

"Everything's heeeeeeeeeeere!" Akyuu reports, bubbly and overjoyed. "I have the card I required for our ascent, too. Can you wrap your arms around me?" Amita follows Akyuu's instructions, getting a firm grip as Akyuu refreshes her memory and draws her brush. "This levitation technique was developed by the magician Odira, evolving the former dominant technique of the time by allowing for free vertical travel through the air column," she rambles as she swishes the Brush of the Miare about.  In short order, she rises, Amita hanging off of her.

 

The pair soon crest the edge of the pit, landing back where they had started with their job complete. As they separate, Akyuu clutches her papers tightly, dancing in place as she looks up to Amita. "You were a great help in getting me out of that bind. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thaaaank you! First thing when I get back to my room, I'm writing down what you did for me, and as soon as I'm back in my study, I'm transferring it to the chronicle so it persists through all of time!"

 

Amita chuckles once again at Akyuu's earnestness, finding herself smiling as she watches her happy little dance. This girl's hopeless. If she keeps wandering around on her own out here, it's only a matter of time before she has an accident. "We're pretty far out of town, you know. Maybe I should walk you back, make sure the weather doesn't catch you off-guard again. You have some more spells you could talk about, don't you?"

 

"Do I ever! And not just spells! There's all of history to discuss! Or… all of the history I've read so far, but that's far more history than most know!"

 

"Alright then! Walk and talk. C'mon, follow me," Amita prompts, waving Akyuu along.

 

Yes, truly she never failed to make new discoveries on these excursions. She may not have found a cat, but she did find a charmingly cute runt all the same!