The Nobodies

We are the nobodies
Want to be somebody
We’re dead
We know just who we are
-Marilyn Manson, The Nobodies

Our final moments as the band known as Bloodstained passed by with an odd sobriety. Bloodstained, a name we’d earned because of the amount of bodies we left by the way side on our climb to power, should give you an idea of how crazy the last few years had been. Now we sat in a mansion in the rich part of London, surrounded by crazy comforts. Comforts I could never have dreamed of when I was alive.

This office belonged to Liz and she sat directly opposite myself, framed by a massive silver moon filling out the window to her back. Her elbows rested on the desk and her eyes were closed; she looked dangerously serene, but all of us in the group had seen first-hand how dangerous it was to fall in love with her. No matter how much her looks compelled us to.

To the left and right of me sat four other vampire, Savage sally to my immediate left, she was our bruiser, if you needed something dead she was your girl. Very little forward thinking though, wouldn’t trust her making a plan. Next to her was Kichigai, madder than a hatter and as many hats to match – by which I mean he has Multiple Personality Disorder, and he’ll only answer to Liz or her Father, no one’s really sure why.

To my right Nefti sat, she had the power to compel people to do what she wanted, not like Liz, who made people fall in love and want to do things for her, Nefti sent commands that people’s blood unwillingly answered. She sat oddly small for such a commanding being, 5 foot nothing but wearing the coat of a grown man. Her feet and hands were both obfuscated by the long black leather. To her right sat Strike, an oddly pale man, even for a vampire, his skin had a green sheen to it and his eyes forever blood shot like a cancer patient lucky enough to keep his long black thinning hair. His blood had the power to spread diseases, even to the already dead. You should always be wary of a man who collects disease, that’s what I say.

As for me, I am the one nobody ever notices. I am the shadow in the night, the crack in the door listening to your secrets. Even my own team forget I’m here in this nothingness. I’m not invisible, not in the sense that you can see through me. I am just the man no one notices, the postman on the street, the white male in the crowd, the number two in a row of fives. If you’re really looking for me you can see… but no one ever is, because no one ever cares for the subtle ones.

However when Liz opened her eyes and her mouth to speak, we all knew the game was changing. We always knew what she wanted before she spoke. That was her skill; power without control, she made slaves of us and there was nothing we could do to fight it, just the thought of her drew warm feelings into our stomachs, quelled the beasts that raged inside, made the unnoticed feel loved.

That was the moment we stopped being Bloodstained. That was the moment we became The Nobodies.

The Two Clueless Vampires

A disinterested blonde Secretary walked two men down a corridor in the back most wing of the mansion, deep red carpet beneath their feet and mahogany walls occasionally broken by a thick wooden door, old painting, or little wooden table with a vase of flowers on it to their sides. None of them talked as they walked, but the men shared repeated uncomfortable looks; neither of them belonged here, both unkempt, wearing trainers and jogging suits covered with some scruffy brand jacket.

They walked towards a large window at the end of the corridor, curtains drawn back so the night sky was clearly visible outside. A door sat on either side of the hall and as the group arrived at the doors each bore a plaque reading the room’s purpose. To the right the door read ‘Sophie’s Office: Official Business only’ to the left ‘Sophie’s Residence: Strictly No Admittance.’

To the confusion of the two men the Secretary knocked cleanly on the door to the left, stood back and waited.

“Come in.” the voice wasn’t too familiar to the men but they knew it didn’t belong to Sophie, they had heard it before.

The Secretary opened the door inwards and held it for them; the room beyond was dark, a small orange glow could be seen but the two men couldn’t make any details out. They hesitated for a moment, unsure if they wanted to continue, until the man on the left steeled himself and entered, the man on the right followed suit.

Darkness encircled them as they entered; silhouettes of different objects distinguishable in the blackness. Any remaining light disappeared with a click as the Secretary closed the door behind them, now all that remained was the orange glow which turned out to be a cigarette burning in someone’s hand. The person sat at what must’ve been a desk on one side of the room, a bed positioned somewhere in front of the men and something large to their right.

“Terrible habit isn’t it?” the same voice spoke, a woman’s, “though I only smoke after sex, so I guess that’s not so bad.” The orange glow lifted up, fluttered for a moment, the fell down to the person’s side again.

Neither of the men spoke.

The woman made a thoughtful noise, half a second later a small click illuminated the room with a small light from a desk lamp. A beautiful woman in her late teens sat half lying in a chair by a sturdy but empty desk. She had long hair that had been dyed bright red with black streaks in it which curled around her ears and shoulders; her skin was pale as snow lightly dotted with freckles across the bridge of her nose. Smeared red lipstick stained her mouth and two small fangs seemed to sit behind her lips that didn’t retract. Her red and black corset clung loosely to get chest and her leather trousers were not completely tied at the waist. True enough she held a cigarette in her meek pale hand.

Most importantly the men remembered her.

“You’re from the station.” The one on the left commented rather dumbly.

She smiled “Indeed, you remember, I’m glad – sometimes people forget.”

Whoever was in the bed beside them stirred under the cover, but the woman paid them no mind, focusing on the two men. “Terry I believe, and Kevin-who-doesn’t-talk-much, if I’m not mistaken.”

The two men nodded. “Yes.” The man named Terry said.

“Splendid.” She spoke in such a happy manner with such a smile on her face that both men felt tingles down their spines. “I have a job for you.” She brought the cigarette up to her lips and dragged on it, causing the glow to flutter again. Smoke drifted from her mouth and nostrils as she spoke again, “There’s good pay in it, and my favour, if you complete it.

Kevin was staring confused at the lump in the bed beside them; the woman had decided he must’ve been a bit dense. Terry responded however “You’re Elizabeth right? Queen of these parts; Mother of our regent lord?”
She simply nodded.

“Ri’ht.” he said slowly “what’s the job? Seems like you could get near anyone round here to do a job for you, so why us like?”

“The job.” Curtly spoken through her slight annoyance “is pretty simple, I need you to find me a person, and bring him back. As for why you two, that’s simple, all the minions and vampires here are working on important tasks for my Daughter. You two however, work for the biggest pain in my arse this side of London, so I’m quite happy to re-task you.”

“Ri’ht” Terry repeated. “So who’s this guy we gotta find? Is ‘e gunna be stronger than us?”

“Stronger? Yes, much, but that’s not going to be a problem. He’ll be mostly persuadable, thing is he’s currently a sleeper.” She smiled at them as she spoke “So the problem I’m asking you to solve is to find the poor man and to wake him up. Simple enough, I think.”

“I see, I see” Terry replied. “And if we fail? I mean, I’ve never gone looking for sleepers before, don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Elizabeth’s face became deadly serious for a moment, and her beautify turned almost terrifying. “If you fail, I shall have to re-task people to take over from you, and I’m sure that will make neither Sophie nor Me happy will it?”

Terry nodded silently, and Kevin looked blankly round at Elizabeth.

“The man’s name is Bryan Smith, he’s a blacksmith, the best there is, and I need his services. Therefore you’re going to awaken him for me and bring him back here.”

A groan issued from the bed as the lump in the covers moved again, a head emerged from the bottom end of the covers, followed by an arm that proceeded to rub at tired eyes. This Olive skin woman was also extremely beautiful, with deep dark eyes and long black hair. She stared as she realised other people were in the room.

“Ah welcome back my dear” Elizabeth spoke.

“You should’ve woken me if we had company.” Terry and Kevin recognised the woman to be Sophie as she spoke. With one swift movement she swung the thick covers round with her body so she ended both in a sitting position but with her body covered quite well by the covers.

Quite plain to the two men was that she was naked under the covers.

“No I didn’t want to bother you” Elizabeth spoke with a caring softness as she looked upon Sophie “These two men were just leaving anyway.”

Sophie nodded somewhat sleepily; she too had two small fangs behind her top lip that did not seem to fully retract. Elizabeth stood, corset barely clinging to her as she escorted the men to the door and opened it for them.

“Good luck, Gentlemen, don’t fail me.” She spoke to them as they were ushered from the room.

Terry and Kevin found themselves staring back down the same expensive corridor, a little bit dumbfounded. Kevin turned to his friend and spoke: “What Just happened?”

The Vampire, The Vicar, and The Apocalypse

Elizabeth trudged up the dark muddy hill, surrounded on each side by tall imposing trees that reached into the night. Just beyond the trees to her left a busy main road whirred with traffic passing by, headlights passing between the branches throwing strange shadows into the darkness. Her eyes cut through the night with sharpened vision, and the ever steepening hill didn’t draw any extra breath from her dead lungs.

The noise of the road fell away as the top of the hill came into sight; a single house whose garden backed onto a graveyard, with a quaint old English church. People were moving around in the house Elizabeth noted as she walked past their back gate; four people sitting around a table in a warm looking dining room, a news reporter just visible on a TV screen behind them. Elizabeth drew her gaze away and moved into the Graveyard.

Old style street lamps illuminated the paths through the graves giving the area a strange orange glow in the night air. Elizabeth noted how calm this place felt, tucked away from the road, nestled behind a wood, the night was quiet here. Her large boots crunched on the gravel path as she stepped into the light of the first lamp and slowly she made her way towards the church at the other side of the field.

Elizabeth took in the names of some of the graves as she walked passed, towards the outside the graves were mostly new. Last month, the latest, last year, she walked past; but as the graves drew nearer to the church they got much older. Some she couldn’t even read as they had been so weathered with time. A power dwelled in this Graveyard too, though that was not why she had come, she stopped at the church door and let it wash over her; a sleeper lay here somewhere.

Shaking off the feeling she grasped the handle of the large oak door and pushed it open. There were lights on in the church still, and quiet music softly danced around Elizabeth’s head as she closed the door behind herself. The church itself was so old it was said to have been built during the first century, and still stood with all its original stone fittings. The interior was suitably more modern however, carpet lined the flagstone floor, and the pews were made of treated mahogany; heating must’ve been installed somewhere too as the heat washed over Elizabeth.

A different feeling had come over her now as she stepped into the church, a feeling of wrongness that bore down into the pit of her stomach, as if the walls themselves were pushing her away. Ignoring this she stepping out of the antechamber into the nave and took a moment to look around; the church arched up to the roof with no second floor above the nave, to her right glass doors marked the entrance to the bell tower. The main portion of the nave lay to her left, where many pews lined up facing the alter at the far end of the building.

One man sat on the front pew, wearing the vicar’s regalia, silently reading from one of the bibles. Elizabeth turned her body and began walking towards him, the rejecting presence still pressing against her undead body, her footsteps were soft on the carpet, but he still heard her coming it would seem. The man stood and closed the book, holding it above his lap in both hands as he turned himself towards her. He spoke softly into the echoing room.

“The godly has perished from the earth, and there is no one upright among mankind; they all lie in wait for blood, and each hunts the other with a net.” She stopped as he spoke and a pause of silence drifted between them until “Micah page seven verse two.” Elizabeth raised her head in acknowledgement.

“We don’t get many of your kind here,” he continued “not many so bold as to enter the house of god.”

Elizabeth side stepped into the nearest pew and sat down quite casually, stretching her arms above her head, clicking her shoulders as she did. The Vicar did not move, but stood watching her cautiously.

“There are easier food sources than clergymen I guess.” She finally spoke after getting comfortable. Her voice fell flat in the large empty room, it did not echo like the Vicars. “I’m not here to eat you.” She added, seeing panic crawl across the man’s face. “I want your advice.”

The man’s face changed from fear to amusement, an ironic smile on his lips. The man was old, with grey woolly hair around the sides of his head, but bald on top. He had the wrinkles around his eyes of a man who smiles a lot. “My advice?” the concept seemed to truly amuse him.

He walked down the centre of the pews and sat down in the row next to her; close enough to talk but far enough for the man to feel safe. Elizabeth watched him closely, she’d been tricked by enough vampire hunters to not trust this man as much as he mistrusted her; the distance was small enough for her to kill him before he could react, as long as he had no tricks planned.

“Well then, my lost little lamb, what help do you think I can be to you?” he had placed the bible on the pew shelf, and was now leaning towards her, his attention focused. She thought for a moment before responding, drawing herself forward into a less casual position and she leaned towards him.

“Do you believe in the apocalypse Vicar?”

He frowned as they held each other’s gaze “Do you believe in god Vampire?” the question was not unkind.

Elizabeth blinked twice “I am a walking corpse, cursed to drink the blood of the living to survive. I may never walk in the sun, or taste food the way it was meant to be tasted; everything is dulled except for that sweet red dream. So yes, yes I believe in a God. Is that God your Christian father, or Muslim divine being? I dunno, maybe. Maybe it’s one of the many Norse or Greek gods; hell maybe it’s a Sikh God or maybe it’s Buddha himself. I don’t find it matters too much, but either way I have no choice but to believe.”

“The bible does tell of a time of judgment, which would be an apocalypse, but the idea of revelations and the four horsemen type of events is heavily debated, some speak of it as a metaphor.” Her reply didn’t seem to surprise or upset him, his voice remained calm.

“What if I knew…” Elizabeth spoke quietly “… knew that it was coming… what if I could stop it. I should do that right? Save all those people; that’s the right thing to do?”

The Vicar’s mouth opened ever so slightly and his eyes widened, either on shock or fear. Elizabeth was impressed how quickly he regained his composure however. “If you really can stop judgment day, you would deny millions their chance to be absolved of sin! They would have no afterlife; everyone would be destined to wander in purgatory for the rest of eternity.” The shock had not yet left his voice.

Elizabeth frowned “So quick to condemn my kind, but isn’t that the afterlife due to me? I get to walk an un-life until something finally finishes me off, then I walk purgatory for the rest of eternity. Or worse go to hell for my sins, there is no redemption for vampires.”

Trouble defined the Vicar’s face; this was not what he had expected when a vampire walked through his door. He sat silently thinking for a time, the red haired young girl who sat pale before him did not interrupt his thoughts. In fact she hardly did anything while he thought, barely a twitch, though they sat like this for a good few minutes.

When he spoke her eyes flicked back to his as if she were waking from a day dream “The world and the lord place us on our paths that we must walk, some are easy paths, and some are hard paths, but we are judged not on what happens while we walk these paths, but our intent behind our steps. You must do what you feel is right; stopping the apocalypse would indeed save the lives of thousands if not millions; but you would also deny the judgment of the righteous, and deny the afterlife to every man to have walked this earth since the dawn of time.”

He stopped to take a breath before finishing “You would also tempt the wrath of God, who can be most vengeful.”

Silence fell between the two as Elizabeth seemed to process what he’d said, soft music still playing as the backdrop to this scene. The Vicar still appeared troubled, but Elizabeth reached across and held his warm, leathery hand between her cold marble-like smooth hands. “Thank you, you’ve been a great help to me.”

They both stood in silence and Elizabeth released his hand, turned and walked softly towards the entrance. Before she left she stopped, pulled out an old pouch, coins jingling inside as it bounced out of her coat pocket. She placed it on top of the collection box, and gave the Vicar one final, calm smile. He stood there, looking somewhere between stunned and worried.

The door clicked closed behind her as she left and the Vicar spoke into the chamber alone “What have I done?”

A Story of a Small Vampire, cont from Bar Brawl

EDIT: Adding a link here to the original Fiction that inspired this piece which is worth the few minutes it takes to read, although as a pre-warning the pieces are written in two different styles.

Bar Brawl

“Sloppy.”

Silky tones of an olive skin woman came from the darkness of a nearby ally, she stepped deliberately out on the pavement, high heels clipping against the floor loudly. She wore a pencil skirt with matching blazer and a loose fitting blouse underneath. Her eyes were darkened even against her tan skin with heavy black eyeliner; her hair tied loosely into a ponytail with a single curl falling over her face.

Fear coursed through Mary’s body as she stood like a deer in the headlights, daughter soaked head to toe in the blood of a man twitching his last movements on the floor in front of her. Her bain stalled as this new woman continued to walk towards their group, an almost vacant, bored expression on her face.

She stopped next to the corpse, some blood trickling in small spurts from the neck wound, glassy eyes rolling slowly in their sockets as the light dissipated from them. She only paid him cursory attention, turning her wispy vision upon the young girl.

“Turning such a young girl…” she paused and crouched to get a closer look at the child, who returned her look of curiosity. “… it’s unheard of.”

With speed unexpected of someone moving so deliberately the woman stood, stepped over the now lifeless fat on the floor and positioned herself in front of Mary. Both women were of approximately equal height, but the new lady stood much more impressive.

“Sophie Jane Fisher.” she said, extending her hand. “And you are not one of us are you? Even more interesting.”

Mary did not respond, she seemed to be processing the situation. She also did not take Sophie’s hand.

“very well.” Sophie said as she turned back to the situation at hand “What do you propose to do with this?” she had balled her fists and rested them on her hips as she analysed the scene; large dead man, pool of blood, child covered head to toe in blood. All in all not what she would call a great predicament.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mary spoke and her fear had finally subsided back to anger. “two months ago some crazy bastard bites my child and then I find out vampires are real and you’re just standing here asking me what I plan to do with a dead scum bag. Well I’ll tell you what I’m going to do I’m going to let him rot in the street where he belongs, i didn’t ask for this, none of it, and it’s not my problem. Sally, come on, lets go!.”

Mary extended her hand and the young girl, Sally, happily skipped to her and took it. Sophie turned back to look at them but made no move to stop them. Her expression was less vague now, a frown of displeasure creased her features, one arm hung at her side as she decided on the wording of her response.

“it is you know.” she finally settled on, speaking to their backs. Mary turned to look at her but did not stop. “Your problem that is – because she’s only going to get hungrier and hungrier unless someone teaches her to control that thirst, and sure you might get away with leaving a few corpses on the way side. What when it’s two a night though?”

Mary carried on but the conviction in her step seemed to have disappeared. She got another ten or so feet before she stopped.

“What’s wrong mummy?” Sophie heard the child say into the silent street. The silence carried for a moment then the mother spoke to comfort her child “Nothing darling.”

While Mary battled with her conscious Sophie pulled a phone out of her blazer pocket, flicked the screen a few times and then put it to her ear. “Yes, put me through the Rajafar please. Yes that right, tell him it’s Sophie.”

Silence for a moment. “Ah Good evening, your honor” she spoke those two words with a sarcastic emphasis “there’s a mess here you might want to clean up. Just south bound of the boar’s head.” silence for a moment as the other person spoke. “Hey it’s not my problem any more, you wanted this.” pause “No it bloody well wasn’t me, some new blood in town. Yes they should’ve been taught better, however, as this vampire is a child I don’t think daddy vampire stayed around long enough to give those lessons.” another fairly long pause then Sophie sighed. “Whatever, I’m going to get them to a safe house. Good evening.” and she hung up without waiting for a response.

Mary had walked slowly back to her in this time “So, what’s going to happen? Are we in trouble?” she sounded defeated, as if the fight had finally worn out of her.

Sophie appraised her for a moment “That remains to be seen, but I don’t think hanging around here will improve the situation in anyway.” she held up a finger as if to say ‘wait’ as she finished speaking and headed back into the dark ally. Her steps had more urgency now but she still retained her almost regal posture. After about fifteen seconds she returned with a single person suitcase in toe.

“Come then, let us not delay.” she declared, and began leading the way into the night. Mary quickly picked up the now docile Sally and tried to match Sophie’s brisk pace.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe, at least for now, where we can teach you daughter some of the basics, but i can only stay long enough to make sure someone else takes over.”

“What? why?” Mary demanded.

“I am no longer welcome here, to be honest with you, and I am needed elsewhere.” Sophie’s gaze turned to and lingered on Sally for a moment. “but… this is important.”

They descended into silence as they walked briskly into the night, leaving the empty corpse of the would-be attacker on the bloodstained pavement, heading into what Mary only hoped wouldn’t be even more trouble.

Elsbeth, the mad engineer

Darkness shrouded the stifling room as heat bore into O’Malley’s skin. His boots clipped against the wooden floor loudly amid the ambient hiss of steam from the pipes around him. He removed his jacket almost instantly; sweat beating on his forehead, or was it water vapour?

A woman with short red hair stood a head of him with her back turned, obscured by the mist O’Malley could make out very little of the rest of the room, but the woman had a stocky build and wore a large skirted dress like the nobles of the cities, only the top was unzipped and tied around her waist, a plain white corset tied loosely around her mid-rift and a white vest that clung to her shoulders under that.

The same mist that was starting to moisten O’Malley’s shirt was clinging her fringe to her forehead, her sideburns to her face and generally messing her short hair. She had turned at O’Malley’s approach, she held a Spanner in one hand and a compass in the other, now behind her was a bench full of work tools.

“You’re the Engineer?” O’Malley asked her.
“That I am. What you wanting?” She replied rather curtly.

O’Malley looked her up and down; he’d seen plenty of engineers in his time, but she was not what he had expected. Normally he found engineers in the lower class, or those in the upper class had started in the lower class, or didn’t quite fit in the upper class. This lady had obviously grown up in money, the way she stood, the way she spoke, the odd choice of dress.

“What, never seen a female Engineer, or are you stunned by my unwavering beauty in such a situation?” Sarcasm laced ever callable or her question.
“On the Contrary.” O’Malley replied calmly “I’ve never seen an Engineer born into money, and better yet then wind up working on a smuggling ship and avoid human contact as if she were worried of disease.”
“And what makes you think I was born into money?” she challenged.
O’Malley stared at her blankly for a moment, blinking slowly, “Very well, your history is your own my lady, if you wish to keep it a mystery far be it from me to deface that, but I must ask, why am I down here?”
She handed him the spanner and the compass, turned on her heel and addressed the bench momentarily. O’Malley stared quizzically at the items in his hand but she turned back before he could address his confusion; this time she held a boot in each hand, not too different from his own in the general, but with two large, cog based contraptions on the heel of each foot.

“Uhh?” O’Malley was lost for words in his confusion.
She frowned at his “Well put them down we don’t need them”
O’Malley looked left and right, noting the lack of any surface he stepped passed the young lady and placed them delicately on the work bench.
“Splendid” she said “These are your new shoes.” she handed him the boots.
“My new shoes? My boots are fine you understand, maybe a little worn, but not unserviceable.”
She raised an eyebrow, then thrust the boots into O’Malley’s hands. “These boots have a unique piece of technology on the bottom of them I have spent months designing. Now put them on and I shall explain.”

O’Malley eyed her suspiciously, but did as he was told, unzipping and slipping each boot off. As he did the lady began speaking.
“Each boot has a home-made sticking device on it designed to attach you to the wall, or roof of any building. It creates a powerful field of, well, basically magic, that will hold to almost anything, but I’ve only been able to get it to work up to a certain strength, which is not much above what I would estimate you to be.” She spoke quickly, directly, and with the presence of a socialite.
“Wait what?” O’Malley demanded when she finished, half way through removing his second boot. “Stick me to a wall? With magic? Are you a mage too?”
“Of course not, I just woke beyond the walls of science, something I expect you to not understand so I will NOT be explaining it. Just put them on, you’ll need to strap yourself in.”

O’Malley did as he was told, strapping him-self into leather harnesses inside the boot; it was a little awkward to get the inner ones but he managed it in a few minutes. They were comfy – pretty expensive feeling boots – and stood slightly higher on the heel than his own boots, but not offputtingly so. The lady stood, arms crossed, tapping her finger on her own skin, as she waited.

“Right then let us test them then shall we?” She said, almost excitedly, the moment O’Malley finished.
“Tes..t…?” O’Malley questioned
“Oh hush,” she began impatiently “You activate them like this.” She bent down between his legs as he tried to look awkwardly around her head.

She wacked a leaver on each boot unceremoniously with the back end of a spanner O’Malley hadn’t seen her pick up. A blue web spread out from the boot reaching about 5 inches away from the sole, glowing blue light spreading between each web, then, as the circle of light completed, it vanished.

“There we go, step on the wall.” She said this as if it were a normal every day thing to say.
“Just… put my foot, on the wall?” O’Malley frowned as he questioned her.
“That would be what I said, would it not? Now go on, before I grow a moustache.”
“Just, just checking I heard you correctly ma’am, and I assure you a moustache would not suit you.” O’Malley approached the wall. The ceiling was only a few inches above his head anyway, so he guessed this was a good place to test something like this.
“Just in case I fall and die, could I actually know your name my lady?” he turned to see her watching, almost bored.
“Elsbeth.” She replied, the motioned for him to hurry up.

O’Malley sighed, squared his shoulders, shirt now fully stuck to his chest, face wet with both sweat and water mist. Before he could lose his nerve he stuck his left foot out and placed it flat on the wall in front of him; the blue web and light shot out again, now fully formed, and didn’t dissipate. Putting his weight on that foot he lifted his other foot off the floor, closing his eyes, half expecting to end up on his arse.

The left foot did not fall, holding his weight solidly, if awkwardly, on the back of the heel, and his right foot landed on the wall also, the blue web shooting out again. His weight seemed to sit on the back of the boots, the cog machines stopping the boots from ripping. The cogs has also begun whirring quite loudly as the mechanisms worked some unknown machine.

“I must confess,” O’Malley said, the unease quavering into his voice “This is mildly strange.”
“Splendid.” Elsbeth exclaimed happily “Now, they’re yours, so don’t break them or I shall be unhappy, and I would advise practicing with them before you need to use them properly.”

Raven’s Theoretical Construct of Potato Relaxation

Alarura looked down at Raven; her black pony tail shining in the brilliant daylight, breeze fondling it softly around her neck.

“Why are you peeling potatoes?”

Raven looked round calmly making eye contact with Alarura’s knees, before looking up to her face “Pardon?”

“You’re peeling potatoes, isn’t that the crews job?”

Raven smiled. “I like it”

Alarura gave her a confused look.

“What’d you mean you enjoy peeling potatoes?”

“Here” Raven passed her a knife and an unpeeled potato, she then raised her hand in front if her. A globe of water floated up from the bowl next to her, and stopped in the air just above the ground in front of Alarura. Raven’s eyes beginning to glow blue with that tell tale sign of magic.

Alarura looked skeptical but sat and took the two objects.

“You see” Raven began “a potato is simple.”

Alarura held the knife cack-handed and seemed not to know how to place it. She frowned frustratedly at the vegetable, feeling Raven’s gaze over her shoulder.

Raven sighed and held up her own potato. She dipped it in her own globe of water and then placed the knife on the potato to indicate Alarura should do the same.

“It’s plain and unquestioning. The potato never wants you to worry about in coming empire soldiers to arrest you for smuggling, it never worries you with tales of demons and Angels, or lost worlds or vampires. It’s just a potato. You place the knife, you pull it back, the skin comes off. Repeat until said potato is clean.”

Alarura stared at the potato for a moment. “I get that I guess… It’s…” she trailed off.

“A nice, quiet task, no thought. Relaxing.” Raven finished for her, happiness playing at the corners of her lips.

Alarura scoffed, but she did not move. She watched Raven peel a few more times, then placed her own knife on to the potato.

The two faded into silence, only the sound of knives carving vegetable between them. A soft breeze caressed their warm faces as they worked at their tubas in the sun’s heat.