picked up the spoon and pointed it at my face, limping over to stand at the edge of her table nearest me. "You can tell that council of yours to sit around their meeting and turn their heads to the left and the right . Their answers are there! Right in front of their ignorant noses!" Her arm dropped to her side and she turned to go back to her stew, grumbling and muttering to herself things I couldn't discern.
"So what are you saying? Do we have a mole?"
"A mole ... ha!" she responded, stirring and muttering again, staring down into her pot, her eyes blinking rapidly at the smoke that entered them.
" Ha , as in, yes we have a mole, or ha , as in, you're a stupid asshole, Jayne?"
She looked up at me and slowly withdrew her spoon from her brew, carefully placing it down on the table. She leaned over and grabbed her rat by its back, lifting it towards her face and gathering it there by her mouth with both hands, kissing its side and staring at me over its dirty body. She spoke into its fur.
"Do you hear her, Melvin? She wants to know if they have a mole in their midst." She laughed and her rat lifted its head, sniffing the air and then looking over at me.
If that thing fucking laughs, I'm outta here , was all I could think. But its beady eyes just looked around, as if searching for something. Its nose stopped moving when it got over the pot. It wiggled its head up and down twice before it started squirming, back-pedaling its little legs, trying to get away with everything it had.
Oh, that cannot be good if the disgusting rat doesn't even like it. I stood and moved slowly towards the door. Maggie was always a little strange - or a lot strange. But she had never seemed unhinged to me until now.
Maggie casually swept her arms out to her sides, flinging her rat onto the nearby shelf in the process, her eyes never leaving mine.
Melvin landed on his feet and scurried away, hiding behind the cloudy and dusty glass jars that were lined up like dirty fat soldiers.
"Okay, well, I can see you're busy today, so I'll just come back another time. The council says hi and thanks for all your help." I was at the door, my fingers scrabbling for the handle when she said one word that stopped me in my tracks.
"Shayla."
I'd heard that name once before. A gray elf named Gregale had mentioned her when he'd told me about my weapon's history. I looked down at the black dragon fang that was strapped to my leg. I called it Blackie, mostly because it reminded me of my old badass-tempered dog of the same name and because I'm not all that creative with my nicknames; and this thing was potent enough that it seemed to need a name. At the time I had assigned the moniker Blackie to it, I had no idea that it already had a name - the Dark of Blackthorn. And it had once been in the mouth of the Dark Fae dragon who was known simply as The Dark.
"Shayla. She's one of my ancestors, isn't she?"
"Yes. She's the one who slayed the dragon whose fang you carry with you today."
"And you're saying she's the one in my head? Talking to me? Even though she's been dead for like a thousand years?"
"Yes."
"How is that even possible?" Recognition dawned, causing me to sigh in defeat. "I've lost it, haven't I?" I let go of the door handle that I'd finally connected with and leaned my back against the wood, sliding down to land on my butt. I stared at the floor as I thought Maggie's words through.
"Dammit!" I exclaimed, hitting my fist on the floor. "I wanted to stay sane for this! I mean, okay, being nuts might make some things easier. I'll be able to do whatever I want and never be held accountable ..." I was talking to myself now, mentally tallying the pros and cons. "I guess there's a certain amount of freedom in leaving sanity and reason behind. I can just wander around the compound, hanging out, taking naps in the garden, floating up into the ether and visiting with Chase ..."
Maggie
"So what are you saying? Do we have a mole?"
"A mole ... ha!" she responded, stirring and muttering again, staring down into her pot, her eyes blinking rapidly at the smoke that entered them.
" Ha , as in, yes we have a mole, or ha , as in, you're a stupid asshole, Jayne?"
She looked up at me and slowly withdrew her spoon from her brew, carefully placing it down on the table. She leaned over and grabbed her rat by its back, lifting it towards her face and gathering it there by her mouth with both hands, kissing its side and staring at me over its dirty body. She spoke into its fur.
"Do you hear her, Melvin? She wants to know if they have a mole in their midst." She laughed and her rat lifted its head, sniffing the air and then looking over at me.
If that thing fucking laughs, I'm outta here , was all I could think. But its beady eyes just looked around, as if searching for something. Its nose stopped moving when it got over the pot. It wiggled its head up and down twice before it started squirming, back-pedaling its little legs, trying to get away with everything it had.
Oh, that cannot be good if the disgusting rat doesn't even like it. I stood and moved slowly towards the door. Maggie was always a little strange - or a lot strange. But she had never seemed unhinged to me until now.
Maggie casually swept her arms out to her sides, flinging her rat onto the nearby shelf in the process, her eyes never leaving mine.
Melvin landed on his feet and scurried away, hiding behind the cloudy and dusty glass jars that were lined up like dirty fat soldiers.
"Okay, well, I can see you're busy today, so I'll just come back another time. The council says hi and thanks for all your help." I was at the door, my fingers scrabbling for the handle when she said one word that stopped me in my tracks.
"Shayla."
I'd heard that name once before. A gray elf named Gregale had mentioned her when he'd told me about my weapon's history. I looked down at the black dragon fang that was strapped to my leg. I called it Blackie, mostly because it reminded me of my old badass-tempered dog of the same name and because I'm not all that creative with my nicknames; and this thing was potent enough that it seemed to need a name. At the time I had assigned the moniker Blackie to it, I had no idea that it already had a name - the Dark of Blackthorn. And it had once been in the mouth of the Dark Fae dragon who was known simply as The Dark.
"Shayla. She's one of my ancestors, isn't she?"
"Yes. She's the one who slayed the dragon whose fang you carry with you today."
"And you're saying she's the one in my head? Talking to me? Even though she's been dead for like a thousand years?"
"Yes."
"How is that even possible?" Recognition dawned, causing me to sigh in defeat. "I've lost it, haven't I?" I let go of the door handle that I'd finally connected with and leaned my back against the wood, sliding down to land on my butt. I stared at the floor as I thought Maggie's words through.
"Dammit!" I exclaimed, hitting my fist on the floor. "I wanted to stay sane for this! I mean, okay, being nuts might make some things easier. I'll be able to do whatever I want and never be held accountable ..." I was talking to myself now, mentally tallying the pros and cons. "I guess there's a certain amount of freedom in leaving sanity and reason behind. I can just wander around the compound, hanging out, taking naps in the garden, floating up into the ether and visiting with Chase ..."
Maggie
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