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“How are you hiding your mana, Vita?” fumed Emma, the shrill frustration of her cat and Grandmother bickering behind her both nostalgic and exhausting. “There’s no point in doing that; you can’t run forever.”
“Oh, I think I’ve spent many years already proving that just isn’t true.” Vita balanced her Xipha on her shoulder, pressing her ear into the receiver as she mouthed a silent thank you to the barista handing her whatever the daily special coffee was. Something with pumpkin? Or, was it lime? “How’s the homestead? Any more weeds you need help pruning?”
“There! I’ve found you!”
“I wouldn’t do that if—” Vita sashayed to the other side of the cafe, the rather busy floor almost entirely filled by seven-in-the-morning and making it rather difficult to navigate to the cozy stool and table looking out over the sunrise soaked river. “And you’ve already done it.”
“How are you redirecting your mana, Vita?” attempted to interrogate Emma, out of breath and, judging by the crackling and hissing, briefly on fire. “That shouldn’t even be possible.”
“How easy that is to explain is entirely up to how well you understand orbal radio waves,” chided Vita, taking a sip of her coffee—oh, it was cinnamon. She was hoping to have been right about the pumpkin. “Did Thors have advanced courses on that, or were you too busy making a few thousand cakes?”
“Mana doesn’t—” Vita hummed joyfully as Emma started to mumble quite a few reasonable conclusions just from her single clue. “Why didn’t I think of it like that before? Of course, that makes perfect sense!”
“I know it does; good luck trying to trace my using that logic, Emma.” Vita hovered her finger above her mug, igniting her fingertip and the surface of her coffee with flickering blue mana for a split second. “Unless, I’m lying, and I actually am in the center of an active volcano.”
“You’re not,” grinned Emma, and yes Vita could hear it over the phone. “That’s a terrible place to hide.”
“Mhmm. If I’m not there, where am I?” Vita didn’t hear a response, so she flipped over her wrist to check her watch, watching the tiny little second hand tick-tick-tick until Emma, presumably, zipped back to the atelier. “Was I in the middle of Lake Elm? I can’t remember.”
“You know what, Vita?” Emma sighed, and it did not seem to be entirely because of the literal cat fight shattering china and dishware somewhere around her. “I give up. Live out your life without us. You’re just going to come home whenever you feel like it; you always do. And if you’re going to treat me, and everything that I do, as a joke, why do I even bother?”
“Because that’s the kind of sister you are, Emma!” Vita blinked and swallowed since the call ended. “Emma?” She stared down at her Xipha, suddenly deeply uncomfortable. “I don’t like this side of her.”
The prospect of being entirely untethered and free from Grandmother, from Eryn, from every witch, from Emma—it should have been liberating. Exciting. It wasn’t. Obviously, Emma wasn’t serious. She’d change her mind in a few days or a week. The guilt would overwhelm her, and she’d make a renewed effort to keep pushing for the absolutely impossible goal of ‘bring Vita home’.
She’d never stop. That’s who Emma was. To do anything else would be impossible. Not that Emma had ever said anything like that before. Was it reverse psychology? Would Emma try something so childish? She might, if she thought it would confuse Vita, which it might have, if it was on purpose.
No. Ridiculous. Emma had outgrown such things.
What was Vita thinking? The Second Anguis, the Azure Abyss, bamboozled by her younger sister into over analyzing nonsense? That wasn’t how the story went. Even if Vita was still sipping at the cinnamon-coffee thing that she once again wished was pumpkin. Alone. Without anyone trying to drag her back into a secret village of people who love her unconditionally.
For that matter, why hadn’t Crow tried to track her down? After all they’d accomplished together, the blood, sweat, and tears, all the pain—they just part ways? Never to speak again? What kind of a person just abandons their friends like that? Or—ah.
Hm.
Because he actually understood what it was like to leave everything behind for a larger goal. Though, since that didn’t exactly go well for him he’d have opinions and want to make sure she understood them, wouldn’t he? Surely, he’d prefer she stop doing whatever it is he thinks she’s doing.
Or, Vita was just making excuses for people that weren’t there. Fixating on silly, paltry things as she nursed her silly, paltry coffee. That she only bought because the cafe was cute and the barista was cute and Edith is rather cute. And sometimes frivolity is important when faced with the enormity of existence.
Vita decided to get some fresh air before she spiraled further, and promptly twisted fate to remove herself from the fields of view from everyone in the cafe. A surprisingly simple little trick, as opposed to erasing herself from recent memory. It was even possible to mimic the technique without a trace of mana! In theory.
She’d only ever seen Scarecrow do it, and likely not deliberately, but it was possible.
With a snap of her fingers, she teleported herself to the roof of the cafe in a flash of light, taking another sip of coffee the moment her shoes tapped against the new floor, the sunrise even brighter over the river from above. Perhaps it would be best if Vita—
“Good Goddess, where the heck did you come from?!” yelled a particularly boisterous woman’s voice, almost as loud as that New Class VII girl who irritated Bell so much. Juna! That was her name. “Are you a magician or something? How’d you do that?”
“I’m a master illusionist, you’ve guessed correctly,” agreed Vita, silently cursing herself for being so careless, even if she got extremely lucky in that her explanation was self-supplied. “And you—” That’s a woman in a catsuit. “Are Grimcat.”
“I am not Grimcat!” snapped Grimcat, waving her arms around and in front of her face rather frantically. Then, in abject horror and panic, she appeared to recognize her own hands in their clawed gloves. “Oh, shit, crap, dammit, yeah. I am. Yeah. I’m Grimcat.”
“I know.” Vita could not stop herself from smiling. “I thought you mostly worked at night, or are you a stray now? Perhaps, a newly outdoor cat?”
“For your information, Nosy Nelly, the night ends when the sunrise does,” defended Grimcat, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips, aforementioned sunrise at her back. “As long as a single ray dips below the horizon, I’m still on duty! Bringing justice and hope down to the people!”
“Wouldn’t it be more effective to bring the people up to take justice and hope for themselves?” asked Vita, genuinely curious of what this high-and-mighty populist vigilante would say. “Perhaps teach them to do what you do, en masse?”
“What I do isn’t supposed to be a literal example of how to get anything done—it’s symbolic, you get that, right?” explained Grimcat, with a surprising amount of grounded wisdom. “Operating outside the law is all well and good on ‘larger-than-life’ level, but unless we’re talking about whipping up another revolution, that’s gonna hurt a lot of people who don’t deserve it.”
“Interesting.” Vita offered her coffee. “You look like you’ve had a long night. I don’t mind sharing.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Grimcat waved her off. “I mean, I’m actually all good and full up. Very much running on seven or eight cups getting things done.”
“Doing what, if I might ask?”
“You might not. That’s classified. Grimcat eyes only.”
“So, two?”
“Six. Can’t you count?”
“Yes.” Vita snickered and took another sip. “Can you? How many eyes do you have?”
“Two.” Grimcat twitched, and Vita wasn’t going to ruin the fun. “Six! But the other four are a secret. Don’t tell anyone, because I don’t want bad guys to know that Grimcat has six eyes for watching you at all times.”
“Is that how you track people down? You just never take your eyes off of them?”
“If I did that, only the biggest idiots would ever do something incriminating.” Grimcat, possibly, rolled her eyes? It was hard to tell under the mask. “And the people who want to make a change, to start over, or just move on, you can’t stay over their shoulder like that. You have to make sure they have the space to do it.”
“I’m sure the CID disagrees,” grumbled Vita, latching on to the only possible tangent to get her out of her own head. “They don’t go temporarily deaf or even blink.”
“Maybe. I don’t actually know; their boss doesn’t seem all that sketchy, which is really weird the more I think about it.” Grimcat rubbed her chin. “How come her spooks are all huge creeps, but she’s someone I’d want to have brunch with?”
“Director Rouran is a force to be reckoned with.” Vita downed the rest of her coffee with a smug smirk at Grimcat’s bafflement. “We have many common friends and contacts.”
“What, are you old war buddies with her ex or something?” somehow concluded Grimcat, not that Vita gave her any indication that she was right. “Or, are you her ex?”
“No.” Vita had absolutely no idea how to react to that. “I’m just very familiar with the kind of person who runs away after a particularly massive loss.”
“Is…is that what her ex did?” asked Grimcat, apparently not actually apprised of anything and simply making astoundingly good intuitive guesses. “Is that why you know?”
“No, Grimcat, Kilika Rouran and I were not ever involved in that way.” Vita pinched her brow and took a breath. “I was describing her, assuming you knew anything—it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s a weirdly personal thing to tell somebody you just met.”
“Even if that someone is a ‘larger-than-life’ symbol?”
“Yeah, lady.” Grimcat tapped her mask a few times. “There’s a real person underneath this, remember?”
“Fine.” Vita scoffed. “You know—”
“Hey, sorry, but just—” Grimcat gave her a closer look. “You have an amazing voice.”
“You’re only just now noticing?” Vita brightened up. “Am I just that glamorous and distracting?”
“Honestly, yeah, you kinda are.”
“Flattery will not get you any personalized miracles.” Vita smiled from ear to ear, running a hand through her hair. “You’re not the first person to say any of that, though thank you.”
“I’m dead serious, you should get work in voice over or something.”
“Not modeling?” teased Vita, enjoying this far more than she should. “Do I sound more beautiful than I actually am?
“I think everybody does, if you think about it.” Grimcat shrugged. “Either way, I’m not connected in that world, so I don’t know much about it.”
“But you know about voice work?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Grimcat cleared her throat. “Are—are you gonna stay up here forever? Because I’m kinda in the middle of something super important.”
“Oh, I’ll leave when my exit will be as magnificent as my entrance.” Vita dropped her voice down a bit, eyes glimmering. “You know, I’ve actually done voice work before. Perhaps that’s why you thought of it?”
“Yeah, maybe—” Grimcat crossed her arms. “I really need you to beat it, okay?”
“This roof is public property, so…” Vita sipped at her coffee. Slowly. Very, very slowly. Of course, she'd forgotten that'd she'd already finished it. Not that Grimcat knew that. And she never would. “No, I think I’ll stay.”
“If I keep yes-anding, will you leave?”
“Absolutely.”
“Alright, fine. Who knew somebody this pretty would be that lonely,” grumbled Grimcat, not loud enough for Vita to hear if she were a normal person. But she did hear it, and she decided not to turn Grimcat into an eggplant. “Uh, did you do voicework in anything I might’ve heard, I guess?”
“That depends. Do you habitually listen to pirated radio stations funded entirely by state-run media?”
“Wait, the—the station is pirated or the propaganda?”
“You would need to pirate the broadcast, because it is funded and operated by state-run media—”
“So, it’s Erebonian.”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve just said you did work in Erebonia.”
“I could have, but sometimes a lady likes to be verbose.”
“Yeah, can’t say I relate to that at all.” Grimcat sighed. “And what was this radio program, Mystery Lady?”
“To even name it would be dangerous, so let’s just say it was all the rage and my fans still hunt me from one end of the continent to the other.” Vita grinned. “That, and if you’re a fan of the opera—”
“I am a huge fan of opera!” gasped Grimcat, perking right up. “My—uh. My friend’s grammy was a big opera star!
“She was?” Vita was now rather confident she knew who Grimcat was, but that was ultimately unimportant to her larger goal of. Talking to her more. Yes. Very normal, to make friends and connections. “Some might say that I was almost as much of a household name as Ilya Platiere.”
“Sure, totally.” Grimcat scoffed and almost doubled over. “You gotta be joking!”
“I’ve had journalists say just that about—”
“They’re lying, come on, you sound and look super smart. You cannot believe that.”
“I do. Because it’s true.” Vita’s heart started to crack, and she was deeply offended by her own weakness. “I didn’t say more, just close.”
“Okay.” Grimcat snickered and clutched her stomach. “Lady, if I can’t figure out your name from that hint, and I’m drawing a blank, sorry, you’re nowhere near the Fervent Dancer.”
“Try harder, then.”
“Sure.” Grimcat poked the sides of her head and scrunched up, making a big show of ‘trying harder’. “Nope, still not remembering anything.”
“Maybe you’re just not as knowledgeable about opera as you think.”
“That’s definitely not it. I don’t know how you got this far with—”
“You know, she’s a terrorist, too!” snapped Vita. “She used her art for nefarious purposes, and helped Rufus Albarea occupy Crossbell, and helped him build a superweapon!”
“That was an imposter. Everyone knows that.”
“Of course they do.” Vita resisted the urge to start explaining in great detail everything that Grimcat got wrong. In her entire life. Forever. “Don’t you have something important to do?”
“Huh?” Grimcat paused, stood up straight, and then whipped around towards the river. “No, looks like he’s late.” She twirled back towards Vita. “Listen, I wasn’t trying to be mean or anything. If you want to be that famous, you’d probably have to break into film.”
“Infeasible for the foreseeable future.” Vita frowned intensely. “I’m incredibly camera shy.”
“You’re a weird liar,” blurted out Grimcat, somehow. “Half of what you say are great lies, and the other half are some of the worst I’ve ever heard. If you don’t believe them, or have any faith in them, nobody’s going to buy it.”
“Have you considered that maybe I’m telling you the truth half the time?”
“Sure, but that’s not your energy.” Grimcat shrugged. “Give films a shot if you want people to know your name that badly.”
“I don’t care about that! I have far more important things to focus on.”
“You are so bad at lying.” Grimcat sat down on the edge of the roof, her feet dangling in the air. “Have you tried not doing that? I promise, life’s way easier.”
“That’s rich coming from Grimcat. You run around masquerading as one giant lie!”
“I’m not lying about anything with this.” Grimcat shook her head. “I could never do any of it if I wasn’t being honest.”
“You’re a masked vigilante,” spat Vita, stomping up to the edge beside her. “I’m almost certain you have quite the double life to live.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not doing it as honestly as I can.” Grimcat smiled up at her, and Vita found it very difficult to remain agitated. “I’m crashing so hard from that caffeine high.”
“Oh.” Vita grabbed Grimcat’s shoulder as she started to tip forward. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
“It’s fine; I get super philosophical when I’m dead tired.” Grimcat tilted her head, looking at Vita’s watch. “Maybe ‘honest’ is the wrong word.”
“What’s the right one?” asked Vita, far more desperately than should be possible. “What even could be?”
“Blunt? No. Real? Nah.” Grimcat hummed and took a breath. “Sincere.”
Vita wanted to, at first, reject the absurdity of everything Grimcat had done and said. But, even as she opened her mouth to do just that, the idea of her not living sincerely spread through her mind. When was the last time she had fully meant anything she said, without a few thousand caveats? When was the last time she meant anything she did?
Emma wasn’t ever going to stop chasing Vita, but was the sister she was hunting even around anymore? Was she ever real, or was that a performance, too? A temporary affectation to make ends meet and get her to where she needed to go. Or, was her brief ‘turn’ from Ouroboros the performance? Was her attempt to force the Rivalries to start without the curse being released?
What did she even want? To perform? Well…
Yes.
That sounded wondrous, and film was entirely feasible for someone of Vita’s caliber.
Vita’s goal would be ‘stunning, but unrecognizable’ at least in contrast to the Azure Abyss. And she’d succeed. It would only take a few auditions to be roped into a genuine Gotti production. If anyone recognized her, they’d never show it.
Most likely, they wouldn’t care. And that was so very often the case, wasn’t it? People had more important things to deal with in their daily life than international terrorists who are likely classified as a weapon of mass destruction. Especially ones that were so disarming!
Nearly all of life was a performance, the only true way to be honest with yourself and with others, so why not leverage that to grow her own spotlight until it eclipsed the continent itself?
“Your ranting has given me a lot to think about, since I feel you are inexplicably right.” Vita pinched her brow. “Where do you need to go?”
“In life?”
“No, to catch whomever you’re trying to grab.”
“Across the river, behind the library.” Grimcat pointed towards a large alleyway. “I guess I can stake them out from over there, but the view is so much crappier, so—”
Vita snapped her fingers and teleported Grimcat exactly where she said she wanted to be in a flash of light. That should have been the end of it, but she could still hear Grimcat cursing and freaking out a little from the experience across the river. Before she could return, Vita quietly and calmly walked into the stairwell down towards the cafe.
Would anything she, or anyone else, does ever matter? Or, would they just all hope that it does? Even when faced with the realities of reality, was it possible to have any sense that what you’ve done accomplished anything other than placating your desire for happiness?
The closest thing Vita had to a true desire was protecting Eryn. Quite literally everything else came second, no matter how often she insisted on her loyalty to the Grandmaster. Countries could burn and fear could run rampant; as long as Eryn remained, she didn’t really care.
And, she still runs? To be chased? Was that part of the fun?
How was it even possible that Grimcat knocked Vita into an existential crisis?
Because she was sincere.
Naturally, that meant that the only thing for Vita to do next was to turn right back around and knock Grimcat into an existential crisis by outshining her on camera! How dare that bubbly and haphazardly charming woman get her claws into the skull and heart of the Azure Abyss! Who does she think she is?! Just some trumped and dolled up charlatan pretending to be a child’s idea of justice.
No one. Insignificant.
And not to mention a talentless hack.
Discerning Grimcat’s identity was already a simple puzzle with the resources at Vita’s disposal, but the clues she’d accidentally blurted out of her face made it amusingly easy for anyone with any knowledge of the international performing arts community.
Judith Lanster, twenty-two. Daughter of Chloe Lanster, the second Grimcat, and granddaughter of Dominique, the original. National darling and film star. About as subtle as Vita herself. But there was no elegance to this woman’s volume, none at all. Only undeserved confidence.
The film industry had been considerably easier to break into compared to anything in Erebonia. What they most wanted was a charismatic pretty face to perform on camera, and Vita had always been a prime example of both. A more ‘traditional’ hairstyle, rounder glasses, slacks, and a longer collared shirt—Misty was a decent foundation to build on, but to be truly incognito was a bit trickier.
Vita had talked her way into an open casting call for Salvatore Gotti’s newest film project. Fascinating script, and absolutely something that could never exist in Erebonia, despite its setting. Even though Emma would almost certainly adore it.
Raquel, Raquel; a young girl’s erotic journey from Oracion to Ordis.
Judith had landed the starring role, and Vita had managed to work her way into the screen test phase. For Salvatore Gotti, that meant the entire cast and crew needed to treat it as an actual film day. That made no sense until Vita realized that his team was paid for that day regardless of how much filming is actually done.
A considerate and decent man from a surprising source.
“Vie Brume, Judith Lanster!” introduced Gotti, yanking Judith’s hand and shoving it into Vita’s as they both moved within fifteen arge of one another on set. “Judith Lanster, Vie Brume!”
“A pleasure to meet you,” smiled Vita, not entirely teeth. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Yeah, same here.” Judith returned that same smile, just a bit tenser and confused. “I’ve heard a lot about you recently.”
“You have?” Vita gave her an odd look. That wasn’t possible. Vie Brume as an alias had not existed for longer than two weeks. There wasn’t even anything Judith could have heard! “That’s impressive.”
“Why the heck didn’t you introduce us, then?” asked Gotti, still speaking at nearly as loud a volume as Judith with most of his mouth. “How many other up-and-coming stars are you hiding from me, Judith? Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you should keep people down; great performers make each other even greater!”
“I wasn’t hiding her!” Judith huffed, surprisingly indignant. “And I’m not the casting director, okay? Take it up with her if you want to complain about undiscovered talent that’s still, y’know, undiscovered.”
“Well, it looks like that’s no longer a problem, as I have been, I hope, discovered.” Vita grinned, and Gotti returned it. Judith did, after a few seconds. “Are the sides the same, or have there been alterations?”
“We’ll be making changes on the fly to better suit your dialect and cadence,” explained Gotti. “But, for a first screen test, nope, all you gotta do is run it raw and hot and you!”
“I can certainly do my best.” Vita raised her brows as the sun began to vanish, initially thinking it was one of Novartis’s plans before realizing that, no, it wasn’t a man-made eclipse, but merely an overcast morning. “That wasn’t in the forecast, was it?”
Not a second after Vita closed her mouth did rain begin to pour down upon them in buckets, the thundering of the sudden storm so powerful that Vita, once again, couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a Novartis…weather machine, or something equally absurd. Not that she could really call him a fool for trying to control forces of nature, all things considered.
She was just, obviously, much better at it.
However, that wasn’t the most important thing to focus on, because Salvatore Gotti was more personally offended by rain than anyone Vita had ever met.
“Today was supposed to be perfect!” bemoaned Gotti, up into roaring heavens, arms outstretched as he emphatically cursed clouds and the concept of inclement weather. “This is a disaster; how are we supposed to stay on schedule when our screen test gets hit with a rain delay?!”
“Just rewrite the scene to account for the rain; you can change them back later if we cast Vie for a reshoot,” suggested Judith Lanster, essentially soaked and apathetic, a deceptively talented actress that Vita found endlessly entertaining. “It’ll be more dramatic, keep us on our toes, and cheaper than postponing for every little bump in the road.”
“No, can’t do it. That’d spoil the sanctity of how amazing this script is, Judith.” Gotti stood his ground as proudly and as confidently as heads of state. “We’ll have to pivot into something else—dammit, I’ve never had a screen test so perfect!”
“You just said you’d be changing the script on the fly,” mumbled Judith, pouting in the rain. “Whatever, do what you want.”
“Perhaps we can try a ritual rain dance?” Vita smiled as Judith, Gotti, and then the entire crew’s attention snapped right to her. Ah, how she missed possessing and stealing the off-stage spotlight. “It could work. You never know until you try.”
“How would that even work? Don’t take this the wrong way, Vie, but you’re way too glamorous to know what the heck that is,” countered Judith, and that was a very good point. “Where’d you say you were from again?”
“The moon,” answered Vita, which always got a good laugh from her audience. Today was no exception, even when her patrons were soaked to the bone. “I can lead us all in the attempt, Mr. Gotti.”
“Go for it, Vie!” yelled Gotti, leaping much higher into the air than should be possible. “Show us how to get this rain to go away! And never come back another day!”
“Gladly.” Vita grabbed an orbal megaphone from Gotti’s director’s chair, clicked it on, and then cleared her throat into the amplifier. “Esteemed crew of Raquel, Raquel, if you wish to banish this rain—”
“DO WHAT VIE BRUME TELLS YOU TO DO!” boomed Gotti, exponentially louder than the microphone; Vita may have seen some of the rain vibrate. “SHE’S A BRAND NEW STAR, AND WE CAN’T DISCOVER HER WITHOUT A MOVIE TO DO THAT WITH!”
“Everyone close your eyes!” commanded Vita, and everyone followed her directions. “Think very hard about a clear, calm day.” She stuck her free hand in her pocket, channeled her mana, and mumbled a rather complicated spell without actually making any sound. “On the count of five, open your eyes and, at the top of your lungs, scare the rain away! One!”
The rain started to slow.
“Two!”
The clouds begin to thin.
“Three!”
The rain became a drizzle.
“Four!”
The rain stopped.
“FIVE!”
At the precise moment the clouds faded, the entire crew began violently threatening the sky itself. With the exception, curiously, of Judith. Who was staring right at Vita, at least until everyone else started to, in absolute shock at their perceived success. Then, she took her turn to look up, even more surprised than her peers.
How had Vita missed that?
“There’ll be time to celebrate later!” whooped Gotti, motioning for the crew to get pack into position, himself sprinting back behind the camera. “Back to one, back to one! Come on, let’s get this done!”
“Shall we?” offered Vita, eyeing Judith with a smile, wandering back to her starting mark below the flickering lamp posts. “We don’t know how long this good fortune will last.”
“Yeah. Right, yeah.” Judith puffed out her cheeks and jogged back to the other end of the dead end street, her styled and frizzy bright orange hair bouncing with her. “Wait, the ground’s still—” She slipped in a puddle, landed on her hands, and then vaulted back onto her feet. “Woah! Still wet, wow.”
“See, that’s why I say we need to make sure the camera’s always rolling!” Gotti threw up his hands. “Okay, keep the ground out of the shot, reset to one in five, four, three, two—ACTION!”
The rain returned about ten minutes after the screen test ended, and before Vita could even leave, not that she really had anywhere particular to be, Judith had managed to make it more than a little socially insensitive to deny her request to run lines in her trailer. Especially since she asked that of Vita half a second before she could open her umbrella.
“Vie, come on, get in here,” offered Judith, poking the door of her trailer open and motioning her closer. “No, nuh-uh, you don’t need an umbrella! Let’s talk shop, it’s all cozy and fun in here!”
“You make a compelling argument,” admitted Vita, pivoting and climbing the short staircase into the trailer, before her hair got all that wet at all. “Oh, it’s actually cozy. I thought you were exaggerating.”
“Nope! Homes away from home should be homey, y’know?” Judith slammed the door shut behind Vita and nudged past her into the surprisingly ‘homey’ interior. Filled with warm colored appliances and furnishings, as well as quite a few pictures of Judith and her family. “I always get the same one rented, and getting back to my apartment isn’t always easy, so. Gotta make it work.”
“Cute.” Vita couldn’t tear her eyes away from a particular photograph of a young Judith, a woman who was presumably her mother, and another that looked to be her grandmother. It was a wonderful image, but the far more interesting element was that Judith’s mother seemed to be dressed as Grimcat, and Judith herself was holding the mask. “Your family looks wonderful.”
“Yeah, they’re awesome. Love ‘em.” Judith set her hand on her hip and raised a brow. “Okay, so. How’d you clear the rain?”
“Pardon?” Vita smiled and idly wondered how Judith possibly kept Grimcat a secret when her decorations gave her away. Well, it could be a costume for a party, that was true. “I just led the effort; it was everyone working together that made it possible.”
“Oh, no—no way, you’re not fooling me.” Judith smirked, clearly very proud of herself. “I saw you, and I heard you. I have no idea what you said, or what those little flickers of weirdo arts were, but you did something.”
“You had so much confidence in me that you believed I am capable of miracles!” Vita clasped her hands together and bowed her head, playing the overwhelmed part flawlessly. Surely, Judith wouldn’t lean that hard on the fact that her alter-ego was already suspicious of Vita, would she? She was sloppy but not obscenely so. “I really don’t deserve that kind of kindness, Judith. There’s so much I—”
“Aidios, cut the crap, lady. I wasn’t born yesterday and I’ve seen enough bonkers stuff to know what’s real and what’s movie magic.” Judith crossed her arms. “How’d you clear the rain? And why don’t you do that to stop floods in places that, well, flood? And how’d you—” She frowned. Teleport you? “Just those two.”
“Those are two dramatically different questions.” Vita cleared her throat and lamented that she already slipped up. All she’d wanted to do was upstage such a nosy and insensitive cat burglar. Perhaps she’d pushed her luck too far. Either way, best to investigate what Judith thought was going on before throwing her off the scent. Memory wipes were an imperfect art and science, at best. “Why didn’t you close your eyes?”
“Because I don’t trust magicians—no, that’s none of your business!” Judith twitched and frowned. “Are you going to tell me how you changed the weather, or are you going to be a selfish jerk and keep that secret to yourself?”
“I’d say we should exchange secrets, to be fair, but I doubt you have any of similar value.” Vita shrugged and decided to continue browsing Judith’s family photos, since she was essentially antiquing. “Does this really matter that much to you? Don’t you have bigger things to worry about?”
“No, I think changing the weather takes the cake.”
“I can’t change the weather,” lied Vita. “That was luck and the spirit of the theatre working on our behalf.”
“Oh, come on. I saw you do something!”
“Little more than a mantra, I promise,” lied Vita, again. Essentially. Wasn’t that the truth, though? “Sometimes, collective hope can move the heavens.”
“Yeah, I mean, yeah. It can. I’ve seen that happen,” admitted Judith, mumbling something under her breath. “Fine. Teach me the mantra so I can do it myself, and maybe it’ll still help.”
“It’s my mantra. It defeats the purpose if I teach it to anyone else.”
“What if I don’t use it when you’re around?”
“You’d still be using it.” Vita’s eyes snapped to Judith’s, narrowing. “It’s a deeply private thing, Judith.”
“For rain?” Judith scoffed. “It’s not actual magic words.”
“Alright, you win.” Vita gave up and accepted that she’d need to distract Judith much more effectively. Too much work to just talk her away from the truth, apparently. Or, maybe she was just hungry and wanted to get dinner. “I’ll whisper it to you. So no one else overhears.”
“Sure, okay.” Judith took a few steps closer with a smile. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Vita grabbed Judith’s chin and pulled her close, brushing her hair out of her face with a devilish whisper and a hint of lavender. She smirked, barely a rege from her lips, and waited for Judith to finish that thought. And waited. Waited a bit more. Still waiting.
“Uh, what the heck are you doing—I already put in a good word to Gotti about casting you! Save it for the love scenes and—” babbled Judith, her lips and mouth squished in Vita’s grip. “Hey! Stop trying to distract me! I don’t think making out has anything to do with rain.”
“Again with this?” Vita growled. “Your knack for inconsequentially and pointlessly disrupting fate and causality is almost as irritating as the Purple Lightning.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“I give up.” Vita let go of her and pinched her brow, taking a deep breath. “I can’t teach you how to change the weather, alright? It’s a trade secret, of sorts, and is essentially non-transferable.”
“You’re a weird liar,” repeated Judith, at least remembering what she should and shouldn’t know. “Okay, well, whatever. At least you’ll be a lot of fun to work with. If you get cast, I mean.”
“I’m the greatest co-star you’ve ever met,” pressed Vita. “I’m going to force you to steal that spotlight back, and then a second time. And a third and fourth!”
“I believe it; you’ve got some crazy energy around you that sometimes I think I can literally see,” said Judith, since she may actually be able to see mana for some reason. “So, uh. Sorry about the interrogation. You seem like a really nice and considerate lady. If you could change the weather to stop natural disasters, you would, I’m sure of it.”
“You’re kind to say that,” grumbled Vita, her face twisting inward in abject confusion as a result of perhaps the most inaccurate judge of character she’d ever even heard about. Then again, was Judith actually wrong? The curse was a natural disaster of sorts, and she had done everything she possibly could to stop it and save Eryn. “I forgive you.”
“Great! Let’s flesh out the ‘between-the-lines’ stuff while we’ve got each other alone,” suggested Judith, leaning over to her small kitchen table and whipping a script at Vita. “If Gotti doesn’t cast you, I’ll walk, so you’re practically already signed.”
“I’m—what?” Vita froze in place, again. She didn’t have time for that! Did she? “Are you out of your mind? I’m an unknown; that’s a terrible risk to take for your own career.”
“It’s not a risk.” Judith smiled, licked her lips, noticed that there was still some of Vita there, and quickly wiped it off with her thumb. “It’s—it’s, uh, you’re really great and I’ve got a fantastic instinct for talent, okay? Goes all the way back to my Grammy.”
Vita looked down at her script, entirely lost as to what she should do. She’d succeeded in outshining Judith Lanster before production even began, considering how much weight she was willing to throw around to keep Vita. But instead of sending Judith spiraling, she didn’t seem to care at all.
“I’m going to make you look like an amateur,” threatened Vita. “Do you really want to deal with that? A little competition can be disastrous for awards season.”
“I don’t know if I really agree with Gotti about competition, since what motivates me the most isn’t outdoing my peers—okay, it’s a little that, but it’s really more about…” Judith shrugged into a wide smile. “Me performing for me so that they enjoy it. The art is the art. That kinda thing.”
“You want to work with me because…” Vita’s brain stopped working. “That’s what acting is?”
“It’s what a play is, sure. Vie, you clearly love to perform, more than anything else, and that’s kinda all that really matters for the craft.” Judith flipped through her script. “And, I dunno, I think we click pretty well? Can’t ever have too many good friends.”
“We’re not friends,” scoffed Vita, trying to remember a list of her other friends and utterly failing. She had co-workers, kind of. Bleublanc was an ally, though they weren’t exactly close. Crow didn’t keep in touch. She cut ties with everyone in Eryn, and Emma didn’t count. “We shouldn’t be friends.”
“Sure, okay, weird liar lady.” Judith rolled her eyes and flipped up her hand. “Not allowed to have acting friends in the film industry populated by actors and camera people and everybody working together to make art and stuff—do you hear how stupid that sounds?” She snickered. “We’re gonna be around each other ten or eleven hours a day for months! Either we hate each other, or we’re friends.” She gave her a knowing look. “Unless you’re a workaholic or something, but I doubt it. There’s no way this is just a job for you.”
Nothing was just a job for Vita. Nothing was ever only about the role or her part to play. Her position, of power or otherwise chosen, was no accident or without extreme deliberateness. Semantics and technicalities were the tools of breaking concrete laws at both a systemic and existential level. All things, everything, was for the greater goal, the greater good.
Except, it really hadn’t been. Not for a long time.
Running away from Eryn was easy to justify by her efforts to change the fairy tale, to do what Isola had failed to do. What Grandmother couldn’t be bothered to even try. All of it was based on the central idea of freedom, and the infinite definitions of it. How she could use her power to save her home. And yet, as distant as Vita desperately tried to make herself from everyone and everything, to become hardened to ‘do what must be done’ like her peers…
Vita always, always, came running back, flailing her arms, when her family was threatened. Perhaps, her humanity was not something she could discard quite as easily as her fellow Anguis. And why did she even care about worldly problems if she was so ‘above it all’. Why did she care about her so-called friends never reaching out, or Emma seemingly giving up on bringing her home?
Why did she try so hard to send Judith spinning when she had literal catastrophes she should be dealing with?
“I think I hate my job,” whispered Vita, feeling surprisingly dizzy. “It needs doing, but I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a single day of it.”
“Wait, I’m not following.” Judith raised a brow. “You hate acting?”
“No, I love performing. More than anything.” Vita chuckled breathlessly, hand on her forehead, paling a little. “We all need our hobbies, right? Work-life balance?”
“It’s not work if you do what you love.”
“Trust me, you can start to hate your passions if it’s all you ever do.” Vita resisted the urge to conjure up anything to illustrate her point. “If it’s all anyone ever expects you to do. What they ask of you. And never about you.”
“That does sound crappy,” agreed Judith. “You good?”
“Not at all, no.” Vita smiled, exhausted. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t adore the ride.”