Vigor Mortis

Chapter 133: Depressed Face

Considering how hard I’m struggling to not be violent, I really would have appreciated it if violence didn’t cleanly solve my problems. Yet after establishing dominance on Melik and Gina, I was barely even reprimanded.

I was reprimanded, at least a little. Not because I shattered multiple ribs in two of my fellow trainees and damaged their lungs enough that they might have died without biomantic support, though. No, I just got a slap on the wrist for that (which is a strange metaphor). Instead, people mainly got mad because my ‘excessive force’ damaged the barracks. Melik and Gina, meanwhile, got thoroughly chewed out (which is a terrifying metaphor) for provoking me.

The next day, I was back to classes as usual, except now those classes were significantly more enjoyable due to the absence of Melik and Gina. A couple days later, Melik and Gina were back for everything other than the combat classes, including returning to our dorm room. She’s been ignoring me, but honestly? That’s some of the best treatment I’ve gotten from Gina since we first met. Melik glares daggers at me (a confusing metaphor) every time I walk by, which is a little hurtful but pretty tolerable overall. So after all that, after I hurt some people on purpose after all this time… life just goes on.

“Hey Lark,” Xavier says, nearly unintelligible since his mouth is completely full of food. “You’ve got your depressed face on.”

I blink in surprise, glancing sheepishly across the table at him and Bently. We’re in the cafeteria together, as Xavier finally managed to convince me to eat with them. I’ve got my armor mostly off, and underneath the table I’m busying my lower two arms learning to weave more complex clothing with my webs than ‘wrappings and cloak.’

“Sorry,” I mutter, grabbing an unconscious mouse from my food box and swallowing it whole.

“Hey, none of that,” Xavier chides lightly. “You got nothing to be sorry for, so no apologies.”

“I know, I know,” I grumble. “Sorry.”

I jolt slightly as I realize what I’ve just said, and Xavier busts out laughing.

“Hard habit to break, isn’t it?” He smirks. “Seriously though, you good? You wanna talk about it?”

I sigh through my nose, flicking my ear as I glance away.

“Not really,” I mumble. “I’m just thinking about Gina and Melik again.”

“You mean how you trounced them two on one like a complete badass?” Xavier prods, knowing that’s not right because we’ve talked about this before.

“No! I seriously injured both of them, but they got harsher punishments than I did,” I press. “I don’t like it. I should be punished.”

“They made you fix the mess you made in the courtyard by yourself,” Bently chimes in between bites.

“That’s not a punishment, that’s just work,” I dismiss. “I got it done overnight.”

“Which is to say you labored non-stop, by yourself, in the dark, during the entire twelve-hour nighttime of Titan’s Discus,” Xavier smirks.

“We would have helped if you’d just asked us!” Bently frowns.

“That’s why I didn’t ask you,” I say flatly. “You need sleep, I don’t. I’m just saying, it feels weird. I know that Harvey vouched for me and went over how Melik and Gina pretty much wouldn’t take no for an answer, but I should have gone to a superior or something instead of breaking their ribs. Hardly anyone seemed to care, though. Our combat instructor seemed happy!”

“I think he’s happy because you’re putting more effort into his class,” Bently says quietly. “You never really fought back in spars until recently.”

“…Well, now I know exactly how fragile you humans are,” I admit, swallowing another mouse. “I don’t have to worry about hurting you as much.”

Xavier suddenly starts laughing.

“Shit, I love how you’re not even joking,” he chuckles. “You just bust out lines like that with such seriousness!”

“Language,” I grumble, and he laughs again. “And why wouldn’t I be serious? It’s absolutely terrifying being around people all the time. If I kick someone too hard, my foot goes through their torso. If I twitch my quills at the wrong time I could cut someone in half. When Bently punched me in the face during our spar yesterday I nearly bit his hand clean off!”

“Sorry,” Bently says quietly.

“No, no!” I insist quickly. “I’m fine, Bently, it was a great hit. You surprised me!”

“See?” Xavier says smugly, waving his food-filled fork at me. “Friends apologizing for things they shouldn’t doesn’t feel good.”

I let out a long sigh. I get it, I just wish Xavier would stop repeating himself. If there’s one thing that’s really starting to frustrate me about humans, it’s how often they repeat themselves. I slurp down my last two mice, glowering slightly at Xavier as he watches me with a slightly uncomfortable amount of fascination.

“You should honestly get some cafeteria food,” Xavier says, thankfully changing the subject. “You’re entitled to a portion, as a trainee.”

I frown slightly at the image of trying to eat any of that disgusting slop, absentmindedly patting my own belly in sympathy. Pretty much anything that isn’t alive tastes equally terrible to me, and if I swallow something that doesn’t really feed me it still vanishes from the inside of my body like anything else does, but the idea of actually eating the vaguely white mush Xavier and Bently devour by the bowl fills me with a special kind of revulsion.

“I literally can’t digest that stuff,” I remind him. “It doesn’t help me at all.”

“Yeah, but then you could give it to Bently and I,” Xavier points out, wiggling his eyebrows.

I curl up the talons of one foot, anxiously tapping my toe knuckles on the floor.

“I’ll think about it. Though on the subject of gluttony, I should probably see if Lady Vesuvius would be willing to increase my food allotment. Four mice feels like it’s not taking the edge off as much anymore. It’s like my stomach is getting annoyed with me for only feeding it the bare minimum possible.”

Xavier nods in an understanding manner, wolfing down more of his… ‘food.’

“Well if you ever start feeling a bit too munchy,” he says after swallowing, “feel free to swallow one of my hands. Especially if it’s before a big test; I can always use the extra study time.”

I stiffen, momentarily paralyzed by a wretched mix of memory and temptation. He said it was okay. He said it was okay. That means I can, right? It would be fine. Lady Vesuvius could heal him without issue, I bet. It would… it… agh.

No.

“Xavier,” I say firmly. “Please don’t ever joke about that again.”

He blinks, nodding slowly.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I won’t. My bad.”

“Thank you.”

I stand up, my body shaking a little as it screams to hunt. With a twitch of my claws I cut the threads of my weaving project free from hands, draping the half-finished sleeve-thing over my shoulder as I turn to walk away.

“Hey, Lark?” Bently calls out, stopping me in my tracks. My ears are flat against my head and it’s an effort of will to not extend my quills at him. Which would not be appropriate because he is my friend, even though I tried to kill him that one time.

“I think it’s really, really cool how hard you try,” Bently continues.

“Can confirm,” Xavier chimes in. “You’re pretty cool. Don’t forget it!”

I sigh.

“So you’ve both told me,” I say flatly. “Over a dozen times each. Why do you keep repeating it?”

“Because I know ‘incredibly depressed and in desperate need of positive reinforcement’ when I see it,” Xavier says, and though I’m not facing him I can practically feel him make a lopsided grin. “So if you want me to stop, you’re going to have to start believing me. …Or just be good enough at hiding it that I don’t notice anymore, I guess. It’d be unfair of me to not allow that strategy.”

I glance back at him and raise an eyebrow. Sure enough, he’s flashing a sardonic grin my way. I do like Xavier, but times like these I find him really, really hard to understand. He can be… a lot.

“I’ll be okay,” I reassure him. “I just need to move around a little before we go to history class.”

Not entirely accurate, but it’s a much easier thing to say than ‘I plan to go get down on six limbs in the courtyard and vibrate my quills until I’m nothing but a frozen, black circle pulsing in the daylight.’ I wish they absorbed sound like they do light and heat, so I could also spend the time screaming.

Still, I feel better after stretching my back a bit, though I wish I had a hot bath to do it in. I suppose I’m technically allowed in the baths in the barracks, but I accidentally terrified a few people when I tried it a few days ago. Plus, they just… aren’t that warm, and generally nowhere near as nice as Galdra’s bath. Hopefully I’ll figure out how to channel soon and can learn some thermomancy.

Once I’m fairly certain class will start in five minutes or so, I quickly wind down, ceasing my quill’s vibrations and standing back up on two legs, stretching the rest of my body. Someone else entered the courtyard and stopped nearby, but I’m a bit surprised when I glance over and realize she’s been staring at me, possibly the whole time she’s been here. It’s a woman of middling height, light brown skin, brown eyes, brown hair, and a barely perceptible collection of small scars around her face, particularly her eyes and nose, that look like they’re from fingernails. On her back she carries a set of full Templar armor, strapped up for transport and adorned with the black stripes of the Inquisition. In one hand she has a thick stack of papers. She steps forward and she extends her other gloved hand to shake, giving me a tired smile.

“You must be Lark, then,” the woman says.

I splay my toes a bit, trying to hide my nervousness as I reach out to accept her handshake. I’ve never seen this lady before in my life, but I suppose anyone in this part of the barracks is cleared to know about me. She smells quite weak, though, at least by Templar standards.

She’d go down in under a second. Easy meal.

“That’s me,” I say out loud, letting her control the speed and force of the handshake. Something about this woman seems odd, and I’m not quite sure how to put my finger on it.

“Inquisitor Captain Jelisaveta, I suppose,” she introduces herself. “In the coming days I’ll be replacing High Templar Galdra Karthala as your… escort? The documentation says ‘handler,’ but I don’t really like that wording.”

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out so I close it again. What? Is Galdra leaving? I… but… she’s been so nice to me. It’s sad to have her unexpectedly replaced like this, but more important than that…

“…You are a terrible replacement for the High Templar, ma’am,” I say frankly.

The woman seems more curious than offended. Her eyes flick quickly over me, darting across my body for some purpose I can’t divine.

“What makes you say that?” she asks me.

“Galdra is a deterrent,” I say. “Galdra can stop me if I try to hurt people. You can’t.”

“Ah,” Captain Jelisaveta allows understandingly. “Is that a problem that’s come up recently? Or do you plan to go around eating people now that she’s away?”

“Wh—no!” I protest immediately. “No, I… I mean, I did injure a couple of my fellow trainees, but I didn’t bite them or anything. I’m not… I don’t want to hurt anyone, ma’am.”

She starts to respond, but a yawn cuts her off. I wait for her to continue.

“Well, how about you just do me a favor and continue not hurting anyone, then?” she asks blandly. “My room in the barracks is across from yours. Knock if you want or need to go anywhere. I’m taking a nap.”

With that, she departs, leaving me speechless. I suppose I have somewhere to be, though, so I show up to history class moments before it starts, taking my seat and immediately restarting on my weaving project. I’m getting faster and faster at reading, and these classes seem to just be the instructor rambling about the things we were assigned to read beforehand anyway. Said instructor doesn’t seem to like it very much, but I’ve given up trying to get her to like me.

“Today is going to be a little different from usual,” she says, causing me to twist my ears her way. “Though we’ll still be reviewing the material you were assigned tomorrow, we’re going to do a surprise segment on much more recent history: the Ars crisis.”

Hmm. I don’t know what that is, so I stop weaving and look up.

“I know that all of you were alive during this period, which makes it a somewhat strange subject to cover in a Church History class. But arguably it is because of the strong emotions tied to that fraught period in Valka’s relatively brief life as a country that we must look back and re-examine it with fresh eyes, as openly and with as little bias as we can muster. Not that the unbiased telling of events paints Ars as anything less than an unrepentant, blasphemous monster, either.”

I hesitantly raise my hand to ask permission to speak. The instructor glowers at me a little, but calls my name.

“What is it, Lark?” she asks.

“I, um, don’t believe I was alive for this period,” I say hesitantly. “Unless it just never reached the places I was living…?”

I can almost feel the rest of the class wonder how old I am before coming to the inevitable conclusion. I try not to wince. Humans always act strangely about my age.

“Well,” the instructor sighs, “this actually presents us with a convenient segue. Much like our current crisis with the vrothizo, the threat had been out there, growing in strength for years, but only when it was dropped on top of our heads did we truly become aware of the extent of the danger.”

My ears go flat against my head, but I shut up as the instructor continues to speak.

“Ars was a master animancer, specializing in the creation of enslaved soul amalgamations and subverting his enemies into allies. Before we became aware of the crisis, he had already become a First Lord and High Inquisitor, likely through the corruption of his betters. For all his faults, however, he was clever and subtle. It is entirely possible that we would have never noticed his perversion were he not betrayed by two of his own creations, Manus and Interitus. Together, they secretly compiled proof of Ars’ wrongdoing and released it as publicly as possible, preventing Ars from using animancy to wipe the problem away by simply creating too many people who knew the truth. This worked, and the purging of Ars’ evil began in earnest… though with the downside of inciting the people of Valka into a nearly uncontrollable panic.”

She flicks her fingers rapidly, and soon an illusory scene springs to life in front of her: a street aflame, Templars trapped between an angry mob and other, Ars-corrupted Templars.

“Ars leaned into this chaos,” the instructor continues, “and the first part of the Ars crisis began in earnest. He would alter the minds of people seemingly at random, turning them into assassins or double-agents in public ways that demanded attention from the Templars, splitting our forces while he corrupted more and more of us on the side. Many of the most talented members of the Inquisition were his puppets, and they spread their influence to nearly half the Inquisition’s numbers, abusing a weakness in the decontamination procedures of the time to slip mental influence by our people unnoticed. Eventually, a new method of detecting and decontaminating an individual from Ars’ influence was formalized. These procedures, developed by the now-current High Inquisitor Shamil, formed the backbone of our ability to fight against Ars’ mind-bending influence. Rather than running around desperately trying to put out metaphorical and literal fires, we could establish a secure and reliable force with which to go on the offensive.”

The illusory scene changes, now showing squads of Templars sizing up against twisted caricatures of what I assume to be Ars and his followers.

“Unfortunately, while the Inquisition was inoculated against his influence, they lacked the numbers to protect everyone in Skyhope from his control. Ars cared little for collateral damage, teleporting around the city using the abilities of one of his splices, working on what he could, and escaping before the Inquisition could catch him. Eventually, however, we out-predicted him, and the first official kill on Ars is attributed to High Templar Braum the Ubiquitous.”

A ripple of confusion and worry pulses through the room, and our instructor smiles grimly.

“Yes, you heard me right,” she says. “The first kill. Thus we get to the second half of the Ars crisis: where it was revealed the man had the ability to take new bodies upon death. Most of the general public doesn’t know about this, but thanks to Inquisitor Captain Manus we discovered Ars was alive and well before it was too late. Rumors of this ability escaped, but we did our best to quash them and control the public terror that followed. It is, however, real, and over the course of the continued crisis that followed—which was publicly blamed on the chaos caused by the splices and other Ars-loyalists still active following his initial death—Ars was slain in battle no less than five other times, only to reappear as someone new. We named the ephemeral, body-hopping monster Ars turned himself into ‘Lich,’ and devoted ourselves to stopping it. To end the crisis, our High Templars worked with Inquisitor Captain Manus in order to capture Ars alive, trapping him in his own body rather than allowing him to take a new one and escape again.”

The final illusion shows a man wrapped in restraints, being taken out of the city and locked away. Then, it winks out, the instructor clasping her hands behind her back as she looks out at the class.

“Now, the more thoughtful among you are asking yourselves: why are we discussing this now? Well, as I’m sure you know, a few days ago our city entered a skirmish with a powerful necromancer. This necromancer single-handedly defeated three of our army’s tactical officers by herself, killing two of them before fleeing. Before her escape, however, she identified herself as ‘Vita.’ The same name as the child of Ars Rainier, and now confirmed to be history’s second Lich. It is believed that Ars himself is free as well, though his whereabouts are unknown.”

The instructor casts a sad smile over the class.

“One could argue you picked a rather poor time to join the Templars,” she admits. “Should you graduate, you can expect yourselves to be facing not only Hiverock’s brood, but the revival of the greatest threat of our generation. Obviously, everything you’ve learned today is top secret, and revealing it to anyone outside this barracks is grounds for immediate expulsion from the trainee program and serious punishment on top of that.”

Questions and answers start to fly around me, though most of my attention is stolen as I glance towards Bently, who looks almost physically ill at the news. Vita. She’s back, she’s alive. I’d heard the rumors, but to have it spelled out so plainly in front of me? It’s a chilling feeling, knowing the monster I owe my life to still prowls around. I wish… I wish I had a better impression of who she is. Should I talk with Bently? It might help him to have someone to talk to about Vita, but this seems pretty personal and I’d really just be doing it for my own curiosity…

The question is mostly irrelevant, I guess, because we’re too busy to start a conversation as we sit through class after class. Different people treat the news differently; Gina and Xavier don’t seem to be affected much, Harvey is… well, as hard for me to read as always, but to my surprise, Melik of all people seems extra disturbed. He barely even glares at me for the whole rest of the day.

After class I’m no less busy. I have an appointment with Lady Vesuvius, which means I need to promptly get all my armor back on, return to the dorms, and… well, normally I would wait for Lady Karthala, but I suppose I need to knock on Captain Jelisaveta’s door instead. I do so, then wait silently as I feel her wake up. It doesn’t take her long, just a minute or so and she’s finished dressing, at the door.

“You need something, Trainee?” she asks, and I get that weird feeling again. What is… oh! She doesn’t recognize me because of the armor, I bet.

“It’s Lark, ma’am,” I remind her helpfully.

“I know,” she says. “We met… what, a few hours ago? Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

She’s in uniform, so I can’t see her expression, but… I guess I was just wrong? She recognized me through my disguise somehow. Which is weird because… because… gah, I don’t know! She just acts weird! She’s so nonchalant!

“I have an appointment with my assigned biomancer, First Lady Vesuvius,” I inform her.

“Wow, that figures,” Captain Jelisaveta sighs. “Sure. Let’s get going, then.”

That’s it, huh?

“…Have you, um, seen a vrothizo before?” I ask.

“I got eaten by one, actually,” she answers. “Partially, anyway. My team saved my life and Lady Vesuvius regrew my limbs.”

“Oh,” I murmur. Another hard fail on that prediction. I guess I’m not as good at understanding people as I thought. “Sorry about that.”

“Not like you ate me,” Captain Jelisaveta answers, shrugging as she exits her room. I quickly follow her.

“I’m just surprised you don’t seem nervous,” I admit. “Or fascinated, I guess. Most people are one or the other around me.”

It’s only Xavier and Penelope that seem fascinated, but there’s no reason to call them out on that.

“I’m too tired to be nervous,” Captain Jelisaveta grunts. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh no, are you okay?” I ask seriously.

I know humans get tired all the time, but my only real experience with extended, full-bodied exhaustion comes from moments where I’m seriously injured and low on blood. It’s not a fun experience, and I doubt it’s much less awful to live through just because it happens to humans a lot.

“I’ll be fine,” she answers, nodding. “Thanks for asking. You are very polite.”

I blink, jolting a little as we walk.

“I… thank you,” I say, meaning it. “I was taught that it’s always good to be polite.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks, and I immediately regret my answer because she then says: “By who?”

I glance away, trying to focus on anything other than the taste of his blood falling down my throat.

“A very good man,” I admit. “One I ended up killing.”

“…I see,” Captain Jelisaveta answers, and we remain silent until reaching Lady Vesuvius’ laboratory.

The huge, mostly-wooden building has the same sharp smell as always, one I’ve gotten used to over the dozen or so times I’ve been here. Captain Jelisaveta seems to be looking around with great interest, however. I suppose most people haven’t ever been inside. It doesn’t take long for us to be escorted to the room Lady Vesuvius does her usual checkups in, and sure enough she’s waiting for us when we enter.

“Welcome, Lark!” she says, smiling cheerfully. “And is this… Inquisitor Captain Jelisaveta? Congratulations on the promotion!”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jelisaveta says politely, and my ears twitch slightly as I almost hear Lady Vesuvius whisper something under her breath. It’s so quiet I can’t make out a single word of it, though.

“Well, go ahead and get most of that armor off, Lark,” Lady Vesuvius says primly. “Captain, if you’d wait outside?”

Captain Jelisaveta bows slightly and exits, waiting on the other side of the door. No fussing about like Galdra does. I almost miss it… until I think about what she used to do to my ears.

“I don’t really have anything fancy on the agenda today, just a general checkup.” Lady Vesuvius reports. Huh, she seems kind of tired, too.

“Well, I can’t say I mind,” I admit. “It’s not really fun getting bits of me chopped off.”

She smiles thinly.

“Sorry about that,” she says. “But knowing how fast your kind regenerates could potentially be lifesaving data.”

“I understand,” I tell her, meaning it. “Do whatever you have to in order to protect people from my brothers and sisters.”

“I fear it will be your nieces and nephews soon, as well,” Lady Vesuvius sighs, starting to cast her analysis spell as I finish stripping down to my underwear. “I estimate your body will reach sexual maturity sometime within the next six months, possibly as soon as one month. If we assume your siblings grow at a similar rate, well… our exponential problem will start its multiplication soon. Speaking of, make sure to report to me if you start feeling any abnormalities in your body or its natural urges.”

I nod slowly. That… sounds bad.

“All I have to report is that I feel like I need more food,” I tell her. “I’m getting hungrier more quickly and feeling less satisfied by meals.”

“Hmm,” Lady Vesuvius hums. “How bad is it? If possible, I’d like to test changing your diet to a different animal before we test increasing the physical mass fed to you.”

I raise my eyebrows a bit, but nod. That sounds great, I hate mice.

“Sure,” I say. “I should be fine for another couple weeks at least, if that doesn’t help. Assuming it doesn’t keep getting worse, I guess.”

Lady Vesuvius nods, descending into an uncharacteristic silence after that. She’s normally quite chattery, so it’s making me a little worried.

“Um… forgive me if this is too personal, but is everything okay, Lady Vesuvius?”

She looks up, quickly hiding a bit of surprise at my question before giving me a soft smile.

“Ah, more or less, yes,” she tells me. “I’m just a bit… melancholy. It’s… hmm. Have you ever spent a long, long time looking forward to something, only to realize once you get it that you’re no longer the person that wanted it in the first place?”

“And the new you no longer loves that thing,” I continue understandingly. “But it’s too late after you’ve done it.”

“Exactly,” Lady Vesuvius agrees, sighing.

“May I ask what happened?” I inquire curiously. It’s rare that Lady Vesuvius opens up much about herself.

“Mmm… let’s just say I’m no longer a girl that likes playing with toys,” she murmurs. “Nor anything that reminds me of them.”

Oof, I get that. I used to love toys, but now they just remind me of August. I nod understandingly, feeling a rare moment of kinship with this weird, aggressive woman.

“Though if you don’t mind me changing the subject, I did have a non-medically related question for you,” Lady Vesuvius says, injecting a seemingly artificial cheer into her voice. “What is your opinion on tails?”

“Huh?” I sputter, feeling a bit of conversational whiplash. “What do you mean?”

“Tails,” Lady Vesuvius repeats. “I know you don’t have one, but you’re generally experienced at finding yourself with exciting new body parts, aren’t you? What sort of things would you look for and dread in a tail?”

“Um… well, I don’t really want a tail, so if I started to grow one I’d hope it ends up as small and innocuous as possible,” I answer simply.

“And why don’t you want one?” she presses.

“Well… it wouldn’t help me,” I explain. “The key strengths of my body come from being light and fast. A tail would be extra weight for nothing. Balance? I don’t have issues with it. Prehensile capabilities? I already have four arms, I don’t need it.”

“Hmm,” Lady Vesuvius ponders, tapping her chin. “Well, I’ve been thinking of growing myself a tail, lately. I suppose I’m coming at it with the opposite intention, though; I want more mass, or specifically more volume. I need extra space for internal structures, and rather than expanding my height for relatively minimal gains, I figure I should take the next step of my evolution. But I’m trying to think about what pitfalls I should be mindful of before finalizing the concept.”

Well, she’s back to being weird again, at least. Which is… comforting somehow? I don’t know Lady Vesuvius all that well, but I don’t want her to be distressed.

“So… big like a snake tail?” I ask. “Not in the sense of it replacing your legs, but in the sense that it retains your normal body width throughout most of its length rather than being significantly thinner than the rest of you like a cat or tapering like a lizard.”

“Yes, that would be the best way to maximize volume,” she nods. “But I’m worried about it being too cumbersome. I certainly don’t need to move as quickly as you do, but…”

“It would still be a problem,” I agree. “I have to lean a little further forward when I walk with my quills extended. A giant tail would kill your balance if you tried to lift it off the ground, and if you’re not lifting it off the ground it means you’re dragging a huge tail everywhere. You’d probably get really sore.”

“Mmm,” Lady Vesuvius hums thoughtfully. “Speaking of, how have your back and shoulders been doing?”

“The stretches you suggested help, thank you,” I nod. “Vibrating my quills every day to get heat flowing through them has also been doing wonders.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she responds, almost absentmindedly. “So you think the main problem would be dragging the tail everywhere?”

“If it weighs too much, you won’t be able to lift it without falling backwards,” I shrug. “Right?”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right,” Lady Vesuvius agrees. “Perhaps rather than enabling the tail to be lifted, it might be easier to design it with the intention of being dragged.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I answer, shrugging. “Honestly, I’ve been working very hard trying to hold onto what little humanity I have. I don’t have any idea why you’d want to get rid of it.”

“Well, you’re not very content with who and what you are, yes?” Lady Vesuvius asks me. “Does it not stand to reason, then, that some humans may feel the same way?”

I nod slowly. I… guess that makes sense. It feels weird to me that any human would want to be a monstrous freak of nature, but… it sounds silly to say so when I’m talking to a woman literally turning herself into one.

“It would be nice if people could just… swap bodies, or something. I’d be happy to give up mine.”

Penelope lets out a full-bodied laugh.

“Ah, yes,” she agrees. “If only we knew someone who could do that.”