Micali Alsara
Member
This Woman's Work
(1766)
(1766)
Author's Notes
Cold. A familiar cold, the one that sinks into your bones and smothers you with sleep. Beneath her hands, warmth. A familiar warmth, the one that welcomes an eternal reprieve. A simple human body, adorned in a scarlet gown that clung up to her throat. It fluttered about like a thousand crimson moths and discarded itself behind her as the universe accelerated its rotation.
Around her, sounds she had never stopped to hear before. Birdsong and the reverie of rattling pines. The crunch of boots on frozen earth, the memories of every other body that had walked every era past. Their ancestral impacts almost like a chant to spur each step even further, onward to an unknowable horizon. The sounds of a river stream that sang praise of the smooth stones it held close. Like motherhood, like laughter, like peace.
Before her, an ever shifting expanse. Trees behind trees and path beyond path. The shimmering eternity that gently folded its nimbus robes after waking from a long nap; the beckoning incandescence of Sol. Light upon her face helped her steps come more quickly. But why was she in such a rush to leave this painting of transient permanence?
Then the treelines parted for her, allowing her the providence of smokestacks and fence lines. People, joining this wondrous world. Looking at her. Shouting words, simple silly words. Without warning, the land leapt, and she was left staring at the sun. It greeted her as an old acquaintance, calling her to join all that had followed this path before her.
Her eyes did not burn, and in that brilliant light she saw it.
A place to call home.
Then, without warning, the sky was swallowed whole, and Micali Alsara saw only darkness.
xx-xxx-
“Cal? You okay? You just started zoning out there.”
Micali focused, and there she was. Sat in the lounge of the Insidiis Headquarters. Everyone else sat around. It was a rare night that they all had off, nothing going on. Even Talrigori showed up.
Corruma nudged her with a smile. “Good, you’re back. I think Cid wants to say something.” She leaned her head on the sniper’s shoulder for a second before turning her attention to her brother.
Micali looked down to her arms, her pristine arms, her clean hands. The once-fluorescent lights of the Lucrusian underground instead turned off to allow the fairy lights sprinkled through the area to shine. Everything was as it always had been. She had woken up from that terrible nightmare.
Cidisti stood away from the group, gesturing with his hands. “Well since this is the first night we’ve all had off together in a long time, I figured it would serve us to spend some time together. A team-building exercise.” His grin was almost goofy in how clearly bashful it was.
A short laicar with hints of stubble let out a chuckle. “What you mean is you wanted an excuse for us to all get drunk and tell stories.” Olivor let out a wry laugh, which soon got everyone else to join along.
Cidisti pouted for a second. “Well…yeah, pretty much. Whatever, I brought drinks.” He pulled a bottle of wine, a bottle of whiskey, and a bottle of rum. Someone must have brought glasses, because everyone soon had one in hand.
Soon, small talk turned to asking about what everyone had been up to. Someone asked, “Val, where were you last week, again?”
Valgora rolled her eyes above her glass. “They wanted me to go and intimidate some rich guy, same as always. I can’t help but feel like I've been typecast.”
Pallorus spoke up then, voice low and calm, a soft heaviness that made Micali feel safe. How she missed that voice. “To be fair, that’s your specialty, with all the fire and crazed expressions. I’m pretty sure you talked one time about getting ‘Loose Cannon’ tattooed on your knuckles until we told you that cannon has six letters in it.”
The pale green scales that dotted the velen’s face like freckles seemed to shimmer under the strung fairy lights. “Whatever. I was never actually going to do it.” She crossed her arms with a huff until Pallorus patted her on the shoulder and she relaxed back into sipping her drink.
“Tal? How ‘bout you? Feel like we haven’t had a chance to sit and drink like this in a long time.”
The enlil looked to the others before she sipped her drink more deeply, finishing it off. “You know me. I often have business I must attend to on my own. If anything requires your help I will let you know.” Stiffly, she poured herself a tad more wine.
Everyone seemed to nod at that - they all had their secrets, their own quirks. Secrecy was far from an unforgivable flaw. Suddenly, the friend that sat next to her turned to face her. “Did Cid tell you about what we were up to? Had to go handle some beasts in the sewers, simple stuff. I helped heal up some of the keepers who got messed up in the first scuffle. But you should’ve seen Cid!”
Her brother seemed to perk up at that, before he took over telling the story. “Oh, yeah, that did go pretty well. Malum even said we performed ‘excellently.’ Getting praise like that from the boss’s boss is always a good feeling.”
Micali would normally roll her eyes at the boasting, normally try to throw some wrench in the gears of whatever vehicle drove Cidisti’s confidence on that day. But for some reason, she felt…happy. Just happy to see her friends around her, talking like always.
“What about you, Cal?”
She looked down into her glass.
Where had she been?
“I had a mission, I think. I was outside the city. Far away. Doing…something, I’m a bit foggy right now, sorry.” She rubbed at her own forehead as she tried to remember, hoping some static shock could administer a jolt to her memory.
Each of them laughed or joked. A hand on her shoulder turned her to face Pallorus as he pulled her in for a tight hug. For some reason, she felt like he held on tighter than usual. Then they parted, and everyone looked to Micali.
Olivor whistled low across the circle. “By all means, take your time,” which emitted even more laughter from the Seven Devils.
She pulled away from her friend and looked to the group. Memories, fractured and faint, began to eke back into her psyche. Micali trembled as she spoke, “I think…I think you all died. And I killed you.” Even as she said it, she knew it felt wrong to say. But all the same the words came tumbling out, guilty. “Except you,” she said as she looked at Talrigori.
A silence overtook the circle. Then, a head leaning on her shoulder yet again. “Well we’re still here, aren’t we? You should get some sleep.” Corruma let out a sigh. “I’m sure when you wake up, you’ll feel good as new!”
Micali appreciated the sentiment. She brushed a hand through Corruma’s hair - everyone’s little sister, though Cid often took offense to the sentiment. What exactly are you implying about our mother?
Turning to face Pallorus, she flashed him a small smile, content to simply exist here and now. He returned the grin, and before her eyes, he vanished. She began to panic, looking to the others. Nobody else noticed. The man who had been her best friend, who had held her whenever she needed, who had watched her back and helped keep her alive. The man she named her child’s godfather. He was gone in an instant.
Just as she was about to speak, to protest to the universe for stealing her friend away from her, she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Valgora disappear. Always the cruel villain, the evil lunatic that wanted nothing more than to unleash destruction. But that wasn’t true, was it? She was just another child, raised to be a weapon. A replicari created to infiltrate an infiltration. How ridiculous that Micali ever thought to hate her.
Then the group got substantially quieter, and she knew that Olivor was gone. The quiet was hard as she felt her closest friends slipping away from this place, away from her. She remembered the time that he lead Corruma on only to break her heart. He had always been in love with her, but was just too insecure to act on it. She dreaded watching them dance around each other for years. Now, they would never have the chance.
The weight on her shoulder disappeared and Micali fought back a sob. Looking down, she saw scars forming along her arms, her hands, her legs. The youngest of them all, the baby, the innocent healer, the one they wanted to keep pure, whose hands they never wanted to see bloodied. She was gone, and her gentle presence would never again grace the world.
Looking back up, she locked eyes with Cidisti. He looked sad. Then, he too disappeared. Micali had long considered him her rival, the one she butted heads with most of the Seven Devils. The man she had always thought was out to get her, always wanted to take control and dominate every conversation. Did he ever make his own choice?
Left with Talrigori, Micali evened her breathing. It was never going to last, this peaceful dream. Micali could do nothing but wait for the darkness to envelop one of them. The enigma, the girl who hardly seemed to age since Micali first met her. Talrigori - no…Ilori Fallitur, if she had to truly guess. All the same, she had spurred Micali on this journey, but had helped save her life countless times prior. She had her own agenda to be certain, but Micali never found out what it was. She spoke up first. “Which of us is next?”
The white-feathered enlil gave her a rare smile, her tone losing its monotonous edge to assume one that resembled genuine joy. “That is your choice.”
Micali had to choose. To stay, or to vanish. To live, or to die. She had people who were waiting for her, in this life and the next. But what did she want, really? What would she choose?
Feeling her body begin to ebb away while mortality frayed at the edges of her existence, she decided. Not for anyone lost, nor for anyone yet to be saved. But for the first time that she could admit, Micali chose for herself.
She chose, and she awoke.