• Solo • The Mind Flayer IV

[Max]

Continued from here.



The bright Etzori sun cast its light upon her with less foreboding than the rising fireball from the prison. At first it was blinding, forcing Maxine to raise a palm to protect her eyes as she and Ana stepped through the familiar, worn door into this new scene. As sure as she was that it must've been a hot cycle sun, she couldn't feel the warmth she expected to against her skin. After a couple moments her eyes seemed to adjust and her hand slowly lowered.

Scintillating rays colored a new, busy scene of a distant marketplace. Shoppers bustled from stall to stall, expertly snaking past each other in the crowd to complete errands they undertook with fixed, focused minds. Not a head turned at the newcomers' arrival. Maxine's eyes wandered, suspicions confirmed when she noticed the familiar shape of towering buildings and winding walls. She glanced over her shoulder past Ana. The door had vanished.

"Come," Ana half-smiled and placed a hand on Maxine's shoulder. "You know the way." Her hand dropped and the pair of women moseyed through the aged street of the city. Despite the masses, no one bumped into them. No one paid them much mind either. Only when Max checked for her reflection while passing a glass vendor was she certain they weren't spirits merely passing through.

"We have been led astray!" a stranger's voice arose over the nonsensical buzz of hundreds of independent conversations. "Brothers!" the voice pleaded, growing louder as they evidently walked closer to where he shouted. "Sisters! I implore you! Open your minds! Your hearts!" Ana seemed fixed on other things as the speaker, standing on his literal soapbox, became visible over the heads of the other pedestrians. Maxine's attention had snapped to him in an instant, head tilting as her eyes roved his vagrant features. He stamped his feet, opening his arms out toward his unwilling audience. "The Immortals are not our enemies! They are our salvation! Please, listen to me!"

In a different square over a decade ago she must've heard the same speech. It couldn't have been the same man, of course. The message, on the other hand, was congruent. It was dangerous. She'd seen one man draw a mixed crowd. Half had their knives unseated from their pockets while the other desperate half listened with welling eyes. Max had been a fresh transplant to the city back then. She hadn't been ingrained with that natural Etzori contempt for the Immortals. The Raggedy Man had almost beaten it into her that day though.

"Max?" Ana paused a few steps ahead, suddenly noticing her ward wasn't right beside her anymore.
"Sorry," Maxine rotated her head away from the bold spectacle and fell back into step. "We're almost there anyways."
"Not much further." Ana's loose, controlled hair was especially radiant in its golden hue. "Just up these steps."

Sure enough, they rounded a street corner that opened up into a small open expanse of weathered cobbles. A stone building sat before them on its unassuming hill, crumbling above its winding foot path. The windows were tinted with a layer of stubborn dust. The tall, tired entrance was a door that must've once been painted a bright red. Now it was a deeply dulling brown, splintering and withering under the weight of its ancient structure.

The perfect home for parentless children.

"After you?" Ana offered with a sweeping gesture.
"I'm starting to become unconvinced that you don't know the way," Maxine voiced her suspicion dryly. "But sure. Why not."

Maxine started up the uneven steps with Ana at her heels. A quick glance yielded no busy bodies here like the market. The orphanage was much more like a ghost town. The warmth of the sun on her skin was a superficial one. As she traveled closer to the door, she couldn't help the instinct to keep her eyes trained on it. This childhood memory was far better met than rekindling those of ill-fated battles and imprisonment...but not by much.

Once she reached the top of the hill, she found herself standing within the looming shadow of the building. She pressed her lips together. It wasn't quite so tall as she had remembered. Everything else seemed exactly the same. Ana clasped her hands together where they rested pleasantly before her. Max inhaled a sip of oxygen quietly. The silence hear was nearly swallowing. Upon the exhale, the cursed woman relented.

The door pushed open.

[Max]

The wooden door creaked painfully, rocking back on aged hinges as it opened to its new guests. The small, dimly lit foyer was still stuffy and unwelcoming. To the left the door to The Matron's office was already ajar. A small, stubby candle burned to light a basic, chipped desk in the center of the room. Parchment in disarray spilled across the desk surface beside an opened container of pen ink. The two stained chairs sitting in front of the desk were perfectly canted toward The Matron's seat behind the desk. Peeling wallpaper revealed the stone bones of the wall enclosing the room.

"Home, sweet home," Max mumbled.
"For someone," Ana suggested from behind her. "Not for you."

Her guide's point wasn't one she had the sense to argue. By the time Max had reached Etzos, she'd been shipping around for as long as she could remember. Funding for homes like these only lasted as long as the coffers were filled. Adding beds and filling mouths was no easy task, even for the most genuine of institutions. When the books started to red-line it was easiest to up root the most troublesome child anyways. So they did. Maxine had never owned anything in her life, so with no luggage, they'd waltz her to her next arrangement with an opened bed.

The cycle broke here. For better or worse.

"Well here we are," the Rusalka sighed, offering a mocking wave of her hands at the inside of the building. "This what you wanted me to see?"
"Oh, come now!" Ana tsked with a waggle of her finger, brushing by her to enter the orphanage. "We've not even crossed the threshold."
"Looking to adopt? Because I'd recommend a dog first."
"I'm afraid my presence is too inconsistent for a child. Or a dog."
"Whoa! Is that a piece of personal information?"
"Stop trying to derail this. Come on."

Max rolled her eyes but did follow Ana through the threshold. They passed the office and ventured down a long walk that opened up to a large dining hall at its end. The room was notably chillier than the previous ones. Only a few windows welcomed in the sunlight. Above the rag-tag collection of rowed tables and chairs was a high, vaulted ceiling with hanging iron chandeliers. The kitchen was hidden away behind a set of crooked, swinging doors off the far left wall.

Ana walked one of the rows, swiping a pristine finger along the splinter-ridden, dusty surface of a table. Maxine looked around with crossed arms. The place was what it was: a bare-bones space for grubby children to stuff their face with whatever nearly-expired atrocities an unskilled cook staff could slop into a bowl. Schoolyard gripes spilled over into audience-rich meal sessions, but that was about all the excitement she cared to recall.

"This way," the cursed woman pivoted their exploration. She turned on her heels and ventured through the door at the far right wall. She tried to play a good host, giving Ana the tour she seemed to be so keen on to change the mood. She brought them through the living room, pointing out the sooty fireplace, the collection of mildewed seating, the donated toys renewed around the local holidays, and the worn and tattered books that stuffed a small shelf. They passed a few other offices, storage spaces, and staff-only spaces Max was surprised remained locked to her. Finally, they arrived at the second largest room in the building: the dorms.

"Which was yours?" Ana asked, blue eyes keenly roving the orderly crowd of beds lining the walls. "They all look almost the same."
"Fuck if I know," Max brushed the question off with a shrug.
"Liar."
"Nothing gets past you, huh?"
"Just when I was starting to think you'd never learn!"
"I'd say you sound like my mother if I ever had one."
"Ha. Ha."

Maxine slowly stepped through the center row with her brow furrowed. Ana had been astute in her observation: the beds did look nearly identical. There were reasons for that. Truth be told, she had hardly been lying. She lived here for maybe a couple seasons or arcs at best. Most of her time, after she ran into The Raggedy Man, had been spent outside this rocky enclosure. Yet that reminder was itself a clue.

"This one I think," Max stopped before a bed shoved up against a wall near a framed window. "One way to find out."
"Laying on it to remember its softness?"
"Hilarious but no." Max shook her head before squatting down before the bed. She shoved her hand under the mattress, feeling around for a while until her fingers found a hole in the underside. She paused, turned her head, and offered a half-hearted smirk toward Ana. When she pulled her hand out from under the bed she revealed a small, rusty blade. "Because my bed had this hidden so I could pry the frame off the window and get out at night."
"Fitting. I should've guessed."