Storm Chasing

Slowly standing up, Lilith made her way back to the basin. Grabbing the small water pitcher, she poured the cool water into the tub. Rolling her loose sleeves up higher onto her arms, the blonde closed her eyes and stuck her hands into the water. With her mind on the small flame behind her, she began to think of the warmth fire often offered. The heat traveling through her tiny form, she let the heat radiate out of her hands and soon the water was boiling. The heat and burn from the water had felt good. It would be a temporary fix until she could actually get soap, but the water had been cleansed, and now, her hands, burning and red, seemed as if they had been cleansed of the dirty world around her.

It saddened Delphina to see so much going on in the world around her, so much fear and dread and so much death. She'd been dead for over a thousand years and yet every time she was confronted with it, she felt a pang of something she didn't quite understand. What hurt Lilith so? Death, she would think, would be a solace after so many years living the way she had. Freedom came from death, but death came at a price, and now of course Lilith could no longer die except to be reborn.

One thing Del did know: This woman's name wasn't "Clara." She shook her head from side to side and cleared her throat. "Your name, for a start. You are lying to me about your name." But she'd already said that, already made it clear that she knew these facts as clearly as she knew that her own name had once been something different than what it was now. "As I said, I do not see in words, so I do not see your name. But it is not Clara." She paused, staring into the woman's eyes, searching her as she had demanded. It would have been easier if she'd been obliged with an object, but the eyes were helpful, if often insufficient.

Still, her pride was something that could be swallowed at times like these. "Thank you, dear. It means so much to know you think so." A light squeeze on Delphina’s shoulder as they finally passed the games quarter. Tents took the place of booths, and fewer electric lights decorated the trees above.

Delphina’s fixation on her own virginity seemed pitiful itself. If not for her power and Puck’s fixation with numbers, the girl would have been sent to tent with the painted ladies immediately, regardless of what Delphina cared about or not. That, or become Hannah’s snack. But this one had to be kept happy, and it was easy enough to do so with a smile and a gentle word. "And then they all complain about how terrible life’s responsibilities are. Such wonderfully stupid creatures girls are. How lovely." Mary was wondering if she could say any number of terrible things and still get away with it. Just how far did Delphina’s affections go? But that was a question for another game.

Fortune telling could be exhausting, but Del found it interesting and, indeed, entertaining to watch the people come in and out of her tent, revealing themselves to her without ever meaning to. "There was one, at the last stop, who was so concerned about her weight that it was preoccupying everything else. She asked me about her father and whether or not he would survive his stroke, but she kept thinking about her weight and the boy she liked so much that I wasn't able to concentrate on her question. Their priorities are all wrong."

She could remember the first time she had decided that death by fire would be her best way out, unlike when she was forced upon a stake and set on fire next to her family. It was during the Black Death. She had been living poorly in the streets of London, and word of a great dark illness spreading across Europe had traveled throughout the mouths of noblemen and eventually the poor, like herself. She feared this dark plague spreading; still fairly young since her inception on Earth. And once it had finally made its way to her home city, Lilith was terrified. Already seeing the effects of the disease on the people around her, she knew everyone was in trouble. If a disease spread by vermin could take out royalty, then her land and home were certainly at risk for extinction. She had only died but ten times, and one of those times, she would certainly always remember. It was the most painful death for multiple reasons, and it was death, she would go on to experience quite often in her future.

It happened late one frigid, winter night. A fresh snow had just fallen on the ground outside and the stars were high in the sky. But inside a warm stone house laying in stool and urine ridden sheets, was the young Phoenix. She had caught the plague. The eruption of boils soon turning black and forcing her into the bed. And within three days, the water her already burning body could no longer handle, managed to be regurgitated in the form of blood. With an aching all over and a foul smell lingering in her nostrils, Lilith couldn’t take it anymore. She had been the only one remaining in the small family she had come to care for and live with. So with what little strength that remained in her body, she crawled from the bed, over the cobblestone floor covered in hay, dirt, and human waste; her caretaker out for the night. And with all her might forced herself into the flames licking at the edges of the rock fireplace.

As screams rang out through the night, the young woman who had been caring for the ill Phoenix returned the next morning to find nothing but ash and a trail of coughed up blood and feces leading to the fireplace. Lilith was gone. At least from London. And had somehow found herself hundreds of miles away in a nearby forest naked and freezing in the snow.

"So tell me, what first interested you in the art of sewing?" She threw over her shoulder as she began at a slow pace, her footfalls barely audible as the wind wailed past the pair of women. She was curious, that much was apparent. After all, immortals have an infinite amount of time to study or learn any craft they would wish to master, so certainly something must have drawn the oracle to the same craft she so vehemently cherished. "I was taught by my Mother when I was a young girl," She began, beaming at the woman next to her. "It brings me peace, solace. I cannot imagine another purpose in life more suited for me."

With a soft sigh, Del inclined her head toward Isadora as they walked. Isadora's accent was mixed but beautiful, her voice comforting. It was easy to bask in the warmth of such a voice. Being close stopped some of the chill from making its way through her clothes, and Del held tight to Isadora as they dodged a puddle from the recent rains. It would be dry enough soon that they would be wetting the ground to prevent dust, and the thought of it made her laugh softly. Such a strange time of year for a carnival, but it mattered not. "I don't mind the cold as much as I once did, but thank you. You are still human. I'm sure you suffer more than the mutants," she said quietly.

As they walked, Del raised her eyes to look around the carnival. Everything was so dull today, the lights dim, nothing lit the way that it would be during the evenings once the carnival started. The whole place seemed dead, like so many of those who occupied it, and she had to sigh. Soon enough, she reminded herself, it would be beautiful and bright and exciting and crawling with patrons. Not long now, only a few more days and it would be bright again. For now, they only had to wait, and she turned her head to take in Isadora's question, offering the other woman a little smile. "I learned to sew when I was a little girl. The high priestess taught me to be modest and to take care of myself. Independence was very important to us then, as we lived alone. We did for ourselves instead of asking others to do for us. To be honest with you, I quite learned to enjoy it. Maybe that's not as modest as it could be." Laughing softly, Del gently steered Isadora around another puddle.

Touch brought with it a comfort and peace that Del didn't receive anywhere else in her life. Del settled easily against Isadora, taking the woman's arm and pressing against her side. The chill in the air had crept its way under her clothing and made her shiver, so the contact was quite a bit more comforting than it might have been otherwise. Physical contact with other people was often so fleeting, and Del relished those moments when she could be close and enjoy the warmth of shared space. It had been too long since she had such contact with a human woman. "I would very much enjoy a walk, Maitresse," Del said with a soft smile for Isadora. "The day is beautiful after so much rain. I cannot say I enjoy the rain."

With a soft sigh, Del inclined her head toward Isadora as they walked. Isadora's accent was mixed but beautiful, her voice comforting. It was easy to bask in the warmth of such a voice. Being close stopped some of the chill from making its way through her clothes, and Del held tight to Isadora as they dodged a puddle from the recent rains. It would be dry enough soon that they would be wetting the ground to prevent dust, and the thought of it made her laugh softly. Such a strange time of year for a carnival, but it mattered not. "I don't mind the cold as much as I once did, but thank you. You are still human. I'm sure you suffer more than the mutants," she said quietly.

As they walked, Del raised her eyes to look around the carnival. Everything was so dull today, the lights dim, nothing lit the way that it would be during the evenings once the carnival started. The whole place seemed dead, like so many of those who occupied it, and she had to sigh. Soon enough, she reminded herself, it would be beautiful and bright and exciting and crawling with patrons. Not long now, only a few more days and it would be bright again. For now, they only had to wait, and she turned her head to take in Isadora's question, offering the other woman a little smile. "I learned to sew when I was a little girl. The high priestess taught me to be modest and to take care of myself. Independence was very important to us then, as we lived alone. We did for ourselves instead of asking others to do for us. To be honest with you, I quite learned to enjoy it. Maybe that's not as modest as it could be." Laughing softly, Del gently steered Isadora around another puddle.

"I think we're all lucky the Madame found you, Mistress," Del said modestly as she squeezed the other woman's hand. Her mind flashed with a vision, hot and then icy, fading too quickly for her to reveal what she'd seen. Brow furrowing, she turned to glance over at Isadora. "Double check the costumes," she said suddenly, realizing that she'd sensed something that was of dire importance, but not so dire that she could remember the details. Sighing, she shook her head in frustration. "I am dreadfully sorry that I don't have more for you than that. But do double-check the costumes. Ticket Master will be most upset if his vests aren't in perfect order and I would hate to have not told you since I've seen something." It would do best to keep Isadora being fortunate.

The speech did not pique her interest. Fortune tellers were meant to say these things, were meant to make assumptions based off of hints and tics that the querent gave herself. Valentina would give entirely false hints and lead her to a decision that was likely something Valentina expected. It would be fun. The first observation made by the fortune teller was one of skepticism, to increase Delphina’s want to impress her, perhaps, or simply because that one was far too obvious. "It’s been at least seven hours - I’m sure that’s not an entirely impossible assumption to make."

"Oh, I quite like other women. Do be sure to remind me about her in the morning, darling, I’m afraid my memory is failing me tonight." Again, there was a hidden importance to the seemingly casual comment. Mary knew better than to brush Delphina’s hunches and suspicions off with a wave of her hands. The girl was useful, powerful to say the least. Likely knew more abou Mary’s own future than either of them would like to admit to the other. Then again, she was dead, so there was no way of knowing. Besides, the future was a far better game when she didn’t know what was coming. “You see, I can’t remember if I’ve already eaten yet nor not - and my stomach certainly doesn’t care if it’s empty or full, so I can hardly tell myself!”

Mary always looked fantastic in Del's mind, but she looked even better on opening nights, when she was first beginning the process of drawing people to the carnival. The screams were music to Del's ears, and though many were afraid of Mary, Del had learned to trust and admire her more than to fear her. Women were much less intimidating than men, and even those who were most cruel possessed positive traits that no man had. If nothing else, women could withstand pain that men could never even imagine. Of course Del would never have the opportunity to experience the pain of childbirth, and it had left an empty pang in her heart even from the time she was chosen for the priesthood. Such was life, when one was immortal. 

"Of course I’m right," she snapped, feeling the esoteric liquid below her flesh surge in frustration. Fire curled between her ribs, an insolent child that had been within her since the beginning of team. Sighing deeply, she sought to exhale some of the flames, more for her own sake than Delphina’s. It wasn’t graceful to show such anger. Her pallid lids slipped closed, one hand pinching the bridge of her slim nose while the other one snatched the cloth back. Her eyes reopened to observe the silk handkerchief. She had enchanted it long ago to never show mark or ruin, but still - her nose crinkled in something like distaste as she made sure no snot had tainted it, keeping it only between two pinched fingers before she tucked it away again.

Looking up as if she’d forgotten Delphina was there, her forehead crinkled as it had been when she studied the cloth. It wasn’t quite a softening that overtook Cordelia’s face then, as Delphina’s quarries about strength were released. It wasn’t softness, definitely not, but it was at the very least, a pause. "How do I do it?" She repeated, tone inscrutable and blank, her unnatural body halted completely. Only another blast of that damned wind made her stir, her shoulders about to shake in the chill. Taking a vice grip on Delphina’s wrist, she pulled her away from the air and into a nearby tent, which contained a surprised Carnie whom Cordelia knew to make a performance out of their body’s unusual quirks. “Well?” She threw towards the misplaced man, who was staring at the two women questioningly. “What are you staring at; get out, you idiot!” The man quickly scrambled up and complied, heading out the opposite end of the tent. 

"They don't fear women. Men fear women like you." Anger and aggression weren't Del's way, but she was as heated as she'd been in quite some time. How was it that women like Cordelia or Madame Cruentifer couldn't understand that a woman wasn't born empowered, but that it was something which happened to her over time? For someone like Del, who had been raped and murdered on the top of an island in Greece, it was hard to imagine being powerful enough to force men to do what you wanted. Most women didn't even take the time to notice that Del existed, something which had happened more than once recently and had nearly sent her skittering off for Gypsy's tent and the comfort of knowing that he understood her. Few creatures, even at Bazaaro, were as old, and she'd been with the carnival for long enough to understand this.

Bringing her hand back to her the warmth of her robe, she looked over the priestess’s handiwork once more. "I wonder what that must have been like, studying under their tutelage. You must show me what they have taught you sometime, only if you please." She followed the other woman’s gaze to the arachnid waiting patiently beside them.

Had Fang not been as tall as she was, Isadora might not have noticed she was there at all. Not out of indifference towards her eight-legged companion, but simply because the spider had become her shadow, following her wherever she went. She never understood why Fang had chosen her as master, but she was endlessly appreciative of her company.

Del crossed her arms over her chest, the wind whipping up colder than she could take. For a moment she was silent, her mind seeking inward not for visions but for memories. "We've all seen terrible things, but none more than she. She can see what others cannot. And yet she goes right on doing what she does, not because she has to, but because she wants to. I think animals have more loyalty than humans ever could."

Seeing the woman’s eyes roll back into her skull, the small blonde watched quietly letting the brunette do her job. While any normal person would have been concerned with Del’s ways, Lilith sat patiently letting the oracle work. It wasn’t until she noticed the distortion and discomfort on her face, that Lilith actually became somewhat concerned. She had found herself intrigued, now wanting to know more. Leaning into the table, Lilith waited for Delphina to speak, and when she finally did, the young Phoenix listened carefully, "Wound tightly?" She narrowed her eyes and tried to make sense of what she was saying. There were lots of things she was wound up about, but was there a specific one she was referring to? Lilith wanted to know more, "Can you be anymore specific, Oracle? I’m certainly not trying to question your methods, but there’s a great deal I’m wound up tightly about."

"You have so much fear," Delphina whispered, opening her eyes again and searching the blue eyes across from her. "But why?" She narrowed her eyes, focusing, turning her attentions inward, to the messages, the visions, the knowing. "It is not death you fear. It is... Ugliness." The vanity of it all hit Del squarely and seriously and she frowned slightly, dark brows coming together as she fought for understanding. "You fear the ugliness of death and so you die in smoke and flame and are born again, but why?" Most would fear death because of the unknown, or a fear of pain, but with Lilith it was something else. She was missing so much. So many things would be lost to her if she never allowed herself to experience them. It could be said that there was beauty even in death, though Del hadn't enjoyed dying at all.

Del’s voice brought her back to the situation at hand, Hannah shaking her head slightly and looking towards the spices. She grabbed a bottle of chervil without even looking at the name. "I’m always busy but I do like to keep up with people at the carnival. I’m sort of in the know about everything most of the time which is why it surprised me that I didn’t know who you were already. Keep to yourself most days?" The off season meant that her information was limited these days. Patrons weren’t around to tell her of the things they’d experienced and she couldn’t just go to the Masters to ask who someone was. "I’m always willing to talk if you’d ever like to get out of that tent of yours." The blonde smiled once again in Del’s direction to show her the sincerity she held before she turned back to the shelves in front of them.

Perhaps she needed to be out and about more, but Del feared men and it was easier for her to stay in her own domain where she had to fear no reprisal from killing one who walked into her tent. In the outer world, where she was now, a loud noise could make her jump. At home, she had fewer worries. A sound from behind her caused Del to turn her head, illustrating the point, her brown eyes wide as a large man approached them, then passed. With a sigh of relief, she turned back toward Hannah. "It's safer there, I suppose. Fewer eyes watching and looking and wanting to know things." Though this was obviously not altogether true, there was enough truth to her words that Del relaxed a bit and breathed a sigh, then closed her eyes.

"I did, my sweet, I did," Mary all but sang. “I should have you come out more often. The clouds and the fog shy away from your dark beauty.” A girlish laugh, and Mary stood to the side of Delphina, placing an arm around her waist and directing her through the crowd and away from all the human bodies. They weren’t very pretty, anyway, these humans. They had lost their finesse over the years. Mary had expected more of Wershire, but all these denim pants and loose shirts on girls simply did not have the same appeal as clothing once did.

It was subtly done, the way she cared about some of the more skittish carnies. They were hers to care for, after all, and if they loathed the touch of male body, then why should Mary force them to be near it? She directed Delphina away as she chattered on, as though she simply wanted to walk as she talked. "I do hope there’s a storm soon, though. I’ve been wanting to play with the lighting every now and then. Perhaps then I could talk Gypsy into performing in one of our theaters. Shove her into impossible spaces for a magic trick, or simply show off her talents."

People loved magic. As Del stepped forward so that Madame could walk with her back toward her own tent, she considered the fact that most humans didn't know what they were looking at when they saw real magic. She hummed softly, her bare feet taking in the cold of the dirt beneath her toes as she moved. "They won't know what they're seeing. The patrons, I mean. But nothing's better than seeing you put on one of your light shows, Mistress. I should like very much to see another storm, if you're in control of it." Within the carnival there was a sense of safety, and Delphina knew that as long as she was here Madame Cruentier and Gypsy would keep her safe from everything that threatened her in the outside world. Storms might be scary if she were in Greece, but this was a closed environment, and she was safe here.

After the first ten minutes and peeking her head into a few freak shows and unlabeled tents, she began to explore. She introduced herself to a talking frog, who pointed her this way and that, then chatted with someone at Hannah’s Cannibal Cafe, though Valentina did not order anything herself. She eyed the food once or twice, but decided she’d wait until she got home. Everything looked too greasy or fatty or deep-fried for her rather dainty tastes. Her diet was the only thing Valenina allowed the word dainty to be applied to. Even the way she walked was stately and purposeful, and hardly delicate at all.

It was nearing midnight, no doubt, when she finally made it pasts the games and the big circus tent in the center. Her wristwatch - analogue, though it was likely controlled by a digital computer inside - stopped working a while ago, and Valentina did not question it. She simply continued on her way. A few beckoned her in to their tents, and Valentina looked inside, but none of them laid a hand on her - though it looked to her that more than a few wanted to. She wondered at it, but only vaguely and at the corner of her mind.

It was unexpected when someone finally caught and held her attention. A young woman, casting her eyes to the ground and doing nothing to draw attention to herself, stood outside a tent and asked a simple and submissive question. She was not demanding, nor was she advertising.

Feeling the release of the woman’s hands, Lilith looked up to find her being welcomed into the tent. She had never been into Del’s tent before, let alone anyone else’s. She had, however, visited Hannah’s trailer, and it had been quite a treat. One she enjoyed, even if it included seeing the remainder of human corpses. Seeing into the lives of her fellow Carnies was a treat for Lilith. She never liked to invade other people’s private, personal space or lives, unless they invited her, and she expected the same kind of respect in return. Otherwise, Lilith would quickly turn a cold shoulder to anyone who forced themselves into her life without even at least asking first. Of course, the answer would usually be no, but manners were important, and Lilith expected them.

Taking a step forward, the small Phoenix could smell the organic scents coming from the darkness and mysteries the secluded space held. All the history Delphina’s tent had seen could probably fill a history book, or at least a manual on what to do and what not to do in life. And soon, if Del could prove herself worthy to Lilith, it might even contain a tiny piece of her history, "This is your tent. Your space. You do what you feel is necessary."

At the Oracle’s request, Lilith took her seat at the small table. The chair creaked as she sat down in it, but it only added to the effect of everything. Something most carnival goers would appreciate, but to Lilith, she was merely there out of curiosity and nothing more. She had lived the carnival life. She knew the tricks of the trade. And she had been to plenty in her lifetime, before becoming a part of one. Of course none were as special as Bazaaro, or as…magical.

Settling into her seat, Del moved the incense so that it was close enough to tickle her sinuses and permeate her lungs. The hash in the mix would help her to lose herself in the visions, and that was the reason that she had lit it in the first place. Stronger drugs did exist, and she sometimes used opium if she would be reading and vision questing only for the other carnies. Tonight, however, the carnival was open, and she needed to keep her thoughts as clear as possible, lest she find herself lost in her own head. A stronger drug produced better results, but the cannabis should be enough to get her through, and she breathed deeply through her nose and filled her lungs with the smoke. Closing her eyes for a moment, she settled herself, then reached out for Lilith's hands again.

Though Del didn't read palms, there was something helpful about maintaining contact with a person. She could make this work with a particular object that belonged to them as well, but typically that would help her to evaluate their past rather than their future. The purpose of being an oracle was not to reveal the past but to reveal the future to her patrons. In order to do so effectively, she had to know something about the past, of course, but Lilith knew where she'd been and what she'd seen. 

First contact brought pain, and Del almost jerked her hands away from Lilith, but instead she wrapped her fingers around the edges of the phoenix's hands so that she could keep her grip on her. The sense of sickness filled her so thickly that she nearly gasped for air, her eyes flying open and meeting the gaze of her companion. Holding tighter, she snapped her feet together under the table, the previous, comfortable position lost to her as she sought security and comfort. Something about Lilith reminded her too much of the pain she'd endured that night, and she let her eyes roll back into her head, tipping her head back as though staring at the ceiling of the tent. Hard. There was something hard inside of Lilith, like a knot at the center of her that wanted to become a wound, but couldn't. 

The winds were wild and playful, as they often were at this time of day, knocking into each other and wrestling in eddies and gusts. When they danced through the brush, you could hear their laughter, high pitched and smooth. Some of the younger winds pulled up against her, cossetting her cheek until she tutted and nodded them off. She wasn’t in the mood for their games today, not without a blast of heat to balance their uncomfortable temperature. A small gale nestled itself against her cheek briefly, and she huffed, scowling, but didn’t nudge it away. Having stolen more heat from its mistress (greedy little things, winds were), it was off with another moaning giggle, zipping off to snatch away a man’s hat.

The slight smile on Cordelia’s lips was hidden by the large collar of her coat. There was a time for smiling (in the depths of her sleep, perhaps, or never), and this was not it. 

Although she had given the winds their leave, they continued to race under her skirts and around her cloak in a kind of cat-and-mouse game, each breeze looking to catch the tail of the one before it, or touch the hot (but quickly chilling) skin of the magic-mistress. Even when a particularly strong blast rolled over her - forceful enough to topple over a muscled man, if he was not careful - it did nothing more than tug at the exposed ends of her hair. She may have looked slight, but she was anchored to the ground with the weight of ichor and beauty, and the strongest of gales could not have unbalanced her. Perhaps she was more statue then woman, with a face carved of marble and a heart nothing less than stone.

However, not all forms were as secured as she - this Cordelia knew, but it took the voice of a woman to remind her. By the sound of her voice, she seemed as light and arcane as the winds, but it was what her mouth chose to release in terms of syllables (and pure noises, if you counted her whimper) that had Cordelia scowling and rolling her eyes. “Don’t cry out so,” She snapped, only looking at the woman briefly as she pulled her furs around her tighter, the joints of her slim fingers paler than normal. “It’s rather ugly, and I can’t abide unsightly things.” Her eyes turned back to the brunette, whom she recognized as a frightened doe named Delphina. Not that she allowed the recognition to creep into her eyes; if she wanted to make herself memorable to Cordelia, she would have to prove herself. It was when she gleamed the tears in her eyes, however, that her scowl deepened. “For Circe’s sake - ” She jerked a silk cloth from the sleeve of her dress, extending it towards the injured woman with something less than benevolence. In annoyance, she shook her head meaningfully, demonstrating that she meant for Delphina to take it.

"You're right," she said, forcing the words from her tight throat. Tears were foolish and carried with them a strange sense of entitlement that didn't belong to Del and which didn't suit her typical personality. She wanted more from herself than to pressure others into giving her what she needed. One thing she could have learned, but had never managed, was that there was something worthwhile in learning to love yourself first. Her entire life had been given to Apollo, and now that she had died and come back in another form, she'd continued to give her life for whatever the current cause was. For Del, that was the carnival, for Mary Cruentifer. Loyalty was important, but it had eaten up her self-esteem and her sense of self-reliance as well. Del followed whoever the current leader was without question and without fail, regardless of the motivations of that leader. Motivations were less important than her ability to feel comfort from security.

Watching Del grab the cardamom, Hannah shook her head again but this time it was to warn Del to not even touch that bottle. "You only want cardamom if it’s still in the pods, otherwise the flavor is completely lost." Her eyes scan a section towards her left where a lot of the raw ingredients would be. Whole garlic cloves, whole seeds that required a grinder, and the pods that Hannah was currently looking for. Grabbing a package of them, she held them out for Del, a small smile finally reaching her lips. "This should be a lot better than that pre-made stuff. You said you were used to grinding your own spices, right?" 

It was the last statement that had Hannah furrowing her eyebrows. She was so used to everybody in the carnival eating her meals with no problem that it was a little strange to her to have someone weary of the ingredients she used. Confusion set in and Hannah couldn’t help the bewildered look that crossed her face. "I uh…I didn’t realize some people had a problem with it. I guess I could start making vegetarian meals for you if you’d like…."