#candy*

—–

There was something familiar about the devices in play, and Jezebel didn’t like it. It had to do with Candy, she suspected: she’d been one of Lux’s to begin with, but since Jezebel had taken her under her wing the girl’s hand had been growing steadily, and in a promising direction. But Candy had been acting very strangely of late. Or maybe not acting per se: it was more about how things hinged upon her. That’s what was concerning. There were cards that you played, but then there were cards that could play you. Next time she had her alone she confronted her.

 “Candy,” she said, “do you trust me?”  The girl nodded. “Show me your hand.”

She made the command on impulse, unthinking, and was shocked when the other denizen complied in full. 

She pulled the cards from her sleeves and her stockings and her hair; she drew a handfull from her bra and one from the sole of her shoe, then two more behind her ear. Seventeen all told, and she held them out in front of her, earnest as a Star. Jezebel could not have ordered it. None but the Cardmaster had that power. And yet she had asked it, and now it was so (is that how it felt?). It hardly seemed possible, that she should offer herself so freely---so whole---and now Jezebel had to fight the desire now to push the cards aside, to pull her in close and ask for one thing more.

The giddiness faded as she began to read what had been shown her.  “Is something wrong?”

She looked up. Candy seemed concerned now—an expression not well accustomed to her face. Jezebel wanted it gone. “No no, I was only concentrating.” She smiled. “Your hand has grown so beautifully. I’m very proud of you.” Candy blushed, and lowered her cards. “Oh yes, do put them away now, please,” Jezebel added, “We wouldn’t want anyone else to see. In fact…” she stepped in close, conspiratorially. “Between the two of us, you really oughtn’t have shown me. Not even when I asked for it. I don’t know how Lux runs things, if that’s common practice under her, but out here you’ll never survive with that kind of openness. Additionally…” she paused, and hesitated a long moment. “Do be careful, with some of those. You must play the cards, remember, and never the other way round.” She winked. “Word from the wise.”

Candy smiled, her eyes uncomfortably large and pink, and winked in return.

“Good girl,” said Jezebel, and tousled her hair once before taking her leave.

***

She did not try to intervene when it happened. 

She did not believe that she could. Candy made a good show of it, though, crying out only once in her surprise. All colour drained from her. Her tears fell noiselessly, her expression fixed: poignant, but not over-done.

Now Jezebel seeks her out after in the room of mirrors, where everything is upside-down. Where she’s crying in earnest and the walls are screaming and her mask is badly cracked. Jezebel kneels and wipes her tears from it, the false ones and the true. She kisses the fissure and tastes sugar and orange, lime, blue-raspberry; again and again she kisses her, and she can’t fix the brokenness but he can, she says, he can. “And he will,” she assures her. “He’s very fond of you; you’re far too sweet to waste. Come now, you were so happy. Won’t you be happy again?”

She cries harder, her face a muddy rainbow. No, she won’t be happy—how can she ever be happy now? She pushes Jezebel away and curses her, curses Logus, curses Lux who would not take her back, and curses Nox most of all. Nox, whom she had shown such kindness, and at such risk. You’re different, he had said. You understand. How she’d pleaded for him, even before the Cardmaster himself—had that meant nothing? No, Logus was right after all: he didn’t deserve it. He’d used her and used her until she would be used no more, then turned on her without a thought.

She’ll never speak with him again—with any of them. She hugs her knees in close and buries her face in her checkered stockings, one orange and one green. Her hair looks like a pom-pom falling over her knees. Jezebel moves one hand out to stroke it, and considers briefly trying to make excuses for her friend. But what can she say? That he did not mean to? (He did.) That’s it’s what he was dealt? (What he played.) That one may befriend but never trust him, that she herself is little different? But no, there’s no use in that, she will not understand. She plays whole-hearted; she is so young. That’s why she can be happy, after all. Won’t she be happy again?

Jezebel reaches out for her with both hands. Don’t think about it, she says, don’t think.

whoah. I really liked this and I NEED TO KNOW MORE!!!!!!!