Opening Fiction to the Trionfi RPG

[tashiro]

Trionfi - First Day of School

Hello, Rebecca.

She looked around for the source of the voice, wondering how it could sound so familiar yet seem so utterly alien at the same time. She was standing in the heart of a gloomy forest of dying trees, the branches bare except for the rare, shrivelled leaf. The ground beneath her feet was hard and cracked, and the sky overhead was overcast - perhaps too gray for her liking. Behind the clouds was a pregnant moon, a pale disk that shined like an eye through the cloud cover. The air smelled of rain, and Rebecca decided she would rather find shelter soon.

In a clearing she saw a cemetery, with a lone mausoleum at the centre. Scattered through the graveyard were tombstones and markers. Some were small enough to trip over, while others were large and imposing, with angelic figures crouching or resting among them. The cemetery was surrounded by an iron fence, rusted and blackened as if by fire, with a twisted gate which creaked and swayed in the low wind.

Rebecca looked over her shoulder at the forest. The colours were muted, and the trees seemed out of focus now that she was at the edge of the clearing. Something moved within the forest, and she felt a momentary sense of yearning. She turned back to the cemetery, noticing the contrast - the details seemed too sharp, too real. She decided that she must be dreaming.

By the mausoleum, the voice beckoned her. Come, Rebecca.

She pushed her loose, raven hair from her amber eyes, and stepped forward, moving cautiously to the gate. It creaked in protest as the wind moves it, and her hand hesitated inches from it. She looked past the gate and into the graveyard, "Who are you?" she asked. Her voice felt too loud here, and there was a sigh from the forest behind her which made her glance back once more.

You can call me Threnody, was the reply. Your father sent me to find you. The voice was more feminine now, Rebecca decided, but there was a sharp edge to it, a hungry, wild sound. She slid between the gate and the fence without touching it, not wanting to cause it to creak more than it had to, and worked her way between the broken and weathered tombstones. The ground felt dry under her bare feet, and she saw dead flowers curled in dusty urns, paying respect to names worn away by time.

She found a vantage point behind a weeping angel that gave her a view of the mausoleum. The moonlight seemed to brighten, even if diffused by the cloud cover, bathing everything in its pale light. Rebecca peered into the entrance of the mausoleum, wondering if her mysterious summoner was some vampire or other creature of darkness, but instead she saw a woman perhaps twice her age, perched on the front step of the edifice, holding a skull in one hand. She turned it from side to side, admiring it with mild curiosity, as if not truly understanding what she was seeing. Rebecca held her breath as she watched, noting the woman's smooth, flawless skin, as white as alabaster, and the ebon hair that hang down her back, tangled with white owl feathers. She seemed no more bothered by her nudity than an animal would be, and her eyes were brilliant gold, the irises wide like an owl's. Rebecca sucked in her breath at the figure.

The woman looked up and cocked her head to one side in an exaggerated fashion, listening. "Will you come out so I can see you, Rebecca?" She shifted to a crouch, balanced on her toes, her head tilted one way, then the other. "We have much to talk about."

Rebecca reminded herself that this was a dream, and steeled her resolve before she stepped out from behind the statuary. The strange woman shifted her stance to gaze at Rebecca, then gave what one might argue was a smile. There was no warmth or emotion behind it, and Rebecca felt like it was a practised effect - something a predator might use to lure in its prey. "You said my father sent you," Rebecca answered, not moving closer. "I've never even seen my father."

The woman remained crouching, but shifted from foot to foot, moving towards Rebecca in a scuttling fashion, looking up at the young woman with her large, yellow eyes. Rebecca fought down the urge to run in terror. This is only a dream, she reminded herself once more.

"You never will, Rebecca. He died." There was a hint of emotion in the strange woman's voice. Sadness? Regret? Rebecca was uncertain, but she felt a faint pain, herself. She had often wondered who her father was, and had many questions she wanted to ask him - none of which would ever be answered now.

"But he sent you," she answered quietly. "Why?"

The woman looked up into Rebecca's eyes. "He always wanted to meet you, but he could not. There was no time. He told me to find you."

"What are you?" Rebecca finally asked, looking down at her. There was something wrong here, she could feel it. This woman was not supposed to be a part of the dream, telling her that a father she had never known was dead.

"I am yours," the woman replied. "If you will accept me."

Rebecca frowned in response. She preferred when her dreams made no sense. This dream was bothering her - there was a sense of urgency in the alien woman's voice, and Rebecca could feel tension as she looked the other woman over. The pale skin looked cold to the touch, and Rebecca found herself reaching out, running her fingers along one arm. It wasn't cold - there was no temperature at all that she could feel. It was smooth however, and Rebecca noticed that there were no veins under the skin, or even fine hairs. The woman could have been carved from stone.

"What do you mean, 'you are mine'?" she asked, looking at the large, golden eyes of the woman. She could see her reflection there, and the woman met her gaze, head tilted oddly to one side. She was still crouching, balanced perfectly on her toes, watching Rebecca.

"I am to serve you, as I served your father."

Rebecca held the woman's gaze. "What was my father's name, then?" she finally asked.

"Mark Solace," the woman replied, idly playing with a strand of her own hair, looking at one of the owl feathers there without concern. Rebecca found herself nodding in agreement. She had never heard her father's name before, but it sounded right.

"Then I am Rebecca Solace," she replied, studying the woman. Somewhere distant, among the trees, was a mournful sound, and Rebecca turned to look over her shoulder. The woman stood up and followed Rebecca's gaze.

"Not yet, Rebecca Solace. You are not ready yet."

Rebecca turned her attention back to the woman, looking up at her. "Ready for what?" The owl woman did not answer, and Rebecca frowned, "You are supposed to serve me?" she asked. The woman looked out at the forest a moment longer, before meeting Rebecca's gaze. "I just have to ... accept you?" Rebecca pressed.

"Yes." She did not nod her head or give any other physical response. She did not even seem to be breathing. Rebecca wondered why this seemed unusual. This was a dream - of course people did not need to breathe in dreams. However, the woman seemed intent now on an answer, and Rebecca had a suspicion that giving one soon was important - very important.

"Fine. Yes. I accept."

Yes!

* * * * *

Rebecca was jolted away, the inhuman cry of joy that was ringing in her ears muted by the shrill bell of her aunt's alarm clock in the next room. The dream lingered, and Rebecca frowned as she sat up. She disliked dreams that made sense - that had a narrative that she could follow once she woke up. She much preferred dreams where the people she met and did not know faded away, forgotten as she went about her day. This dream was different - she remembered the strange owl woman - Threnody? And there was something else - something in the forest. She knew, somehow, that she would have to face that at some point in the future. The thought gave her goose pimples.

The alarm clock in the other room stopped, and Rebecca slipped out of bed, feeling the cold, wooden floor beneath her feet. She glanced at her own alarm clock, noting that it wasn't even eight in the morning, and resigned herself to getting ready for her first day of school. The summer vacation had finally ended, uneventful and boring - much as every summer vacation had been for as long as she could remember. She waited for her aunt and uncle to shower and go downstairs while she sorted through her clothes for an outfit, and looked outside with a wistful sigh.

Her aunt and uncle were nice, but they were never any fun. Summer was filled with helping with the chores, visiting the library, visiting the church on Sundays, and watching television or listening to the radio. If Rebecca needed to visit the mall, her aunt was always with her, preventing her from making any friends. Nobody was allowed to visit from school, and she had never been to a slumber party. Her family was strict, conservative, practical folk, and if she ever complained, her aunt would say, 'this is for your own good, you'll thank me some day.'

Rebecca had sifted through a number of outfits, and finally picked out a practical, green t-shirt and some loose, worn jeans. She no reason to dress up - it wasn't like there was anyone to impress, her aunt also disapproved of dating - saying she was too young. She heard her aunt and uncle heading downstairs, the floor board creaking with each step as they talked about some program they had been watching the night before. She waited until she heard them in the kitchen, then began stripping off her pajamas and carried her clothes into the bathroom. She heard the ringing of the doorbell - which was rare enough to catch her attention, but she ignored it as she reached into the shower to turn it on, rubbing her eyes with one balled-up hand.

Hello, Rebecca.

She would later pride herself on not squealing in terror at the owl-woman in the shower. She looked only superficially like she did in the dream - the same alabaster skin and jet-black hair, the same golden eyes that seemed too large. But the almost feral woman in her dreams was replaced with someone younger - closer to her age - and slightly more civilized: a cloak of owl feathers was draped around her slender frame, and her hair looked combed and glistening. The water from the shower passed through the young woman, ignoring her presence completely. Rebecca clutched her chest and gasped, waiting for her heart to climb out of her throat.

"Th-Threnody?"

The apparition nodded only once, then stepped out of the shower. "Thank you for joining with me, mistress. I was not sure you would do so before you woke." She looked around the bathroom, and seemed to be giving it a critical eye. "You should shower quickly. Then I need you to go downstairs." Threnody turned and gave what Rebecca would presume was an impish smile. "Your first day is going to be very interesting."

Rebecca gaped silently for a few moments, then hissed back, "But you were only a dream!" She hesitated, uncertain now. "Weren't you?" Her tone was almost a plea. Please don't be real. My aunt would kill me if I had a mostly-naked owl-woman in my bathroom with me.

Threnody stepped behind Rebecca, placing her hands on the girl's back, as if to push her. There was no sensation of contact, but Rebecca stepped into the shower anyway, looking at the strange girl behind her - and noticing there was no reflection of her either. Threnody smiled once more - and this time Rebecca could see real amusement there. "I was in your dream, yes. But I am real."

"What are you?" Rebecca hissed, wondering if she was hallucinating. Or maybe she was still dreaming. A dream within a dream perhaps? She'd seen a movie about that on television not too long ago. She turned on the water, but kept the shower curtain open just enough to keep an eye on the strange, invisible woman.

"Clean yourself, mistress. I will explain." As Rebecca began to pour shampoo, the apparition continued. "Last night your father died, facing a ... well, it does not matter at the moment. He died doing what he must. I was at his side when this happened." She paused, and Rebecca could feel a brief sensation of sorrow. Threnody looked downward at her hands before she continued. "I failed him. He died, but told me to find you and to serve you as I did him. I am ... was ... his fetch."

Rebecca's hands stopped moving, fingers tangled in her hair as she watched Threnody. "What is a fetch?" she asked as she felt the questions coming out. "Who was my father? What was he doing? How did you find me?" There was so much she wanted to ask, but it was too much for her. She couldn't think. Emotions were welling up inside her, and she felt her breathing grow ragged. Sadness. Anger.

"A fetch is a spirit that is bound to another. I served your family for generations, Rebecca. Your great-grandfather called me Morrigan. Your grandfather called me Lilith. Your father ... called me Threnody." The young woman looked Rebecca over, "Rinse your hair out, mistress. You will get soap in your eyes." Rebecca closed her eyes, dunking her head under the shower nozzle. The water was a little cold, which helped distract her from the tangled knot of emotions in her chest. Threnody continued, "You may call me any of these if you wish, or some other name. I am bound to you for the rest of your life, to serve as you need."

Rebecca was only half-listening, letting the water run over her, imagining the pain and sadness she was feeling running off of her and down into the drain. She faintly heard her name called from the bottom of the staircase, and turned the water off. She pulled her hair out and twisted it to strain the water from it. "Serve?" she finally asked, uncertain. "Forever?"

"Yes. I will serve you better once you have attended class. But for now, I will only advise." The spirit gave a crooked smile, "Only you can see me or hear me mistress - I am not manifest." Threnody seemed to be enjoying the conversation, but Rebecca could feel those golden eyes on her. She suspected Threnody knew the quiet struggle she was having.

Rebecca shook her head. She wanted to ignore this. She wanted to disbelieve, but there was something which seemed natural about all of this - like it made sense on a level she could not quite grasp. Of course she would have a strange spirit attending her for the rest of her life! She rolled her eyes, then stepped out of the shower and towelled herself off so she could get dressed.

Once done, she crossed the hall to her room, calling out to her aunt to say she'd be down soon. Opening the door, she saw Threnody already there, relaxing on top of her bed. "You will need to go into your aunt's room and get the black wooden box from the bottom drawer."

Rebecca came up short, "What?"

Threnody stared at her. "When you were sent here, your father also gave you a black box. Your aunt hid it in the drawer - it was not like she could burn it. It is your birthright, mistress. And you must take it or I will be useless to you."

Rebecca picked up her backpack, then glanced out into the hallway. There was a soft murmur of conversation below - and she could hear both her aunt and uncle, meaning the top floor was empty. She called out, "I'll be down in a minute!", then slipped out into the bathroom and flushed the toilet to muffle her footsteps as she crept into her aunt's room. She glanced at Threnody, who was tiptoeing in a theatrical manner beside her.

"I thought you said nobody could see or hear you," she hissed. Threnody's impish smile in return forced Rebecca to hold back the impulse to try to smack the spirit.

Her aunt's bedroom was simple and old-fashioned, with a bright orange shag rug and matching orange drapes. The bed had a thick, scratchy brown cover, and the morning sun bathed everything in an ugly orange glow. Rebecca quickly made her way to the drawer and slide it open. She quickly dug past the socks and stockings, making a face at the texture of her aunt's choice in hosiery, then blinked as she felt something smooth under her fingers. She pulled out a small, black box made of lacquered wood, with a clasp on the back for attaching to a belt. She rose slowly, closing the drawer with one foot, then quickly left the bedroom, stuffing it to the bottom of her backpack.

"What is it?" she asked quietly before reaching the stairs. Threnody seemed pleased.

"Your trump deck, mistress. Now, you should go downstairs. You will have the chance to see your cards soon enough."

"Cards?" Rebecca glanced at Threnody, but descended silently.

* * * * *

The drapes that hung from the back bay window softened the sunlight coming in, bathing the kitchen and dining room with a soft, blue glow. Rebecca stopped at the bottom of the staircase to find her aunt sitting tensely with a young man over tea. Her uncle was already gone - work began early for him, and Rebecca hesitated as the man looked up at her. She found herself looking him over quickly as he smiled in greeting. His auburn hair was trimmed and neat, and his eyes were soft and gray, filled with amusement. He was actually quite handsome, she decided. He stood and offered his hand, and she accepted it without thinking, shaking it - only to see her aunt's lips thin disapprovingly.

"Good morning, Ms. Solace," he said, warmth in his voice.

"Good morn - wait. How did you ...?" she asked, realizing that he had called her by her father's name. She had always used her aunt and uncle's last name - Patry.

The young man replied, "I am Kristen Tremblay, a teacher at ..."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Her aunt stepped forward and put a hand on Rebecca's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "I will not have it!"

Mr. Tremblay released Rebecca's hand and turned his attention to her aunt, stepping back to give Rebecca breathing room. "You must certainly do not have a say in this." The warmth in his eyes had cooled a little, and Rebecca idly wondered how he would look if he were actually angry. "That is Ms. Solace's decision to make - most certainly not yours."

"What decision?" Rebecca finally asked. "Auntie?"

"They're not good people, dear." Her aunt kept a firm grip on her shoulder. "They took Papa away from me." Her face crumpled for a moment, then she turned and gave Mr. Tremblay a hard stare. "I'll never forgive Mark for going to them. Them and their devils."

Rebecca was surprised at the venom in her aunt's voice, and was even more shocked to hear her father's name coming from her aunt's lips. She had never even mentioned Rebecca's father before. Threnody's mental voice sounded amused however. Devil, is it? Perhaps deva. I always liked the name deva. What do you think, mistress? Rebecca glanced around the room to try to spot her fetch, but without success.

Mr. Tremblay sighed quietly, his voice softening. "Mark's dead, Melissa. He died last night, on the other side." Her aunt's face drained of colour, and she put her hands over her mouth. Rebecca heard Threnody's mournful cry at the reminder, and felt a brief pain in her heart.

"Why? Why did he go into that God-forsaken place?" her aunt whispered.

The young man clasped his hands in front of him. "Because he had to. He did what he must - keep us safe." His eyes were distant, lips tight.

"It isn't natural," her aunt protested. "Why did he have to get involved?"

Two strangers - one really weird - showing up, the death of a parent she'd never known, family secrets, and her aunt suddenly talking about unnatural spirits ... it was too much for Rebecca to handle all at once. She retreated to the living room and quietly shut the glass foyer doors. "What did happen to my dad?" she asked.

Threnody appeared near the sofa and motioned Rebecca over before she sat down, the couch not bending under her. The fetch hugged her legs to her chest, much the way Rebecca herself sometimes did. "A little boy disappeared, and Mark found a hollow - I will explain that later - behind the school the child attended." She looked at her knees as she continued, "He was certain that the boy had been kidnapped by a maere - a free spirit, unbound." The fetch glanced at Rebecca almost shyly. "You saw what I was like without someone bound to me. You see how different I am now."

Rebecca's thoughts turned back to the dream. She remembered Threnody then - feral, alien. She remembered the voice in the woods, the presence that was there. She nodded quietly, but did not say anything. Threnody studied Rebecca before she continued.

"Mark went into what you call the underworld. He was searching for the boy. It is a place of spirits and monsters - not a very safe place for humans. He found the child; I was there to help him track the boy's scent. We found a den of rabisu."

"Rabisu?"

Threnody hesitated a moment, then explained. "Vampires. You might call them vampires, were they in a human host." The fetch looked distant, reliving the memory. "They fell upon him, and I tried to tear them off. If he were in the living world, I could have saved him - I would have pulled him down into the underworld for safety, but we were already there, and I could only do so much." Threnody looked down at her hands, and Rebecca stared, seeing the fingers curl into claws - bird talons, the scales growing up the fetch's arms. "I tore into them, but there were too many ... too strong. At the last moment he released me ... told me to bring the child home, then to find you. He said you would accept me." Threnody looked up once more - her golden eyes meeting Rebecca's amber.

Rebecca hugged herself, looking down at Threnody's hands. The claws were gone, her hands smooth and normal once more. "You saved that little boy?" she asked.

Threnody smiled gently and nodded, a hand lifting to rest weightlessly on Rebecca's shoulder. "He woke up in his bed, safe once more."

Rebecca started at the sound of the foyer doors opening and stood up. Her aunt was there, and Mr. Tremblay was a step behind. Her aunt wrung her hands a moment, "It's too late, isn't it? You're going to take her too. She has that thing in her."

Mr. Tremblay took a single, polite step towards Rebecca, leaning forward as he asked, "Threnody, I believe?" Rebecca looked at her aunt's pinched face, then nodded once. He turned back to her aunt. "Threnody isn't a devil, she's a lilim."

"She's a succubus!" her aunt snapped, startling her. "I won't have that thing in my house!" Rebecca could hear the fear in her aunt's voice, and something more. "It's because of that thing that Mark's dead! That Papa died!" Her voice broke, "I don't want her taking little Becca too ..." It was a nickname she hadn't used since Rebecca was very young.

Mr. Tremblay sighed, looking weary. "We can't separate them. She made her choice."

Her aunt's voice became almost a wail. "She's fourteen! How could she know what that means?"

The man drew himself up slightly, turning to give her aunt his full attention. "That's why I'm here, Melissa. So she can understand the choice she's made."

Rebecca's aunt sank onto the couch and put her face in her hands. "I supposed I don't have a choice anymore."

Mr. Tremblay glanced awkwardly at her, then turned to Rebecca. "Let's go talk outside, shall we?" Rebecca looked at her aunt a few more moments before nodding again. She collected her backpack before hesitating, walking over to give her aunt a hug. She felt her aunt stiffen before returning the hug, and that pause hurt more than all the words that had been said. Rebecca retreated, putting on her shoes without looking back, and stepped out onto the front porch.

In the driveway was a rather practical looking four-door car. It was a bit sporty, with a deep, reflective blue paint job, and Mr. Tremblay was sitting on the hood, giving Rebecca a thoughtful look. "A bit much wasn't it? Certainly not what you expected for your first day of school," he said.

Rebecca sat down on the patio steps, tugging off a leaf from the mint growing by the front door. "No, sir." She looks the man over, "I don't remember seeing you at Manor Park last year."

Mr. Tremblay shook his head. "Of course not. I don't teach there. I teach in the halls of the Arcanum. I'm hoping you will join us there, Ms. Solace."

"Explain? And 'Ms. Solace' sounds a little weird. Can you just call me Rebecca?"

"Rebecca, then. Call me Kristen." He smiled a little, then continued. "I am a teacher for the Arcanum. Your father was a member. Your grandparents were as well. You come from a fairly long line of arcanists, in fact."

"But auntie isn't one?" Rebecca asked, chewing on the mint leaf, feeling the sharp flavour and using it to help sooth her nerves.

She doesn't have a fetch. Threnody's voice echoed in her ear before the fetch appeared, sitting down beside her. That is a requirement for joining the Arcanum. The only requirement,

Does Mr ... does Kristen have one?" Rebecca asked, looking at Threnody.

"Have ... a fetch?" Kristien asked, then replied, "I do, your aunt does not. And you do not need to speak out loud to talk to Threnody. She can hear your thoughts - when you want her to. In fact, she will instinctively know what you want or need with little effort on your part."

"Oh? Okay." Rebecca turned her attention back to Kristen as Threnody placed a hand on her shoulder protectively. She couldn't feel the fetch's touch, but it soothed her anyway.

Kristen sighed quietly, then crossed his legs at the ankles. "This is going to be a lot all at once, but I think it is important you understand what you're getting into." He licked his lips, took a breath, then began. "Your aunt did not have the right frame of mind to deal with fetches, so when your grandparents died, their fetches avoided her and went to family members who would accept them. Mark and Melissa were both very young when Mary and Samuel died, and I think Melissa may have taken it a bit harder." He looked away for a moment, "We brought Mark into the Arcanum, so he could learn how to cope with having a fetch, and to teach him the arts of sorcery. He ... was a brave and dedicated man." He turned back to her, "Did you get your trump case?" Rebecca hesitated, then patted her backpack. Kristen rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Good. Listen, Rebecca. The Arcanum looks after its members. If you join us, we'll see that you get proper schooling. You can either be schooled in our halls, or at any school you want. We will send you to any college or university you choose. We'll give you a place to live, food, an allowance. We'll even get you a proper job when you're ready. In return, all we ask is that you take your training seriously, and help us keep people safe."

"Do I need to decide now?" Rebecca asked, uneasy.

"No." Threnody's voice was gentle and reassuring. "You may decide when you wish, mistress. They will not demand of you what you are not willing to give freely." The fetch's voice was soft. "I will not let them." There was a feeling of protectiveness there, and Rebecca felt comforted by that. Threnody had her back.

"No, we don't work that way. We'd rather you felt welcome, not forced."

"Your father was proud to work for them. He saved many lives."

"But he never had time for me," Rebecca muttered, feeling a tangle of sadness and anger in her chest. Kristen gave her a sympathetic look.

He could not get you involved, mistress. His life was very dangerous. He was sorry. Threnody paused, then added. I was sorry, too.

Rebecca wondered at that, then straightened her back. "Okay, Kristen. Give me the grand tour."

Kristen nodded, then slid off the hood of the car and walked around to the driver's side. "Thank you, Rebecca. Are you going to say goodbye to Melissa?"

She looked over her shoulder at the front bay window, knowing her aunt was sitting there, alone in the living room. The image made her heart ache, but then she remembered the stiffness in her aunt when they hugged. She thought quietly about how much her aunt must have known, and how she had kept Rebecca in the dark about so many things - the worst being her father.

"No. I've said my goodbyes. Let's go."

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done.