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The Second Archon War: Animula Choragi 24
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 16:45:46 +0000 UTCAnimula Choragi 24: Want You Gone
Lying in bed with Diane, Furina felt her daughter’s chest rise and fall as she hugged her against her chest. Tears filled Furina’s eyes, and for a moment, she was overwhelmed with joy.
It’s so different now. I was alone for 500 years. Just a mortal woman, isolated and afraid, with no family, no friends. There, at the end, I started to think of Aether and Lumine as my friends, but…but then they deceived me and arrested me…but now…
Now, neither of us are alone, Focalors said, and Furina felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and started, as her eye discerned a spirit, formed of pure Hydro energy, kneeling beside Charlotte’s bed. Not that Charlotte was home at the moment. That was probably why Diane was having bad dreams: She wasn’t used to sleeping by herself.
You can take physical form? Furina thought, stifling a gasp.
Not quite. Very few can see me. One of which is that annoying brat of a reporter, Focalors said, but her tone was fond. I have no physical substance: indeed, I cannot directly affect the material world at all. But, I can guide it. Mostly by speaking to the souls of those around me.
Leaning down, Focalors gently stroked Diane’s forehead, and the little girl stirred softly. I confess, I never thought of having a family myself. Oceanids are condensed Hydro energy; Egeria was the first to be born as such. I and the other ancients followed, but were not born of her. When humans first arrived, I found them amusing. I have grown to love them, as time has gone on. Though not as you do.
That made Furina blush. Yennifer is…well. I love her dearly. I’ve never felt like this about someone before…I mean, there was a brief time where I was physically attracted to other people, women in particular, but I soon realized that was not how a god should behave, and locked that part of myself away before anything happened.
Mmm, I never had much desire to take a lover. Oceanids don’t reproduce like that, our numbers swelled as Hydro Mimics were uplifted by mimicking humans and absorbing enough energy to gain sapience. But now…well. Now I have a family to cherish. Two daughters, and two grandchildren.
For a brief moment, Furina panicked. There was another daughter?! Was she pregnant!? Was Yennifer?! Could they get pregnant?!
Yes to both, though you’d have to be trying. However, I was referring Yennifer as daughter two, and to that scamp Charlotte as my second granddaughter. I am helping her and Barbara with their video as well. I am a Muse of the Arts, you know. So are you.
Yes, the Theater was always one of your domains, and I suppose it’s one of mine as well. We do share music with Barbados. I’ve always wondered about that, Furina mused.
Godly portfolios tend to be broad, Archons more so. I tend to view it as you and I being the patrons of musicians and singers who perform on stage in a structured and orderly environment, while Barbados is the patron of roving bards and free spirits who are moved more by free expression and less by strict regimens. Not that we don’t get prayers from traveling minstrels and he receives offerings from bands or stage singers. It depends on one’s spirit. I don’t mind sharing, Music is a very broad domain.
Well, I guess I’m no longer a virgin god. Does that make me a god of mothers? Furina wondered. She half wondered if that meant she’d get a more matronly figure.
If you want larger breasts, you can just give them to yourself, you know. You could rival or even surpass Beezelbul if you truly wanted, Focalors said in obvious amusement.
They’d just get in the way. Besides…it doesn’t feel right. This is me, you know?
Oh I do. Though I did try giving myself a larger bust more than once. I have womanly pride too, you know. But, yes. It didn’t feel right. What’s the saying the mortals here have? Flat is Justice? Well, Justice is certainly flat.
Mother! Furina had to fight back a smile, despite how scandalized that made her feel.
Well, at least I made you laugh. Nervous? Focalors asked.
Yes. I have the power of an Archon, if something goes wrong, but…but I don’t want to use it. I don’t want to bully the people of France, I want to be one of them, Furina admitted.
Focalors smiled and shook her head. You really are quite human. And yet, you’re also a god. Well, I am, anyway, and I am you, and you are me.
I just…I’m worried about a lot of things. Not just this. What about Yennifer, and Diane? Will…will they grow old? Will I lose…will I lose the two people I love more than life itself? Furina asked, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She kissed the top of Diane’s head, though her daughter didn’t stir from her sleep.
Focalors touched the tears, absorbing them into her own essence. I cannot see the currents of their futures. They are too close to us. Part of us. I will say…there are ways to prevent death. You could find a way to deify them. Beezelbul has done this with her daughters and dragons. Buer with her adopted mother, Dantilion with her daughter. And Barbados…well, it’s hard to see that one’s plans, but the one they call Ziz is a dragon. The other two…their constellations are mortal, but one never knows.
I don’t… I was cursed for 500 years. I wouldn’t do that to my own family. I just…I can’t imagine living without Yennifer now. Or Diane.
Mmm. Pain is a part of a god's life, just as it is a mortal’s. But yes. I agree. For now, however, we must focus on preventing the prophesied end of the world.
Well, I did that once already. How hard can it be? I just have to die again, Furina joked, though she more than half meant it.
Easier in some ways, harder in others. The Shades and the Heavenly Principles knew us and our game. Deceiving them was a great struggle. This creature called Scion…he may be more powerful in some ways, but he is blind, deaf, and dumb. Fooling him is so easy that Beezelbul did it effortlessly, and she’s a blunt instrument if there ever was one. However…defeating him…he plays by different rules and his power…it rivals if not surpasses the Shades.
How can we even beat him, then?
Well, I do know how to make a sword that can shatter even the heavenly principles. We just need a hand to wield it.
Oh. Oh! Wait, the Raiden Shogun! Beezelbul, she-
Yes, yes, I have thought the same. Though frankly, I am no smith. I think instead we should create the materials, then supply them to her. If anyone could forge a blade that could kill even the King of Demons…it would be her.
I, yes…I can see it now! We need to find a way to build the Oratrice here, then we- but no. That’s for later. Right now…right now I just need to save my daughter. Furina stroked Diane’s hair again, then gently pried her loose, and shimmied out of bed. She stood over Diane by her mother, the two of them looking down on the sleeping child.
Indeed. I think perhaps a certain masked moron could use a dose of my heaven shattering swords. Though I am unfortunately out of Indemnitium at the moment.
We’ll find another way. It must be the people who pass judgment on Iron Mask. Not us.
An odd thing for the God of Justice to say…but I agree. There is much I disagree with Barbatos about, but the right of mortals to determine their own Fates is one of them. Even if they need our guidance. Focalors reached down and stroked Diane’s…well, not her head, but more her soul. It is like this child here. She needs a mother’s love and guidance. She needs us to procure Justice for her, against powers she cannot wrestle with. In the case of this Iron Mask…we can help the people obtain their Justice, but they must seek it first.
And to do that, first we give France justice…
…then the world. Starting with the Raiden Shogun, I think. The Mao family’s cause is just.
With one final kiss atop Diane’s head, Furina headed out to help Yennifer and Fortuna plan the day’s events. One way or another…this was all going to come to a head. She just hoped she’d be able to keep her family safe.
“Good morning, My Lady.”
Jeanne blinked as her maid turned the lights on and opened the curtains on her bed. She yawned, but managed a smile. “Good morning, Hertha. I think the blue pantsuit today.”
“Of course,” Hertha agreed, setting the tray of coffee and a croissant on the stand beside Jeanne’s bed, then going to the wardrobe to retrieve the requested clothes. It was a bit old fashioned to retain a personal maid and servant, but Jeanne found that the small amount of time saved by having Hertha help her dress in the mornings was time she could put to use serving the people of France. It was the entire reason for the existence of the nobility, after all: You gave them time and resources, and in return, they used their education and resources to take care of the people.
That was how it should work, anyway. That system had broken down long ago. It was why Jeanne and her late husband had renounced their own titles and pursued a life of service, instead of the idle luxury most of their ancestors had enjoyed. Not that Jeanne’s life wasn’t luxurious, only that she was far from idle.
She ate quickly, reading the folded copy of Le Monde first. The paper mentioned the protest today in a positive light, and gave a scathing critique of the government stance. It even quoted Jeanne herself on Diane, saying “The Mayor of Paris expressed her own support for the cause, stating that, ‘Young Mademoiselle Diane de Fontaine is as much a citizen of France as any other little girl, even if the circumstances of her birth are unusual.’”
Jeanne nodded and set it aside, picking up next her copy of Libération, which had a thoughtful think piece on the rights of uplifted animals, and even called for further rights of more mundane creatures. As the editor put it, “How now can we say that animals of any kind are not thinking, feeling beings? The time has come to put an end to the antiquated view of animals as mere beasts and property of man. They, too, are our fellow citizens of Earth, and we are their stewards. If we must use them for our own survival, it behooves us to be gracious and respectful in our use of them. We should be kind masters, for now we shall be judged by then when they awaken to their own powers. How would young Mademoiselle de Fontaine feel about such things? She proudly acknowledges that she is still a cat, yet she claims the status of a human. How can we deny her? How can we deny our own humanity by dehumanizing our fellow living creatures? I do not believe we can.”
And last, with a grimace, Le Figaro. Jeanne expected to find a bunch of vile filth parroting the government’s line that Diane was a creature with no rights, but was shocked at what she found.
“Having met young Mademoiselle de Fontaine, there can be no doubt in our minds that she is human. Perhaps she has a cat’s ears and tail. What of it? She is a young girl, and very French in her mannerisms and speech. She is charming, polite, and clever, if exuberant as one would expect a young girl to be. She reminds this writer of their own grandchildren. Even if she were but a cat, are not cats our beloved companions and pets? Because of this, Le Figaro must protest the government's stance, and call for the recognition of not just young Mademoiselle de Fontaine’s rights, but the rights of any and all beings that join humanity by the blessings of God.”
“Mon Dieu,” Jeanne whispered as Hertha approached with her clothing. She grinned, holding up the paper, and Hertha answered her smile. “I think we’ll win this one.”
“Everyone seems to be on your side, my lady. I saw Mademoiselle Diane when she visited yesterday: how could anyone say that such a precious child is not human?”
“Only a bigot and a brute who is barely human himself,” Jeane growled, and stood for Hertha to help her out of her nightgown. After a quick shower, Hertha changed her into the blue pantsuit and her matching shoes, and Jeanne prepared to go to war. She tucked her Vision into her purse, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the stage of politics.
“Is everything prepared?” Jeanne asked Aremis, her Chief of staff as he approached her. He was a young man for the job, a couple of years Jeanne’s junior, but he brought a great deal of enthusiasm to the role, and he had his doctorate in Political Science from Sciences Po.
“Yes, Madame. We have all the proper paperwork filed, and Police Municipale are deployed along the route armed with your family arms,” Aremis said, falling into step with Jeanne as they strode through the halls. “Additionally, we have the Marechaussee Phantom deployed with them. They’re spread thin: We only have twenty-one capes right now, excluding yourself and your daughter, but we’ve got them all along the route.”
“Very good. And Furina and Yennifer?” Jeanne demanded.
“In position already. We’ve got security watching them, but…” Aremis made a face and shook his head.
“But our untrained capes can do so little against the Mousquetaires and USIP,” Jeanne agreed grimly. “We have to hope it doesn’t come to a fight, but we prepare as though it will. Iron Mask can either bend, or break here. And I fear he is the kind to break before he bends.”
“I won’t say this will be a record breaking protest, but you’d have to look hard to find a less popular policy,” Aremis said with a dry chuckle. “Really, what was the man thinking? Denying an adorable little girl being treated as a human being? The only way he’d be less popular is if he outlawed football.”
“Well, as they say, do not interrupt your enemy while he is making a fatal error,” Jeanne said with a shake of her head.
Aremis nodded knowingly. “This is certainly increasing your own popularity. You could use this as a springboard for the presidency itself.”
“That’s a hollow position at the moment, and you know it. Mégret doesn’t run this country: Iron Mask does. I’ll settle for removing him and replacing him with someone with sense.”
“Of course. One thing at a time, Madam,” Aremis said with a bow.
There were more last-minute preparations to make, of course. She had a speech to deliver, and she made a few last-minute adjustments, then muttered her lines to herself as she walked back and forth. Jeanne employed speech writers, of course, but she detested teleprompters and much preferred to have notes and memorize her own speeches.
Soon, she was driven to the start of the route the protests would take to the École Militaire, where Yennifer and Furina were waiting with Diane and several thousand protesters already. Furina being locked up had ruffled feathers and outraged her fans, which were numerous. But to say that everyone was outraged by the refusal to grant a little girl basic human rights was only a very slight exaggeration.
That wasn’t the only reason so many had turned out, however. Iron Mask had managed to piss off nearly everyone. The French Communist Party had been gaining in strength, even after its narrow defeat by the Monarchists in the August Civil War that had been kicked off by Jeanne’s husband’s assassination.
She spared a moment to think of Louis. She had loved the man dearly. Their love at first had seemed scandalous: both were the black sheep of their families due to their rejection of monarchist traditions. Second cousins, yes, but distant enough that marriage was legal. It had all seemed so heady at first…Louis first becoming Mayor of Paris, then running for President of the Fifth Republic and looking like he would surely win…they had thought to change the world.
Then the Blasphemies had descended. They had first assassinated Queen Elizabeth II the year prior, so Louis had not been their first target. But Jeanne had never thought she would watch her own husband ripped apart before her eyes, along with a dozen of France’s best capes.
Now, Jeanne was a cape herself. She would finish the dream that she and Louis had shared: A free France. A Just France. A France that embodied the Spirit of the Revolution, one that had no need for kings and crowns, but only the blood of patriots to keep the Republic strong.
“Your blood is that of the martyrs that watered the fields of France before you,” Jeanne whispered, hand clutching at the locket she kept with a picture of Louis and herself on their wedding day on one side, and Louis holding Barbara just after she’d been born on the other.
She smiled, and forcing her expression to one of upbeat confidence, and strode out onto the stage before the crowds. No microphone here, instead she was given a bullhorn and clambered atop a firetruck. Furina, Yennifer, and Diane were below her, but Barbara had clambered up beside her mother. Jeanne smiled at her daughter, of whom she was so proud. Barbara may be pursuing art over politics, but she was still doing her own part. Let it not be said that Jeanne was trying to establish a political dynasty.
She lifted the bullhorn to her lips, then spotted Iron Mask Himself. He was standing with a group of Mousquetaires, arms folded, his mask impassive as always. Jeanne met his eyes as best she could, then took a breath to speak.
She was interrupted by the sound of an orchestra. For a moment, Jeanne froze, as the opening notes of “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” blasted through the city. No. This was impossible.
She spun, eyes looking about wildly, even as Barbara gasped in horror. Jeanne held out her hand, and the Favonian blade fell into her grasp as she put one arm out protectively to shield her daughter. The crowd began to scream, even as a manhole cover blew off nearby, and three shapes rose up out of the underworld as if on a grave trap.
Jeanne knew the figures. She saw them in her nightmares nearly every night. One was of elegant filigree, a shining silver face with bronze eyebrows, arms raised as if she were about to begin to dance. The second of clockwork, bowing low as if she had just completed a grand performance. And the last, as lifelike as a real human, save for her cold, lifeless eyes, stood on point, arms spread out gracefully.
The Filigree, the Clockwork, and the Doll. The Three Blasphemies.
“GET MY DAUGHTER TO SAFETY!” Jeanne roared, and she summoned the winds in truth for the first time. Oh, she had played with breezes and puffs of air before, but now she called upon the tempest, and the tempest answered her. A gale whipped up around her sword, and rage and fury burned in her heart. These monsters had ripped her husband from her, but they would not take her daughter!
“Maman!” Diane wailed from below, and Jeanne felt a pang. That child should not have to witness what was about to happen. No! Jeanne would not allow it.
“I will not leave you, mère!” Barbara declared, and a bow formed in her own hands out of mist. It was another Favonian weapon, procured at great expense. Now, Jeanne wished she had somehow been able to afford a Japanese God Slaying Bow. They would need that kind of firepower.
Below them, the Lustria sisters drew their own weapons as Furina summoned her three constructs, hugging Diane to her chest and looking terrified. Jeanne could hardly blame the young woman: She was terrified for Barbara herself.
All five of them prepared to fight, but the Mousquetaires made no move to help, the cowards. Iron Mask had cocked his head to one side as if in anticipation of the bloodshed. Of course. Jeanne should have known. If she survived this somehow, she would see the man dead. He was the one behind-
The Blasphemies moved, breaking their statue-like poses. Jeanne roared and unleashed the tempest, which Barbara infused with Hydro energy, and Charlotte transformed into a Freeze reaction.
But their attack missed by a dozen meters. Because the Three Blasphemies hadn’t been targeting them.
They had charged at Iron Mask.
What happened was nearly comical. The capes around Iron Mask, instead of fighting back, dove out of the way. Why should they stand fast? Iron Mask was the strongest of them: surely he could handle it. Iron Mask, arms folded across his chest smugly, didn’t even move to defend himself. Jeanne thought she saw him twitch in surprise at the last, but he didn’t move nearly fast enough. The Clockwork Blasphemy produced an elegant sword that appeared to be made of brass, and cut off his head in a single neat blow that was too fast for a normal human’s eye to follow.
Before Iron Mask's head had a chance to even strike the ground, the Filigree Blasphemy had caught it, and placed the head inside a steel container.
Jeanne watched all that happen in shock. For an instant, she considered retreating and hoping the Blasphemies would be content with killing Iron Mask, saving her daughter and friends.
But only for an instant. A decade of nightmares and impotent rage boiled up, and Jeanne drew in as much Anemo as she could manage, then launched herself forward, sword pointed at the breast of the Doll Blasphemy, snarling in rage.
A bolt of Hydro from Barbara's bow flew over Jeanne and struck her target in the head. The construct didn't flinch, turning lifeless eyes on her. Snarling, Jeanne unleashed the Anemo, which swirled the Hydro. That did rock the Blasphemy slightly, coating the thing in Hydro energy and weakening its already meager elemental defenses.
Still, the Doll's arm blurred at Jeanne, and she barely deflected it with her blade and a resounding clang. She blessed her years of fencing practice as a youth, and the lessons she'd forced herself to give time to since receiving her Vision.
Still, though her reflexes were now superhuman thanks to the blessings of the wind, she couldn't keep up with a Blasphemy. The Doll's leg snapped up and took Jeanne in the thigh with an audible crunch of breaking bones. Jeanne managed to shift her weight to her good leg, but she was certain she was finished.
That should have been her end as the Blasphemy pierrotted and prepared to kick Jeanne’s head off. Before it could, two things happened. First, bolts of Cryo struck the Blasphemy. The gynoid predated elemental reactions coming into the world, and while it had some defenses against Electro based reactions, Hydro was too new and too powerful. It succumbed to Freeze, locking up entirely.
Then, clear as a bell, Furina’s voice cut through the noise of battle with a single command: LET THE WORLD COME ALIVE!
Jeanne's shattered bones mended instantly, and she was able to put weight on her leg without collapsing. Even the pain was washed away, as a wordless aria from Furina and a new construct, this one some sort of crowned jellyfish, filled the air.
“Jeanne! Together!” Yennifer shouted, charging forward with her own glowing blade, clad in armor formed of pure Hydro energy.
Even as the Doll Blasphemy shuddered and tried to break itself free, Jeanne synced up to the music, matching Yennifer's stride. Jeanne could feel power from Furina's song coursing through her, and as one, she and Yennifer slammed their blades into the Doll.
Ice shattered, and with it, the chest plate of the Doll, spilling forth viscous brown oil as the Blasphemy flew backwards and collapsed, twitching.
Jeanne felt a moment of exaltation, only to hear a voice cry out in English her mind, Look out!
The warning came just in time, as the Filigree and the Clockwork assaulted Jeanne and Yennifer. Jeanne was barely able to conjure up a barrier of wind to keep herself from being slain, but the blow still sent her crashing into the pavement, tearing up her suit and skin as she screamed in pain.
Furina's melody soothed that away, and Jeanne staggered to her feet, seeing Yennifer picking herself up a meter away, wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Jeanne had to spit out a bloody tooth herself, and she feel back into a ready stance for the next attack.
The Blasphemies, however, had no interest in further blows. Instead, they picked up their fallen sister, then dropped back down into the manhole they'd sprung from, even as arrows from Barbara and spells from Charlotte splattered off a barrier of Electro they'd formed.
Growling an oath, Jeanne staggered forward and peered into the blackness, where Toccata and Fugue still echoed up from the depths. For a moment, she considered pursuit, mostly out of a desire for revenge for Louis. Instead, she spit blood after her nemesises, then turned and found her daughter, embracing her tightly.
“Mere! Are, are you alright?!” Barbara gasped, touching the blood still on Jeanne's lips.
“I am fine. My wounds are healed. You? Are you well?” Jeanne demanded, feeling sick as her hands ran over her daughter, searching for any possible hurt.
“They, those things, they didn't touch me. I.. what were they here for? The only one they killed was Iron Mask! But he…”
Jeanne turned about, surveying the damage. Yes, there was the headless corpse of Iron Mask. Though he had been her foe, his manner of death sparked a drop of pity in Jeanne’s heart. Then she squashed it flat.
“He knew,” Jeanne said, stepping forward and pointing at the USIP and Mousquetaries who were cowering away from the body. “So did many of you! You expected this!”
That damnable Captain Cazeneuve flinched back. “We…how could you say such a thing?! Iron Mask was just assassinated!”
“By his own creations!” Jeanne snapped. “You saw him! He expected them to kill his enemies! To kill me and my daughter, not him!”
“This is outrageous! Arrest her!” Cazeneuve sputtered. “She is the one who was working with the-”
“Speak a word of untruth, and I will see that the world knows,” Charlotte declared, striding forward with her glowing tome floating over her right palm. “I am the Crystalline Truth, and I will know a lie!”
Captain's mouth worked silently, but no sound escaped. Jeanne turned to her own officers. “Arrest the leaders. I will root out the truth, and get Justice for my late husband, and even Iron Mask. I will see the Blasphemies destroyed. This is the last time they scourge France!”
Her own orders were followed, even Cazeneuve surrendering along with the more infamous Mousquetaires. They probably wouldn't stay in jail, but with Iron Mask gone, most of them were just bully boys and thugs without much leadership ability. Iron Mask hadn't been one to share power or trust his subordinates.
When the orders had been given, Jeanne turned to Furina, who was still holding Diane and whispering to the girl. The child was clinging to her mother so hard that she’d sprouted little claws, and Jeanne could see little pinpricks where Furina was bleeding, though she didn’t seem to care. Jeane went over and rubbed Diane’s back, and the girl’s bristling tail slowly relaxed.
“You were very brave. Thank you for keeping your maman safe,” Jeanne said.
Diane looked up, and managed a smile. “I am a mighty Huntress! I knew maman was scared, and I must protect her! But…are the Scary Things gone? I…I do not like them.”
“They are gone, you are safe,” Jeanne assured the child, and Diane nodded, then let Furina slowly lower her to the ground, though she clung to her mother’s hand tightly. Yennifer came over and smiled, though she hadn’t dismissed her armor or her blade.
“There’s no sign of them. I think we’re safe, for now. I just…I don’t understand what happened. Where is Fortuna?”
“Over there,” Furina said, pointing to the blind oracle and her two bodyguards, who had attempted to evacuate her in the fight, only for Fortuna to refuse. Her warning had probably saved Jeanne’s life, and allowed her to get a barrier up in time.
“You think she knows where they are?” Jeanne asked.
“She’s a True Seer. She can read Fate and tell us if another attack is imminent,” Furina said quietly. “You speak to her, I’ll take care of Diane.”
Jeanne nodded, and she and Yennifer went over to the woman, who was standing calmly with a bronze knife in her hand. Something about that blade…there was a darkness about it, and Jeanne shivered to see it. It felt like…death.
“Fortuna, it is Jeanne d’Orleans and Yennifer Lustria,” Jeanne announced to the woman in English. “I wanted to thank you for your warning in the fight, and to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.”
Her two bodyguards let Jeanne come forward, though Fortuna leaned on the woman. What was her name? Dehya Abbas, if Jeanne remembered from their brief introduction. She was Canadian by birth, though her family was from Algeria.
“You want to know about the Blasphemies,” Fortuna said. She sheathed her dagger and extended her hand. “Give me your hand. I’ll read your palm.”
Jeanne did so, feeling slightly amused. Five years ago, she would have called this foolishness. But now…well. Magic and miracles were as real as the laws of physics now. Was a blind woman who could read palms and see the future so unusual?
“You will confront the Blasphemies again,” Fortuna said, and Jeanne felt her blood run cold until Fortuna continued, “But not for at least a year. When your husband’s dream is realized, they will come for you and your daughter. You can turn aside from this path now. Retire, and seek no office, and they will leave you alone.”
“Never. I will never live in fear of those monsters,” Jeanne snarled. She took a deep breath. “Can we stop them?”
“I…” Fortuna swallowed, then turned to Yennifer. “Give me your palm. I…I want to see if Fate has been averted…”
Yennifer complied, and Fortuna ran her fingers over her palm as well. Unlike Jeanne, whose reading had been nearly instantaneous, Fortuna did this several times, muttering to herself. Then she dropped Yennifer’s hand and plucked a Magic Eight Ball out of her dress. She whispered to it, shook it, and then stared blindingly at it. Apparently, she didn’t like what she couldn’t see, because Fortuna swore and snarled something in what sounded like Greek, then shook the party favor vigorously before holding it up to her ear and seeming to listen to it. At last, she deflated, then shook her head. “You…if you face the Blasphemies again, Yennifer…you will surely die. Your lifeline just…ends. And it’s the Blasphemies that kill you.”
“And if I don’t?” Yennifer demanded.
Fortuna’s blind eyes darted to about where Jeanne was, though she was looking just past Jeanne’s left shoulder, and licked her lips. “Then…then France falls. And…and perhaps the…the Hydro Archon as well.”
The Hydro Archon? Her fate was tied to France? That was perplexing. Jeanne would have to try to learn more of the mysterious angel that had yet to reveal herself.
“Well. Then I suppose the blood of the martyrs will water the fields of France again,” Yennifer said grimly. “Don’t tell Furina.”
“No! There has to be another way! I can see the future, I can find a way to stop this!” Fortuna growled, then peered into her Magic Eight Ball again. This time, Jeanne thought she saw a glow of Elemental Energy. Wait, did Fortuna have a Vision hidden in there? That would explain a great deal. After all, Visions were divine blessings from the Lord. If Saint John the Apostle could see the future, why not a modern prophet?
Interesting. Jeanne had never been terribly religious before. But she was carrying around a blessing of the Angel of the Lord, and she could feel the presence of God whenever she used it. It made sense she would only become more religious now that Christ had sent His angels to protect the Earth.
Though Jeanne had some questions about what sort of angel the Tsaritsa was. One of Lucifers, perhaps.
“You know, I could use a political advisor like you,” Jeanne said with a shake of her head. “If we could stop the Blasphemies and save France…could you tell me why they killed Iron Mask?”
“He was a Tinker,” Fortuna said, still gazing into her hidden Vision. “His mask is Tinkertech. The next time they appear, expect the Blasphemies to wear his mask. That’s not a vision, I know that from…from my job.”
“Could you read the future to tell where the Blasphemies will be? Where are they now?” Yennifer pressed.
“Why, so you can go get yourself killed?” Fortuna demanded. She tried to glare at Yennifer, but the effect was ruined as she was staring daggers at a pole instead. Then she sighed. “No, I can’t. I used to be able to, when I was a parahuman. Now my Visions are…less straightforward. If I could read the palm of the one who created them…”
“Iron Mask’s palm! We have the body,” Jeanne pointed out.
Fortuna nodded eagerly, and they went over to where it was lying in the back of an ambulance. No one questioned Jeanne too closely, and they unzipped the body bag, and Fortuna took the palm, running her fingers over it.
“That’s odd. I don’t…feel anything,” Fortuna muttered. After a moment, she sighed. “I’ve never tried reading a dead man’s palm before. I think with the soul gone, his thread of Fate is severed, and I can’t get anything.”
“A pity. We will have to find them another way,” Jeanne said, but inwardly, she felt more than a little hopeless. All of Europe had been looking for the Blasphemies for a decade. And they were no closer to finding them now than they had been at the start.
Sighing, she turned to Fortuna. “Please, stay with us a few days longer. There is much I could ask of you for guidance. Even if you cannot tell us where to find the Blasphemies, a prophet would be valuable to have as we try to restore order in France.”
“I…yes. I think…I think I need to learn French. I don’t know if I’ll stay forever, but…yes. I will stick around,” Fortuna said, smiling shyly.
“Madam Mayor? We need you, the President has called in a panic,” Aremis said, poking his head around the ambulance door.
“Yes. Let’s leave the dead to their due,” Jeanne said, then got back to work. One obstacle was down, but a far darker threat had reemerged. Now wasn’t the time to slack off.
Yennifer lay in bed, holding Furina against her chest as her girlfriend snored softly.
Girlfriend. She still felt slightly giddy at the prospect. She’d been in love with Furina since nearly the moment she had laid eyes on her, and now…now she had everything she wanted.
You will surely die.
Those words had felt like prophecy. Even thinking them made Yennifer shudder, and press her face into the back of Furina’s neck as she squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t die! She finally had everything she wanted!
Furina stirred slightly, and Yennifer eased up her grip. Furina wasn’t exactly a light sleeper, and they’d shared a bed long enough that Furina was somewhat hard to wake just by touching her, but still.
Should she tell Furina? She was the Hydro Archon. Surely she could do something.
But if she didn’t die…France would fall. More importantly, Furina could fall. She had seemed very helpless and vulnerable when the Blasphemies had attacked. She hadn’t protected Yennifer. Yennifer had protected her. Furina needed Yennifer to save her and keep her from danger. Not the other way around. She didn’t quite understand, but…her girlfriend was human. And Yennifer now had the horrifying suspicion that the Blasphemies could kill Furina.
She had to think about this more. Figure out what to do. But one thing was certain: Whatever happened, Yennifer was going to protect Furina. Not just from the Blasphemies, but from everything.
Even if it meant her own death.
Comments
Bebere
Focalors giving Furina an impromptu lesson on divine portfolios is nice to see…but I fear justice for the Maos might be beyond her: she's no Shade of Death after all. The lead-up to the Blasphemies' attack was well done — Libération, Le Monde, and Le Figaro all agreeing? I guess the only reason Jeanne didn't check L'Humanité is because she already knew the commies would be going at Iron Mask hammer and tongs for that one — and Iron Mask being so much of a smug idiot he didn't even try to look like he'd fight them was a nice touch. Above all when said smugness brought his downfall because that meant he didn't have time to react to their assault. Fortuna's prophecy is hanging over Yennifer like a shroud but I wonder if she wasn't shown again the scene from last chapter? If so, between Furina getting in her own, Jeanne, Barbara, and Dione, short of a one hit kill no one's killing Yennifer on their watch.
Benjamin Lawton
Ah, I see a potential mistake on Fortuna's part, brought on by her mortal mindset and preconceptions. Yenn's "lifeline ending" doesn't necessarily mean she dies – it COULD mean that she ascends to become something other than mortal. That's the true trick to averting or working around prophecy, is finding the loopholes in the exact wording.
