Rain Harlow
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Chapter 38: The Perfect Remembrance
🕑 Added 2023-07-19 06:49:10 +0000 UTCSamantha… Sammy… felt a little odd after tapping into whatever she had tapped into. Surreal. It was something alien and comforting mixed together. Divinity and humanity warring within, sparring, dancing, yet in balance. If she could keep it that way, so be it. She could draw on the deific side, on potentially infinite potential. But she could also let it go and be a mere mortal.
If divinity began to overtake her…
I have to keep who I am inside. The little alcove of a basic nerd who would’ve rather gone to Hogwarts. Well, then. It’s time. I need to do the pictures. I have the strength. I can do this. I can face this…
She flashed back to her house. Inside again, and in her plain clothes once more instead of the bathing suit and similar wear she was getting a bit too used to. Her first stop was just before the kitchen door. She created from memory the antique wooden cabinet of her dad’s, which had been his mother’s. Grandma Betty.
She created picture frames and placed pictures from her memory into them. Some of them were so ingrained, she was sure she managed a near-perfect copy. The old one of a younger Betty and her husband Tom, whom Sammy didn’t remember as he died when she was little. The old, faded picture look like something from the 70’s. Or was it the 80’s?
Aunt Claire, Uncle Bart, Tom with his buds playing pool with cigarettes in their mouth, her older Cousin Mark who hated how her dad called him Marky Mark literally every time he saw him. For the spot of honor, she chose good feels, easier feels. Fun memories that didn’t hit as hard.
Taking a deep breath, she went upstairs, adding a few things here and there. The weird owl clock that was always broken. A painting of a boat. A wall hanging of an ankh.
A painting of Athena with a spear and shield. She’d had a tarot deck with Greek gods and goddesses where Athena was the ‘Emperor’ card, and always wanted it blown up. Athena in the painting was kind of hovering in midair. She remembered the cute sandals, too. The pose of the legs like, ‘I’m a vicious killing machine… but still fucking adorable!’
Dogs playing poker. A must.
She inevitably came to a section of wall in the hallway that just had to be the place. Steeling herself, she created the iconic picture of her dad and her at the movies, a theater employee having taken it for her. He had a thumb’s up and an expression like ‘A picture? Great. Fine’ while she was smiling huge. She was… 15.
It was for Endgame. Everyone knew it was going to be badass. She had the t-shirt. So did he. Slightly different. He refused the exact same shirt. ‘We can’t be lame, Sammy.’
One of my favorite pictures… I had it blown up myself, I framed it…
Sammy adjusted and tweaked and altered and touched it up again and again, getting everything perfect, from the people in the background to the exact hat her dad had on his head to… the entire emotion of the moment. And with each tweak, tears came. And she wiped them away, and she kept at it.
Then it was perfect and she was sobbing. She sat on the floor with her back against the far wall and stared at it, tears flowing.
I hung it on the wall, I surprised you with it, I stood there beside you looking at it and I made fun of you. I said you were lame as fuck. You laughed. You loved it… you hugged me and said it was perfect…
It was.
“I miss you… I’m sorry I disappeared… I can’t even-... I’m so sorry, Dad…” She cried and had no words anymore. She mourned the loss and the pain of the sudden separation, the agony of his own imagined suffering. Wishing she could tell him what happened, tell him she was okay, she was going to do great. At least that. At least something…
She had her head in her arms with her arms on her knees as Floofa found her. Sidling up and rubbing against her, purring, placing a paw on her like a blessing. Trying to comfort her.
“Sammy sad? Don’t be sad, Sammy. Floofa here.”
Sammy unfurled herself to reach a hand and pet the adorable cabbit. “I’m so glad you are, Floofa…” Soon, the mystical animal hopped up into her lap and leaned up with its little body to give her a hug. Sammy hugged back with her eyes closed, glad for the company.
In time, her tears dried and she calmed. She rose, Floofa climbing up to perch on her shoulder and remain in supportive, purring company.
She eyed the picture, taking a deep breath. Nodding. A creation of eternal memory. A method to process pain. An inspiration toward some impossible future. One where she defied whatever the System claimed, somehow. Even if she couldn’t go back, even if one day she was too responsible to a vast following and a world that needed her, she would reach across. Somehow.
“I’ll soothe the pain, Dad. I swear it. I’ll find a way to let you know your daughter is okay. I’ll live and I’ll thrive. For you.”
“Floofa meet Dad? Dad nice man.”
“I’m not sure, Floofa. But yes, he is. You two would get along. He liked cats.”
“Floofa cabbit, Sammy!” the pet mentally corrected sternly.
“I know, I know…”
More business-like, though not without some mix of melancholy and smiles, she filled the hallway and the house with pictures she could remember. Childhood ones, candid ones, photoshoot Christmas stuff. Those of close friends. She did pictures of her mother, as well, the most iconic ones. Early happy family stuff. A small, ratty solo shot she always kept. The wedding photos even, in frames.
When she was done, there was a great panoply of her life and her family’s life, captured in stills, some of it she felt was more clear and accurate than other bits. She was at the limit of her memory, after all. It would do, though.
“Sys, make sure these do not change from my subconscious, now. If I tweak anything, it must only be conscious. But I probably won’t.”
This is the default functionality, User Sammy.
“I’m going to reach my dad, one day, System. Mark my words. Over the top of these levels, beyond, wherever I have to go. I will do it.”
The System said nothing to this.
Sammy fashioned the oval hallway mirror she remembered from the old house, an antique with a frame of flowery brass. She crafted the details very carefully and precisely from her memory. She recalled it quite well, ultimately. So many last-second looks, those ‘Do I really fucking look like this, the bathroom mirror is totally different, what the hell?!’ sort of looks, or just studying the intricate framework.
“Just see me in it, Dad, when you’re passing by. I’m behind it. I’m doing great. I’m behind and beyond it and I’ll make you proud. Please, just believe it. Please…”
But it was only her reflection staring back in answer, and she walked away. Back to task. Back to godhood and management and runebooks.
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Sammy crammed in more runebook time, closing in on the finale, though ultimately Carlisle’s group was stopping for the evening well shy of nightfall. She would have to conclude it sometime after, as it was high time to priestify a certain eager, increasingly promising young woman.
“Estara, Daxerris, Merril, Carlisle,” she sent to each of them. “It is time for a special ceremony. Lord Carlisle, please secure for utter privacy in your tent, then call the others in.”
They all acknowledged this, and after a time Carlisle called for her. He had brought a fairly nice oval mirror in a metal frame along, perhaps about 40 centimeters tall. It was attached to a flagpole in some way so that it was free-standing and facing them, who were all in a semicircle.
Samantha appeared in the mirror. “Salutations, Sparrows. It is time for certain acknowledgments of rank within the order, to honor what the souls within have already accomplished and to stir those underneath to more. Lord Carlisle, please step forward and take a knee.”
When he did so, Samantha declared, “Lord Carlisle, you are like a general already, an experienced military captain and a leader of men. So you will lead within our order as well, not only in the same way, but in new and blossoming ways. You will serve well. Rise as a Harrier, as Luminous, to shine the light of my reflection — and of yours — to the world.”
When Samantha willed it, by instinct, she found she could easily cause a visual effect, a glow around him, without doing anything else. Bestowing a rank, even one she’d made up, was like a kind of buff or blessing, sanctioned by the System.
He looked at himself briefly, seeing the energy surrounding him, then rose, nodding to her solemnly. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for this honor. I will serve to the best of my ability.”
He went back to his place as the glow faded.
“Daxerris, step forward and take a knee.”
Somewhat surprised, Dax did so, taking off her hat and saying, “It’s alright, you know. Your Majesty. You don’t have to rank me…”
“Daxerris, even your humility itself is understated, yet you are a leader and can grow into more. You have contacts whom you can lead to us. This act is both logical and desirable to me. I honor your commitment and capability. Rise as a Hawk, as one of my Illumined, and prepare to both illuminate and learn greater things on this path before you.”
With a glow surrounding her, Dax rose uncertainly, eyes flitting about somewhat stunned. The whole thing had affected her. When she swallowed and nodded to Samantha, her eyes were seeing something a bit more than she had previously. “Thank you… Your Majesty.”
I hold a sacred power beyond just who I am. Beyond class. The power to truly inspire the heart of man… that is infinite in potential. Enough to change their fate… and the fate of the world. It’s ultimately what we have to do.
Dax went back to her spot, as Estara clapped happily with her hands in front of her, whispering congratulations to the redheaded warrior.
“Merril.”
The call made him jump slightly, as he’d been eyeing both of the two women. “Yes?”
Meeting his eyes, he asked, “Will you take a knee, proud scout and spellsword?”
His eyes lingered on hers for a moment, then dropped as he clearly deliberated on it. Some tug in his body, as if a part of him wanted to just walk out. Scoff. But he took a deep breath, and his eyes briefly glanced sidelong at the others, then he stepped forward.
Pausing in front of the mirror, with Dax behind with her mouth hanging open, unbelieving, Merril hesitated again. He grappled with himself, agitated, almost growling, his hair on end. Then he murmured, “Yes, I will,” and went to a knee, looking up at Samantha with a firm stare, unblinking.
Samantha smiled down at him. “I know how difficult that was for you, but I’m proud of you, Merril. Humility is the pommel on the end of a sword, bestowing the balance that makes the weapon sound. You should know you do it not merely for me, but for you. Keep that balance, and you will go far in this fellowship. You will earn true respect. And give it.”
Pausing, Samantha asked, “Did you have further words?”
His eyes slid away briefly before returning, and he shook his head. “I must rethink them, Goddess.”
“Very well. Rise as a Raven, as one of my Anointed — be bathed in light, Merril, and take this charge from me: learn and grow from others, prove yourself and follow the Precepts in spirit, embrace this fellowship, and you will rise again.”
He stood as the glow surrounded him, nodding to her words, though his eyes looked down thoughtfully. He turned and headed back to his spot.
Estara was clapping again and beaming, whispering congratulations to him. His face split into a grin as he just nodded awkwardly to her.
“Estara.”
She jumped in surprise, then immediately dashed over, calling, “Yes, Your Majesty!” She plopped on her knees and held her hands up in a prayer sign. Ready and willing.
“Estara, what do you think this will be, then?”
“Oh, I’d assume Anointed in position, Your Majesty.” She blinked. “Though technically we did that already?”
Samantha had to laugh a little. “Yes. I had more in mind that I would make you my Priestess.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Already? I-I don’t know what to say… y-yes! Yes, I will be your Priestess!”
“So be it! Estara, you have blossomed like a rose to me. You’ve shown great initiative and promise. Dedication, spirit, faith, piety, and an eagerness to serve. By this blend of things I believe you’ll be a great member of the clergy of our order. You can grow with it, you can be the epitomical daughter of the order. And so I name you Falcon! I name you Priestess! Rise, and be illumined!”
She thrust her hand out, and blinding bright light shot from her hand and enveloped Estara in a great glow. The servant girl stood looking in wonder and amazement at her hands, then her eyes rose heavenward, and she closed them in a serene expression of acceptance.
Follower is now Ordained as a level 0 [Priestess] and provides 1 additional FE per day.
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