Prose Magica: The Ballad of the Seventeenth Part 3

Therese Witton snoozed soundly, hugging her bedsheets tight to her chest. With a slight, cat-like grin, she licked her lips and turned over, mumbling and grumbling contentedly. Her long, fluffy auburn hair was splayed out across the pink and white sheets, making her look quite the opposite of what one would expect from a warmaster.

Bree-dee-deep.

Therese's brow furrowed at the noise as she shoved her face further into her pillow.

Bree-dee-deep. Bree-dee-deep.

Therese's eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth flattened and the edges of her lips tightened.

Bree-dee-dee-

In one single swift motion, Therese cupped a hand around the back of her alarm clock and heaved it across the room, tearing the plug out of the socket as it flew straight into the far wall. The poor clock shattered on impact, sending glass and plastic flying outward in a hail of shrapnel. The warmaster sat up in bed , a groggy, grumpy frown on her face, and turned off her beeping cellphone.

Therese Witton. Warmaster of the Seventeenth. At first glance, she'd look to be the paragon of everything it meant to be a magical girl. Kind, gentle, a peach-pastel coloured costume with an awful abundance of frills. But as anyone in the Seventeenth Officio could tell you, the girl had a temper like thermite and the power to back it up. There were dozens of rumours floating around concerning incidents where she flew off the handle over something minor. Most had at least a grain of truth to them.

A light knock sounded on her bedroom door before it slowly creaked open, revealing Tyler's cautious face.

"W-warmaster?" She asked.

"Mornin', Tyyy," the warmaster drawled sleepily, looking at the dark-haired aide through half-lidded eyes.

Tyler shook her head as she stepped into the room carrying a tray, topped with a bowl of cereal and juice. "You're still half-asleep," the aide groaned, setting the tray down next to Therese. "Drink your orange juice, warmaster."

The warmaster's aide cupped a hand on her cheek as she watched the other girl happily sip her juice through a straw, not doing a terribly good job of hiding how dearly she adored the warmaster when she was sleepy. Slowly but surely, Therese's eyes opened wider and grew more alert as the juice emptied.

As the last of the orange liquid emptied, the warmaster let out a satisfied sigh and looked up at her aide. "That's some good stuff. Mornin' Tyler. What's on the agenda today?"

"Good morning, warmaster," Tyler replied, giving a gentle nod. "It seems we'll be having another easy day today. Fubey wished to speak with you when you woke up. You'll be addressing Valkyrie Squad at ten. They're all a bit... you know."

Therese made a shallow nod, her mouth still on her straw. "Any sign of Frieda?"

"Not yet," the short-haired girl mumbled. "Brighton's on the case, but," Tyler glanced off to the side, embarrassment colouring her face, "you know how I feel about her."

The warmaster rolled her eyes just as something caught her attention. She blinked several times before asking, "Tyler, what happened to your neck?"

"Ah! Uh," the other girl reached up to the Winnie the Pooh band-aid and held her hand over it. "I, uh, I fell. You know. Getting out of the elevator. There's that litt-"

"You were with Odette last night, weren't you?" Therese asked, her voice growing stern.

"I-"

"You provoked her," she continued as her eyes narrowed, "didn't you?"

"I- No- I didn't-"

"Toooootally provoked," called a sing-song voice from Therese's cell, somehow switching itself to speaker-phone.

"Good morning to you too, Holly," the warmaster answered. "Exactly how long have you been eaves-dropping?"

"Mornin' boss. Just doin' my job, ma'am," the vanus replied, the distinct sound of furious typing coming through the phone. "You should have seen it. Tyler grabbed Odette, and then Odette was all like 'Getcher mitts off me, punk.' and then Tyler was like 'That's no way to talk to a warmaster's aide, Brighton.' and, and-" Holly took took a deep breath, clearly having run out of oxygen. "Long story short, Patchy handed Ty her ass on a platter. It was awesome."

Therese pinched her brow and grimaced, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Tyler..."

"I- That wasn-"

"Please stop talking," Therese growled, turning her head up just enough to look her aide in the eye. "I've been awake for all of ten minutes and I'm already upset with you. If you continue to pick fights with Odette, I'll have no choice but to demote you. Am I understood?"

"But-"

"Am. I. Understood?"

Tyler simply gulped and stared down, a mixture of shame and anger running through her. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You're already on your second chance. I'd rather not have to repeat myself," the warmaster shook her head before taking a deep breath and regaining her composure. "Holly, do you have anything else to report?"

"Uh, lemme see," Holly went quiet for a few moments; only the sound of fingers on keys signalled that the line hadn't gone dead. "May reports that West HQ has had an above average number of witches in the past two weeks, but nothing to be concerned about yet. All quiet in Montreal and Calgary. Maritime HQ fought a witch that looked like a giant lobster girl, but that's neither here nor there-"

"Thank you, Holly. I believe that will be all," Therese interrupted as she heaved herself out of bed. "Can you put Molly on? I'd like an update from her."

"Oh! Yeah yeah! Right away, boss!"

There was a distinct click as the line went dead for a few moments, leaving the warmaster and her second in a rather awkward silence.

"Warmaster." Asked a rather dry voice from the phone as the sound of typing resumed. The voice was nearly identical to Holly's, save how dead-pan and tired the new girl sounded. If they actually put the effort into it, the two could easily pose as each other - some even thought they did on occasion.

"Good morning, Molly," Therese greeted the new voice, picking up her clothes from around the room. Tyler took that as her cue to step out for the time being. "Anything to report?"

"Oh. Oh yeah," the vanus answered, sounding slightly off guard. "Those attacks on our database? The ones I've been working my ass off to fight? They stopped last night."

The auburn-haired girl glanced at the phone as she buttoned up her shirt. "They... what?"

"Totally ceased. A little after midnight, I'd say. Dunno why considering they can't have gotten anything. They clearly had the resources to keep it up if they wanted to, but whatever. I'm not complaining," Therese could almost HEAR the shrug on the other end. "Oh and, uh, there've been a few more reports from the other officios. More of those golden weapons popping up. Maybe we should look into them, just in case."

Therese shook her head. "You know it's not our way to go looking for trouble. Fubey has always said as much."

"Sorry, let me rephrase that," Molly said, managing to sound even more dead-pan than before, "we REALLY need to look into this. Big things are in motion and we're gonna be stuck in the middle of it if we don't act."

"I'll see what I can do, but no promises," Therese replied as she held up different kinds of legwear, then glanced at her phone. "Skirt or pants?"

"Skirt, I guess. But, hotpants and thighhighs would look great with that outfit. You've definitely got the legs for it. Just sayin'."

"Skirt it is then," the warmaster decided, turning slightly pink at the vanus' comment.

"A storm's coming, Terry," Molly's voice changed as she spoke, becoming more clear and stern to the point that Therese almost thought she was a different person altogether. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to get caught without an umbrella. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Therese made a shallow nod, barely noticeable to the inattentive. With another long sigh, she fastened her cap, threw on her coat in a dramatic flourish and stepped out into the hall.

✱✱✱

Odette cracked open a tired eye and looked up at her clock. It was already eleven in the morning. With a disgruntled huff, she made to get out of bed... but only succeeded in vainly squirming against the arms holding her back. The smaller girl groaned as she tried to pull out of Lotte's vice grip around her waist. The perennial little spoon. Odette knew that she would be lucky if the other girl woke up before noon.

With no small amount of effort, Odette managed wriggle her way lower and lower until Lotte's arms were around her head. The fact that she could manage such a feat came as bittersweet to the smaller, silvery-haired girl. Just as she was about to free herself, the larger girl pulled Odette in tightly, mashing the back of her head into her sizable breasts.

"Grk-"

After a few long, agonizing moments, Lotte's grip loosened and Odette managed to liberate herself, jamming a pillow in the other girl's arms to take her place. It took several minutes for Odette to find her underwear again; somehow her panties had ended up inside of the bedside lamp. She made a muted sigh as she pulled on her bra, always feeling as though the nearly-flat piece of spongy fabric was somehow mocking her. Her jeans and usual white t-shirt, however, were found in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. It had been quite some time since Odette had actually bothered to clothe herself while in the comfort of her own home.

Thankfully, she hadn't been careless enough to remove her eyepatch in the heat of the moment. Odette hated showing others what was under it; it made her feel vulnerable, as though someone knew her darkest secret.

Having gotten dressed, Odette left the bedroom behind and made her way to the little nook that passed for a kitchen. Opening the dirty and scuffed fridge, Odette scanned her collection of various juices, having a bottle of nearly every flavour. She had never liked coffee and drinking in the morning ... Well, she had finally gotten her assignment. It was about time she tried turning over a new leaf. Maybe this one wouldn't shrivel up and fall off the tree. With a nod, she decided that a good day had to start just right. Peach juice. Her very favourite.

Despite not having been home in over a week, everything seemed rather clean, Odette noted as popped a slice of bread in the toaster. Lotte or Therese must have made sure to come by and tidy up while she was out. Everyone always seemed so concerned about her well-being ever since her demotion. She didn't need to be babied just because she had lost her rank, she told herself. After two months of peace and quiet, she was finally getting used to it. Of course, it had to be just then that work fell into her lap.

As she waited for her toast to toast, Odette took up her notepad from the counter and took a seat at the tiny kitchen table. However, upon seeing the lacy, pink, t-shaped piece of fabric hanging off the edge, she quickly changed her mind and moved to the window sill. The sky was growing darker, she noted. She'd have to make it to the scene of Frieda's disappearance before the rain washed any evidence away.

Her poetry absorbed her, despite not managing to write a single word. She didn't pay attention to how long she stared at that blank page, wishing she could come up with SOMETHING just to let everything out. Depression, anger, frustration, all of it had been balled up inside of her for two months now. The world around her dissolved as she stared at the words she never wrote. She stared down from her checker-board tower as a field stretched out before her, measuring a hundred miles in every direction. Odette turned as she heard footsteps approaching from the void behind her.

She made a bemused snort as the figure took its place beside her. "Haven't seen you in a while."

The figure nodded. "Two months, was it?"

Odette chuckled to herself and focused down on the field below them. "Something like that."

The figure took a seat on the windowsill across from Odette, the pair formed a perfect symmetry as she pulled her knee up to her chin. Odette spared her a glance. Silvery-white hair, beautiful blue eyes shimmering like twin oceans, all topped off with a black baseball cap.

"Thought you were dead," Odette stated, smirking at the other girl.

"As did I, but apparently not," the white-haired girl shifted her eyes down to the pad of paper in Odette's hands, then back to the one-eyed girl herself. "Still writing, are you?"

"I try, but my brain seems to disapprove."

Odette looked back down, just as the field shifted for a moment. A brief flash that disappeared as quickly as it came. A battle raged. Magical girl against magical girl, sister against sister.

"What is all that?" Odette asked, gesturing down at the field.

"That which has not yet come to be. It might, it might not. Maybe," the other girl twirled a strand of her flowing hair as she smiled ever so gently. "Either way, we'll see soon enough. It looks like something you'd enjoy, though, doesn't it? Getting to loose that fury and savagery upon whoever you so desire. That's what they called you, isn't? After... you know. Odette the Furious, was it?"

"Was one of my titles, yeah," Odette laughed. "I always liked Odette the Wanderer better. Had a certain ring to it."

The other girl giggled softly to herself. "It does suit you, I must say. Tell me, do you still like sweet things?"

"Love 'em."

"Good, good. At least you still have pieces of your old self. You were so pretty back the-"

"Let's not," Odette cut in, glaring at her conversation partner.

The white-haired girl grinned devilishly. "Touchy, touchy. Did I hit a sore spot?"

"So this is why you showed up," the short-haired girl snarled.

"Honestly, Odette. Look at what you've done with yourself," the other girl chided, her grin growing. "I'd give you my help if you only ask-"

"You're the last person I want help from," Odette growled, punctuating her statement by snapping her notepad shut. "Who are you? My mom?"

"Oh, so you won't accept MY help but you're all buddy-buddy with that- that WHORE. Anyone with eyes could tell how much she's playing the field-"

In a blur of motion, Odette grabbed the other girl by the frilly shoulder-straps of her costume and shoved her against the window frame. "Don't talk about Lotte that way."

"You're really going to stand up for her?" The white-haired girl spat, her beautiful face contorted into an ugly grimace. "After all she did to you, you're still going to defend her?"

"I-"

"Come on, Odette!" She growled, gritting her teeth. "You remember, don't you?"

Odette's grip loosened as her eye shot open.

"Yes, you remember, don't you? Was it two years ago now? How our lovely Miss Charlotte went and murdered-"

Odette tightened her fingers around the other girl's shoulder straps and screamed, "LOTTE DIDN'T MEAN TO KILL HER!"

Her apartment snapped back into place around her just as the sound left her lips, while a quite whisper found it's way into her ear.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Odette's hands were shaking, her breath was ragged and, strangely enough, the open page in her notepad - which she swore she had closed - was filled. Lotte poked her head in from the bedroom and blinked several times before speaking up.

"Uh, y-you okay, O?" The blonde asked. "Heard you talking and then you yelled my name, and not in the good way."

"'m good." The shorter girl mumbled, hopping down from the windowsill and gulping down what was left of her juice.

"O-oh, alright," Lotte peeked back into the bedroom for a moment before returning to Odette. "Hey, you seen my-"

Odette simply picked up the pair of panties clinging to the edge of the kitchen table and tossed them at the blonde's face.

"Thanks, O," Lotte groaned before disappearing back into the bedroom.

After taking a few half-hearted bites of her lukewarm toast, Odette stared into her empty glass and sighed. Screw the time, she thought, she needed a real drink and a grief seed. Or three.