Roni I

Hi, friend, or lover, or whoever has the pleasure of reading my first rendition of Roni the Rock Witch. I love to knead in little tidbits and issues that I’ve been dealing with to make the stories more personal and a little easier to write. But Roni is special to me. I relate to my other characters, but Roni I feel the most aggressively. So, read with extra care, because you’re peering into my soul with this one.

The Midnight’s Ale tavern is generally a dangerous corner of treacherous passerby, conniving thieves, master gamblers, and local orcen folks, trying to take the edge off of a monotonous day.

You don’t come to the tavern looking for performers-men and women jumping through flaming hoops, or extravagant final acts. You would’ve thought someone would tell Roni this, this dusty night in Edensvale.

The sparkly rock witch was spangling in her performers garb. A crop top showing her tight chest, down to her seemingly always flexed midriff, and jean shorts that were always broken open at the waist. On her feet were two black buckled boots, with soles that could knock in some teeth. She slammed down her brew and spoke with grandeur to the bartender as she ordered another draft.

To the left of the lady was her weapon, her brutal sniper rifle. The metal on the machine was sheet black, slick, and freshly polished. The barrel struck out like a rapier’s blade, skinny, precise, with a muzzle that did little to soften the impact. Along the side of the barrel were frets, individual frets that hosted strings, only four, but four thick strings that sliced the wind when strummed.

While the tap spewed out the golden liquid, Roni swiveled around and began ogling at the men and women who drunkenly stumbled through the bar. She kicked back a little and sifted a hand into the waistband of her underwear, thumbing about for comfort.

She lit a scrawny cigarette and pulled with every fiber of her drunken being, venting a stack cloud of smoke, and nearly ripping it to the base. Flipping her torso around to face the bar, she tore into her draft, and took another sidelong gaze about the premises.

She cocks her head to the side and brushes through her short, lightning purple hair, bits of glitter sprinkling to the floor. Down the other end of the bar, another woman was speaking casually with another bartender.

She crept down the line, fumbling with a cigarette, but with her head high like she was about to go to the bathroom. Roni sat beside the girl and hailed the bartender, but as he attended to her, Roni dashed a stray finger and spilled the girl’s drink.

They both pouted, and Roni spoke first. “Can I make it up to you?”

The girl swayed for a moment, then smiled. As they ordered from the keep, Roni tore through the girl with her gaze. She wore a tight dress that showed the split of her chest, but Roni took special attention, noticing the veins crawling down her slender hands.

“I’m thinking like such a dirty bastard.” She said to herself. From the hands, up to individually raised hairs on her forearms. Like needles, to keep Roni stuck against the girl’s body.

“Where are you from, what is your name?” The girl asked carefully.

Before Roni could compose herself, she noticed the pattern of skin that wrapped her breast, the goosebumps from the cold air, the slightly visible bumps along her chocolate skin. “Lewd is in,” she hyped herself up with.

“My name is Roni, I’m a rock witch from a elven village in the north.” Roni ran her fingers in the crease of her v-line, then anxiously back to her hair.

“Hi, Roni. You have a bit of reputation, more for the hunk of metal you’ve brought in, but I’ve heard about your music.” The girl rests on her fist. “Ah, my name is Sera. I have a bad habit of simply asking, and not answering-so please, ask questions.”

She lifts her face off her fist and makes eye contact with Roni. “Yeah, that’s what I do, music… stuff.” She gestures to the cold metal, and takes a shot to the face. “The sniper rifle, it doubles as a bass,” followed by a gag.

“What are you here for?” Roni says with a sour mouth. Cheap liquor never goes down easily.

“Fun. I’m here for fun.” Sera brushes her hair out of her face, but jumps at the thud of a heavy bag onto the bar.

Roni tosses a baggy of powder onto the table. She points to the bag, then to the nearby bathroom door.

Sera turned her head to the side and looked about, then nodded. She held Roni by the hand and brought her to the bathroom. Unfortunately for our rock witch, the alcohol was in full swing, and her vision narrowed, but not before she got a good look at Sera’s callipygian frame.

With dark stained bricks, and a dirty vanity that spanned the entire wall of the bathroom, the girls took turns huffing dust through the cylinder of a hollowed bone.

It’s an elven custom to grind down the bones of fallen animals, due to their supposed ‘healing properties.’ Bones healed themselves naturally, they thought. Modern elf quickly discovered that some animals, particularly ones that have freshly passed away, have left… residue, the kind of magical residue that makes you feel their last moments. Euphoria, anxiety, whatever fits the bill.

Amplified through the empty of a hollowed out bone, Roni came to with the grafted bone stuck in her nostril, ripping a line from the corner, all the way to the end. She huffed, and stumbled back, with Sera’s fragile hand on her back.

Roni scooped up what was left of her line and dug it under her fingernail, but looked at the other woman in the bathroom. Sera dragged an arm down Roni’s shoulder, trailing to her bicep. Their eyes met, but first, Roni’s fingernail swept through the upper levels of Sera’s gums.

Sera caught Roni’s finger between her lips, and slithered them down to her palm. Once again, their eyes met as she pulled back.

“Shit.” Roni said to herself. Her drunken eyes dragged down Sera’s body once more. Her strap was crooked, a scarlet red, and the lace of her bra peeked out from their dress.

She closed in, enchanting the lace that protected the girl’s chest with her rugged fingers, as their lips met one another.

Roni pulled her by the midriff, caressing her arch, and down to her ass. They cascaded over each other with heavy breath, and dragged careful hands through each others hair. Hair down to neck, magnet to metal, and woman, to woman.

Roni brought her fingers to the crown of her waist, inching closer and closer to Sera’s slit. Her drunken hands were suddenly halted.

“I’m here with a date.” Sera mumbles with a defeated tone.

“Fuck him.”

”…Okay.” Sera tilts her head and cheekily smiles to her.

The two waltz out of the bathroom, Roni gripping a handful of Sera’s ass on the way out. However, there was a man in a large robe waiting outside the bathroom.

“Time, it’s time. You’re coming home with this guy.” The man slurs to himself, pointing at Sera.

Sera looks away, her pixie cut swishing with her face.

Roni lifts an eyebrow and pushes the man out of the way, “She wants a woman tonight, bub.” The wizard’s eyes were drifting about Roni’s frame as he dug into his back pocket.

She pursed her lips as a small blade drove into her abdomen, he twisted it, and quickly pulled it back. Roni doubles over to her knees, followed by Sera’s shrill scream.

A soft hand dug into Roni’s hair, and she smiled from ear to ear. Something was beginning to form, an intangible mass, a rising fiery emotion was beginning to erupt. “You chose the wrong girl to shiv tonight… asshole.”

The wound quickly zips itself up, dried blood around the incision. Roni stands to her feet, pushing Sera aside. With a bold snap of the fingers, the sniper rifle materialized in her hands. A neon purple light transforming into the shape of her brutal weapon. She flicks the barrel to face the wizard and fires a thick, hulking bullet through the wizards unassuming palm.

He staggers, haphazardly trying to freeze over the wound to avoid further damage. The wizard grits his teeth and curses to himself. Roni loses her balance for a moment, but sticks her finger forward for a signal-”Come here, come here if you wanna get your shit rocked,” she thought to herself. The crowd begins to form around the two.

The wizard puts his open hands up, curled at the fingers, open at the palm. A lethal icy veil began to pour from his hands, ironically, he was fired up. The two begin clockwise circling the middle of the bar, watching each others’ drunken lumbering. One foot in front of another, like a sobriety test.

He flicks his hands and glazes a sheet of ice over the wooden floor. With fervent intent, the wizard slides towards Roni on the ice, and grabs her forearm.

Her smile grew to a fever pitch. The entirety of her arm, up to her shoulder was completely coated in ice. She planted her right foot into the ground and swung the stock of the rifle into his face, wet crunches as the metal smashed through bone.

Slipping on the ice and crashing into the crowd, Roni shivered in excitement as she lined up the muzzle to her armpit. With a tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, she snapped the trigger and blew off her arm, gushes of blood spurting onto the nearby furniture, and splattering onto the ice.

Her regeneration was surreal, the skin wove itself down to the fingers, then filled with blood like a balloon, Roni brought her fingers back up to her eyes, and looked carefully at her grafted skin.

“Just how I left it, clean ‘n taut.” Roni smacks herself a couple of times, and calls out to the wizard.

“Either way,” She couldn’t help but grin, the creases turned to dimples. “You’re gonna go out screaming.”

The wizard spits out a tooth and crawls to his knees. Roni began closing the distance, stomping the muzzle into the ice, shattering it with every slam. The wizard rested a hand on his knee and turned his hand to a fist. With his magic, he made a thin wall of ice behind her, smashing it into her back and sending her towards him.

“Happy to see you’ve still got tricks up your sleeve!” Roni shouted excitedly. Midair, she thumbs down her belt of bullets, and picks out one with a purple lightning on it, lodging it on her molar, then spitting it into the chamber.

The wizard grasps onto Roni’s neck, a wave of ice crawling up her body, but it was too late. Roni dug the sniper rifle in between her bone and shoulder. She began laughing, guffawing, with a wide, wide smile that could only be described as pure elation-a euphoric, a fever pitch of emotion.

Decisively, her middle finger slammed back the trigger, busting a sonic bullet into the eyeball of the wizard, bits of bone and brain sparked with hot electricity as the wizard loosened his grip and fell to his knees, then over and dead.

The ice promptly melted, alongside the ice along the floor. Roni pulled out a cigarette, lit then smoked down to the filter, and flicked the bud onto the corpse.

“I wanna take you somewhere. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Caravans can be taken to the neighboring town, but the nightly ones are always filled with frisky couples, smashing their faces into one another, gasping for air as the one sucks on the others neck, wafting in freshly sprayed vanilla fragrance.

The two girls were definitely up to this, but their destination wasn’t a nearby town, Sera gasped as Roni suddenly asked the driver to pull over by the cliffs of Edensvale.

They stumbled to the edge, and sat down side by side. The hum of the fair wind swept through the grass, and around the pointy ears of the two elves.

“How are you feeling?” Sera brushed her hair out of her face.

“The highs never last long nowadays. I’m coming up, now.” Roni sighed, and thumbed for another cigarette.

“Your shoulder, Roni.” Sera put a hand on Roni’s cigarette, then pointed to her dislocated shoulder.

“Oh,” Roni glances over. “This thing.” Roni grips her deltoid, and shoves it back into place, swinging it around to check mobility.

“Have you always been hurting yourself, like you have tonight?”

There’s a brief silence. Roni looks away.

“Ever since I found out that I was immortal, I’ve been throwing myself into the crux of danger, I mean, that’s half of the reason I’ve been on tour.” She drops her shoulders.

“I’ve been… I guess you could say… blessed, with immortality. Maybe, I’ll be youthful for the next two hundred, or three hundred years. I’ve never seen an immortal before, at least, not on my tour.”

She runs her fingers down to her forearm. “I used to drink various poisons, slice and dice myself with all types of blades, drown myself in the darkest of seas, so I could develop an intolerance to pain.”

Roni breathes in before speaking. “For me… pain isn’t necessarily a teacher, it’s a sign to keep pushing, that there’s more to give, and not to give up. I didn’t give up when my fingers callused from my bass, and I’m not gonna give up if I lose a measly arm.”

Roni furled her lip. “And what about the scar, right there?” Sera points to the discolored skin on her v-line.

“That was the first time that I got hurt. It never went away.” Roni sulks.

Sera drifts her fingers down Roni’s tricep, and went in for a hug, pushing her onto the grass, and nuzzling into her arms.

“You don’t have to hurt to prove yourself to anyone.” Sera says carefully. Roni downcasted her eyes, and she answers with a rigid frown.

Roni woke up not to the smell of fresh vanilla, but to a tightly knit flower crown of wild roses resting beside her. She brushed her hair out of her face, and gazed at the crown.

Roni’s tour was far from over, in fact, she had no business in Edensvale after her show. But she found herself back in the Midnight’s Ale. Sometimes, she wasn’t there, and she had no choice but to drink herself hollow, and lumber out of the bar with a stark catcall echoing behind her.

But other nights, when that woman with the wonderful fragrance was there, she smiled with the same euphoria that she did against the wizard man. The other patrons were just happy to see one less asshole catcalling girls at night. They could excuse thievery, but not sexual harassment.

Eventually, Roni’s tour was over, and she found herself in the attic of the Tavern. She’d make her rent by lifting in barrels of ale for draft, and she got to play shows, sometimes, at the tavern. Although the noise was annoying when she was trying to sleep.

Roni and Sera saw each other when the situation allowed. They went to elf raves in the nearby forests, huffing pounds and pounds of condensed bone. They’d chop up lines in the outhouses along the ridges of wood in the outskirts of the party. Then, in the tavern bathroom, old times for old’s sake. Sometimes, they would share a baggy during a recording sesh, that the drugs made her more creative, and Sera more receptive.

Maybe sometimes, they’d sneak in a line or two at the bazaar, to make them ‘more confident’ when haggling for the prime cut of lamb. But Roni tried to forget about all of the times she had come for a booty call, but ended up doing rails in Sera’s basement. The anxiety used to crawl up her back in those dire times.

Sera tried to stay a line or two ahead of Roni in these trying times. Roni would joke that Sera would be out for the count again, and she’d answer by flushing herself out, tasting the vile drip slithering down her throat, and blocking up her nostrils with ‘just one more line.’

She would beg for another line of the sweet powder, slur when she got it, and end the night with completely closed eyes, and a bittersweet smile that could only mean the end.

The bound of thick drums alongside electric xylophones. The xylophones were hooked to pedals that distorted, reverbed and fuzzed the individual notes. The sound hung through the leaves, fir and stoic, but they didn’t mind, the trees deserved to enjoy themselves, too. For this night, the organizers recommended earplugs, but most people don’t see the damage until it’s already done.

Barefoot in the grass, the elves’ feet swept gracefully around each other in a careful dance. The summer wind was a leisurely breeze, and Sera’s skirt drifted a bit in the wind. They held their heads together, Roni dragged a hand through Sera’s auburn hair, and caressed her smooth skin. She kissed the freckle that sat just on her cheek.

The two didn’t speak, not because the music was deafening, or the surplus of other elves moving in crowds and mobs, but because the feeling couldn’t be described through words.

Sera brushed a hand through Roni’s hair, the flickering torchlight teasing glimpses of her face, she tapped on her neck to come closer. “I really have to pee, is it alright if I run to the bathroom?”

Roni nodded, “I’ll be waiting for you.” She let her go and danced by herself for a moment.

Sera gazed at her feet, wading through blades of grass, and looked down to her hands. Sera was mesmerized by her hands but she was randomly bumped by a crafty elf, quickly shifting through the open space. “Aye, I did a bad, youse all good?” Sera simply moaned in response.

In the outhouse bathroom, Sera exhaled and shivered to herself, and dug in her satchel for the baggy.

“No, no no no no.” She pleaded. Her hands wobbled with desperation, and she sniffled.

“Please, please.” Sera moved things aside in her satchel, front to back, back to front, removed everything from the satchel, and placed it back in.

“I don’t want it to end…”

Sera lumbered back to the party, and sulking along the way. Roni caught her in the midst and tried to bring her by the hand, but Sera dug her feet in the ground.

“Can we go home?” Sera mumbled. Beneath the xylophone solo, Roni answered with an ear.

“I just wanna go home, Ro.” Sera pushed Roni away.

Roni puffed to herself, and got ready to speak. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s just bail.”

“Are you sure? Just tal-”

“I’m fucking fine.”

“Why are you cursing at me?”

“Because I’m irritated and I want to go home?”

“Did your period start?”

“Of fuckin’ course you’d ask me something like that.”

Roni looked around in disbelief. “You’re the one who’s got a ‘tude after hitting the bathroom. I’d be annoyed if I got my period mid rave, too.”

“One of those skags stole the bone powder.”

“Which one of those assholes did it?”

“Can we not resort to violence every time there’s a minor inconvenience? I said that I wanted to go home, Roni.”

”…Okay.” Roni reserved herself.

The girls start making their way through the forest, pushing bush and grass aside back to Edensvale, and neither of them spoke, once again.

“Sera.” Sera doesn’t lend an ear.

“You’ve got to speak to me eventually.” Sera brushes some dirt onto Roni’s boots. Roni snarks and grips Sera by the shoulder.

Her fingers groove into her skin, and she turns Sera around to face her.

“We have to be adults about this, Sera.” Sera’s face starts to contort, and she tries to turn and walk away again.

Roni grabs a hold of her once again, but pushes her into the grass. She towers above Sera, bits of glitter dangling from her split ends. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what.”

Roni smirks, but quickly fixes her face. “We have to get clean.” Sera looks away, but Roni turns her face toward her.

“You mean I have to get clean. You just get to go off doing whatever you want, fighting whoever you want, throwing yourself into the crux of danger and leaving me behind.” Sera covers her eyes.

“I feel like I have to run and gallop and sprint just to keep up with you. You feel so far away, but also close at the same time. Just a line away, I’d always think to myself. Just one more swab to my gums, I’d think, I don’t want to chase you forever. If we’re gonna do this, then I’m not doing it alone,” Sera weeps, “I don’t wanna feel alone, even though you’re right here.” Roni looks away in contempt.

But then she closes in. She sits down on Sera’s lap. “I won’t make you feel alone ever again.” Sera wipes her eyes and slowly loosens her face into a gentle smile of relief.

”…”

The weeks following were more hopeful. The two kept busy. Same tavern, same recording studio, burning CDs in the wizard bazaar. Maybe a cigarette or two extra than usual, can’t fully kick an addiction without replacing it, Roni would stress to Sera. Eventually, Roni had finished her newest album, and her tour was due to begin again soon.

They met at the Midnight’s Ale. They were hosting a surprise party for Roni’s temporary goodbyes. Fans, the barhand that saw Roni throw up a time too many, and of course, her girlfriend. They were dating at this point, if it wasn’t obvious from their quarrel.

Sera brought forth a fresh crown of poppies, and handed it to Roni as she lumbered into the Ale after a long night of recording.

Roni smiled, and looked at Sera’s skin. She dragged a hand across her cheek, a thumb across her favorite freckle and carefully kissed her lips. “This is the best gift you could give me.” She placed the crown atop her head.

Sera’s face was a beautiful maroon, she covered her mouth as she blushed to Roni. “When I get these poppies back, I hope they’re stained with your purple dye.”

Roni smiled and nodded, and she sat beside Sera at the bar. Roni composed herself.

“I think it’s best that I go on this tour alone.”

Sera moves her hair out of the way and furls her lip. “I understand, but why is it?”

“My roadies, they tend to huff a lot. I.. I don’t want you to be around it. I want you to stay clean.” Roni looks away, and purses her lips. “You… we have been doing so good. I want nothing more than for you to-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, I’ll write you, Roni.” Sera answered calmly.

“Sure? Are you sure?” Roni’s eyes widened.

“Certain. Don’t let this conversation ruin this night. It’s about you, not me.”

”…”

“Thank you.” Roni extended a hand, and brought Sera to the dance floor, on the planks that she bled on just months before, she locked hands with Sera and moved carefully with her, careful not to step on her toes, and danced with her once more. Her fingers enchanted her hips, and she drew her near. Slowly, they drifted into each other, breathing onto each other’s lips, and shared one final kiss, on Roni’s final night in Edensvale.

Sera accompanied Roni before she left for good. Roni had set aside enough through CD sales to afford a personal caravan driver, and her group of dwarven roadies had already settled into the ride. Their next stop was Cinderholm, a dwarven mekka in the west, only a day or two in riding time.

Roni climbed into the caravan after a plethora of goodbyes and kisses, a couple ‘I promise to read every letter,’ and three or four, ‘I’ll bring you plenty of souvenirs.’

The windows of the caravan were open, allowing a dry desert breeze to swift through the cargo section. Roni drank from her canteen and swiped some sweat from her forehead, but no one was sweating more than the dwarves just a couple feet away.

A table had been set up, with a stack of golden coins not too far away. The men took turns jabbing a knife in the space between their fingers, nipping off bits of skin with every inaccurate pierce, but never right through the finger, or the web that connected them.

The table had dried blood from the other three fools who decided to participate in the same game. Roni rested back on a large bag of cotton and looked out the window, but she furrowed her brow when the caravan came to an abrupt stop.

“Aye, the caravan ahead of us ‘it a potho’. Is there a replacement wheel in the back, there?” The driver bellowed to the back.

“Ya, ‘ere you.” One of the dwarves rummaged in the back.

“You need help realigning it on the axle?” Roni lifted an eyebrow, looking for something to do.

“Wouldn’t trouble ya, lady. Sure there’s a note ‘er two that would be nice in your fingers, nay?” One of the dwarves said to her, carrying the wheel to the front and out of the caravan.

Roni shook her head in disappointment and stuck her head out the window, sand drifting through the air, and watched the dwarves remove the chipped wheel.

They were stout men, no fault of theirs, but dwarves were men of discipline. They tied their band tees around their waists to reveal white tank tops. The blond hair of one glistened with a light mist of sweat along his forearm. Vascular, the way it flexed under the weight of the wooden wheel.

Roni chuckles and lies back, stroking her hands up and down her bass, maybe another nine hours before arriving in Cinderholm, and eighteen before the show.

Roni found herself in the bathroom after her set, the first show in Cinderholm went well. They sold out of merch for the day, and there were plenty of little gifts left for her from the meet and greets she did after the show. She smiled to herself before looking in the mirror and splashing some cold water on herself. Peaking out of the basket, was a bottle of tequila left to her as a gift from a fan.

“I deserve it, right?” She grinned, then threw the bottle back, gulping down a mouthful of the clear. Roni stumbled into the section of the tavern she had rented out for her and her roadies. She dropped her shoulders and sat at their personal bar, sighing with relief.

The dwarves were back at it once again. Lines of dust were spilled along their long tables. Brews were half drank, and they had the sharpest blade to jab between their fingers.

Roni smirks to herself. “That stupid, stupid fucking game.”

She waltzes over to the group of dwarves, and chooses one at the end of the table. “I need your help with something. Can you come with me?” Roni whispers.

Roni puts the key into her door and points out the tightly tucked bedsheets to the dwarf.

“This is the one thing I can’t stand, would you,” Roni exhales, “Would you untuck these sheets for me?”

The dwarf doesn’t bat an eye before pulling forth the comforter, shaking it loose from its tight fold. Roni drags her hand on her jawline before letting a stray finger drift down his neck, then down to his traps. The man shivers, but continues loosening the sheets.

She smirks to herself and comes in closer, kissing along his neck and dragging her hands to his waist and abdomen. With a grin, she softly bites onto his neck and sucks on the fleshy part of it.

She pins him down to the bed, and pulls up her crop top, and an even tighter tank top, revealing her chest to him. Closing into him, she hears a knock at the door.

“Aye, ‘ere’s mail for ya, I’m gonna leave it at the door for ya, Roni.” A man calls in from outside the door.

“Can you come in?” Roni calls out.

Roni smirks and she whispers into the dwarf’s ear. “Have you ever had two before?”

A searing hangover, condom wrappers, and a hollowed bone on the nightstand, and she finally reads a letter from Sera, with a hand tracing the lines of a dwarven abdomen.

She rolls out of bed, stumbling forward and rips open the letter. “Youse wanna go again?” One of the dwarves calls out.

“Play with each other for now, I’m gonna join you guys in a sec.” Roni swats them away and sits in the bathroom with a cigarette.

With smoke pouring out of her nostrils, she unfolds the letter.

Sera sat on a stool watching the men and women pass her by. She was at her flower stand, jingling a coin between her fingers. She looks about and calls to the back of the store.

“Hey, I’m going to go and get some sugar-to make fertilizer.” She says calmly. A simple ‘uh huh’ from her manager gives her the okay to step out from the stand. The gravel shifted from under her sandals, and she felt a slow breeze pass between her legs.

At the bazaar, she sat at a table by the lady watching over the store today. Sera took out her cigarette on the ground before speaking with her.

“Can you spare a touch of… sugar?” Sera rested two gold coins on the counter.

The lady swiped the coins, and pulled out a small baggy from underneath the counter. “How’s your day going?” She asked.

Sera paused for a moment, pursed her lips, then began to speak. “This morning, I harvested some fresh potatoes, and picked some flowers from the bushes behind me hut.” She sighed.

“Sounds pleasant, dear.” She handed her a small glass of sugar.

Leaving the stand, Sera looked at the leaves, how they drifted, and the sunlight that passed through them.

”…It’s like its nothing for her.” She snarled.

The sun set, and dusk cascaded over the forest. Sera sat on a small stool in her quaint hut, grilling a cut of rib from the bazaar. She watched the fat exude from the pork, and dipped a finger in her pot of boiling potatoes, carrots swimming back and forth, too.

After taking out her food, mashing the potatoes down to a mush, and taking a bite, she bathed and lied down for bed in her nightgown. Sera lied in her linen bed and looked over at the purple stain on her pillowcase. She clicked her tongue and sat up in bed.

With a match, she lit a cigarette and pushed the smoke out of the window. Pulling further and further to the filter, the ash fell onto the white linen.

”…This is so awful.”

The caravans drifted back into Edensvale on a misty Thursday. The haze loomed over the forest and encouraged most folks to stay home, and that was Roni’s plan. She opened the door of the Ale with her sniper bass attached to her back, and sat at the bar.

She threw a handful of coins before the barhand, “This should cover my tab, and more. Has Sera been around, recently?”

The bartender looked at their nails. “No. But she doesn’t tend to drink much when you’re not around.”

”…Well, yeah.” Roni pursed her lip. “I’ll be back, kay?”

She left the Ale to watch dusk fall over Edensvale, a cold air wisped about, so she tucked in her arms to conserve warmth.

Roni lit a cigarette and puffed it to herself, rubbing a thumb up and down her fingers. She exhaled when she arrived to Sera’s hut.

First, she knocked, then waited, then peeked in the small hole just above her forehead. Then she inserted her key. Slowly, she creaked the door, and caught a smell of flowers, then a small drizzle kicked up.

The rain came in through the window, the white curtain leisurely flowing back and forth. Roni looked to the bed and saw Sera, her eyes beaming to the ceiling. Her pupils were fixed, and her jaw was relaxed, just a little open.

She saw a spray of dried blood starting from her nostrils that dripped onto her white sheets.

Roni bit her lip.

The funeral came and went. It looked more akin to a work meeting with the Ale’s staff. Sera had a portrait drawn of her. Her clear skin, her auburn hair. Those gray eyes that were filled with hope. She laid in the coffin with her arms crossed.

She sat with the bartender after the burial. “She didn’t have much saved.” Roni weeps. “We were… we were saving to start a garden together.”

She listened, and brought Roni in by the head.

“We were so close. God, we were so close.”

The mist lifted soon after the funeral, and the sun shone through the forest branches everyday after that. Roni spent her days at the end of the bar. Head rested on the wood, wrapped under her arms. A draft that was completely empty, even after you refilled it.

The barhand rested a hand on Roni one night. “Go to bed, girl. We’re closing up.” Roni lumbered out of the bar, straight out of the front door. The bartender wiped a glass in contempt.

The night was quiet. The stars and moonlight shone over Roni. She slammed her foot onto the base of the shovelhead. Roni forced herself through the barrier that separated them. Again, and again, and again. Roni swept sweat from her forehead.

She came to her knees and dug her out from the ground. Sera’s body was decaying, but she had on that beautiful dress she wore the first night they met. Roni hugged her, and kissed the freckle on her cheek. The body was completely relaxed, and lied limp as she threw Sera onto her shoulder.

She crept through the shadows and tossed her onto a circle of runes, drawn with white chalk on the dirt ground. At Sera’s head, lied the crown of poppies, stained with purple, just like she asked.

”…” Roni stiffens her face.

“Come out, Taklil.” Roni sneers.

A figure emerges from the shadows holding an incense holder, attached to a long silver chain. His dark skin was grafted with scars and patches, and their long, gray dreadlocks rested at his shoulders. Taklil wore a dark robe, and the silver at his lip shone in the darkness.

He removed his hood and spoke. “Is that the girl…” Taklil’s neck was rough, with grafted patterns akin to scales coming up to his ear. He swung around the incense, allowing the smoke to rest upon Sera’s carcass.

Roni wipes her tears and contorts her face.

Sera slowly lifts a finger, then another, like she was in a deep sleep paralysis. She lifts a hand to her eyelid, and pulls it back, her fingers were brittle, crackling at every move.

Sera weeps, but no tears descended, and she began to groan with dismay. Roni tenses and tries to cover her eyes.

“Can’t you make her more comfortable?” Roni snaps.

“Brazen immortal girl. Her time on this plane won’t last much longer.” Taklil speaks calmly.

Roni grits her teeth, and breathes in to speak before Sera chimes in, “The cliff.”

Roni turns to face her, coming down to her level and caressing her face. “I want you to take me to the cliff.”

The caravan ride was quiet. Roni paid the driver to stay quiet tonight. The young women couldn’t look at each other. Sera’s face was resting on her hands, scabs of skin periodically falling.

“Here.” Roni whispers. She extends a hand to Sera, but she gets out of the caravan of her own volition.

“Where were you when I needed you, Roni.” Sera says through rasps.

Roni clenches her teeth, and doesn’t answer.

Did you,” Sera coughs, dust escaping from her lungs, “Did you read what I sent you?”

Roni falls to her knees. “I cheated on you, Sera. I was afraid to write back.”

Sera’s arm breaks off, and she falls to her knees. “How long were you going to run with this, for?”

”…”

“Were you just going to come home and act like everything was fine?”

”…”

“Answer me, Ro, I’m going to die, again.”

”…”

“You’ve disturbed me from my eternal rest just not to answer any of my questions?”

Roni bursts into tears. “I wasn’t, I wasn’t ready to face you. And now that you’re here I want to run. I want to run away from this cliff, from this town, from the Ale. I can’t take much anymore.”

“I’m not mad at you for leaving.” Sera says somberly. Roni looks up.

“I want you to face your sins. I want you to face yourself. I want you to be accountable. You dug up my grave. You allowed that dirty necromancer to bring me back. You wanted this.” Sera’s leg shatters, and she falls onto her chest.

“Kill me.”

Roni paces back and forth, covering her mouth as tears stream down her face uncontrollably.

“Roni-”

“Yes. Yes, Sera, I heard you.”

“I’m running out of time.” Sera throws herself onto her back, and creeps a hand up to her forehead, making it into the shape of a cylinder.

“Shoot me, shoot me with your weapon.” Roni wipes her tears, and snaps her fingers.

The weapon forms from a neon purple into sheet black, the muzzle falling carefully into the cylinder Sera made with her hands. “Let me go… before I change my mind.” Her jaw breaks off from her mouth.

Crows fly off into the distance. Roni sat beside Sera, Pupils dilated and fixed, her leaking head on Roni’s lap. Her tears dripped into her eyesockets.

“I just… don’t know how I’m supposed to live with myself.” She held the dead poppies between her fingertips.