Heartthrob

The water was warm on EJ's skin; her hair pooled on the surface after she dove beneath, surrounding her head with a halo of blonde the further she went. Her habit was soaked straight through, of course - in this, it was a hindrance as much as a necessity. If Zofi hadn't been there, she might've considered just trying to rip it a bit, so it wasn't so damn form fitting... but, though she couldn't see them, she knew the nun's eyes were upon her. It would've been a bit too rude to damage a gift so soon after its receipt.

If naught for her own focus and determination, she began to make those old, familiar motions - motions she had not taken in years, for an act her muscles could never truly forget. Black-clad arms pushed out before her, then swept wide at once, a snow angel made in the depths of this artificial pond. Each one set her deeper towards the bottom, that great wide-tiled floor coming ever closer every time. The buoyancy of a corpse is lessened without the associated putrefaction; this corpse was thankful for that, at least.

Ten feet, then eight, then six... Muscles which rarely tired, if necessary, made the swimming itself a simple task. Little breath was spent on replenishing the oxygen in her oily blood; instead, with cheeks puffed as a chipmunk's, she clung to every mote of air she had grasped. Finally, the bottom of the pool was within her grasp, tantalizingly close - only a finger's tip away. If she stretched, if she really tried, put her whole body into it... She shimmied between strokes, raising one shoulder and lowering the other, trying to make contact.

It was then that the first pang of pain resonated within her chest. Lungs that needed little air still needed air, after all. It was enough of a shock that it drew her out of her determination, if only for a split second - a second that was spent rising closer to the shimmering surface, that water having long since lost nearly all motion.

It was jarring, in a way, feeling a pain so intrinsic to the humanity within her that had lain dormant for so very long. Vitus was smog-shrouded, yes, but the robust physiques of the second-living rarely made much of a fuss over that; and again, the second-living rarely dove too far beneath the water. Esper James hadn't been in a body of water larger than her apartment's tub in... well, she would have liked to say years, but the bath the other day counted. So, since then. But still.

Another pang, one she now strove to fight against. It was anything but agonizing - she had felt real agony too recently to correlate the two - but it was just enough to begin gnawing at her. Moment after moment sluggishly trudged by, idle footsteps made by the feet of clocks; the longer she stayed beneath, the more intense the pain became.

At first, it had only been enough to startle her, reminding her of her own organic aspects. A low, dull pain, but one which stung at the edges like stretching a fresh scar. The stretched scar sensation slowly ramped with each instance; what was scarred became a bruise, it seemed, the thrum of discomfort growing more intense and aching for that much longer. Esper James thought, then, of a fowl being stuffed. That was her, in her mind - at least, the sensation had to be the same.

A duck forced to eat so that foie gras could be harvested from its twitching corpse... An Esper James forced to hold her breath so that... what would it be, she wondered? If she were livestock, what would people want her for? Her meat? Yes, that was it; her meat had seen plenty of mouths at this point, and she had yet to receive a complaint. She had been butchered and consumed so many times already, she figured, even if the consumption was little more than metaphor.

Then it struck her, just as the pain in her lungs and throat did. Roth had called her a lamb... at times, she had certainly felt like one. A dumb little lamb, so used to living on the farm that she had never roamed the wilds; never drank from a stream, nor slept beneath a woodland canopy. Of course, those weren't things lambs were supposed to do; nowadays, sheep were far too woolly to survive on their own.

But still! She felt the analogy was still more than apt, given how trusting she had always been; how eager to be led to the slaughter she seemed to be. Ever since she had arrived in Vitus, she had never known a moment where she wasn't being coaxed into some great slaughterhouse to be butchered, so that someone more powerful could eat her meat and dress in her shearling. Now was barely any different - a new farmer, sure, but still they wanted her meat. Lamb was too delectable to deny, it seemed.

That reminded her that Luca had promised her lamb, but she'd been given pork. Those fuckers. Everyone else had had steak!

Her petty rage was amplified by the thudding in her sternum, the ache of breathlessness now spreading to the rest of her torso. Her lungs had begun to truly burn, throbbing and crying out soundlessly for air; her core felt tight, and fit to burst from the exertion of holding her breath; her legs, too, had started to feel strained and impotent all at once. The bottom was so very close... She was so very near to it. She had been right there just a moment ago - how had she drifted so far away?

The effort of earlier swimming was redoubled, and then set about with as great a vigor as EJ could dare muster. It was hard, there could be no doubt. Her body strained against her as she forced it into motion, each centimeter of struggle feeling like a foot of stress; she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, but progress slowed as she came close to the bottom once again.

Finally, she was right there. Right where she had been moments ago, right in that blessed egress between the cold winds of failure and the warm dream of success. Her whole body, now, screamed at her to surface and release her long-stored breath, to be freed of this dread torture. She would not acquiesce. Esthrielle was watching. Purity was watching. Lesser than those others, but still present, was Zofia. This was a chance for Esper James to finally prove, to herself and to everyone else, that she was strong.

That there was will still burning within her cold and empty chest.

Breath rushed from her. From behind glass, three pairs of watchful eyes bore witness to a scream which seemed anything but that of a meek, timid girl. A lamb which roared as a lion, forcing herself into action which was as spiteful as it was superior. The tender tips of fingers found grace in that moment, spurred by fury laced with self-loathing as headily as any spiked cocktail.

Success, then. Success, succour... and a thankful respite from inadequacy. Esper James's vision had begun to blur, and only now had she taken notice; that was hardly a problem, in the end. She had done it. She had done exactly what she had intended to - for once, for fucking once, it had been there for her to claim. She had claimed it. Triumph undeniable, though mundane and meaningless, was triumph still. As flesh touched resin, her muscles each released in a single, all-consuming surge.

She went with a whisper, not a bang.

-

When she awoke, she was laid atop cold steel and staring at a dismal ceiling. Cream coloured tiles stared back at her, cold and emotionless, the black grout in their intersection evoking the web of a horrid predator. In the distance, too distant to be deciphered, she could hear speaking. Female voices intermingled: one sounded more nasal and brusque, and furious; another was a touch husky, breathy as if trained, and full-bodied. The next was apologetic and frantic, a melodic quality hung with care upon this voice's mantle, though it was hardly given chance to shine. The final voice was stern and direct, with a marked note of maturity which set it apart from the rest.

Esper James tuned them out. Instead, she looked down at herself, body chill and damp yet warm and dry in the same breath. Her nudity shocked her, but its impact was denied through repetition - it was hardly the first time she had awoken to find herself stripped, and as per the previous occasions, she had been left unmolested.

Or so it had seemed initially. Upon further review, fact-checkers would consider this to be untrue. A needle was slid beneath either forearm's flesh, steel making sweet love to virgin veins, an unknown cocktail of fluid coaxed to carouse with her ink-like ichor. It left a subtle warmth at point of entry, and made her feel comfortable, calm, and quite cozy. Opiates, then, she figured. Why would they be giving her painkillers? The question was moot; the likely answer was the Waywards' lack of true knowledge about the second-living.

The turning of her head did feel strange, however. Perhaps they were right, and she was in pain, but anything close to pain she may have felt had long since subsided beneath warm blankets of opiate ecstasy. There was, at least, a linen draped over her - felt appropriate for a dead woman to be dressed as a corpse on an exam table. EJ grinned at the thought, even broaching a pitter-patter giggle. It was like she was in a cop show... she could see it now, her name in the credits. 'CORPSE OF WOMAN DROWNED: ESPER JAMES PRICE-WYNNFIELD'.

She could finally tell her parents about her big break, hahaha. That would be nice. Her name up in lights, Hollywood's newest starlet, the dead girl who played dead girls. She'd be perfect. She was already so very used to just lying there and taking it, whatever abuse someone wanted to hurl her way, that being a dead body wasn't too far from life itself. Maybe she'd be able to get Purity or Est a job on the big screen, too - Purity had the looks, Est had the energy. They'd both be so much more alive there than with her.

Her doped delight chilled to cold creme brulee. It was true, she thought - they would be better off without her. Est would still be in good with the Knights, without any of this bullshit EJ had dragged her into... Purity would have found a better way to free herself. She had spoken of it, of having a plan - Esper James was sure of it. Purity was a smart girl, Est was strong and determined. EJ, though, was... What? Ripe to be victimized? Docile? Deferential?

She frowned at first. The frown became a sneer, and then a frown again, and then a grimace. Finally, the roulette's wheel settled its spin, the ball landing upon grief. Grief, and self-hatred. It was a concoction as sweet and chemical as gasoline, a sickly taste that smelled of gas stations in the dark. She had no tears to shed, as her body had yet to fully follow-through with her own emotional disarray, but she certainly looked every bit the little distraught waif she felt herself to be.

The first sobs began to punch through the paper wall of her self-control as four bodies drifted into the practical observation room. That was what Zofi had called it, at least. One of the bodies rushed into motion - almond skin, red eyes, white hair. A familiar face was placed in an instant into the crook of EJ's neck, synthetic arms wrapping her up in the biggest hug the provider could deliver. A second form, this one draped in pink and black with fair tones to soft flesh, went to follow. The first body was joined by the second at its side, joining the hug wordlessly, tensing every time EJ sobbed.

The third body went round the side to EJ's other flank, looking down at her with anguished orbs of milk chocolate brown. Steel fangs in grim imitation of Esper James's own razors were presented, then, in a smile one could only describe as sad and sorry. The final figure, taller than all but the pink one, found itself slowly joining the third. It was stern, and with a light solar tint to otherwise sunless skin, curtained in twin shades of black from robes and hair.

Zofia spoke first. "EJ, hey-y-y... You're okay, right? You, uh... You held your breath so long you passed out. Sucked in water on your way back up from the bottom of the pool, ha ha-a-a... We drained the room ASAP. Got you out, got you here, pumped the water out of your lungs... How're you feeling?" That remorseful baring of her teeth was anything but the normal excited expression this convent's field research head normally bore. She looked like she wanted to join the hug, but... Well, it would be hard to do with only one arm remaining. Wouldn't want to lose the second one.

Silence, a glass pane only interrupted by the bullet holes of Esper James's dry sobs. That sheet dragged on long enough to encase all of Tsang HQ by time someone felt fit to interject. "EJ... Sweetheart, holy fuck, we're so glad you're okay... Seeing you go l-limp like that... It was a lot. A lot a lot. Please, sweetheart, we're r-right here... Anything you need, let us know..." Est, too, was unable to dredge any tears from their synthetic gutters. However, there was a new band-aid on her face, and the fingers of her left hand felt jerky and un-coordinated as they gave EJ a squeeze.

Purity couldn't speak, or sob, or do much of anything. She was trapped under ice, moving still yet denied life's essential functions; a terrible fugue had ensorcelled her into inaction, save to bury her face beside Est's and cling to EJ with everything she had. The absence was worse than anything, EJ felt - if Purity had cried, at least she would have felt good enough to cry. Seeing her like this was horrible; worse than any sort of sorrow, it was a complete destruction of the self that EJ had become so accustomed to.

Finally, the fourth figure spoke up. "Sister Esper James," the mother abbess began, "you have completed today's testing. We had more things planned, but... Seeing as this test allowed us to gather far more information than initially expected, and as it had some... intense repercussions, we will call it here for now. The rest of your day is yours. Tomorrow, our planned schedule is... lighter, we will say. Less demanding." Her face remained every bit as stern and implacable as ever, but there was a slight sense of reluctance in her expression. Esper James would have liked to believe it was reluctance, at least.

The mother abbess was the first to depart, and she made her escape with the grace of a dancer; barely a sound came from her footsteps, and in an instant, she was done. Now was when Zofi's smile finally broke into an aggrieved downturn of the lips, her brows descending to add credibility to her dismay. "Yeesh, EJ, I'm... I'm fucking sorry. I feel like it was my fault somehow, you know? I should've drained the water sooner, once it looked like you were struggling... or been more clear, you, uh, you didn't need to reach the bottom... But..."

The smile was re-formed as rapidly as its exit had been made, though now that formless grief was just as present as it had been on her frown. "It was c-cool that you, uh, you got that far down. Impressive. You lasted for twenty minutes. That's... pre-" The rest of that thought was sliced free like a gangrenous limb by a single glance from Est. Zofi shut the fuck up instantly, mouth going mum and lips drawn tight; she adjusted her stance, so her right arm (the only one remaining) was out of the other woman's reach.

Purity was as wordless as ever, though she did find the strength to lean up and offer a single, trembling kiss to EJ's forehead. It wasn't much, anyone could admit, but it was also far more than was asked of her. The smallest gestures can feel like the largest. Tears trickled now freely from her eyes, without accompanying sobs or sounds - just a display of sorrow too deep for any sort of vocalization.

Zofia made her leave in short order, pulling the twinned IV drips out of EJ's forearms and doing away with them. The remaining trio of ladies were left to their own devices once again... allowed to console one another as openly or discreetly as each woman wished. That meant, of course, that they were going back to their room. Est scooped Esper James up in her mechanized embrace, strong as an ox and twice as gentle. Purity followed along, head down, eyes on the floor; her hands remained clasped over her lap.

The nuns who had been in the halls earlier had dispersed since, or so it seemed. What few nuns remained looked away from the procession of three as they made their way back to the dorm, a stark dichotomy against their hungry eyes from the early evening. One girl did look towards Esper James, a millisecond of movement from her dominant hand being displayed - but whatever the intent had been, whatever embryo had gestated in her mind, had never reached fruition. A flash of Est's ocular LEDs was all it took to abort the stranger's idea.

EJ sobbed the whole time they walked. She didn't care who saw. She didn't care what the nuns thought of her, anyways - she was her own woman, and an adult, so if the nuns didn't like it then it wasn't her problem. When her eyes were open, and she found enough focus to see anything approximating detail, she kept her gaze upon Est and Purity.

Eventually they pushed through the door to their dorm room. Straight to the bed, first and foremost; no dreams of getting EJ dressed, or sitting down for tea, or anything of the sort. EJ was laid down upon silken sheets, and joined in due time by both of her lovers. It was hardly time for sleep, they'd only been awake for a few hours, but it was time for a snuggle. That would be just as good, if not better - actively getting to revel in the flesh of another, held tight-yet-gentle in their embraces.

"Luca says breakfast will be delivered to our room. Let's just... Stay here a while."