Can I just say that I love writing any combination of Andor / Ianita / Martha? I struggle to write Martha standalone since I played her for only a small part of S2, but writing her in tandem with Andornita is just a joy. (The Clear Sky Hermit Chapter Four was really fun for me.) Andor isn’t even in this piece. It’s just the two little ladies (one littler) and a wheef of Sperioles. I hope you guys like it. My vision going into it was fluff, and parts are quite fluffy, but I can’t seem to escape the atmosphere of sweet sorrow that has come with all of my Mianite writing thus far. Maybe it’s just me. Let the onions flow. This is the second to last piece of Mianite “literature” I will ever write. I hope you get some lels and feels out of it. Any kind of feedback is always appreciated.
“Sperioles!” Ianita29 called while prancing through the hills.
“Spireooools~”she cooed while peering around a tree.
“Spakrilels!!1” she shrieked from a mountaintop.
Sparklez was nowhere to be found.
“He’s probably wrapped up in his ME System.” Martha dropped a palm on the tiny girl’s neck and gave it a rub.
“But I gotta obtain him!”
“Where did you even learn that word? You’ll wait, right?” Martha squinted down through her billowing lilac hair. “All good things are worth waiting for.”
Ianita huffed into the breeze. “Non.”
“yEe.” Martha knelt to scoop the child up in her arms and started down the mountain path.
“Am his fave,” Ianita29 pouted while being carried back to Martha’s house.
“All the Ianitas are his faves,” Martha corrected.
Half an hour later, Ianita29 slumped in the bath, a large scrub brush sliding up and down her spine. “Sperioles why!?” she wailed.
To warm her up, Martha baked the girl an apple pie. As soon as the food coma set in, Ianita29 was out like a light.
Martha knelt for a moment at her nightstand filled with framed sketches, mumbling what felt strangely like a prayer.
“Steve,” she looked to the rough charcoal portrait of her lover. “Where you at, mate? My apples are ripe for you.”
Then she looked to the sketch of Andor, perched atop a hill. “Don’t try to be too old.”
The picture of Helgrind was faded, drawn over ten years ago. The artist had made his smile exaggeratedly large. “We forgive you. Maybe, if it’s in the stars, come back. I miss my brother. I miss my family.”
She wilted forward to lay her head on the edge of the cabinent. She heaved, about to cry, but then gulped it back. There was one more picture on the nightstand.
“Mom.” She looked for a long while at Ianite’s portrait. The face filled the whole frame.
Martha woke with very cold legs. The blankets had been pulled back. The lavender eyes of Ianita29 were pressed close, the stench of bread and fruit on her breath. When the girl saw that Martha was awake, she lifted her face and wiped her lips of crumbs that tumbled onto Martha’s cheek.
“You can’t get enough of that pie,” Martha croaked while the girl straddled her neck.
The girl spoke through a burp, “Where are Sperioles? Gotta obtain.”
“That vocab tho.” Martha squirmed out from under the girl’s thighs and found leverage to push her sideways. Ianita29 rolled perpendicular to Martha and fought for an arm bar, which resulted in her being lifted off the bed. Martha, impressed at her own strength, flexed the girl up and down a few times before slamming her onto the mattress. “Who you looking for? I didn’t hear you! Did you say John Cena!?” She blared a fanfare while assaulting the winded child with tickles.
“You need to work out more,” Martha gloated while Ianita lay gasping.
“Can no win. Endor weak. Ur Jan Sina tho.” Ianita29 groaned.
“That’s right.” Martha stood on the bed looming over the girl, her night gown making for a rather imposing silhouette. “ Do you know who taught us about John Cena?”
“No. It was Mam, the goddess of memes.”
“Wanna obtain Jan Sina,” Ianita29 sat up, dizzy and starryeyed.
“You can’t. She saw him in a dream.” Martha squinted to the side, reconsidering. “Maybe someday.”
“When am big and splatter like Mam.”
“Splatter. Mhm.” Martha tousled the girl’s hair, then bopped her tiny nose with a finger. “Don’t go bothering Sperioles now. He’s doing important business.”
“U R! But…” Martha lightly headbutted the girl. “You obtain me now.” She dove in for a tackle.
The day passed in the same sort of way. Another pie was baked to quell the girl’s neverending hunger. Martha left the house in the evening, making Ianita29 promise not to cause grievous harm to the environment.
“Sparklez?” Martha called through the Fortress of Fury’s ground door.
“Just a minute!” came the home owner’s jovial but muffled voice.
Sparklez flung open the door covered in – well – what was it, anyway? He smeared the colorless gobs off his blazer the best he could. “Well, um, that was not the thing I intended to do with that thing. Hi! What can I do you for, Martha? No. That’s a bad thing to say.”
She giggled under her breath before leveling her tone. “Are we ready?”
“It sounds like tomorrow’s the day.” Sparklez creased his brow.
“My uncle and his assistant have been all but silent to me. Just let me know how I can help, if at all.” She crossed her arms with a grunt.
“I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to, uh, be useful,” Sparklez awkwardly smirked. “You’re becoming a goddess and all that stuff now, right? Maybe you can help bring Our Lady back.”
“I can only hope,” Martha smiled radiantly, burying the urge to grimace.
Sparklez smiled back. “Everyone’s gonna be ok in the end.”
“In The End,” Martha mused.
“Ahaha, The End. Good one. How’s the last Ianita doing?”
“She’s well. I’ve kept her indoors as much as possible.”
“Neato. We wouldn’t want any prying eyes thwarting our plans.”
Martha’s fond expression nearly turned to a glare. She was looking at the man who had consented to the slaughter of the last several Ianitas by Jericho’s Kikoku.
Maybe it had been necessary. She softened her face and steadied her breath. “I pray this world has some good in store for her.”
“Sure it does! Wait one second. I have just the thing.”
Returning home with Sparklez’ blueberry pie in hand, Martha was met with silence. Something was wrong. The lights on the main floor were lit but there was no movement, no pots scattered, no bags of flour spread across the kitchen, no ornaments plucked from their shelves and built into abstract sculptures taller than a person. There was no sign of Ianita29. Martha crept through each room and finally slunk upstairs.
She found Ianita29 in her purple painted room, furiously scribbling at a dimly lit desk.
As Martha approached, the girl’s face snapped to her, eyes wide with intense focus.
“Am writing a lel,” she droned, returning to her work.
Martha allowed a brief moment of shock to pass, then snickered to herself before setting the blueberry pie tin on Ianita’s desk and leaving the room as quietly as she had come.
She faintly heard the sound of crumpling paper and the clean scrape of a new sheet.
The morning sun burned. Ruxomar’s drought was global now. Envoys from faroff realms had come with requests for aid as well as offers of it. Yet the most important piece of paper Martha held in her hands while jogging through the port was no official letter. No, it was a poem written by a girl – a girl who in Martha’s eyes seemed to be the last girl in Ruxomar.
sperioles bilded me a cri
he bilded it oat of blueberry pie
the blueberry pie I 8
but not with my ie
can no eat pie with my ie
too weak lake endor very crie
i know how to rime tho coz
mam bilded a pie in the skie
and I can look at the pie and uhhh
it tall me how to rime yie
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
baratheonpilled
2087
prguitarman
andulkaphoto
