[Commission for @sev-arts. All proceeds go to the Queer Vienna Mutual Aid Fund.
This story takes place between chapters 6 and 7 of her comic Souls Foreclosed.]
Content Notes: misgendering, deadnaming, lots of slurs, transphobia in general (canon-accurate), dismemberment, fascism, spoilers for Souls Foreclosed
Tabitha felt Reah shift in her saddle as they looked down on the small village that would be better described as a hamlet, or perhaps a collection of wooden planks that happened to form something vaguely resembling huts. She wasn’t sure whether it had been built up by the refugees that were huddling around the train tracks, or whether it had once housed people and had now been chosen for its proximity to said tracks as a meeting point.
Reah’s disquiet went over to the horse, which started whinnying and throwing its head around. Tabitha held on tighter to her butch. “Everything alright up there?”
Reah had gotten more and more quiet on their journey here, which the Sorceress would have described as uncharacteristic, had she not been like this for a while now. Things had changed since their capture by Savounarola. For both of them.
“Yeah, it’s about alright, madam,” said Reah. “Though I don’t know if there ain’t better uses for our time. The Red Masque seems to have this under control, and I’ve heard talks of raids in parts close to these.” The last part was muttered more than uttered, and made Tabitha cling on more tightly, unsure if she was trying to give comfort to the Revenant or hold her in place like an attack dog about to pounce.
“We’re going to need you here,” said Astor. The sharpshoot was sitting on his own horse, smoking a cigarette from his seemingly endless supply. “Or rather, these people will. Traveling by train is a risky matter, even when the tracks are long in disuse, and nobody is expecting us. But it’s the safest way for these refugees. Most of them are no fighters, many of them disabled or old or families with children.”
“Well, it’s something different from all the supply runs we’re sent on,” said Reah, but her heart didn’t seem in it.
“Will the tracks be any problem?” asked Tabitha, watching the refugees load their belongings on the train, and the Red Masque militia check all the wagons one last time for stowaways and other unwelcome surprises. The train itself looked almost worse for wear than the tracks. Tabitha could imagine that it hadn’t even been stolen but rather taken over after nobody else wanted to have it anymore. “The last train ride Reah and I took… didn’t go so well.” Her brief smirk faltered on her face at the lack of reaction from her companion.
“According to Madam Spitfire they should lead us uninterrupted to our safe zone,” explained Astor. “Though they seem in such a bad condition that we’ll be reduced to a snail’s pace at times, and let’s hope it’s only a few times. That is precisely why we are needed. Too many chances of being spotted or waylaid. Though at least there should be no troops coming through.”
“Yes, I get it, it’s another escort mission.” There was that new bite in Reah’s voice, and Tabitha almost spoke up, but at that moment the Red Masque agents by the train gave the sign that all was clear, and they started on their voyage.
It was a rather calm, if very slow, journey, no signs of tyranny or evil ahead, and no holdups except when they had to halt for half an hour at a tree that had fallen across the tracks, which Reah picked up and threw wayside. Still, it was almost evening, the sun nearing the horizon, when Tabitha finally raised her voice: “It almost looks like we have an easy job for once.”
“Well, now you done jinxed it.” It was supposed to be a joke, but Reah’s voice didn’t really do jokes right now.
“Sorry about that, choir girl.” She nuzzled the well-worn nickname into the shoulder of Reah’s vest. “But then again, that’s not what you want, is it?”
“Wha -?” Now she sounded actually surprised, and she was cute when she sounded surprised, showing off that herbo side of hers.
“You’d rather be hunting her, right? Lourdes.” She needn’t have added the name because as soon as she spoke the first sentence, Reah gritted her teeth so hard it made Tabitha’s mouth ache.
“She got my hand, Tabitha. And she’s hurting people with it. Committing atrocities. Killing innocents.” She didn’t look back, but Tabitha could feel the darkness in her face. She wanted to hold it between her hands and kiss her choir girl’s sorrows away. If only it were that easy. If only Tabitha were young and naïve enough to give back some of that young naivete her butch had lost.
“We’re already doing all we can,” she said instead, trying reason instead of whimsy. “We’re helping people, kicking tyrants’ asses. But you need to rest to do that.” She held on tight and murmured these words into Reah’s pointed ears. “Truly rest. When’s the last time you slept a whole night? Or took a day off? Even Spitfire sleeps sometimes, or so I’ve heard.”
For a while, Reah said nothing, and Tabitha thought she’d shut down and wanted to drop the subject, when she heard her mutter something that sounded a bit like I can rest when I have my hand back.
“What’s that?” asked Tabitha. And even as she thought Reah would not answer again, the Revenant sat up straighter in the saddle.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, “to see your own hand raised against the innocent.”
And that stung in a way Tabitha didn’t understand or refused to understand. She shoved those feelings deep down and said: “That’s not your fault. Neither the losing the arm part, nor what’s done with it.”
“I can’t help it…” She trailed off and fell silent for a while longer. “She was there, you know? I remember now. She was among the inquisitors who…”
“You want revenge.”
To Tabitha’s surprise, Reah shook her head immediately. “Not that. I want… I don’t know… Absolution?”
“I don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for.” And hell, why did that word itch at the feelings she just got done burying?
“It don’t make sense, I know that,” said the Revenant. “But it feels unfair, y’know? That I was the only one survived. That I survived and couldn’t help the others. I ain’t better than they are, or were. Just got lucky with my vigorous blood.”
“Survivor’s guilt, choir girl? Really? That hardly suits you.” The words were out before she could stop herself.
For a few moments, nobody talked. And then:
“Can we just… can we ride in silence for a while?”
“Yes… I suppose we can do that.”
They rode on next to the stuttering train, dragging long shadows behind them, until those disappeared in darkness.
Stopping for the night would have been tempting an already fragile fate, and so the train kept rumbling along the tracks. They took turns keeping watch. Right now, Tabitha was sleeping in a private compartment that she had picked out for the two of them, while Reah was riding with the others alongside the train.
Still much too quiet for Reah’s taste. Tabitha had been right, she was on edge, and she wished she could change that, but she couldn’t let go of that single-mindedness that had befallen her. She didn’t want to – couldn’t – let anyone get hurt. Not again.
Maybe Tabitha was right with what she had said of “survivor’s guilt”. Guilt was one thing the church dealt with in abundance, even those branches that were more open-minded. It wasn’t coincidence that it had been her Mother Confessor who had set Reah on her path.
She wished she could be more like the Sorceress: Freed from her past. Driven by revenge instead of weighed down by guilt. Maybe she could be that, now that she had motivation. Her arm stump ached under the prosthesis when she thought of that madwoman and what she might be doing to innocent people at this very moment, with nobody there to stop her. It hurt like hell.
It hurt more than usual, in fact, a searing cold echo of that soul-rending bite that had cost her the arm in the first place. Reah was torn out of her contemplation to realize: This was more than phantom pain. This was a sign.
Throwing her head around, she searched for attackers, but the night was as calm and still as before, the only sounds coming from the train and the hushed voices of the Red Masque guards. And still, Reah was absolutely sure.
“She’s here!”
“What did you see?” called Astor from a few feet away. “Who’s here?”
But Reah didn’t answer, was already guiding her horse towards the train. No time to stop train or horse, she jumped from the saddle, right arm outstretched towards the closest door. Her hand grasped the cool metal of the handle, the door flew open, and for a moment Reah was dragged behind the train, feet scrambling over the rocky ground. Then she found her bearings and managed to clamber inside the wagon.
“Everyone stay in your compartments, we’re under attack!” she yelled, though there was little need because the train was ringing with noises of fight and sorcery, coming from up ahead, and all the doors with intact locks were shut tight from within as Reah ran past them.
The door to the conductor’s compartment stood wide open, and this was where the action was taking place. At the moment, it was just Tabitha, her fingers tracing powerful sigils into the air, against three opponents: Two men who Reah didn’t recognize, and a woman whose face, twisted by madness and obsession, she knew all too well. Lourdes had Reah’s hand raised and was about to attack Tabitha.
Though Reah had no doubt that the Sorceress could defend herself, she found herself overtaken by rage and stormed forward, head lowered, to tackle the madwoman away from Tabitha and ram her horns into her side. Her voice was a growl as she screamed: “Hands off my femme!”
For only a second, Tabitha shot a gentle grateful smile towards her, before she returned her focus to her sorcery to keep the other two attackers in check. “They must have put that tree on the tracks and hidden, using our forced stop to board unseen,” she explained quickly. “And then hidden on the train until they found an opportune moment to attack.”
Only now did Reah notice that all three adversaries wore clothes in grey and brown colors, which would have helped them hide in the dirt of the road, maybe even directly on the tracks in front of the tree. Stupid and reckless yet again, Reah, she berated herself.
"I see you have a new arm.” A smile tore itself over Lourdes’ features as she pointed her chin at the wooden contraption pinning her against the wall, begging to be punched out of her face, which Reah did gladly.
“Wanted to say the same thing, though this one’s hardly yours.” She didn’t dare turn from Lourdes, who was already wrestling herself out of her grip, as she yelled over to Tabitha: “Is that all of them?”
“All within the train, though I assume they have reinforcements coming, now that we’re hit where it hurts.”
And indeed, there were shots fired outside, and even from atop the train roof. Hopefully from their own people.
“It must be a case of déjà-vu for you,” spoke Lourdes. “Once again, you are present to witness the eradication of your fellow degenerates. Must sting, eh, Sa-“
Reah interrupted her with another punch, then got Lourdes’ – no, her own! – fist in the stomach. Then a bullet burrowed itself in her mechanical arm for good measure.
“Sorry, that one got past me!” called Tabitha, and to prevent it from happening again, trapped the shooter between two sigils and threw him out the window, which was not open at that moment, but did relent to the Sorceress’ magic with a loud shattering sound.
Just a moment later, a familiar voice came through the same window: “Ladies, I think we got a problem up ahead.”
Neither Reah nor Tabitha asked how Astor had gotten onto the roof of the train, both just happy to have the sharpshoot in a tactical position.
“Just one?” asked Reah, now entangled in a fight with the Knight Inquisitor.
“We’re off track!”, called Astor, before his head disappeared again from the window, and more shots rang out from the roof.
“What the fuck do you mean off track?” yelled Tabitha. “We’re on a train, in case you haven’t noticed!"
Astor reappeared. “Yes. And right now, we happen to be on the wrong track. We’re back on the main line, heading North instead of South!”
Lourdes gave out a bellowing laugh. “And your next stop is right at a Norran checkpoint!” She ducked under Reah’s next punch and spit blood on the floor. “Which will be - how do you say? - the end of the line for you depraved sodomites and your heretical friends.”
“I’ll stop the train!” screamed Tabitha and reached for the brake.
“Don’t!” yelled Astor. “They got more reinforcements coming! If we stop, we lose what little advantage we have.”
“Well, what the hell are we supposed to – “ At that moment, the remaining male fighter’s fist cracked into her skull. She kicked him against the furnace with a “Don’t touch me, you pig!”
“There’s a turnout up ahead that should bring us back on track!” Astor called down. “But our folk are all engaged or wounded right now.”
“Is it visible from the window?” asked Tabitha.
“Yeah.”
“Then I can get at it!” She leaned out the broken window and searched the area until she found the turnout and the lever that controlled it. It was hard to see in the dark, and she didn’t have much time, so she’d need all her focus.
Meanwhile Reah had to use all her strength to keep Lourdes engaged and away from Tabitha. Reah was a beast in battle, but the other woman fought like a starved rabid dog on steroids. The blood in her mouth was not just her own. There was a madness behind her eyes that would have (and had) scared the bravest person.
“All those gifts bestowed upon you by the Lord,” she barked. “Squandered on a sodomite! You should have succumbed to the Brand and made yourself useful to the Church in that way at least.”
“Shut up and give me back my arm!” screamed Reah because she was all out of wit. Her mechanical arm was gripped around the stolen one like a vise, tearing and ripping. A kick in her stomach drove the breath from her for a moment, and forced her to let go.
“You know what I did to your perverted brothers,” spoke Lourdes. “But did you know that it was myself who conducted the confession of the heretical “nun” who set you on that path of sin? It took some convincing to make her see reason, but she ended up singing like a bird.”
Reah roared and threw herself at Lourdes.
“Don’t let her distract you!” screamed Tabitha.
And indeed, Reah had completely forgotten the other man who, despite the heavy burns on his back, was still in the compartment, and that he still had his gun, and posed a threat to the Sorceress and her focus. Tabitha managed to redirect a bullet, but couldn’t keep the man from gripping her hair and pulling her away from the window.
The pain in her scalp and from the sheer indignity of it all was nothing compared to the ice-cold sting of his words, delivered in an unmistakable Tyvian accent: “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Karthosian. Almost didn’t recognise you in that faggy getup. Guess I don’t have to call you sir anymore.”
And yes, suddenly she did recognize the man, now that she imagined him in Tyvian uniform, and that image brought back memories she’d rather have buried, memories of a life she’d abandoned for good reason.
“I said don’t fucking touch me!” she screeched, composure forgotten, and backhanded him across the face.
He retreated and lifted his gun, which she kicked out of his hands. And he chuckled. Damn, why did he chuckle? She liked them scared much more.
“Hard to believe that you used to hunt down degenerates, just to become one yourself.” He spit at her. “How low one can sink.”
This coming from a man who was about to rise in the ranks in Tyvia, and now earns his money as a mercenary in Norra! Why wasn’t she saying that? Where was her bite?
“You won’t remember my first mission under you, but I do,” he continued for some reason. “Priscilla he called himself in the streets. Whore of a fag that ever was. And how he screamed.”
This time it didn’t sting. It snapped. Sorcery not meticulously constructed but scribbled down in angry letters forming hateful words connecting to sentences full of rage, all directed at that singular sorry excuse of a human being. A body rendered apart, ripped to shreds and covering floor and walls and ceiling in viscera.
“Tabitha, the turnout!” screamed a distant voice from just up ahead.
“Madam Sorceress!” called Reah. “Don’t worry, I got this. You do your thing!”
Tabitha couldn’t tell if that was the truth. She was trembling. Needed all her strength to regain a semblance of composure. The turnout. The window. Right.
The lever was much closer now. Almost too close. She maybe had one minute left. Breathe. Focus, Tabitha. You’re the goddamn Sorceress!
Twenty seconds. Don’t think of Reah fighting Godfrey’s attack dog. Don’t think of the man. Don’t think of Priscilla. Don’t think. Don’t.
Ten seconds.
Do!
Her hands and mind and sorcery reached out. The lever moved and the turnout soon followed, redirecting the train at the last moment. To safety, hopefully.
The gunshots outside had decreased in quantity, which Tabitha took as a good sign, as she could still hear Astor on the roof, and knew he wouldn’t stop firing until all attackers were driven off.
“Well, this didn’t go quite according to plan,” said Lourdes, and seemed less upset than she should be. She threw Reah to the floor. “I must bid you adieu for now, gentlemen, but I assure you: We will meet again.” Before anyone could stop her, she had jumped out the window. Shots rang after her, but judging by Astor’s swears, none hit.
Exhausted, Reah and Tabitha fell into each other’s arms. For a moment, they were content just breathing.
“What the hell was that, Madam Witch?” Astor climbed inside through the window.
“I saved our lives.” Tabitha let go of Reah and crossed her arms. “You’re welcome.”
“You got distracted,” said Astor. “Which in turn got Reah distracted.”
“Wasn’t her fault.” Reah rubbed her neck and looked away in embarrassment. “Lourdes got the upper hand.”
“Would you spare us your Spitfire impression and get back to your job?” Tabitha said to Astor. “I doubt we’re out of danger yet.”
“They’re following their leader,” explained Astor. “Which means fleeing right now.” He furrowed his brow, as if he regretted his sharp words. “Maybe you should rest for a while. Leave the watch to us.”
Reah wanted to protest, but Tabitha put a hand on her arm. They exchanged glances. Reah nodded, and they retreated to the compartment Tabitha had selected.
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
Of course that would be the first thing Reah said. Tabitha suppressed a sigh. “But do I have to?”
“You don’t have to…”
“But?”
“But I think you should.”
“Wild coming from someone who’s closed herself off for the past weeks.” It came out more aggressive than intended. But that was just in her nature. She had learned to lash out rather than show vulnerability. She hated what it did to Reah. Seeing that hurt around her eyes.
Tabitha let out the sigh from before. “Listen, it’s not like with you. You don’t deserve these feelings of guilt.”
“So it’s guilt?” Reah tilted her head.
Tabitha gritted her teeth. “You know what I did. What I did before Lucy happened.”
“Only some of it,” said Reah hesitantly. “But you did it to survive.”
It sounded so familiar, an echo of the things she kept telling herself. “Others didn’t because of me.”
Reah shifted in her seat. “If it’s not comfort you want, then how about a confession?”
Tabitha turned in surprise. “Can you do that, as a nun? No, scratch that. I don’t want to know. I’m not doing that. I’m not seeking absolution from a god who has forsaken you – your words, not mine! And I doubt Lucy would be happy if you did that in their name.”
“It don’t have to be formal or anything,” said Reah. “I often just talked to my Mother Confessor about things that troubled me at the time.”
Tabitha bit her lip as she remembered Lourdes’ words. Why did everything have to be so… awkward?
“Fine.” She faced the window, looked out into the night as she released words that had burned into her soul ages ago. “I’m not asking for forgiveness for the things I did. It’s nothing I can demand of the people I hurt. Sometimes those people looked up to me. I wasn’t the only one who had a day job like that. But I was the most… successful? Useful to the wrong people. I don’t know if I’d do it again. If I’d be stronger, even without a gift from Satan. I stabbed lots of people in the back, hunted people who just tried to make the world a better place. But most of them were already on a list. I didn’t track them down, I just helped capture them. If I didn’t, someone else would have.”
“And Priscilla?”
Tabitha hesitated. “Priscilla was…” Naïve. Careless. Stupid. A liability. Innocent.
“…different. In that regard. I met her in Chez Cabaret, and she immediately set off my alarm bells. She was a good girl, but she lived in the world as it ought to be, not as it is. And I knew she was gonna get many people killed. People who had been careful to protect themselves and each other, which she wasn’t. I kept telling myself she would have been caught a while later anyway, and that she would have taken others down with her. She was my sacrificial lamb.”
Tabitha’s nails burrowed in the wood beneath the train window, her eyes locked ahead, but not seeing. The train rumbled on.
“Gosh, Tabs… I’m so sorry.”
Tabitha didn’t know what she had expected. Anger? Hatred? Disgust? Maybe she did want to be hated, just a bit. Being hated was so much easier to ignore than hating yourself.
“I would do it again,” she said, like she wanted to provoke a response.
But that was not Reah.
“You were trying to protect others.”
Why did understanding hurt more than contempt?
“I was trying to protect myself.”
Tabitha heard Reah rise from her seat behind her, and then she felt a strong arm around her, holding her so gently and protectively as only the Revenant could. How could she be so strong and yet so tender? How did she never lose that softness, no matter what she did or saw?
“You’re right that I can’t give you other people’s forgiveness.” Reah’s voice was a warm whisper at her neck. “But I’ll never judge you for it. You’re doing good now, and that’s what matters, as far as I am concerned, and I know enough people as would agree.” She hesitated. “It’s not our fault that the world is as it is. We can only try our best to change it. You should never have been forced to make those choices.” And then, maybe because she sensed that none of her words could change the way Tabitha felt, she pressed gentle kisses into the nape of her neck, trying distraction instead.
Tabitha freed herself from the embrace, firmly but gently, and turned to face Reah. “I think I need to be alone for a moment, love.” And fearing those words might break the Revenant’s heart, she took her hand and raised it up to her lips to kiss it, a promise of some kind. Then she left the compartment.
The train corridor was dark and quiet. Most of the passengers were sleeping. One or two doors had hushed voices coming from behind them.
When Tabitha leaned her head against the window, the glass did not show the face she had expected to see there.
“When I said I want to be alone, I certainly didn’t want you to join in,” she hissed.
“Really?” asked Lucifer, the God of Chances, known by many names across many cultures, who was currently replacing Tabitha’s reflection in the dirty train window. “Because we had the feeling that you had many questions burning on your soul that we would be fit to answer.”
Tabitha considered shooting back a biting remark but thought better of it. “Why did you choose me?”
“You had many talents and skills in the areas of sorcery,” said Lucifer matter-of-factly. “Which were useful to us and our cause.”
“You could have found someone else.”
“Don’t self-deprecate, Sorceress, it does not suit you.”
“After everything I did…” Tabitha faltered.
“We offered you absolution.”
“But was that a reason, or was it a lure?” Tabitha demanded to know. “Why me? Why Reah, for that matter? Because if this is punishment, then she doesn’t deserve it. And if it is a reward, I sure as hell don’t deserve it!”
Lucifer crossed their arms. “Sin, guilt, absolution… Those are all concepts the Church uses to keep its followers obedient and in line. The reason we chose you is that we saw potential and wanted to award it an opportunity. We don’t deal in punishment or reward. We deal in chances.”
And with those words, Lucifer vanished, replaced again by the face of Tabitha, which looked dangerously close to tears.
I don’t deserve her, right?
She didn’t voice the question that she would never raise to anyone. Not to her comrades, not to Lucy, and definitely not to Reah. Whatever the answer would be, and whether it would be honesty or gentle lies, she didn’t want to hear it. But she could see the question clearly in her face, and her own answer forever stuck on the tip of her lips.
Behind that face in the window, the night slowly faded into a pale day. The train rolled over hills and through forests, taking its passengers to that hopefully safe quasi no man’s land that Spitfire had chosen as their destination, and the agents of the Red Masque along with the Revenant and the Sorceress to their next mission.
“Up early?”
The Sorceress pushed herself away from the glass, standing up straight to meet the eyes of Astor, who she hadn’t noticed entering the corridor.
“Couldn’t sleep,” was all she said in response. “How about you?”
“The roommates wouldn’t let me smoke in the compartment,” said Astor, fishing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.
Tabitha pulled down the window, letting the smoke drift outside. In exchange, chill morning air blew in their faces, carrying memories of the night. A Red Masque rode by and threw them a lax salute as they spotted them.
“So about yesterday…” began Astor after many moments of silence.
Tabitha moaned in annoyance. “Really? Is it that impossible to catch some quiet on here? I’d rather not talk about this again… again.”
Astor threw his hands up in defeat. “Didn’t mean to pry. Just wanted to offer some understanding. I get it, you know. Past haunting you. People you could have saved. People you hurt.”
Tabitha jerked up, muscles tensing. “You listened in on us?!” Her hands were balled into fists, tail standing on edge, and she had a mind to deliver a fierce kick in his cunt and then leave.
“Easy there, Miss Sorceress,” said Astor. “I didn’t, as a matter of fact. Just happened to be there yesterday, and I’m capable of putting two and two together.” He blew smoke out the window. “You can’t be a soldier without leaving some dead bodies in your wake.”
“You’re a deserter, though.”
“Ain’t we both?”
“I like to think of myself as a saboteur who took her time.”
“So did I,” said Astor. “Already crossed the line twice before I decided to put a stop to it. I don’t feel bad ‘bout the soldiers I killed, even those who had doubts like me. I wouldn’t have blamed anyone for killing me, either. But there’s lots of innocent blood on my hands.” With these words, he flicked the cigarette butt out the window, like he could get rid of his guilt with the same gesture.
Tabitha pretended to study her own fingernails. She didn’t talk much with Astor, an emotional distance that was mutually agreed upon, but just for a moment she wished she could open up more to him. A shudder went down her spine at that thought. Hell, it had cost her all her willpower to start showing vulnerability with the Revenant.
“I actually wanted to introduce you to someone,” said Astor, seemingly out of nowhere.
Tabitha furrowed her brow. “Who? Some Red Masque rookie?”
“No, she actually asked me to talk to you for her.” Astor went down the corridor.
The Sorceress hesitated and then followed him to the wooden door of one of the compartments. Astor knocked, and when the door opened an inch, he asked: “Is Lizzie awake yet?”
Lizzie turned out to be a small child, probably around 12, in an orange knit-sweater and a pink skirt. The child seemed nervous, looking down at the floor, arms folded behind the back.
“That’s Lizzie,” said Astor. “She really wanted to see you.”
Tabitha was unsure what she should do now, what Astor or the child expected of her. She wasn’t good with kids, especially those she didn’t know.
Finally, Lizzie built up some courage and looked up at Tabitha out of big eyes. “You are the Sorceress, right? The one who protected us.”
Tabitha nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll have a safe travel from now on,” she said, and then wondered if it was okay to lie to children, even if it was just a half-lie, and meant to calm them down.
“You’re a lady, right!”
The Sorceress was about to force herself to calm down, it was just an ignorant child after all, when she realized it had not been a question at all, and she understood why Astor had brought her to this girl.
“Yes, I am.” Her voice was now more confident, she noticed, and warmer as well. “My name is Tabitha Wylde.”
The girl’s eyes seemed to shine with awe. “Your voice is deeper than I’ve ever heard from a woman, even deeper than my grandma’s. It’s a really pretty voice, though! I’ve never heard such a pretty voice.” The words tumbled out of Lizzie’s mouth almost faster than she could form them. “My Da says that my voice will break soon. I used to be scared of that. One of the reasons we’re on the way. That and because of my Da’s and Ma’s boyfriend! But now I’m not so scared anymore. Maybe I will sound like you?” Suddenly embarrassed, she looked down again.
Tabitha hunched down next to the girl, and gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Lizzie, if you want, I can put a seal on your arm that will prevent some of the effects of puberty.” Did kids that age know words like puberty? “Your voice won’t change, and some other changes will be stopped as well. You would be able to remove it whenever you wanted, or if you found someone who could help you change your body in ways you wanted.”
Lizzie bit her lip, now even more embarrassed and awestruck. “I- I’ll think about it, Tab- Miss Wylde, Madam Sorceress… Ma’am. But if I could have a voice like yours, I would be so happy!”
“Maybe you will.” With lots of dedication, voice training and singing lessons, she thought but didn’t say. “Just let me know if you decide to take up my offer before we arrive, alright?”
The girl nodded, turned around, then turned back to her to give a little courtesy, before disappearing back into her family’s compartment.
When she was gone, Tabitha addressed Astor: “Did this have any reason besides handing out puberty-blocking sorcery?”
“The Red Masque might see y’all as nothing but muscle and magic, and Lucy probably does as well,” said Astor and lit another cigarette. “Thought you’d appreciate seeing some counterexamples. You are fighters and protectors, but not just as war machines. You give people hope.” He took a long drag, then continued with a smirk: “Including me, by the by. One of the people on this train is a doctor who recently lost their license.” He drew his thumb in a cut-off motion over his chest to explain the reason for the lost license and the need of the doctor to relocate their office.
Tabitha realized that for the first time today, she was smiling. The unspilt tears were still there, somewhere in that face, but she was feeling a bit better now. She yawned theatrically. “I guess I’ll try to get some sleep before our shift begins,” she said, heading back to her compartment.
“You’re welcome,” Astor mumbled after her.
Reah was still half-asleep when Tabitha entered their compartment, but with just a few kisses pressed on her skin, she was all-awake.
“What are you doing?” she chuckled as Tabitha tore the clothes off her skin.
“Collecting my punishment,” said the Sorceress. “And giving you your reward.”
“Is, uhm, that some kink thing I don’t know?”
“Shut up and kiss me, choir girl!”
And she did without further argument.
Much later, when the light of the rising sun fell on their intertwined bodies relaxing against the scruffy cushions of the train seats, Reah said: “When we are done here… with this mission I mean… I think there’s something I need to do. For myself.”
When she hesitated to continue, Tabitha leaned in closer, nuzzling against the Revenant’s hairy breast. Her fingers lazily caressed her skin, following the sigils she had inscribed on her what seemed like a lifetime ago. Marks that spelled protection, but also whispered words of a bilateral I am yours.
Encouraged by Tabitha’s soothing touches, Rhea continued: “D’you think we could make a detour to my convent?”
“I’d love to accompany you,” said Tabitha.
And then they sank into the comfort of each other again.
Entering the @lesbocs tournament is Reah, Lucifer’s Revenant - star of the webcomic Souls Foreclosed (18+)
Why should you vote for this butch?
some of these links lead to images with nudity and gore in them, viewer discretion is advised
she’s 7ft tall, has horns and a prehensile tail
she fights transphobes for a living at the behest of Literally The Devil
apart from that, she’s a nice bible-readin’ Southern girl (she even speaks Latin! O tempora o mores!)
she’s nigh indestructible and has survived trekking through a valley of thorns alone at night, being branded with a lobotomy iron, getting hit by a train, being shot in the head and gored with a scythe, a gatling gun salvo to the stomach, having her Soul mutilated and ripped out of her body, possessing her femme (consensually), being trapped in a sealed playing card, and falling from a crashing airship
her first action immediately after being resurrected in a new body? Stop an evil Frankenstein from attacking her friends (based)
she can’t hold her liquor but by God she does try
No butch can thrive in solitude, and she’s no exception. Her femme partner Tabitha is the self-proclaimed greatest sorcerous mind of her time! She couldn’t be in this tournament because I was only able to submit one character - they’re part and parcel though. Tabitha is the mastermind behind Reah’s pain-dampening sigils and the one who kept her Soul in the realm of the living when Reah was disembodied. A vote for Reah is a vote for both of them though.
You will vote for her in the upcoming @lesbocs polls!
