The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 131: Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Chapter 131: Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Their world changed. For starters, it started to fade.

Crowley, I'm frightened! I'm slipping away.

Don't be scared, angel. I've got you. I won't let you go.

I can feel myself vanishing!

Here, borrow my coils. Betta?

Yes, yes, thank you. More substantial...but....it's so dark here. I can't see anything.

Here, lend me your eyes.

But you're blind.

Trust me.

Oh....is this how you perceive the world?

Now, and always. A bit less light perhaps, as of late.

Oh...my....so many...perspectives....joy and pain...makes everything look, no, feels...so............beautiful.........

I have other senses beyond sight. Lends to more vivid memories.

I'm not slipping, am I?

No. I've got you.

Then I shall let go.

That's right. Just...melt into me, angel.....and I'll melt into you...

Anathema focused.

The women focused.

They weren't proper witches. But there were three of them.

They say you need three: maid, mother, and you know, the other one. They don't exactly have to be witchy witches. But tonight, to stop this most personal of evils, they focused. In front they could feel the storm gathering. Behind, they felt the birth of a phenomenon.

The storm thundered ahead. They must protect whatever miracles, no matter how tantalizing to observe, from the threat building up a head. So, they ignored what was building behind them, they ignored what a mismatched crew they were, and the urge to look over their shoulders to see what was becoming of their friends.

They looked inward, to look outward, and let the spectacle viewing to others.

Wol, would you look at that.

I had forgotten what it was like to have white wings.

Or so many, for that matter.

The small groups within the magical dome took on the aspect of divine numbers.

Outer Circle: three:

A steely-willed girl who, with stubborn bullheadedness, plowed head first into her studies to produce the outcome only years of devotion could achieve. Until recently, she had not bother to so thoroughly use the ancient tools of her ancestors. But appropriate action was required, so there was nothing for it but to do it.

A domenatrix, an adept, who could see people's fates hovering around them, who kept her own life and mysteries locked away in her heart behind a gentle smile, but had human failings like the rest of them, and human losses as well.

A retired middle-aged sex worker/fortuneteller, more knowing than people gave her credit for, who held others' secrets in her heart, and could feel the fates of those she loved. Right now, she was calling herself Margorie.