Veridis Quo

Chapter 61 - Showdown

That time of the year had come again, when we all gather around a campfire and stare in awe at fireworks in the sky and gorge on less than healthy delights only to regret our poor choices the next morning.

Why is it that people celebrate? Genuinely, why? What was the reason for it? The acknowledgement of resilient survival, another year passed – another to pass? Was it the cultural significance of an event in a people's history? Or was it pointless, a wild party for the sake of fun?

Celebrations were great, don't get it in a twist. Who didn't like free tasty treats and booze and banging soundtracks and smooth jazz? People who disliked jazz were as dull as the average carnivore.

A little mean, perhaps unfair, but such were emotions; monstrous typhoons, unleashable, impossible to contain in a bottle.

The red deer wished otherwise.

Hunched slightly over in a cushioned chair, the doe held her hands together between her knees, the cooled room unable to prevent the beads trickling down her neck. The suit's dark scheme hid nearly all stains except the enemy of any tailor. Some stains could never be washed away.

Down a corridor and a few turns was a much larger room than the one designated to the deer. With more than enough time to spare, once she was done and ready, she had only her own thoughts to entertain.

Boredom was good from time to time, a moment of uncomfortable silence to really think things through. However, right now and now, it was a terrible feeling.

Within the spacious, miniature auditorium, countless cameras were pointed at the center of the podium, a projector whirred idly while casting a blank canvas onto the off-white background. Dozens if not hundreds of seats, every single one of them occupied by some figure of importance to her glorious conglomerate. Quite the powerhouse in her full possession, she couldn't deny power was of no interest.

The sheer wealth, the countless servants at her every whim, the fellow elites looking her in the eye and nowhere else. She'd been waiting for a very long time to finally join the big leagues and show the "normal" folk what she learned in the Black Market.

But then, reality took off a glove and slapped her.

Releasing a shaky sigh, the doe patted her right breast and pocket for an object that wasn't there since she officially parted ways with the lions. In addition, a smoke alarm would go off if she did that in the prep-room.

Displeased, thought returned to her with a mangled stomach. A plate of oiled, seasoned vegetables was beside the stand she had attended to patch herself and further androgynise her appearance. Her appetite was completely lost, likely a side effect of the drug she'd used after donating her blood to the good cause.

She hadn't planned on doing so, it was part of Yahya's plan. A plan she was beginning to doubt.

As the former star of the drama club, a status she hadn't cared for after the life-altering events she went through in the Market, part of her longed to be a main character in the mare's play. Although she had the skill, there was a clear difference in experience when it came to planning a solid plot; she had no better ideas than to try to convince the Shishigumi to rebel against the mad tyrant that somehow leashed them.

Why did they listen to her anyway? Couldn't they just slice her throat in her sleep? Poison her food like assassins? Or did she sleep with one eye open? Did hybrids even sleep?

Shameful. If only there was a better way to go about it...

Sighing deeply, the doe flinched at the phantom jolt in the fake limb. A peculiar sensation, mirror-therapy helped a lot with that. Place one between the legs and trick the mind to believe the limb was whole. That was how she managed to scratch those annoying itches in the middle of the night.