The Arcana - Muriel Fanfics!

1. Mysterious Travels and Barrels of Bitters

Oh? What's this? Surely not...more chapters? ohoho ;)  little bit of a warning for this one, but val's bio and the snippet of her murky past stumped some ppl, so consider this the premiere for S2 of muriel fanfics, except a lil more about our girl val. hee hee, enjoy! 

The girl could hear the waves lapping against the ship. Wisps of moonlight filtered through the pathetic 'window' of her cell, too small to stick her hand through but mocking enough that she could see out. Out to the vast, impossible inky black ocean. 

She couldn't even stand up properly; her cell was little more than the ship's liquor hold. The hold reeked of it, something foul she'd heard the sailors call 'salty bitters.'  The girl hugged her knees, silence seeping through the cracks in the wooden beams. Long, matted brown hair fell into her eyes, trailed on the floor where she sat. Usually rich and lustrous, the time at sea had reduced it to a bushy, crackling mess. Her face, fingers, even her eyes felt as though she were covered in a layer of salt. She rubbed the sensitive area over the base of her neck, hissing at the pain. The fresh, ring-shaped brand throbbed - a precaution the captain had taken, should she run away. 

The sun would be up soon, she thought, a reprieve to her silent world of black ocean and sky and thoughts. She knew what she was there for. Tonight was the night, she was sure. She'd done her work: the captain had been eying her off for weeks, even so far as visiting her cell some nights when the smell of the bitters was stale on his breath, looking at her the way a vulture looked at carrion. It sickened her, but that was the aim. It would be tonight, she promised herself. Because tonight, they'd rolled out the last barrel of bitters. She'd been crammed up with them for weeks, gradually gaining more room night by night as the barrels disappeared. But tonight had been the last one. She'd made sure. Months of planning and scheming, all down to this, the moment she'd added a lethal amount belladonna to the sole remaining barrel.  The sailors would be dead by morning, but the captain never drank much. She'd make sure she finished him, fingers ghosting over her neck.

The girl was picking at her ragged nails when the paper appeared. One second there was nothing, and the next, a slip of paper was drifting down in lazy arcs, catching the moonlight. The girl's lips tugged upwards as she gently plucked it from the air, smoothing it out. She risked summoning a small orb of light to read by, curling up with the note and squinting at the familiar script.

Dearest Val,

The shop isn't the same without you. I keep forgetting you're away, often halfway into a conversation before I realise there's no one to answer. Faust has taken to curling up on your pillow for hours on end. She misses you. I miss you. Even Muriel misses you, though he doesn't say it. Each time I visit him, his first greeting is always whether or not you're back, and if you're safe. He worries too much.

Speaking of, are your travels faring well? You promised you'd return in a month and a half, and we're all counting down the days. I sure you'll regale us with all your daring adventures, however mysterious and secretive they are. Rumors are spreading of a plague, so hopefully you steer clear of that. Anyway, there's a tea party waiting for you when you come home. Muriel even grew some eggplant for you. 

Be safe. Come home soon.

Love, Asra.

The girl stared at the letter for a long while. She'd told Asra before she left that the place she was going didn't allow her to contact him via water, so he'd been sending her letters this way. She told him it was better if he didn't contact her at all. She hadn't said that was for his own safety, though. Shame twinged at her insides, thinking about how he didn't really know. Muriel didn't even know. Her 'travels' weren't the type to regale over tea, she thought miserably.