Scene 1 || Bittersweet

[Nicoleta]

Oopsie, what did we have here? There was something floating in the Thames when it was not supposed to be there. Her hair was red like fire, and her face was as white as death, with peppered freckles for distinction. She was hardly alive, the poor child. That damnable man, Ivan, forced so much water into those poor lungs. (Such a situation was too cruel to recall, though he could have done better).

The Kittens saved Aoife before the frost could chew off her flesh. These Kittens were told to make extra caution to transport the drowned while still under the shade of the night. Through burrows and winding alleys, quiet drives, and empty streets, the informants reached the Lynx’s Den.

It was the eve of the witch’s hour when the Kittens scurried to meet their den mother. Lynx was a woman—that much was certain by her ensemble and her hair. She wore a black sun hat that stretched out long, a black veil drapes down from the entire circumference as a shroud to mask her identity.

When she heard the jingle and noise, Lynx shifted on her velvet love seat. The smell of spice and incense curled and twisted in the air until a disturbance waffed it the side. A girl moved side the beaded curtain, causing more tinkles and noise.

“She is here?” Lynx asked softly, the Slavic accent rolling off her tongue like silk. “Bring to me.”

Aoife was brought to her, and she was unconscious but alive. She was still in the arms of one of the bigger Kittens, whose solemn face and uninterested. She acted as a mere coat rack for the limp body as the two younger Kittens looked over with excitement.

“Isn’t that so sad?” Lynx commented, her tone full of amusement. “A drenched tabby.”

“What would you like us to do with her now?” asked the younger Kitten, her golden curls of hair bounced as she moved. The youth of her appearance was deceiving, but her childish mannerism was complementing the facade.

“We should take her hair,” the other Kitten suggested as she examined Aoife’s hair. Her eyes were green envy, and her deft hands were quick to reach for the belt around her waist. 

“Mama, may I?”

A presence of a knife added another sparkle in the room, and it accompanied the greedy and mischievous smiles of the girls. They were women by age, but children by mindset. Lynx intervened with a voice of finality. “Enough.”

The girls stopped in the act, looked at Lynx ruefully, and straightened up. They were good girls, Lynx knew, but their penchant for malice and play time confused their senses during serious matters. Had this been any other, ordinary washed up rat, Lynx would have let them do as they please. Yet this—this was Aoife O’Neill.

“Take her up to the room with candles. When she wake, bring her food.” Lynx leaned back as she lifted a paper weight skull of a human head. She pulled out some papers, her black taloned nails pinched against the sheets. “Then tell me.”

[Aoife O'Neill]

Cold. It was so, very cold. Painfully so, in fact. It felt as though every nerve in her body had been frozen, leaving her numb yet at the same time well aware of the bitter chill. This is it. This is how I’m going to die.

Her thoughts had been bleak, just like the darkness of the Thames which she had been subjected to for what felt like hours. Aoife O’Neill was alive, yes, but barely. Though her mind was screaming at her to get away from the river and seek help, her body refused to cooperate. She was tired… exhausted… so very sleepy…

The strain of the ordeal was making it virtually impossible to keep her eyes open, so much so that she couldn’t work out if the darkness she saw was the night closing in, or just her own vision fading. Whatever it was, the darkness was welcoming and inviting. She was finding it hard to resist its charms, hard to not give in and allow the night to swallow her up.

I probably won’t be missed anyway. Maybe this isn’t so bad…

She was only vaguely aware of her body being lifted up and carried away from the water. Had she had a more clear state of mind, maybe she would have struggled, called for help, or fought them off. After all, what if it was Ivan’s gang, sent to finish the job off? But no, now she had no energy left. Not even a single drop which she could have used to protest with.

Without any fight left within the woman, she finally succumbed and allowed the darkness to take over her mind.

~~~

The first thing Aoife became aware of was a strong scent lingering in her nose. Candles? Incense? Next, although she still felt drenched and frozen to the bone, she was lying down on something comfortable, soft. Yes, this was comfortable. A bed, perhaps?

A soft groan emitted from her voice, and eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal a pair of tired, emerald green irises, staring up at the ceiling above. Aoife blinked a couple of times, before turning her head to one side in order to take in her surroundings. She was in a place she had never seen before in her life. The entire space seemed incredibly Eastern European with its quirky décor, and the room was full of candles. Odd.

“Ooh, she’s awake~ Quick! Go tell mama!”

Aoife turned her head in the direction of the voice, just in time to catch the tail end of a young woman hurrying out through the threshold of the room. However, there were still two strangers standing beside the Irishwoman, one of whom was busying playing with her hair. The redhead blinked again, her mouth parted slightly in confusion as she watched the two girls with confusion.

“W-where am I?” her throat was dry and hoarse, making the words she was trying to formulate feel awkward on her tongue. Her vocal chords felt just as tired as the rest of her body; had she been screaming when she was underwater? She couldn’t remember, nor did she really want to.

Any other question she might have wanted to voice was suppressed by a tremendous, hacking cough which tore through her throat, leaving the woman gasping for air. Her lungs still had to adjust to being on dry land once more, it seemed.

“Mama will see you now.” It was a different voice that time. The young woman who had left earlier had once again returned, and was waiting expectantly outside the door. It seemed Aoife had little choice in whether she would be leaving the bed or not, though, as almost instantly the largest of the three was reaching down and pulling the redhead to her feet, supporting her weight when her knees buckled underneath her. A tired sigh left Aoife’s lips, and soon she was being led out of the room and down a flight of stairs, apparently to meet “mama”. Whoever that was.

If it was somebody linked to Ivan Braginsky, Aoife wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.

[Nicoleta]

The room was dark, as how it always was, save for the few candles that were lit upon skulls. The light created a halo of visibility, revealing the macabre details of the interior as it contoured the harsh lines of other things--further making it look frightening. Lynx always found comfort in the darkness; it was her shield and sword. When the darkness clouds her identity, she could be anyone. Yet, with the candles lit and flickering, she was the Lynx.

In a moment's noticed, Lynx noticed the chimes and tinkling bells that signaled the entrance of a person. A Kitten brushed aside the beaded curtains, and it rattled like bones. She informed Lynx about Aoife, and then she dismissed herself shortly after.

When she saw their figures approaching her, Lynx gestured them over with a slow curling in of her fingers. They seated the woman on a lounging seat across from the Lynx, and in between their person was a large, rectangular glass table. They sat in silence for a while as Lynx awaited for a response.

She was too impatient to wait for long, however. Yet her tone belied her irritation when she said, "Are you feeling well?" Her spiced accent was warm as the flame.

"You look white as death. You are very hungry, no?" With another hand gesture, Lynx summoned a Kitten. She merely lifted her chin up slightly, and that sent the girl-comrade away to fetch what Lynx promised.

"Catalina makes good food. You will love it." A musical laugh, rich and vibrant, escaped from her lips. "You deserve warm. After what you went through with the river. We thought you were going to perish."

Supper arrived, and its allure was intensified in the shadows. The imagination was the weapon. In the dark, your mind does all of the lying...

The girls set the trays of food on the glass table in front of Aoife. Although the room was dim and dreary, the candles outlined the detail of the food. Borscht with fresh bread, polenta, sarmale, baklava, rich rabbit-chops with onions and radish, schti soup, and dishes of studen with lentis-sauteed cabbage. It was a king's feast for a humble guest, but Lynx was renown for her hospitality--at least, renown in the Underworld.

Behind the veil that shrouded her face, she smiled one, a mark on the lips that should make the observer cautious. In the dark, they do not know. They see with their eyes, and taste with their tongue, but their minds are clouded by the shadows.

"Eat, then we speak."

[Aoife O'Neill]

The women had led Aoife through the darkness into a bizarre world of the macabre; a room full of candles and images of death. Had the redhead been any normal civilian, such images might have frightened her. As it was, she found herself unfazed by her surroundings, mainly due to her focus on trying not to topple over from weakness. But no, Aoife knew that she would be able to stomach most frightening scenes – though if anything, she would probably end up traumatised by the river Thames.

Eventually, after what seemed like stumbling through a dark maze, the women finally reached their destination, and, as the beaded curtains were pushed aside and Aoife was gently lowered into a comfortable chair, the redhead finally found herself face to face (to an extend at least) with the person who had seemingly rescued her from the biting waters of the river. The woman (it was easy to tell at least, even in the lack of light) was impossible to identify, however. She could have been a stranger, or a close friend. Aoife could not tell, and the shadows and darkness which seemed to smother them certainly made it hard to make out any distinguishing features.

She had been unsure of what to say at that moment in time. An awkward silence had hung in the air as the two women simply sat there; though Aoife’s mind had been buzzing with questions. Who was this woman? Why had she saved her? How did she even find her, or know about what had happened? However, there must have been water lingering in her brain and throat, as the Irishwoman found herself unable to voice her thoughts. It was not until the mysterious woman, shrouded in darkness, spoke up that Aoife found her brain kicking into gear again.

The mention of food made her realise for the first time how incredibly empty her stomach was feeling, highlighting her current, weak state as well. How long had it been since she had eaten? The last thing to fill her stomach had been a few shots of vodka, and whilst that was supposed to keep away the chill, there was nothing in the slightest which was substantial about it. Of course, the mind could trick one into thinking it was filling for a short space of time, but it never lasted long. Besides, having been submerged in the arctic depths of the river had meant that even the “warming alcohol” had been unable to keep the cold away from Aoife.

When the food did arrive (and my oh my did it look delicious – even in the dark Aoife could see it was a feast fit for a king), the young woman found herself hesitating about digging in straight away. She had been educated to rarely trust people, and god knows what had been put inside the various dishes. However, a consuming hunger was soon clouding her judgement, and once the other woman made a simple statement of "Eat, then we speak.", Aoife couldn’t help but offer a tiny, frail smile towards her.

“Uhm… thank you,” Aoife muttered quietly; voice fragile from all it had been put through that night. With a small nod of her head, as though it was another action of thanks, the redhead did succumb to temptation and began to eat the food which had been presented before her.

Most of it was an entirely new experience for her – exotic dishes she had never seen, let alone tried, before were now dancing on her taste buds, sending warmth and a spark of life into her body once again. Goodness, she couldn’t quite believe how delicious it had all been.

After polishing off the last dish and sitting upright, she was finally able to vocalise her opinion, and graciously said, “Thank you. That was delicious.”

The redhead hesitated, allowing her green eyes to momentarily glance around the dimly lit space. There were still so many unspoken questions she wanted to know the answers to. So, after swallowing back any hesitation or nerves, she plucked up the courage to speak once more.

“Also, thank you for… taking me in. I’m not sure how you found me, but I think you saved my life tonight.” She paused, glancing back up at the woman seated before her. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you. Though… I must ask. Who are you, and why did you---?” Another pause, however this one did not come out of nerves. It came from a sudden, strange sense of fatigue and disorientation which suddenly washed over Aoife.

Blinking in confusion, as through trying to physically force back the strange feeling which was beginning to overwhelm her, Aoife soon realised that the entire room seemed to be spinning as her body swayed in her seat. The words which were left hanging on the tip of her tongue were trying to fight their way out from the state of confusion she suddenly found herself in.

“--- h-help me...”

The drowsy sensation was rapidly taking over, and once more that night Aoife was seeing blackness engulfing her vision. A trembling hand was raised to her head, accompanied by a faint groan, before quite suddenly she fell backwards into the seat, her eyelids becoming incredibly heavy…

[Nicoleta]

“Uhm… thank you." Aoife's tone was soft, raw, and vulnerable. It was no surprise that whatever pride or strength the girl had been washed away by the tide. Her embers had been flattened, dulled, and overwhelmed by the foreign nature of this place. It pleased Lynx, in a twisted way, yet she kept her composure as she watched the younger one eat.

Lynx opted for something light, and she reached for the cup of tea that had been placed on a tray near her. She reached for it, the warmth of the porcelain pressing against her skin, and inhaled the aroma that radiated from the mixture. Chai tea, mixed with a certain poison--precise amounts, oh so precise. She took a sip, and when the warmth snaked down her chest, she felt pricks of delight on her skin. This was more than enough as a meal, and the guest appeared to be enjoying herself as well.

"I hope you like," Lynx commented with amusement. "It is made special."

It was a special dish she liked to call 'revenge'. A Bratvia member happened to get in the way, and well, the rest was history. Lynx surely hoped that Aoife was enjoying the taste of it; Ivan was fond of this little fox too. At least now, Lynx can rest easy knowing that Ivan shall never know the fate of his dear, little fox.

If I could, I would make you a Kitten too. If you like the taste of your enemies... there is a place in Hell where I reside. A place, where you would be my own.

"I did," Lynx replied. "But it comes with a price."

She took another measured sip and then exhaled a poisoned breath, a grey plume ghosted out of her lips. "You will owe me a favor."

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you. Though… I must ask. Who are you, and why did you---?” The girl's eyes became sullen, dewy as the candles flickered on. The plume kissed her face, brushing past her cheeks and her fair red hair.

"One day, little one. You will repay the favor. You will remember, and I never forget."

Something between a purr and a chuckle reverberated within the room. The shadows found its place. Lynx set the teacup down, the porcelain clattering against the saucer. She stood up and seemed to float around the table toward the unconscious Aoife. Her long, slender fingers trailed down the girl's jawline before brushing along her long hair.

She invaded the candles' halo of light, and then she knelt over. A whisper and a gust, and all of the lights went out.

[Aoife O'Neill]

It was for the second time in less than twenty four hours that Aoife O’Neill awoke to find herself in a place which she didn’t recognise. Unlike the first scenario, however, this one was much less mysterious and macabre.

The overwhelming scent of hygiene and bleach was almost suffocating, and the blinding whiteness of the space around her was far too bright for her vision to fully process. Squinting in order to try and adjust to the sudden presence of light, she shifted where she lay and rolled onto her side. As she stared at the wall ahead of her, finally her vision cleared and Aoife was able to process exactly where she was.

A hospital. How on earth had she gotten here? She could vaguely recall the darker setting she had been in before – a mysterious woman had provided some hospitality, taken her in from the freezing river and provided her with food.

"One day, little one. You will repay the favor. You will remember, and I never forget."

The words echoed and circled round her mind on loop, leaving Aoife puzzled. There were still so many questions left unanswered: who was that woman, and what on earth did she want? The redhead was not sure now if it was a good thing that she had been saved by that particular person. It could end up causing grief for her later on, if she wasn’t careful. Who knew what sort of intentions she had. If everything was to end up backfiring on Aoife... Well, she didn't feel much like getting dragged into another huge mess.

Letting out a tired sigh, she shook her head as though physically trying to push the thought out of her head. Growing slightly stiff from lying on one side, she rolled over once again to face the opposite wall, only for her eyes to widen in surprise at the sight which sat before her. A familiar head of ginger, lolled slightly forward as though in faint slumber. She couldn't help but blink in surprise. To see this man, of all people...

To be entirely honest, Aoife had assumed to herself he had long ago given up on her; that he had grown impatient waiting for the ice to melt between them. Aoife's ire was known to be powerful, painful, and burning - it would not have surprised her if he had been scared away. It was for this reason she just had never expected him to be the first person she would see upon waking up in a hospital bed. Maybe Feliks or Silvia.... But not him. 

“Donald?” she called out to him quietly, her vocal chords still not fully recovered from all they had been put through. The Irishwoman raised her head ever so slightly and stretched out one arm to give the man a gentle prod on his knee. “What are you doing here?”