Walking With Coyote

Masha goes to her flat, feeling soiled. She puts her weapons away, then opens the pouch, carefully storing the vials in the little icebox. Gathering her shower things, she heads down the hall and scrubs herself clean, watching the pink mingle with the clear of the water in the drain.

Back in her flat Masha dresses in simple clothing, tying her pwen cho and asson to her belt loops and donning the necklace Indi had given her, the one that had been her mother's. She gathers her small bedroll and PDA and stuffs them into a small pack. Her throat moves convulsively and she pauses, fists clenched. "Non, not yet."

Masha hurries down from the ninth floor and out of the building, straight for the drunken see saw of pavement and metal that looms behind the civilized portion of Apocalypse. She's come to know it well, and the familiarity of it comforts her. Masha keeps her head down as she makes the biggest leaps she can, almost flying across the ruins to what she thinks of as her bonfire, feeling as of she is being hounded. A bitter laugh at the unintential pun comes from her lips as she lands lightly by the small shack, built by some unknown person and she pats one of the posts absently, feeling urgent. Dropping her pack, Masha sits down upon it, starting intently into the fire. The heat begins to sink into her bones and finally, she allows herself to replay the events of the evening, every little gesture, every pointed word and like a dam breaking, she weeps.

Hugging her knees, Masha mourns, wailing, crying, speaking in low tones to the indifferent surf. "They are no different. WE are no different. For fun he said. Cruelty. That is the master we serve, not justice, not even vengeance. Cruelty."

Masha continues to weep until she feels rung dry, her forehead pressed tightly against her knees, the material soaked, her face reddened and puffy with grief. "Grandmere, you were wrong. I cannot serve this way. If this is my honfour, I must walk from it. I love them like sisters of blood, and even Chi I once thought of as brother. But I cannot stay. If I stay, I lose everything. If I stay, I become what I would hunt." She makes a fierce face at the fire. "And even if my reasons are for judgment and a hope for justice, I still would hunt these peoples, the monstrous among us. But my terms. My rules. Not for fun and not for cruelty."

Sighing deeply, exhausted after the storm of tears, Masha mops her face with the inside of her vest, pausing midway, clutching the material to her. "But I will be alone once again. No one to laugh with, no one to trust or be trusted by, just Masha serving her lwa, is that not quaint."

Her fingers clench the material and she whispers, "No one to call family. No one to call friend."

Masha moves closer to the fire still, hugging her knees again, letting the heat paint her skin. "What does it mean to be good here, eh? What does it mean to try to serve the good god and Les Mysteres when I am the only one who believes in these things, in these lines of decency?"

Her brown hand rises to the ridge of scar tissue on her shoulder, tracing it lightly, the rough coyote pads on her fingerstips a contrast, unaware of the gesture. She seems calmer as Masha says, "Bah, I cannot be the only one. I know this. I know the hearts of those I have been calling sisters and while none of us are perfect, we are not all evil." A vision of the one called Scar rises in her mind and she shakes her head, doubt one more on her face.

Her hand moves from the scar to her own coyote ears, and she thinks of Scar's snake eyes, the strange tongue. "We are none of us evil. We are true to our natures, whatever they may be. But what if we are the monsters? Can I remain where the Sarcina wish to go? What if I cannot follow?" She stares at the flames, feeling tears well again and she dashes at them angrily.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Masha stands, slowly making her way back to the flat. She retrieves her Sarcina collar and belt and carries them both towards the Body Shop. Opening the heavy door, she stops short when she sees O, the belt and collar held tight to her breast.

O looks up at Masha, her pale face serene. "Hey hun", the phrase collides with Masha's image of O earlier, sneering and laughing with her boot firm against the one who enslaved her. Her greeting was so normal, such a contrast, and she blinks rapidly, feeling the tears fill the back of her already swollen eyes again, reaching up to press her palms against them. "Bah."

"What's wrong hun?"

Masha recalls her recent doubt about O, about her ability to lead, and shakes her head, still hugging the belt and collar "I-- O, I am sorry, but I do not belong here. Tonight I realized that. I cannot go where the Sarcina go. It grieves me, but I do not know what other choice remains."

O shakes her head, "I don't understand, you were at other sessions."

Chi steps into the back room, slightly surprised to hve not gotten there first. "H'lo girls." He takes note of Masha's state, but moves by without comment. He listens though, not missing a word. Masha felt her stomach clench. He had seen the doctor's assistant as a toy, a victim. He and Scar had stood there like a demented Ozzie and Harriet, feasting on the woman's terror. The woman had done nothing but gone to work that day, but she had found herself subject to them. The Sarcina. Herself. She felt nausous, and moved to the side at Chi's approach, her eyes wary of him, before turning her conflicted face back to O.

"Non, I did not stay and perhaps this was even different. The recording I saw from Charles, there was no glee. No--" she eyes Chi again "--joy taken in the act. Tonight I saw needless cruelty. I did not see justice or even vengeance. I saw what we are setting out to stop, or so I thought."

Masha presses her palms against her eyes again "I am no one to judge, we are all here for our own reasons and the good god knows I am of the minority in Midian."

O seems genuinely puzzled, her lavendar eyes wide. "Masha, Damian is crueler than any we have gone after before."

Masha feels frustration well to join the other ill feelings in her stomach. O would not understand because to her, there was nothing to worry over. Regardless, she tries. "Just so. But the woman? The doctor? They were innocents."

Still puzzled, O replies in her soft voice, "We did nothing to the doctor and the woman came at us."

Masha shakes her head, trying to make O see. "I saw. I saw the deliberately taunting of the woman. I saw the cruel humor taken against her. And even with Damian, to become what he is, what does that serve? Mete our punishment, but not to take joy of it. Or so I have believed. And it is quite possible I am wrong. But this belief is what I am."

"Hun everyone responds to situations in different ways, I can't do the torture without giggling." Masha blinked at O, puzzled herself, when the low rumble of Chi's voice came from across the room and she reflexively stepped back. He was smiling, just a bit.

"I wouldn't do this if I didn't enjoy it. I play this game 'cuz the reward is worth the risk... not to mete out right or wrong.."

Masha lets her disbelief show. "And what is to separate you from those we punish, Chi? You are loyal to us? So are the Hounds to each other, to a degree. But if you enjoy and savor brutality, what is to separate you?"

"Hun if you feel you don't belong then no one will have ill will to you leaving, we all make the choices right for ourselves". O's practical statement sends chills through Masha, as much as she had intended to leave and expected what O had just said.

Clenching her fists, Masha presses them against her thighs, her throat working "I know that in Midian compassion is seen as weak. O, you yourself derided us the other evening for not attacking when Nerio was being so vile, for me not taking violent action against Marina."

Chi turns around, shrugging a bit in that nonchalant way he practiced to such a fine art. "What indeed? Masha, if you knew half the things I did this week alone, I think you might try to strike me now from pure horror. I am not a judge, not a jury.... I am a creature of destructive urges, sadistic lusts, and violent fantasies. I'm here to lend a hand to O and Pera... not to be fair and just to the weaker. Only those I care about are worthy of my protection."

Non plussed, Masha just shakes her head at Chi, at a loss of what to say without crossing the line into offense. It was like she was speaking from behind a thick wall. She looks down, staring at the belt and collar hugged to her, then lifts her yellow eyes back to meet O's. "Will yo do something for me? I need to think and I need to talk with people, maybe sort this out in some way. But I cannot wear these when I am not sure I believe in them or serve what they represent. Will you hold them for me?"

The vampire smiles a little as she takes what Masha offers, some sort of internal humor pulling at her lips. "They are here for you. If I can come back after thinking things over, how can I not do it for you?"

Masha nods, not seeing the humor, only remembering how she had felt about O's actions the night Rena went mad. "Mersi, O. And I appreciate your thoughts. I will think on them."

Relinguishing the belt and collar to O, Masha is surprised when the woman reaches to hug her. She returns the hug, O's frame so light and thin compared to the ample curves and padding of her grandmere, but a hug just the same. She chokes out another sob, the touch bringing her tears back to the front.

Chi shakes his heaad, smiling to the coyote over O's head. "Take care Masha. You know my number if you need help."

She looks at Chi, realizing he literally does not see any conflict between his manner now and his manner earlier and she looks away. "Mersi." She turns to meet O's purple eyes and sees her smile. "You are always welcome here hun."

Giving O a watery smile, Masha heads out. "Adyeu then," not seeing O wave as she watches Masha leave.

Masha closes the door to the back room behind her, heading back to the bonfire at the shore in the ruins. Her face is puffy and red, her eyes swollen nearly shut and she sniffles as if she has a cold. She has never been a pretty weeper. The chill breeze feels soothing and she stands there for a moment, feeling as if she is poised on the knife edge of a bridge. The evening's events start to come to mind and tears once again spring to the back of Masha's eyes. She curses softly in Kreyol, tired of it. Shaking her head wildly, she sets off, tail swaying behind her as she leaps.

There was a little rock island by the bonfire in the ruins where Masha made honors to Agwe and she sees it now, comparing it to the grand week long celebrations at home where the barque of Agwe was decorated and piled with food before being sent out into the ocean for the mighty lwa of the sea. She gathers together some kelp and seaweed from the shore and lays it there, bringing the food of La Sirene to her husband before turning back to the small shelter.

Kneeling with her back to the fire, she lays out her bedroll, wearing simple clothing, hair unbound, her pwen cho on her hip and the necklace that had belonged to Indi's mother around her neck. The crash of the surf and the spray of the waters is a pleasant contrast to the heat of the fire and she climbs in, pulling out the small PDA to type up a message for later sending:

To: Sarcina, all
Subject: Time to think
From: Masha Delacourt

Sisters,

I do not know how to say this so I will simply be honest and direct as I can. I have reached a decision point. The events this night have driven home to me that my own beliefs of our function and role as Sarcina are in great contrast to the reality of these beliefs. This is my own fault and I accept responsibility for it - you are all what you have always been. It is my own senses that have been challenged.

O is holding my collar and belt for me as a sort of temporary measure while I sort things out. To that end, I have no intention of hiding my feelings or thoughts and would welcome the wisdom and words of each one of you.

I am not angry. I am grieving a reality I thought existed but never did, save in my own heart. I am mourning the notion that we any different from those we hunt, and struggling to discover if this is something that I can be content with or if I must move elsewhere in order to preserve my own integrity.

For me, this is more than the idea of becoming what we hunt. We are already what we hunt. This is clear to me now. We are not different than the Hounds, the Yaks, the Breed. No different. Within our bubble of safety, we care for and tend each other. They must do the same.

To that woman and doctor last night, we were the monsters. We deserve hunting as much as to hunt.

Regards,
Masha

Shutting off the PDA, Masha tucks it into her pack and snuggles down into her sleep roll. She remains awake for a long time, the fire reflecting in her eyes as she watches the flames, thinking, thinking.