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[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 120 - Past and Future
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 11:00:06 +0000 UTCCharlie lingered by Mel’s door that night, gripping her staff with white-knuckled force. Her posture was tense, like she was struggling with something. Even her witch hat was lopsided, hiding everything but her frown.
When Mel turned down the hall to her room, she paused and observed the witch for a moment while she was undetected.
What’s she doing? She shook her head. I’m really not built for this subterfuge shit. I only know of one way to find out what somebody’s doing.
Mel snuck up on Charlie. Using her superior agility and the stealth effect from her [Heathen’s Cuirass], she appeared behind Charlie without a whisper of a sound.
Then, as if she hadn’t just snuck up on another Magi, she said, “What’cha up to?”
It was a dangerous game she was playing. Least of all, because they hadn’t even properly slept once since the Convocation trial. That alone would be dangerous, but add to the fact that Charlie might be Other Mel’s killer and things got dangerous fast.
Charlie flinched, letting out a colorful curse. She spun around, cheeks flushed and breathing hard.
Mel smiled, more than a little smugly for the advantage she had just gained.
Charlie hastily composed herself, though it was hardly the self-controlled poise the Necromancer typically possessed. She glanced past Mel’s shoulder, seeming annoyed at the skeleton standing stock-still a ways off.
Maybe it was supposed to have seen Mel.
“Wondering if I should just leave you alone,” Charlie admitted in a rush. “That seems the right thing to do.”
Mel walked past her and put her hand on the doorknob. “Did you want to talk?” The invitation for a private conversation was obvious. “I thought we covered most things out there.”
Charlie chewed her lip, more nervous than Mel had ever seen her. “Most things? That’s…well, hardly true.” She looked around for other Magi, then saw Sylvie putting a bored Hal in a headlock by the door to the sauna and motioned for Mel to open her door.
Apparently, that behavior wasn’t cause for concern.
Shrugging, Mel opened the door and welcomed her inside.
She watched Charlie’s reaction. Mel knew well enough that most people would expect her to have a gaudy and hedonistic sort of room. Instead, it was remarkably spartan with weapon benches and armory stands to fix, modify, and improve all manner of armaments.
It looked more like the back of a weapon shop than a bedroom. Mel’s bed was stuffed back into a corner with the center of the room taken up by a trio of dummies, two of which hung from the ceiling on tracks.
Charlie’s sapphire blue eyes widened slightly as she took in the room. She drifted over to a weapon bench, glancing at the furnishings, then approached the training dummies.
She stared at one of them as if there was something missing.
“The hate is gone,” she whispered in realization.
Mel took it as a point of pride that she was different from Other Mel. She was taking the Convocation seriously. She couldn’t afford to half-ass it like she did most things. This required all of her attention. A whole ass approach, if you will.
Charlie took in a deep, steadying breath, then cast away her staff into a swirl of darkly glittering obsidian ash.
Click. Mel shut the door and sauntered over to a weapons bench. It was still clean and empty, but she would change that soon.
There were countless limitations on what she could have done with her room. The Stellar Tower could provide her with tools, but that was the extent they could do while remaining neutral.
Work within the confines of your world, Mel thought, gingerly touching the awls and chisels hung up in rows on the wall above the bench.
She suddenly turned and hopped back, sitting on the stout worktable. “So, we’re alone now. What’s up, partner?”
Charlie couldn’t look Mel in the eyes for once. Without a staff to death grip, she looked down at her hands and then at Mel’s spartan bed. “Why are you so different? I’ve missed you, and yet…”
Mel frowned. “I figured Gwen might have talked to everybody,” she admitted. I hadn’t really thought about that since Gwen and Thomas. Damn. I’m slipping.
“About what?” she asked sharply, getting the wrong idea about Mel and Gwen. Charlie turned on Mel, getting some spine.
Mel was about to say something when her mind latched onto her last words. “You missed me?” she asked, deeply curious.
“Of course I miss you,” she confessed with intensity. “Even while I’m in the same room as you. You hated me for so long, and it’s gone. As if that mountain of mistakes doesn’t need to be carried anymore.”
Damn, Other Mel, you dumb as hell. You let this smoke show get away from you? Mel shook her head and hopped off the table, but didn’t approach Charlie.
“I want to make something very clear. This?” Mel gestured between herself and Charlie. “I’m very much interested in, but you need to know that whatever happened with the Grand Invocation scrambled me good. My memories are full of more holes than a…huh. Y’know, I really figured I had something gross and colorful for that, but I guess I also forgot that too!”
Charlie paled, which was saying really something, considering her complexion would make most goth girls turn green with envy. “What…exactly do you not remember?” she asked reluctantly.
“I still know how to do math,” Mel said dryly. “I know how to fight, exceptionally well, I might add. But certain things with mana are…more difficult for me to grasp.” She started pacing back and forth. “I don’t remember a lot. How I got to the Convocation, for starters, is a complete mystery. I woke up inside a dungeon without any idea how I got there or who I was besides a name and nebulous memories of how badass I was.”
Charlie watched Mel pace, then her gaze fell on a weapon bench, turning distant. Her fingers laced together, moving absentmindedly in thought. “Inside a dungeon?” she said softly. “So my hunch was right. And yet, Hades lied to me. I never found you in any of the thirteen Hero’s Tombs.”
Mel spun on her. “Well, I didn’t fucking set up an apartment there, did I?” She shook her head and raised her voice into a falsetto variant of Charlie’s. “‘But Mel, how did you ever get out of a dungeon?’ I hear you ask? Please see the aforementioned badassery.” She held up a middle finger. “I’m the first person in the entire Convocation to kill a boss. Even got a title for it. The rest can suck my big fat dick.”
Charlie smirked fondly at that, apparently finding the mockery amusing rather than irritating. Or maybe she was taken in by Mel’s brand of defiant moxie. “You won too. Against me with a Blessing, the Magi groups, and the Lormar Covenants. With memories missing of your training, a Copper normie from Earth and Gwen who turned away from her uncanny gift to go pure melee.”
“Damn right I won.”
“It really puts the rest of us to shame.”
Mel leaned her hip against the weapon worktable. “If you really want some extra salt, you should know that I didn’t even try competing until about a month in.”
Charlie sighed in frustration, half-lidding her eyes. “You might as well be a different person. You’re not secretly an Incarnate, are you?” She turned away, taking off the hat as if she was considering throwing in the towel. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me.”
“If I was, I wouldn’t be shy about it,” Mel admitted. Being an Incarnate was like winning the power lottery.
Of course, it came with a massive target painted on your back.
As if I don’t already have that, Mel thought sourly, reflecting on the words the World Serpent, Askara, shared with her. They have already decided how you will lose, Miyan.
Mel shook her head to dislodge the thoughts. No use in whining about something you can’t do anything about. Change what can be changed and then take a big hammer to the things pacifists say to “endure”.
“Have you begun to remember anything?” Charlie asked, placing the hat back on as she dropped into Mel’s bed. “Wow, this thing sucks.”
Mel raised a blonde brow at that. “The bed or the hat?”
She took a moment to decide. “...Both. Yeah, both.”
“Shame. I figured the beds would be pretty good.” She shrugged. “Whatever. I’d be happy with a flat piece of ground at this point. I’ve been sleeping on pine needles.”
“To be fair, it’s really not that bad. Especially compared to those warming sleeping bags. It just reminds me of them. Not a lot of room to stretch out.” She leaned forward.
Mel looked at the king-sized bed. Then at Charlie. “I like to think I’m pretty acrobatic in bed, but even I’m not bothered by how large the bed is. You starfish or somethin’ girl?”
She laughed richly. “You could say I have expensive taste.”
“Settle down Cruella.”
“You’ll have to make me, Mel. But…you haven’t answered my question.” The smirk slipped from her face as her demeanor cooled. “Have you begun to remember anything?”
“No.”
Technically, she wasn’t lying. She hadn’t begun to remember anything about Other Mel’s life, because it wasn’t hers. What she remembered only served to confirm that her universe and that of Other Mel’s were very different.
Case in point: Lormar. Mel’s Earth was boring as hell. People squandered their lives and gifts doing whatever it was normies without magic did, but there sure as hell wasn’t any stitching or near extinction events.
Charlie stared at Mel under that veil of cool calmness. She wasn’t easy to read like Gwen and wielded danger in a markedly different way.
Mel kept her emerald eyes focused on Charlie. She believed wholeheartedly that she was telling the truth. That was the trick: use a technicality to show that you believe what you’re saying with complete confidence.
“While I would rather believe you, Mel,” Charlie began slowly, tilting her head. “How is it you understand so much about the Magi then?”
Good point.
Mel flicked the brim of her witch’s hat. “How do I know how to speak or who I am? How do I know that I’m a badass that doesn’t take being pranked lightly without the memories attached to it?” She shrugged. “Might as well ask how I can use magic despite not knowing you or the other Magi. Clearly, we took the same classes.”
Charlie finally looked away, seeming subdued. “I suppose you have spent time with Gwen and Thomas. They could have talked to you at length about Brookmoors. I’m sorry for pressing you. It’s just…curious. How incredibly competent you are. And that hat.”
Mel glanced up at her hat. “Obviously, the Shardrune agrees that I don’t need my memories to be awesome. Maybe that’s why I got this hat. I imagine overcoming that handicap is worth a fair bit.”
“You do seem…” she trailed off, growing distracted.
“Awesome? Badass? A total package? The shortstack of your dreams? Yeah. I am.”
Charlie blushed deeply.
Mel’s grin resembled a shark’s.
“I can’t…submit to your rule.”
Mel started. “Hold up, what? Listen, I’m down to clown, but shouldn’t we have a safe word first? Mine is ‘pineapple’.”
“Mine is ‘eggplant’.”
“Yeah, it is,” Mel said with a lascivious grin. “So we doin’ this? Because I have to tell you now, the hat stays on.”
“With you not remembering the majority of your life…” Charlie cleared her throat, trying and failing to compose herself. “I think it’s best we wait for now, even though I don’t want to.”
Mel blew out a long, disappointed sigh. “Your loss. Everybody wants to experience their first time again, y’know.”
“It really, really is my loss,” Charlie said, sounding very angry at herself.
Heading to the door, Mel put her hand on the handle and winked to soften the blow. “For what it’s worth, I don’t need to know more than I’ve seen.”
Charlie smiled warmly at that, and left after brushing past Mel with a kiss.
Mel touched her fingers to her cheek, where the warmth of Charlie’s kiss lingered. She grinned and shut the door.
Something, something, keep your enemies closer, Mel thought to herself. Before she locked her door and fell into bed, her last thought was, it wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t complicated as shit.
